Part 28 (1/2)
CHAPTER XVI
That evening Morgana was in one of her most bewitching moods--even the old Highland word ”fey” scarcely described her many brilliant variations from grave to gay, from gay to romantic, and from romantic to a kind of humorous-satiric vein which moved her to utter quick little witticisms which might have seemed barbed with too sharp a point were they not so quickly covered with a sweetness of manner which deprived them of all malice. She looked her best, too,--she had robed herself in a garment of pale s.h.i.+mmering blue which shone softly like the gleam of moonbeams through crystal--her wonderful hair was twisted up in a coronal held in place by a band of diamonds,--tiny diamonds twinkled in her ears, and a star of diamonds glittered on her breast.
Her elfin beauty, totally unlike the beauty of accepted standards, exhaled a subtle influence as a lily exhales fragrance--and the knowledge she had of her own charm combined with her indifference as to its effect upon others gave her a dangerous attractiveness. As she sat at the head of her daintily adorned dinner-table she might have posed for a fairy queen in days when fairies were still believed in and queens were envied,--and Giulio Rivardi's thoughts were swept to and fro in his brain by cross-currents of emotion which were not altogether disinterested or virtuous. For years his spirit had been fretted and galled by poverty,--he, the descendant of a long line of proud Sicilian n.o.bles, had been forced to earn a precarious livelihood as an art decorator and adviser to ”newly rich” people who had neither taste nor judgment, teaching them how to build, restore or furnish their houses according to the pure canons of art, in the knowledge of which he excelled,--and now, when chance or providence had thrown Morgana in his way,--Morgana with her millions, and an enchanting personality,--he inwardly demanded why he should not win her to have and to hold for his own? He was a personable man, n.o.bly born, finely educated,--was it possible that he had not sufficient resolution and force of character to take the precious citadel by storm? These ideas flitted vaguely across his mind as he watched his fair hostess talking, now to Don Aloysius, now to Lady Kingswood, and sometimes flinging him a light word of badinage to rally him on what she chose to call his ”sulks.”
”He can't get over it!” she declared, smiling--”Poor Marchese Giulio!
That I should have dared to steer my own air-s.h.i.+p was too much for him, and he can't forgive me!”
”I cannot forgive your putting yourself into danger,” said Rivardi--”You ran a great risk--you must pardon me if I hold your life too valuable to be lightly lost.”
”It is good of you to think it valuable,”--and her wonderful blue eyes were suddenly shadowed with sadness--”To me it is valueless.”
”My dear!” exclaimed Lady Kingswood--”How can you say such a thing!”
”Only because I feel it”--replied Morgana--”I dare say my life is not more valueless than other lives--they are all without ultimate meaning.
If I knew, quite positively, that I was all in all to some ONE being who would be unhappy without me,--to whom I could be helper and inspirer, I dare say I should value my life more,--but unfortunately I have seen too much of the modern world to believe in the sincerity of even that 'one' being, could I find him--or her. I am very positively alone in life,--no woman was ever more alone than I!”
”But--is not that your own fault?” suggested Don Aloysius, gently.
”Quite!” she answered, smiling--”I fully admit it. I am what they call 'difficult' I know,--I do not like 'society' or its amus.e.m.e.nts, which to me seem very vulgar and senseless,--I do not like its conversation, which I find excessively ba.n.a.l and often coa.r.s.e--I cannot set my soul on tennis or golf or bridge--so I'm quite an 'outsider.' But I'm not sorry!--I should not care to be INside the human menagerie. Too much barking, biting, scratching, and general howling among the animals!--it wouldn't suit me!”
She laughed lightly, and continued,--
”That's why I say my life is valueless to anyone but myself. And that's why I'm not afraid to risk it in flying the 'White Eagle' alone.”
Her hearers were silent. Indeed there was nothing to be said. Whatever her will or caprice there was no one with any right to gainsay it.
Rivardi was inwardly seething with suppressed irritation--but his handsome face showed no sign of annoyance save in an extreme pallor and gravity of expression.
”I think,”--said Don Aloysius, after a pause--”I think our hostess will do us the grace of believing that whatever she has experienced of the world in general, she has certainly won the regard and interest of those whom she honours with her company at the present moment!”--and his voice had a thrill of irresistible kindness--”And whatever she chooses to do, and however she chooses to do it, she cannot avoid involving such affection and interest as those friends represent--”
”Dear Father Aloysius!” interrupted Morgana, quickly and impulsively--”Forgive me!--I did not think!--I am sure you and the Marchese and Lady Kingswood have the kindest feeling for me!--but--”
”But!”--and Aloysius smiled--”But--it is a little lady that will not be commanded or controlled! Yes--that is so! However this may be, let us not imagine that in the rush of commerce and the marvels of science the world is left empty of love! Love is still the strongest force in nature!”
Morgana's eyes flashed up, then drooped under their white lids fringed with gold.
”You think so?” she murmured--”To me, love leads nowhere!”
”Except to Heaven!” said Aloysius.
There followed a silence.
It was broken by the entrance of a servant announcing that coffee was served in the loggia. They left the dinner-table and went out into the wonder of a perfect Sicilian moonlight. All the gardens were illumined and the sea beyond, with wide strands of silver spreading on all sides, falling over the marble pavements and steps of the loggia and glistening on certain white flowering shrubs with the smooth sheen of polished pearl. The magical loveliness of the scene, made lovelier by the intense silence of the hour, held them as with a binding spell, and Morgana, standing by one of the slender columns which not only supported the loggia but the whole Palazzo d'Oro as with the petrified stems of trees, made a figure completely in harmony with her surroundings.
”Could anything be more enchantingly beautiful!” sighed Lady Kingswood--”One ought to thank G.o.d for eyes to see it!”
”And many people with eyes would not see it at all,”--said Don Aloysius--”They would go indoors, shut the shutters and play Bridge!
But those who can see it are the happiest!”