Part 35 (1/2)
He paused, for the girl had given a smothered cry. The light was poor and the shadows played tricks with his eyes. He stepped forward, peering strangely at her, then halted.
”Margherita!” he whispered; then in a shaking voice, ”My G.o.d!”
”Yes,” she said, quietly, ”it is I.”
He touched her gently, staring as if bereft of his senses. He felt himself swept by a tremendous excitement. It struck him dumb; it shook him; it set the room to whirling dizzily. The place was no longer ill-lit and shabby, but illumined as if by a burst of light. And through his mad panic of confusion he saw her standing there, calm, tawny, self-possessed.
”Caro Norvin! You have found me, indeed,” he heard her say. ”I wondered when the day would come.”
”You--you!” he choked. His arms were hungry for her, his heart was melting with the wildest ecstasy that had ever possessed it. She was clad as he often remembered her, in a dress which partook of her favorite and inseparable color, her hair shone with that unforgettable l.u.s.ter; her face was the face he had dreamed of, and there was no shock of readjustment in his recognition of her. Rather, her real presence made the cherished mental image seem poor and weak.
”I came to see Miss Fabrizi. Why are _you_ here?” He glanced at the door as if expecting an interruption.
”I am she.”
”Contessa!”
”Hus.h.!.+” She laid her fingers upon his lips. ”I am no longer the Contessa Margherita. I am Vittoria Fabrizi.”
”Then--you have been here--in New Orleans for a long time?”
”More than a year.”
”Impossible! I--You--It's inconceivable! Why have we never met?”
”I have seen you many times.”
”And you didn't speak? Why, oh, why, Margherita?”
”My friend, if you care for me, for my safety and my peace of mind, you must not use that name. Collect yourself. We will have explanations. But first, remember, I am Vittoria Fabrizi, the nurse, a poor girl.”
”I shall remember. I don't understand; but I shall be careful. I don't know what it all means, why you--didn't let me know.” In spite of his effort at self-control he fell again into a delicious bewilderment.
His spirits leaped, he felt unaccountably young and exhilarated; he laughed senselessly and yet with a deep throbbing undernote of delight. ”What are names and reasons, anyhow? What are worries and hopes and despairs? I've found you. You live; you are safe; you are young. I feared you were old and changed--it has seemed so long and-- and my search dragged so. But I never ceased thinking and caring--I never ceased hoping--”
She laid a gentle hand upon his arm. ”Come, come! You are upset. It will all seem natural enough when you know the story.”
”Tell me everything, all at once. I can't wait.” He led her to a low French _lit de repos_ near by, and seated himself beside her. Her nearness thrilled him with the old intoxication, and he hardly heeded what he was saying. ”Tell me how you came to be Vittoria Fabrizi instead of Margherita Ginini; how you came to be here; how you knew of my presence and yet--Oh, tell me everything, for I'm smothering. I'm incoherent. I--I--”
”First, won't you explain how you happened to come looking for me?”
He gathered his wits to tell her briefly of Myra Nell, feeling a renewed sense of strangeness in the fact that these two knew each other. She made as if to rise.
”Please!” he cried; ”this is more important than Miss Warren's predicament. She's really delighted with her adventure, you know.”
”True, she is in no danger. There is so much to tell! That which has taken four years to live cannot be told in five minutes. I--I'm afraid I am sorry you came.”
”Don't destroy my one great moment of gladness.”
”Remember I am Vittoria Fabrizi--”
”I know of no other name.”