CHAPTER XII.

The sheltering darkness of the spectacles I wore prevented him from noticing the searching scrutiny of my fixed gaze. His face was shadowed by a faint tinge of melancholy; his eyes were thoughtful and almost sad.

"You loved him well then in spite of his foolishness?" I said.

He roused himself from the pensive mood into which he had fallen, and smiled.

"Loved him? No! Certainly not--nothing so strong as that! I liked him fairly--he bought several pictures of me--a poor artist has always some sort of regard for the man who buys his work. Yes, I liked him well enough--till he married."

"Ha! I suppose his wife came between you?" He flushed slightly, and drank off the remainder of his cognac in haste.

"Yes," he replied, briefly, "she came between us. A man is never quite the same after marriage. But we have been sitting a long time here--shall we walk?"

He was evidently anxious to change the subject I rose slowly as though my joints were stiff with age, and drew out my watch, a finely jeweled one, to see the time. It was past nine o'clock.

"Perhaps," I said, addressing him, "you will accompany me as far as my hotel. I am compelled to retire early as a rule--I suffer much from a chronic complaint of the eyes as you perceive," here touching my spectacles, "and I cannot endure much artificial light. We can talk further on our way. Will you give me a chance of seeing your pictures?

I shall esteem myself happy to be one of your patrons."

"A thousand thanks!" he answered, gayly. "I will show you my poor attempts with pleasure. Should you find anything among them to gratify your taste, I shall of course be honored. But, thank Heaven! I am not as greedy of patronage as I used to be--in fact I intended resigning the profession altogether in about six months or so."

"Indeed! Are you coming into a fortune?" I asked, carelessly.

"Well--not exactly," he answered, lightly. "I am going to marry one--that is almost the same thing, is it not?"

"Precisely! I congratulate you!" I said, in a studiously indifferent and slightly bored tone, though my heart pulsed fiercely with the torrent of wrath pent up within it. I understood his meaning well. In six months he proposed marrying my wife. Six months was the shortest possible interval that could be observed, according to social etiquette, between the death of one husband and the wedding of another, and even that was so short as to be barely decent. Six months--yet in that s.p.a.ce of time much might happen--things undreamed of and undesired--slow tortures carefully measured out, punishment sudden and heavy! Wrapped in these sombre musings I walked beside him in profound silence. The moon shone brilliantly; groups of girls danced on the sh.o.r.e with their lovers, to the sound of a flute and mandoline--far off across the bay the sound of sweet and plaintive singing floated from some boat in the distance, to our ears--the evening breathed of beauty, peace and love. But I--my fingers quivered with restrained longing to be at the throat of the graceful liar who sauntered so easily and confidently beside me. Ah! Heaven, if he only knew! If he could have realized the truth, would his face have worn quite so careless a smile--would his manner have been quite so free and dauntless?

Stealthily I glanced at him; he was humming a tune softly under his breath, but feeling instinctively, I suppose, that my eyes were upon him, he interrupted the melody and turned to me with the question:

"You have traveled far and seen much, conte!"

"I have."

"And in what country have you found the most beautiful women!"

"Pardon me, young sir," I answered, coldly, "the business of life has separated me almost entirely from feminine society. I have devoted myself exclusively to the ama.s.sing of wealth, understanding thoroughly that gold is the key to all things, even to woman's love; if I desired that latter commodity, which I do not. I fear that I scarcely know a fair face from a plain one--I never was attracted by women, and now at my age, with my settled habits, I am not likely to alter my opinion concerning them--and I frankly confess those opinions are the reverse of favorable."

Ferrari laughed. "You remind me of Fabio!" he said. "He used to talk in that strain before he was married--though he was young and had none of the experiences which may have made you cynical, conte! But he altered his ideas very rapidly--and no wonder!"

"Is his wife so very lovely then?" I asked.

"Very! Delicately, daintily beautiful. But no doubt you will see her for yourself--as a friend of her late husband's father, you will call upon her, will you not?"

"Why should I?" I said, gruffly--"I have no wish to meet her! Besides, an inconsolable widow seldom cares to receive visitors--I shall not intrude upon her sorrows!"

Never was there a better move than this show of utter indifference I affected. The less I appeared to care about seeing the Countess Romani, the more anxious Ferrari was to introduce me--(introduce me!--to my wife!)--and he set to work preparing his own doom with a.s.siduous ardor.

"Oh, but you must see her!" he exclaimed, eagerly. "She will receive you, I am sure, as a special guest. Your age and your former acquaintance with her late husband's family will win from her the utmost courtesy, believe me! Besides, she is not really inconsolable--"

He paused suddenly. We had arrived at the entrance of my hotel. I looked at him steadily.

"Not really inconsolable?" I repeated, in a tone of inquiry ferrari broke into a forced laugh,

"Why no!" he said, "What would you? She is young and light-hearted--perfectly lovely and in the fullness of youth and health. One cannot expect her to weep long, especially for a man she did not care for."

I ascended the hotel steps. "Pray come in!" I said, with an inviting movement of my hand. "You must take a gla.s.s of wine before you leave.

And so--she did not care for him, you say?"

Encouraged by my friendly invitation and manner, Ferrari became more at this ease than ever, and hooking his arm through mine as we crossed the broad pa.s.sage of the hotel together, he replied in a confidential tone:

"My dear conte, how CAN a woman love a man who is forced upon her by her father for the sake of the money he gives her? As I told you before, my late friend was utterly insensible to the beauty of his wife--he was cold as a stone, and preferred his books. Then naturally she had no love for him!"

By this time we had reached my apartments, and as I threw open the door, I saw that Ferrari was taking in with a critical eye the costly fittings and luxurious furniture. In answer to this last remark, I said with a chilly smile:

"And as _I_ told YOU before, my dear Signor Ferarri, I know nothing whatever about women, and care less than nothing for their loves or hatreds! I have always thought of them more or less as playful kittens, who purr when they are stroked the right way, and scream and scratch when their tails are trodden on. Try this Montepulciano!"

He accepted the gla.s.s I proffered him, and tasted the wine with the air of a connoisseur.

"Exquisite!" he murmured, sipping it lazily. "You are lodged en prince here, conte! I envy you!"

"You need not," I answered. "You have youth and health, and--as you have hinted to me--love; all these things are better than wealth, so people say. At any rate, youth and health are good things--love I have no belief in. As for me, I am a mere luxurious animal, loving comfort and ease beyond anything. I have had many trials--I now take my rest in my own fashion."

"A very excellent and sensible fashion!" smiled Ferrari, leaning his head easily back on the satin cushions of the easy-chair into which he had thrown himself.

"Do you know, conte, now I look at you well, I think you must have been very handsome when you were young! You have a superb figure.'"

I bowed stiffly. "You flatter me, signor! I believe I never was specially hideous--but looks in a man always rank second to strength, and of strength I have plenty yet remaining."

"I do not doubt it," he returned, still regarding me attentively with an expression in which there was the faintest shadow of uneasiness.

"It is an odd coincidence, you will say, but I find a most extraordinary resemblance in the height and carriage of your figure to that of my late friend Romani."

I poured some wine out for myself with a steady hand, and drank it.

"Really?" I answered. "I am glad that I remind you of him--if the reminder is agreeable! But all tall men are much alike so far as figure goes, providing they are well made."

Ferrari's brow was contracted in a musing frown and he answered not. He still looked at me, and I returned his look without embarra.s.sment.

Finally he roused himself, smiled, and finished drinking his gla.s.s of Montepulciano. Then he rose to go.

"You will permit me to mention your name to the Countess Romani, I hope?" he said, cordially. "I am certain she will receive you, should you desire it."

I feigned a sort of vexation, and made an abrupt movement of impatience.

"The fact is," I said, at last, "I very much dislike talking to women.

They are always illogical, and their frivolity wearies me. But you have been so friendly that I will give you a message for the countess--if you have no objection to deliver it. I should be sorry to trouble you unnecessarily--and you perhaps will not have an opportunity of seeing her for some days?"

He colored slightly and moved uneasily. Then with a kind of effort, he replied:

"On the contrary, I am going to see her this very evening. I a.s.sure you it will be a pleasure to me to convey to her any greeting you may desire to send."