After Dark

  CHAPTER II.

  The studio of the master-sculptor, Luca Lomi, was composed of two largerooms unequally divided by a wooden partition, with an arched doorwaycut in the middle of it.

  While the milliners of the Grifoni establishment were industriouslyshaping dresses, the sculptors in Luca Lomi's workshop were, in theirway, quite as hard at work shaping marble and clay. In the smaller ofthe two rooms the young nobleman (only addressed in the studio by hisChristian name of Fabio) was busily engaged on his bust, with Naninasitting before him as a model. His was not one of those traditionalItalian faces from which subtlety and suspicion are always supposed tolook out darkly on the world at large. Both countenance and expressionproclaimed his character frankly and freely to all who saw him. Quickintelligence looked brightly from his eyes; and easy good humor laughedout pleasantly in the rather quaint curve of his lips. For the rest,his face expressed the defects as well as the merits of his character,showing that he wanted resolution and perseverance just as plainly as itshowed also that he possessed amiability and intelligence.

  At the end of the large room, nearest to the street door, Luca Lomi wasstanding by his life-size statue of Minerva; and was issuing directions,from time to time, to some of his workmen, who were roughly chiselingthe drapery of another figure. At the opposite side of the room, nearestto the partition, his brother, Father Rocco, was taking a cast from astatuette of the Madonna; while Maddalena Lomi, the sculptor's daughter,released from sitting for Minerva's face, walked about the two rooms,and watched what was going on in them.

  There was a strong family likeness of a certain kind between father,brother and daughter. All three were tall, handsome, dark-haired, anddark-eyed; nevertheless, they differed in expression, strikingly as theyresembled one another in feature. Maddalena Lomi's face betrayed strongpassions, but not an ungenerous nature. Her father, with the sameindications of a violent temper, had some sinister lines about his mouthand forehead which suggested anything rather than an open disposition.Father Rocco's countenance, on the other hand, looked like thepersonification of absolute calmness and invincible moderation; and hismanner, which, in a very firm way, was singularly quiet and deliberate,assisted in carrying out the impression produced by his face. Thedaughter seemed as if she could fly into a passion at a moment's notice,and forgive also at a moment's notice. The father, appearing to be justas irritable, had something in his face which said, as plainly as if inwords, "Anger me, and I never pardon." The priest looked as if he neednever be called on either to ask forgiveness or to grant it, for thedouble reason that he could irritate nobody else, and that nobody elsecould irritate him.

  "Rocco," said Luca, looking at the face of his Minerva, which was nowfinished, "this statue of mine will make a sensation."

  "I am glad to hear it," rejoined the priest, dryly.

  "It is a new thing in art," continued Luca, enthusiastically. "Othersculptors, with a classical subject like mine, limit themselves to theideal classical face, and never think of aiming at individual character.Now I do precisely the reverse of that. I get my handsome daughter,Maddalena, to sit for Minerva, and I make an exact likeness of her. Imay lose in ideal beauty, but I gain in individual character. People mayaccuse me of disregarding established rules; but my answer is, that Imake my own rules. My daughter looks like a Minerva, and there she isexactly as she looks."

  "It is certainly a wonderful likeness," said Father Rocco, approachingthe statue.

  "It the girl herself," cried the other. "Exactly her expression, andexactly her features. Measure Maddalena, and measure Minerva, and fromforehead to chin, you won't find a hair-breadth of difference betweenthem."

  "But how about the bust and arms of the figure, now the face is done?"asked the priest, returning, as he spoke, to his own work.

  "I may have the very model I want for them to-morrow. Little Nanina hasjust given me the strangest message. What do you think of a mysteriouslady admirer who offers to sit for the bust and arms of my Minerva?"

  "Are you going to accept the offer?" inquired the priest.

  "I am going to receive her to-morrow; and if I really find that she isthe same height as Maddalena, and has a bust and arms worth modeling, ofcourse I shall accept her offer; for she will be the very sitter I havebeen looking after for weeks past. Who can she be? That's the mysteryI want to find out. Which do you say, Rocco--an enthusiast or anadventuress?"

  "I do not presume to say, for I have no means of knowing."

  "Ah, there you are with your moderation again. Now, I do presume toassert that she must be either one or the other--or she would not haveforbidden Nanina to say anything about her in answer to all my firstnatural inquiries. Where is Maddalena? I thought she was here a minuteago."

  "She is in Fabio's room," answered Father Rocco, softly. "Shall I callher?"

  "No, no!" returned Luca. He stopped, looked round at the workmen, whowere chipping away mechanically at their bit of drapery; then advancedclose to the priest, with a cunning smile, and continued in a whisper,"If Maddalena can only get from Fabio's room here to Fabio's palace overthe way, on the Arno--come, come, Rocco! don't shake your head. IfI brought her up to your church door one of these days, as Fabiod'Ascoli's betrothed, you would be glad enough to take the rest of thebusiness off my hands, and make her Fabio d'Ascoli's wife. You are avery holy man, Rocco, but you know the difference between the clink ofthe money-bag and the clink of the chisel for all that!"

  "I am sorry to find, Luca," returned the priest, coldly, "that you allowyourself to talk of the most delicate subjects in the coarsest way. Thisis one of the minor sins of the tongue which is growing on you. When weare alone in the studio, I will endeavor to lead you into speaking ofthe young man in the room there, and of your daughter, in terms morebecoming to you, to me, and to them. Until that time, allow me to go onwith my work."

  Luca shrugged his shoulders, and went back to his statue. Father Rocco,who had been engaged during the last ten minutes in mixing wet plasterto the right consistency for taking a cast, suspended his occupation;and crossing the room to a corner next the partition, removed from ita cheval-glass which stood there. He lifted it away gently, while hisbrother's back was turned, carried it close to the table at which hehad been at work, and then resumed his employment of mixing the plaster.Having at last prepared the composition for use, he laid it over theexposed half of the statuette with a neatness and dexterity which showedhim to be a practiced hand at cast-taking. Just as he had covered thenecessary extent of surface, Luca turned round from his statue.

  "How are you getting on with the cast?" he asked. "Do you want anyhelp?"

  "None, brother, I thank you," answered the priest. "Pray do not disturbeither yourself or your workmen on my account."

  Luca turned again to the statue; and, at the same moment, Father Roccosoftly moved the cheval-glass toward the open doorway between the tworooms, placing it at such an angle as to make it reflect the figuresof the persons in the smaller studio. He did this with significantquickness and precision. It was evidently not the first time he had usedthe glass for purposes of secret observation.

  Mechanically stirring the wet plaster round and round for the secondcasting, the priest looked into the glass, and saw, as in a picture, allthat was going forward in the inner room. Maddalena Lomi was standingbehind the young nobleman, watching the progress he made with his bust.Occasionally she took the modeling tool out of his hand, and showedhim, with her sweetest smile, that she, too, as a sculptor's daughter,understood something of the sculptor's art; and now and then, in thepauses of the conversation, when her interest was especially intense inFabio's work, she suffered her hand to drop absently on his shoulder, orstooped forward so close to him that her hair mingled for a moment withhis. Moving the glass an inch or two, so as to bring Nanina well underhis eye, Father Rocco found that he could trace each repetition of theselittle acts of familiarity by the immediate effect which they producedon the girl's face and manner. Whenever Maddalena so much as touched theyoung noblem
an--no matter whether she did so by premeditation, or reallyby accident--Nanina's features contracted, her pale cheeks grew paler,she fidgeted on her chair, and her fingers nervously twisted anduntwisted the loose ends of the ribbon fastened round her waist.

  "Jealous," thought Father Rocco; "I suspected it weeks ago."

  He turned away, and gave his whole attention for a few minutes to themixing of the plaster. When he looked back again at the glass, he wasjust in time to witness a little accident which suddenly changed therelative positions of the three persons in the inner room.

  He saw Maddalena take up a modeling tool which lay on a table near her,and begin to help Fabio in altering the arrangement of the hair in hisbust. The young man watched what she was doing earnestly enough for afew moments; then his attention wandered away to Nanina. She looked athim reproachfully, and he answered by a sign which brought a smile toher face directly. Maddalena surprised her at the instant of the change;and, following the direction of her eyes, easily discovered at whom thesmile was directed. She darted a glance of contempt at Nanina, threwdown the modeling tool, and turned indignantly to the young sculptor,who was affecting to be hard at work again.

  "Signor Fabio," she said, "the next time you forget what is due to yourrank and yourself, warn me of it, if you please, beforehand, and I willtake care to leave the room." While speaking the last words, she passedthrough the doorway. Father Rocco, bending abstractedly over his plastermixture, heard her continue to herself in a whisper, as she went byhim, "If I have any influence at all with my father, that impudentbeggar-girl shall be forbidden the studio."

  "Jealousy on the other side," thought the priest. "Something must bedone at once, or this will end badly."

  He looked again at the glass, and saw Fabio, after an instant ofhesitation, beckon to Nanina to approach him. She left her seat,advanced half-way to his, then stopped. He stepped forward to meet her,and, taking her by the hand, whispered earnestly in her ear. When he haddone, before dropping her hand, he touched her cheek with his lips, andthen helped her on with the little white mantilla which covered her headand shoulders out-of-doors. The girl trembled violently, and drew thelinen close to her face as Fabio walked into the larger studio, and,addressing Father Rocco, said:

  "I am afraid I am more idle, or more stupid, than ever to-day. I can'tget on with the bust at all to my satisfaction, so I have cut short thesitting, and given Nanina a half-holiday."

  At the first sound of his voice, Maddalena, who was speaking to herfather, stopped, and, with another look of scorn at Nanina standingtrembling in the doorway, left the room. Luca Lomi called Fabio to himas she went away, and Father Rocco, turning to the statuette, lookedto see how the plaster was hardening on it. Seeing them thus engaged,Nanina attempted to escape from the studio without being noticed; butthe priest stopped her just as she was hurrying by him.

  "My child," said he, in his gentle, quiet way, "are you going home?"

  Nanina's heart beat too fast for her to reply in words; she could onlyanswer by bowing her head.

  "Take this for your little sister," pursued Father Rocco, putting a fewsilver coins in her hand; "I have got some customers for those mats sheplaits so nicely. You need not bring them to my rooms; I will come andsee you this evening, when I am going my rounds among my parishioners,and will take the mats away with me. You are a good girl, Nanina--youhave always been a good girl--and as long as I am alive, my child, youshall never want a friend and an adviser."

  Nanina's eyes filled with tears. She drew the mantilla closer than everround her face, as she tried to thank the priest. Father Rocco noddedto her kindly, and laid his hand lightly on her head for a moment, thenturned round again to his cast.

  "Don't forget my message to the lady who is to sit to me to-morrow,"said Luca to Nanina, as she passed him on her way out of the studio.

  After she had gone, Fabio returned to the priest, who was still busyover his cast.

  "I hope you will get on better with the bust to-morrow," said FatherRocco, politely; "I am sure you cannot complain of your model."

  "Complain of her!" cried the young man, warmly; "she has the mostbeautiful head I ever saw. If I were twenty times the sculptor that Iam, I should despair of being able to do her justice."

  He walked into the inner room to look at his bust again--lingered beforeit for a little while--and then turned to retrace his steps to thelarger studio. Between him and the doorway stood three chairs. As hewent by them, he absently touched the backs of the first two, and passedthe third; but just as he was entering the larger room, stopped, as ifstruck by a sudden recollection, returned hastily, and touched the thirdchair. Raising his eyes, as he approached the large studio again afterdoing this, he met the eyes of the priest fixed on him in unconcealedastonishment.

  "Signor Fabio!" exclaimed Father Rocco, with a sarcastic smile, "whowould ever have imagined that you were superstitious?"

  "My nurse was," returned the young man, reddening, and laughing ratheruneasily. "She taught me some bad habits that I have not got over yet."With those words he nodded and hastily went out.

  "Superstitious," said Father Rocco softly to himself. He smiled again,reflected for a moment, and then, going to the window, looked into thestreet. The way to the left led to Fabio's palace, and the way to theright to the Campo Santo, in the neighborhood of which Nanina lived. Thepriest was just in time to see the young sculptor take the way to theright.

  After another half-hour had elapsed, the two workmen quitted the studioto go to dinner, and Luca and his brother were left alone.

  "We may return now," said Father Rocco, "to that conversation which wassuspended between us earlier in the day."

  "I have nothing more to say," rejoined Luca, sulkily.

  "Then you can listen to me, brother, with the greater attention,"pursued the priest. "I objected to the coarseness of your tone intalking of our young pupil and your daughter; I object still morestrongly to your insinuation that my desire to see them married(provided always that they are sincerely attached to each other) springsfrom a mercenary motive."

  "You are trying to snare me, Rocco, in a mesh of fine phrases; but I amnot to be caught. I know what my own motive is for hoping that Maddalenamay get an offer of marriage from this wealthy young gentleman--shewill have his money, and we shall all profit by it. That is coarse andmercenary, if you please; but it is the true reason why I want tosee Maddalena married to Fabio. You want to see it, too--and for whatreason, I should like to know, if not for mine?"

  "Of what use would wealthy relations be to me? What are people withmoney--what is money itself--to a man who follows my calling?"

  "Money is something to everybody."

  "Is it? When have you found that I have taken any account of it? Giveme money enough to buy my daily bread, and to pay for my lodging and mycoarse cassock, and though I may want much for the poor, for myself Iwant no more. Then have you found me mercenary? Do I not help you inthis studio, for love of you and of the art, without exacting so much asjourneyman's wages? Have I ever asked you for more than a few crowns togive away on feast-days among my parishioners? Money! money for a manwho may be summoned to Rome to-morrow, who may be told to go at half anhour's notice on a foreign mission that may take him to the ends of theearth, and who would be ready to go the moment when he was called on!Money to a man who has no wife, no children, no interests outside thesacred circle of the Church! Brother, do you see the dust and dirt andshapeless marble chips lying around your statue there? Cover that floorinstead with gold, and, though the litter may have changed in color andform, in my eyes it would be litter still."

  "A very noble sentiment, I dare say, Rocco, but I can't echo it.Granting that you care nothing for money, will you explain to me whyyou are so anxious that Maddalena should marry Fabio? She has had offersfrom poorer men--you knew of them--but you have never taken the leastinterest in her accepting or rejecting a proposal before."

  "I hinted the reason to you, months ago, when Fabio first entered thestudio.
"

  "It was rather a vague hint, brother; can't you be plainer to-day?"

  "I think I can. In the first place, let me begin by assuring you thatI have no objection to the young man himself. He may be a littlecapricious and undecided, but he has no incorrigible faults that I havediscovered."

  "That is rather a cool way of praising him, Rocco."

  "I should speak of him warmly enough, if he were not the representativeof an intolerable corruption, and a monstrous wrong. Whenever I think ofhim I think of an injury which his present existence perpetuates; and ifI do speak of him coldly, it is only for that reason."

  Luca looked away quickly from his brother, and began kicking absently atthe marble chips which were scattered over the floor around him.

  "I now remember," he said, "what that hint of yours pointed at. I knowwhat you mean."

  "Then you know," answered the priest, "that while part of the wealthwhich Fabio d'Ascoli possesses is honestly and incontestably his own;part, also, has been inherited by him from the spoilers and robbers ofthe Church--"

  "Blame his ancestors for that; don't blame him."

  "I blame him as long as the spoil is not restored."

  "How do you know that it was spoil, after all?"

  "I have examined more carefully than most men the records of the civilwars in Italy; and I know that the ancestors of Fabio d'Ascoli wrungfrom the Church, in her hour of weakness, property which they dared toclaim as their right. I know of titles to lands signed away, inthose stormy times, under the influence of fear, or through falserepresentations of which the law takes no account. I call the money thusobtained spoil, and I say that it ought to be restored, and shall berestored, to the Church from which it was taken."

  "And what does Fabio answer to that, brother?"

  "I have not spoken to him on the subject."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I have, as yet, no influence over him. When he is married, hiswife will have influence over him, and she shall speak."

  "Maddalena, I suppose? How do you know that she will speak?"

  "Have I not educated her? Does she not understand what her duties aretoward the Church, in whose bosom she has been reared?"

  Luca hesitated uneasily, and walked away a step or two before he spokeagain.

  "Does this spoil, as you call it, amount to a large sum of money?" heasked, in an anxious whisper.

  "I may answer that question, Luca, at some future time," said thepriest. "For the present, let it be enough that you are acquainted withall I undertook to inform you of when we began our conversation. You nowknow that if I am anxious for this marriage to take place, it is frommotives entirely unconnected with self-interest. If all the propertywhich Fabio's ancestors wrongfully obtained from the Church wererestored to the Church to-morrow, not one paulo of it would go into mypocket. I am a poor priest now, and to the end of my days shall remainso. You soldiers of the world, brother, fight for your pay; I am asoldier of the Church, and I fight for my cause."

  Saying these words, he returned abruptly to the statuette; and refusedto speak, or leave his employment again, until he had taken the moldoff, and had carefully put away the various fragments of which itconsisted. This done, he drew a writing-desk from the drawer of hisworking-table, and taking out a slip of paper wrote these lines:

  "Come down to the studio to-morrow. Fabio will be with us, but Naninawill return no more."

  Without signing what he had written, he sealed it up, and directed itto "Donna Maddalena"; then took his hat, and handed the note to hisbrother.

  "Oblige me by giving that to my niece," he said.

  "Tell me, Rocco," said Luca, turning the note round and roundperplexedly between his finger and thumb; "do you think Maddalena willbe lucky enough to get married to Fabio?"

  "Still coarse in your expressions, brother!"

  "Never mind my expressions. Is it likely?"

  "Yes, Luca, I think it is likely."

  With those words he waved his hand pleasantly to his brother, and wentout.