CHAPTER II.
The death of Maddalena d'Ascoli produced a complete change in the livesof her father and her uncle. After the first shock of the bereavementwas over, Luca Lomi declared that it would be impossible for him to workin his studio again--for some time to come at least--after the death ofthe beloved daughter, with whom every corner of it was now so sadly andclosely associated. He accordingly accepted an engagement to assist inrestoring several newly discovered works of ancient sculpture at Naples,and set forth for that city, leaving the care of his work-rooms at Pisaentirely to his brother.
On the master-sculptor's departure, Father Rocco caused the statuesand busts to be carefully enveloped in linen cloths, locked the studiodoors, and, to the astonishment of all who knew of his former industryand dexterity as a sculptor, never approached the place again. Hisclerical duties he performed with the same assiduity as ever; but hewent out less than had been his custom hitherto to the houses of hisfriends. His most regular visits were to the Ascoli Palace, to inquireat the porter's lodge after the health of Maddalena's child, who wasalways reported to be thriving admirably under the care of the bestnurses that could be found in Pisa. As for any communications with hispolite little friend from Florence, they had ceased months ago. Theinformation--speedily conveyed to him--that Nanina was in the serviceof one of the most respectable ladies in the city seemed to relieve anyanxieties which he might otherwise have felt on her account. He madeno attempt to justify himself to her; and only required that hisover-courteous little visitor of former days should let him knowwhenever the girl might happen to leave her new situation.
The admirers of Father Rocco, seeing the alteration in his life, and theincreased quietness of his manner, said that, as he was growing older,he was getting more and more above the things of this world. His enemies(for even Father Rocco had them) did not scruple to assert that thechange in him was decidedly for the worse, and that he belonged tothe order of men who are most to be distrusted when they become mostsubdued. The priest himself paid no attention either to his eulogists orhis depreciators. Nothing disturbed the regularity and discipline of hisdaily habits; and vigilant Scandal, though she sought often to surprisehim, sought always in vain.
Such was Father Rocco's life from the period of his niece's death toFabio's return to Pisa.
As a matter of course, the priest was one of the first to call at thepalace and welcome the young nobleman back. What passed between them atthis interview never was precisely known; but it was surmised readilyenough that some misunderstanding had taken place, for Father Rocco didnot repeat his visit. He made no complaints of Fabio, but simply statedthat he had said something, intended for the young man's good, which hadnot been received in a right spirit; and that he thought it desirableto avoid the painful chance of any further collision by not presentinghimself at the palace again for some little time. People were ratheramazed at this. They would have been still more surprised if the subjectof the masked ball had not just then occupied all their attention, andprevented their noticing it, by another strange event in connectionwith the priest. Father Rocco, some weeks after the cessation of hisintercourse with Fabio, returned one morning to his old way of life as asculptor, and opened the long-closed doors of his brother's studio.
Luca Lomi's former workmen, discovering this, applied to him immediatelyfor employment; but were informed that their services would not beneeded. Visitors called at the studio, but were always sent away againby the disappointing announcement that there was nothing new to showthem. So the days passed on until Nanina left her situation and returnedto Pisa. This circumstance was duly reported to Father Rocco by hiscorrespondent at Florence; but, whether he was too much occupied amongthe statues, or whether it was one result of his cautious resolutionnever to expose himself unnecessarily to so much as the breath ofdetraction, he made no attempt to see Nanina, or even to justify himselftoward her by writing her a letter. All his mornings continued to bespent alone in the studio, and all his afternoons to be occupied byhis clerical duties, until the day before the masked ball at the MelaniPalace.
Early on that day he covered over the statues, and locked the doors ofthe work-rooms once more; then returned to his own lodgings, and didnot go out again. One or two of his friends who wanted to see him wereinformed that he was not well enough to be able to receive them. If theyhad penetrated into his little study, and had seen him, they would havebeen easily satisfied that this was no mere excuse. They would havenoticed that his face was startlingly pale, and that the ordinarycomposure of his manner was singularly disturbed.
Toward evening this restlessness increased, and his old housekeeper, onpressing him to take some nourishment, was astonished to hear him answerher sharply and irritably, for the first time since she had been in hisservice. A little later her surprise was increased by his sending herwith a note to the Ascoli Palace, and by the quick return of an answer,brought ceremoniously by one of Fabio's servants. "It is long sincehe has had any communication with that quarter. Are they going to befriends again?" thought the housekeeper as she took the answer upstairsto her master.
"I feel better to-night," he said as he read it; "well enough indeed toventure out. If any one inquires for me, tell them that I am gone to theAscoli Palace." Saying this, he walked to the door; then returned, andtrying the lock of his cabinet, satisfied himself that it was properlysecured; then went out.
He found Fabio in one of the large drawing-rooms of the palace, walkingirritably backward and forward, with several little notes crumpledtogether in his hands, and a plain black domino dress for the masqueradeof the ensuing night spread out on one of the tables.
"I was just going to write to you," said the young man, abruptly, "whenI received your letter. You offer me a renewal of our friendship, andI accept the offer. I have no doubt those references of yours, when welast met, to the subject of second marriages were well meant, but theyirritated me; and, speaking under that irritation, I said words that Ihad better not have spoken. If I pained you, I am sorry for it. Wait!pardon me for one moment. I have not quite done yet. It seems thatyou are by no means the only person in Pisa to whom the question of mypossibly marrying again appears to have presented itself. Ever since itwas known that I intended to renew my intercourse with society atthe ball to-morrow night, I have been persecuted by anonymousletters--infamous letters, written from some motive which it isimpossible for me to understand. I want your advice on the best meansof discovering the writers; and I have also a very important question toask you. But read one of the letters first yourself; any one will do asa sample of the rest."
Fixing his eyes searchingly on the priest, he handed him one of thenotes. Still a little paler than usual, Father Rocco sat down by thenearest lamp, and shading his eyes, read these lines:
"COUNT FABIO---It is the common talk of Pisa that you are likely, asa young man left with a motherless child, to marry again. Your havingaccepted an invitation to the Melani Palace gives a color of truth tothis report. Widowers who are true to the departed do not go among allthe handsomest single women in a city at a masked ball. Reconsider yourdetermination, and remain at home. I know you, and I knew your wife, andI say to you solemnly, avoid temptation, for you must never marry again.Neglect my advice and you will repent it to the end of your life. I havereasons for what I say--serious, fatal reasons, which I cannot divulge.If you would let your wife lie easy in her grave, if you would avoid aterrible warning, go not to the masked ball!"
"I ask you, and I ask any man, if that is not infamous?" exclaimedFabio, passionately, as the priest handed him back the letter. "Anattempt to work on my fears through the memory of my poor dead wife! Aninsolent assumption that I want to marry again, when I myself have noteven so much as thought of the subject at all! What is the secret objectof this letter, and of the rest here that resemble it? Whose interest isit to keep me away from the ball? What is the meaning of such a phraseas, 'If you would let your wife lie easy in her grave'? Have you noadvice to give me--no plan to propose for
discovering the vile handthat traced these lines? Speak to me! Why, in Heaven's name, don't youspeak?"
The priest leaned his head on his hand, and, turning his face from thelight as if it dazzled his eyes, replied in his lowest and quietesttones:
"I cannot speak till I have had time to think. The mystery of thatletter is not to be solved in a moment. There are things in it that areenough to perplex and amaze any man!"
"What things?"
"It is impossible for me to go into details--at least at the presentmoment."
"You speak with a strange air of secrecy. Have you nothing definite tosay--no advice to give me?"
"I should advise you not to go to the ball."
"You would! Why?"
"If I gave you my reasons, I am afraid I should only be irritating youto no purpose."
"Father Rocco, neither your words nor your manner satisfy me. You speakin riddles; and you sit there in the dark with your face hidden fromme--"
The priest instantly started up and turned his face to the light.
"I recommend you to control your temper, and to treat me with commoncourtesy," he said, in his quietest, firmest tones, looking at Fabiosteadily while he spoke.
"We will not prolong this interview," said the young man, calminghimself by an evident effort. "I have one question to ask you, and thenno more to say."
The priest bowed his head, in token that he was ready to listen. Hestill stood up, calm, pale, and firm, in the full light of the lamp.
"It is just possible," continued Fabio, "that these letters may refer tosome incautious words which my late wife might have spoken. I ask youas her spiritual director, and as a near relation who enjoyed herconfidence, if you ever heard her express a wish, in the event of mysurviving her, that I should abstain from marrying again?"
"Did she never express such a wish to you?"
"Never. But why do you evade my question by asking me another?"
"It is impossible for me to reply to your question."
"For what reason?"
"Because it is impossible for me to give answers which must refer,whether they are affirmative or negative, to what I have heard inconfession."
"We have spoken enough," said Fabio, turning angrily from the priest. "Iexpected you to help me in clearing up these mysteries, and you do yourbest to thicken them. What your motives are, what your conduct means, itis impossible for me to know, but I say to you, what I would say in farother terms, if they were here, to the villains who have written theseletters--no menaces, no mysteries, no conspiracies, will prevent me frombeing at the ball to-morrow. I can listen to persuasion, but I scornthreats. There lies my dress for the masquerade; no power on earth shallprevent me from wearing it to-morrow night!" He pointed, as he spoke, tothe black domino and half-mask lying on the table.
"No power on _earth!_" repeated Father Rocco, with a smile, and anemphasis on the last word. "Superstitious still, Count Fabio! Do yoususpect the powers of the other world of interfering with mortals atmasquerades?"
Fabio started, and, turning from the table, fixed his eyes intently onthe priest's face.
"You suggested just now that we had better not prolong this interview,"said Father Rocco, still smiling. "I think you were right; if we part atonce, we may still part friends. You have had my advice not to go tothe ball, and you decline following it. I have nothing more to say.Good-night."
Before Fabio could utter the angry rejoinder that rose to his lips, thedoor of the room had opened and closed again, and the priest was gone.