Pietro Ghisleri Part 6

What's perdition to you is salvation to me. Ah, the delicate sweet Of mad meetings, of broken confessions, of nights unblest!

Oh, the shadowy horror of hate that haunts love's steps without rest, The desire to be dead--to see dead both the beings one hates, One's self and the other, twin victims of opposite fates!

How I hate you! You thing beyond Satan's supremest temptation, You creature of light for whom G.o.d has ordained no d.a.m.nation, You escape me, the being whose searing hand lovingly lingers On the neck of each sinner to brand him with five red-hot fingers!

You escape me--you dare scoff at me--and I, poor old pretender, Must sue for your beautiful soul with temptation more tender Than a man can find for a woman, when night in her moonlit glory Silvers a word to a poem, makes a poem of a commonplace story!

So I sue here at your feet for your soul and the gold of your heart, To break my own if I lose you--Lose you? No--do not start.

You angel--you bitter-sweet creature of heaven, I love you and hate you!

For I know what you are, and I know that my sin cannot mate you.

I know you are better than I--by the blessing of G.o.d!-- And I hate what is better than I by the blessing of G.o.d!

What right has the Being Magnificent, reigning supreme, To wield the huge might that is his, in a measure extreme?

What right has G.o.d got of his strength to make you all good, And me bad from the first and weighed down in my sin's leaden hood?

What right have you to be pure, my angel, when I am foul?

What right have you to the light, while I, like an owl, Must blink in h.e.l.l's darkness and count my sins by the bead-- While you can get all you pray for, the wine and the mead Of a heavenly blessing, showered upon you straight-- Because you chance to stand on the consecrate side of the gate?

Ah! Give me a little nature, give me a human truth!

Give me a heart that feels--and falls, as a heart should--without ruth!

Give me a woman who loves and a man who loves again, Give me the instant's joy that ends in an age of pain, Give me the one dear touch that I love--and that you fear-- And I will give my empire for the Kingdom you hold dear!

I will cease from tempting and torturing, I will let the poor sinner go, I will turn my blind eyes heavenward and forget this world below, I will change from lying to truth, and be forever true-- If you will only love me--and give the Devil his due!"

It had been previously arranged that at the last words the nun should thrust back his Satanic majesty and take refuge in the church. But it turned out otherwise. As he drew near the conclusion, Ghisleri crept stealthily up to the Contessa's side, and threw all the persuasion he possessed into his voice. But it was most probably the Contessa's love of surprising the world which led her to do the contrary of what was expected. At the last line of his speech, she made one wild gesture of despair, and threw herself backward upon Ghisleri's ready arm. For one moment he looked down into her white upturned face, and his own grew pale as his gleaming eyes met hers. With characteristic presence of mind, San Giacinto, the monk, bent his head, and stalked away in holy horror as the curtain fell.

CHAPTER IV.

As the curtain went down, a burst of applause rang through the room. The poetry, if it could be called poetry, had a.s.suredly not been of a high order, and as for the sentiments it expressed, a good number of the audience were more than usually shocked. But the whole thing had been effective, unexpected, and striking, especially the ending, over which the world smacked its lips.

"I do not like it at all," said Laura Carlyon to Arden, as they left the seats where they had sat together through the little performance.

"They looked very well," he answered thoughtfully. "As for what he said, it was Ghisleri. That is the man's character. He will talk in that way while he does not believe a word he says, or only one out of ten."

"Then I do not like his character, nor him," returned the young lady, frankly. "But I should not say it to you, dear, because he is your best friend. He shows you all the good there is in him, I suppose, and he shows us all the bad."

"No one ever said a truer thing of him," said Arden, limping along by her side. "But I admire the man's careless strength in what he does."

"It is easy to use strong language," replied Laura, quietly. "It is quite another thing to be strong. I believe he is weak, morally speaking. But then, how should I know? One only guesses at such things, after all."

"Yes, it is all guess-work. But I think I understand him better to-night than before."

A moment later the sound of dance music came from the most distant and the largest of the rooms. Ghisleri and the Contessa dell' Armi were already there. She was so slight of figure, that she draped her nun's dress over her gown, and had only to drop it to be herself again. They took a first turn together, and Ghisleri talked softly all the time as he danced.

"Shockingly delightful--the whole thing!" exclaimed Donna Adele, watching them. "How well they acted it! They must have rehea.r.s.ed very often."

"Quite often enough, I have no doubt," said the Marchesa di San Giacinto, with a laugh.

An hour or two pa.s.sed away and Laura Carlyon found herself walking about with Ghisleri after dancing with him. He was a very magnificent personage in his scarlet, black and gold costume, and Laura herself looked far more saintly in her evening gown than the Contessa dell' Armi had looked in the dress of a nun. The two made a fine contrast, and some one said so, unfortunately within hearing of both Adele Savelli and Maddalena dell' Armi. The latter turned her cold face quickly and looked at Laura and Ghisleri, but her expression did not change.

"What a very uncertain person that dear Ghisleri is!" observed Donna Adele to Pietrasanta, as she noticed the Contessa's movement. She spoke just so loud that the latter could hear her, then turned away with her companion and walked in the opposite direction.

Meanwhile Ghisleri and Laura were together. The young girl felt an odd sensation as her hand lay on his arm, as though she were doing something wrong. She did not understand his life, nor him, being far too young and innocent of life's darker thoughts and deeds. She had said that she disliked him, because that seemed best to express what she felt--a certain vague wish not to be too near him, a certain timidity when he was within hearing which she did not feel at other times.

"You did not mean any of those things you said, did you, Signor Ghisleri?" she asked, scarcely knowing why she put the question.

"I meant them all, and much more of the same kind," answered Pietro, with a hard laugh.

"I am sorry--I would rather not believe it."

"Why?"

"Because it is not right to think such things, nor even to say them in a play."

Ghisleri looked at her in some surprise. Laura felt a sort of impulse of conscience to say what she thought.

"Ah! you are horribly good!" laughed Ghisleri, quoting his own verse.

Laura felt uncomfortable as she met his glance. He really looked very Satanic just then, as his eyebrows went up and the deep lines deepened between his eyes and on his forehead.

"Either one believes or one does not," she said. "If one does--" She hesitated.

"If one does, does it follow that because G.o.d is good to you, He has been good to me also, Miss Carlyon?"

His expression changed, and his voice was grave and almost sad. Laura sighed almost inaudibly, but said nothing.

"Will you have anything?" he asked indifferently, after the short pause.

"A cup of tea?"

"Thanks, no. I think I will go to my mother."

Ghisleri took her to the Princess's side and left her.

"You seemed to be having a very interesting conversation with Miss Carlyon just now," said the Contessa dell' Armi as he sat down beside her a quarter of an hour later. "What were you talking about?"

"Sin," answered Ghisleri, laconically.

"With a young girl!" exclaimed the Contessa. "But then--English--"

"You need not raise your eyebrows, nor talk in that tone, my dear lady,"

replied Ghisleri. "Miss Carlyon is quite beyond sarcasms of that sort.

Since you are curious, she was telling me that it was sinful to say the things you were good enough to listen to in the tableau, even in a play."

"Ah? And you will be persuaded, I dare say. What beautiful eyes she has.

It is a pity she is so clumsy and heavily made. Really, has she got you to promise that you will never say any of those things again--after the way I ended the piece for you?"

"No. I have not promised to be good yet. As for your ending of the performance, I confess I was surprised."

"You did not show it."

"It would hardly have been in keeping with my part, would it? But I can show you that I am grateful at least."

"For what?" asked the Contessa, raising her eyebrows again. "Do you think I meant anything by it?"