Our Own Set Part 15

"Most interesting, but the ba.s.s was hoa.r.s.e!"

It was Polyxena Jatinsky who p.r.o.nounced this summary criticism of the solemn ceremonial, close to Zinka. Zinka looked round; Sempaly with his aunt and cousins were at her side. They had attended the service in reserved places in the choir. Involuntarily yielding to an impulse of pain Zinka pressed forward, but Gabrielle had flown to join them; then she was obliged to stay and talk. The Jatinskys were perfectly friendly, Polyxena giving her her hand--Sempaly alone held aloof. On going out the air struck' chill, almost cold, on Zinka's face and she s.h.i.+vered. A well-known voice close behind her said rather brusquely:

"You are too lightly dressed and there is fever in the air. Put this round you," and Sempaly threw over her shoulders a scarf that he was carrying for one of the ladies.

"Thank you, I am not cold; these ladies will want the scarf," said Zinka hastily and repellently.

Polyxena said nothing; perhaps she may have thought it strange that in his anxiety for this little stranger, her cousin should forget to consider that one of them might take cold. But Nini exclaimed: "No, no, Fraulein Sterzl: we are well wrapped up."

At this juncture Truyn's servant, who had been seeking them among the crowd, told them where the carriage was waiting.

While Zinka, wrapped in Nini's China-c.r.a.pe shawl, is borne along between the splas.h.i.+ng fountains, across the bridge of St. Angelo, and through the empty, ill-lighted streets to the palazetto, all her pulses are dancing and throbbing--and the stars in the sky overhead seem unnaturally bright. It is the resurrection of her pain and with it of the lovely mocking vision of the joys she has lost. Good G.o.d! how vividly she remembers them all--how keenly!--the long dreamy afternoons on the Palatine, the delicious hours in the Corsini garden--under the plane-trees by the fountain, where he talked about Erzburg while the perfume of violets and lilies fanned her with their intoxicating breath; the sound of his voice--the touch of his light, thin hand, his smile--his way of saying particular words, of looking at her in particular moments....

She is walking with him once more in the Vatican, in rapt enjoyment of the beauty of the statues; the Belvedere fountain trickled and splashed in dreamy monotony; golden sunbeams fleck the pavement like footmarks left by the G.o.ds before they mounted their pedestals; there is a mysterious rustle and whisper in the lofty corridors as of far, far distant ghostly voices,--and then, suddenly, she is in front of Sant'

Onofrio's; the air is thick with a pale mist. At her feet, veiled in the thin haze, indistinct and mirage-like, the very ghost of departed splendor, lies Rome--the vast reliquary of the world; Rome, on whose monuments and ruins every conceivable crime and every imaginable virtue have set their stamp; where the tragedies of antiquity cry out to the Sacrifice on Calvary.

They had stood together a long time looking down on it; then she had lost a little bunch of violets which she had been wearing and as she turned round to seek them she had perceived that he had picked them up and was holding them to his lips. Their eyes had met....

Yes! he had loved her! he loved her still--he must--she knew it. She told herself that, impulsive and excitable as he was, the merest trifle would suffice to bring him back to her; but whether it was worth while to long so desperately for a man who could be turned by the slightest breath--that she did not ask herself.

And through all the torturing whirl of these memories, above the clatter of the horses' hoofs and the rattle of the wheels over the wretched pavement, she heard the cry "_miserere mei_." But her thoughts turned no more to the G.o.d sacrificed for Man--the strongest angels'

wings cannot bear us quite to heaven so long as our heart dwells on earth.

"Good-night," she said, kissing Gabrielle as the carriage drew up at the door of the palazetto.

"Will you let me have Nini's scarf for Gabrielle?" said Truyn. "I am afraid my little companion may catch cold."

"Oh! of course," cried Zinka, and she wrapped the child carefully in the shawl and kissed her again; "when shall I learn to think of anyone but myself?" she added vexed with herself.

Easter-Monday. All the bells in the churches of Rome are once more wagging their brazen tongues after their week of dumb mourning, and images of the Resurrection in every conceivable form--sugar, wax, soap--decorate all the shop windows.

Baroness Wolnitzka had returned fresher, gayer and more enterprising than ever from her visit to Naples, where she not only had had herself photographed in a lyric att.i.tude leaning on a pillar in the ruins of Pompeii, but, in spite of her huge size which was very much against her taking such excursions, she had with the help of two guides and a remarkably vigorous mule, reached the top of Vesuvius. Thanks, too, to a cardinal's nephew with whom she had sc.r.a.ped acquaintance on her journey, with a view to making him useful, she had succeeded in obtaining--not indeed a private audience of the pope--but leave to attend a private ma.s.s--and receive the communion, in company with three hundred other orthodox souls, from his sacred hand.

This morning she had been to the palazetto to take leave of her sister--to ask once more after Sempaly--to give a full and particular account of the service at the Vatican--and to deliver a discourse on the philosophical value of the ma.s.s. Slawa, whose orthodoxy had been fanned to bigotry, and who on Easter eve had duly climbed the _santa scala_ on her knees, had supplemented her mother's narrative with a variety of interesting details:

"It was most exclusive, quite our own set, and few families of the Polish colony--I wore my black satin dress beaded with jet and I heard a gentleman behind me say: 'That is the only woman whose veil is put on with any taste.'"

Sterzl had kept out of the way during their visit; Zinka had smiled amiably but had not attended: Baroness Clotilde had plied her sister with questions. Then the Wolnitzkas had left to go to the consecration of a bishop--also by invitation from the cardinal's nephew--the ladies were to be admitted to the sacristy and be presented with flowers and refreshments.

It was about six o'clock in the evening when General von Klinger was shown into the drawing-room of the palazetto. The room was not so pretty as it used to be; the furniture was all set out squarely against the walls by the symmetrical taste of the servants, and the flower vases that were always so gracefully arranged now never held anything but bunches of magnolias or violets; Zinka no longer cared to arrange them.

"I am so glad you happen to have come to-day," she cried as he came in.

The brilliancy of her eyes and the redness of her lips showed that she was already suffering from that terrible spring fever which makes havoc with young creatures in the warm days of April and May. She was sitting by her brother on a low red sofa, as she had so often sat with Sempaly; the baroness was lounging in an arm-chair fanning herself; there was a sort of triumphant solemnity in her manner. Even Cecil, too, was evidently in some excitement though his air was just as frank and natural as ever.

"Good evening, general, what hot, trying weather!" drawled the baroness. "It is an extraordinary event to find us all at home together at this hour but we all have a sacred horror of the mob in the streets on a holiday afternoon."

"Oh, mamma!" interrupted Zinka, "it is not only the crowd--we wanted to enjoy our good fortune together; did not we, Cecil?"

He nodded and stroked her hair. "Yes, little Zini."

"Only think. Uncle Klinger--you knew, of course, that Cecil's book on Persia had attracted a great deal of attention--but that is not all. He has been appointed _Charge d'affaires_ at Constantinople."

The general offered his congratulations and shook hands warmly with the young man.

"I could wish for nothing more exactly to my mind," said Cecil. "There is always something to do there; a man always has a chance of making his mark and getting on." He was sincerely and frankly satisfied and affected no indifference to the distinction he had earned.

"In five years we shall see you amba.s.sador," exclaimed the general, with the happy exaggeration that is irresistible on such occasions.

"We do not go quite so fast as that," laughed Sterzl. "However, I hope to rise in due time. Will not you be proud of me, b.u.t.terfly, when I am 'your excellency!'"

"I am proud of you already," said Zinka, "and you know how vain I am, and how much I value such things!"

It was the first time for some weeks that the general had seen the two so happy together and it rejoiced his heart.

"And the climate is good," Sterzl went on, "one of the best in Europe; the foreign colony is friendly and pleasant. You will enjoy studying oriental manners from a bird's-eye view, Zini; and the change of air will do you good?"

"You will take me too?" she said turning pale.

"Why, of course. The bay of Constantinople is lovely and we can often sail out on it; then, in the autumn, if I have time, we will make an excursion in Greece. You will be quite a travelled person." He put his finger under her chin and looked with tender anxiety into her thin face; every trace of color had suddenly faded from it, and the light that her brother's success had kindled in her eyes had died out.

"It will be very nice--" she said wearily; "delightful--thank you, Cecil--you are always so kind ... when are we to start?"

"You might get off in about a week; the sea-voyage will not over-tire you, and you can stop to rest at Athens. In the hot season we can go up to the hills--" then suddenly he glanced sharply in her face and his whole expression changed; he added roughly, with a scowl: "but you need not come unless you like--stay here if you choose--I do not want to force you."

At this instant the maid appeared to announce the arrival of a case from the railway.

"The new ball-dresses!" cried the baroness in great excitement. "I am thankful they have come in time. I was quite in despair for fear I should not have my new gown in time for the ball at the Brancaleone's.

It would have seemed so uncourteous to the princess.... Now let us see what Fanet has. .h.i.t upon that is new...." And she rustled out of the room.

Zinka sat still, with a frozen smile, looking like a criminal to whom the day of execution had just been announced, and uneasily twisting her fingers.

"Of course, I like it, Cecil ... how can you think ... and on Wednesday week we can start--Wednesday will be best ... now I must go and see what my new dress is like ... do not laugh at me uncle; I must make myself look as nice as I can for my last appearance." And she hurried off; but on her way she stumbled against a table and a book fell to the ground. She stopped, picked the book up, turned over the leaves and laid it down; then, as if she wished to make up to her brother for some unkindness, she went back to Cecil and put her hand on his shoulder.

"I do really thank you very much," she said, "and I am glad--really and truly glad, and very proud of you...."

He looked up in her face and their eyes met--his lips quivered with rage--the rage of a lofty, generous, and masterful nature at finding itself incapable of making a woman dear to it happy.

Zinka shrank into herself "My ball-dress!" she faintly exclaimed, and she slipped out of the room.

For a few minutes the two men were silent. Presently the general spoke:

"Zinka is going to the Brancaleones' to-morrow?"

"Yes," replied Sterzl; "at least, she has promised to go. Whether she will change her mind at the last moment and stay at home, of course I cannot foresee."

"But she really seems to care about it this time," said the general.