"Come and dine with us to add to your associations, /povero mio/,"said she. "This is a great day; we are out of danger. My mother writes that within a year there will be an amnesty. Oh! /la cara patria/!"These three words made Gina weep. "Another winter here," said she, "and I should have been dead!""Poor little Sicilian kid!" said Francesca, stroking Gina's head with an expression and an affection which made Rodolphe long to be so caressed, even if it were without love.
The boat grounded; Rodolphe sprang on to the sand, offered his hand to the Italian lady, escorted her to the door of the Bergmanns' house, and went to dress and return as soon as possible.
When he joined the librarian and his wife, who were sitting on the balcony, Rodolphe could scarcely repress an exclamation of surprise at seeing the prodigious change which the good news had produced in the old man. He now saw a man of about sixty, extremely well preserved, a lean Italian, as straight as an I, with hair still black, though thin and showing a white skull, with bright eyes, a full set of white teeth, a face like Caesar, and on his diplomatic lips a sardonic smile, the almost false smile under which a man of good breeding hides his real feelings.
"Here is my husband under his natural form," said Francesca gravely.
"He is quite a new acquaintance," replied Rodolphe, bewildered.
"Quite," said the librarian; "I have played many a part, and know well how to make up. Ah! I played one in Paris under the Empire, with Bourrienne, Madame Murat, Madame d'Abrantis /e tutte quanti/.
Everything we take the trouble to learn in our youth, even the most futile, is of use. If my wife had not received a man's education--an unheard-of thing in Italy--I should have been obliged to chop wood to get my living here. /Povera/ Francesca! who would have told me that she would some day maintain me!"As he listened to this worthy bookseller, so easy, so affable, so hale, Rodolphe scented some mystification, and preserved the watchful silence of a man who has been duped.
"/Che avete, signor/?" Francesca asked with simplicity. "Does our happiness sadden you?""Your husband is a young man," he whispered in her ear.
She broke into such a frank, infectious laugh that Rodolphe was still more puzzled.
"He is but sixty-five, at your service," said she; "but I can assure you that even that is something--to be thankful for!""I do not like to hear you jest about an affection so sacred as this, of which you yourself prescribed the conditions.""/Zitto/!" said she, stamping her foot, and looking whether her husband were listening. "Never disturb the peace of mind of that dear man, as ****** as a child, and with whom I can do what I please. He is under my protection," she added. "If you could know with what generosity he risked his life and fortune because I was a Liberal! for he does not share my political opinions. Is not that love, Monsieur Frenchman?--But they are like that in his family. Emilio's younger brother was deserted for a handsome youth by the woman he loved. He thrust his sword through his own heart ten minutes after he had said to his servant, 'I could of course kill my rival, but that would grieve the /Diva/ too deeply.' "This mixture of dignity and banter, of haughtiness and playfulness, made Francesca at this moment the most fascinating creature in the world. The dinner and the evening were full of cheerfulness, justified, indeed, by the relief of the two refugees, but depressing to Rodolphe.
"Can she be fickle?" he asked himself as he returned to the Stopfers'
house. "She sympathized in my sorrow, and I cannot take part in her joy!"He blamed himself, justifying this girl-wife.
"She has no taint of hypocrisy, and is carried away by impulse,"thought he, "and I want her to be like a Parisian woman."Next day and the following days, in fact, for twenty days after, Rodolphe spent all his time at the Bergmanns', watching Francesca without having determined to watch her. In some souls admiration is not independent of a certain penetration. The young Frenchman discerned in Francesca the imprudence of girlhood, the true nature of a woman as yet unbroken, sometimes struggling against her love, and at other moments yielding and carried away by it. The old man certainly behaved to her as a father to his daughter, and Francesca treated him with a deeply felt gratitude which roused her instinctive nobleness.
The situation and the woman were to Rodolphe an impenetrable enigma, of which the solution attracted him more and more.
These last days were full of secret joys, alternating with melancholy moods, with tiffs and quarrels even more delightful than the hours when Rodolphe and Francesca were of one mind. And he was more and more fascinated by this tenderness apart from wit, always and in all things the same, an affection that was jealous of mere nothings--already!
"You care very much for luxury?" said he one evening to Francesca, who was expressing her wish to get away from Gersau, where she missed many things.
"I!" cried she. "I love luxury as I love the arts, as I love a picture by Raphael, a fine horse, a beautiful day, or the Bay of Naples.
Emilio," she went on, "have I ever complained here during our days of privation.""You would not have been yourself if you had," replied the old man gravely.
"After all, is it not in the nature of plain folks to aspire to grandeur?" she asked, with a mischievous glance at Rodolphe and at her husband. "Were my feet made for fatigue?" she added, putting out two pretty little feet. "My hands"--and she held one out to Rodolphe--"were those hands made to work?--Leave us," she said to her husband;"I want to speak to him."
The old man went into the drawing-room with sublime good faith; he was sure of his wife.
"I will not have you come with us to Geneva," she said to Rodolphe.
