Hope Republican, Volume 1, Number 51, Hope, Bartholomew County, 13 April 1893 — Page 3

The Yellow Mask BY WILKIE COLLINS. PART FIRST.

CHAPTER II.— Continued. “No, no!” returned Luca. He stopped, looked around at the workmen, who were chipping away mechanically at their bit of drapery, then advanced close to the priest with a cunning smile, and continued in a whisper; “If Maddalena can only get from Pablo's room here to Faldo's palace over the way, on - the Arno—come, come, Eocoo! don’t shake your head. If I brought her up to your church door one of these days, as Paboi d’Aseoli’s betrothed, you would be glad enough to take the rest of the business off my hands, and make her Fabio d’Ascoli’s wife. You are a very holy man, Rocco, but you know the difference between the clink of the money-bag and the clink of the chisel Tor all that!” ‘T am sorry to find, Luca,” x-e-turned the priest coldly, “that you allow yourself to talk of the most delicate subjects in >je coarsest way. This is one of the minor sins of the tongue which is growing on you. When we are alone in the studio, I will endeavor to lead you into speaking of the young man in the room there, and of your daughter, in terms more becoming to you, tome and to them. Until that time, allow me to go on with 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 plaster to the right consistence for talcing a cast, suspended his occupation, and, crossing the room to a corner next the partition, removed from it a cheval-glass which stood there. He lifted it away gently, while his brother’s back was turned, carried it close to the table at which he had been at work, and thou resumed his employment of mixing the plaster. Having at last prepared the composition for use, he laid it over the exposed half of the statuette with a neatness and dexterity which showed him to be a practiced hand at cast-taking. Just as he had covered the necessary extent of surface, Luca turned round from his statue. “How are you getting on with the east?,” he asked. “Do you want any help?” “None, brother, I thank you,” answered the priest. “Pray do not disturb either yourself or your workmen on ray account. ” Luca turned again to the statue; and at the same moment Father Rocco osoftly moved the cheval-glass toward the open doorwa}’ between the two rooms, placing ;t at such an angle as to make it reflect the figures of the persons in the smaller studio. He did this with significant quickness and precision. It was evidently not the first.:time he had used the glass for purposes of secret observation. Mechanically stirring the wet plaster round and round for the second casting, the priest looked into the glass, and saw, as in a picture, all Chat was going forward >n the inner room. Maddalena Lomi was standing behind the young nobleman, watching the progress ho made with his bust. Occasionally she took the modeling tool out of Lis hand, and showed him, with her sweetest smile, that she, too, as a sculptor’s daughter, understood something of the sculptor’s art; and now and then, in the' pauses of the conversation, when her 1 interest was especially intense in Fabio’s work, she suffered her hand to drop on his shoulder, or stooped forward so close to him that her hair mingled for a moment with his. Moving the glass an inch or two, so as to bring Nanina well under his eye, Father Rocco found that he could trace each repetition of these little acts of familiarity by the immediate effect which they produced on the girl’s face, and manner. Whenever Maddalena so much as touched the young nobleman—no matter whether she did so by premeditation or really by accident — Naniua’s features contracted, her pale cheeks grew paler, she fidgeted on her chair, and her fingers nervously twisted and untwisted the loose ends of the ribbon fastened round her waist. “Jealous,” thought Father Rocco; ‘T suspected it weeks ago.” He turned away and gave his whole attention for a few minutes to the mixing of the plaster. When he looked back again at the glass he was just in time to witness a little accident which suddenly changed the relative positions of the three persons in the inner room. He saw Maddalena take up a modeling tool which lay on the table near her and begin to help Fabio in altering the arrangement of the hair in his bust. The young man watched what she was doing earnestly enough for a few moments, then his attention wandered away to Nanina. She looked at him reproach-

fully and he answered by a sign which brought a smile to her face directly. Maddalena surprised her at the instant of the change, and, following the direction of her eyes, easily discovered at whom the smile was directed. She darted a glance of contempt at Nanina, put down the modeling tool and turned indignantly to the young sculptor, who was affecting to be hard at work again. “Signor Fabio,” shesaid, “thenext time you forget what is due to your rank and yourself warn me of it, if you please, beforehand, and I will take care to leave the room.” While speaking the last words she passed through the doorway. Father Rocco, bending abstractly over his plaster mixture, heard her continue to herself in a whisper as she went by him, “If I have any influence with my father, that impudent beggar girl shall be forbidden the studio. ” “Jealousy on the other hand,” thought the priest. “Something must be done at once or this will end badly.” He looked again at the glass and saw Fabio, after an instant of hesitation, beckon Nanina to approach him. She left her seat, advanced half way to his, thou stopped. He stepped forward to meet her, and, taking her by the hand, whispered earnestly in her ear. When he had done, before dropping her hand, he touched her cheek with his lips, and lie then helped her on with a little white mantilla which covered her head and shoulders out of doors. The girl trembled violently and drew the linen 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’t get on with the bust at all to my satisfaction, so I have cut short thie sitting and given Nanina a half holiday.” At the sound of his voice Maddalena, who was then speaking to her father, stopped, and, with another look of scorn at Nanina standing trembling in the doorway, left the room. Luca Lomi called Fabio to him as she went away, and Father Rocco, turning to the statuette, looked to see how the plaster was hardening on it. Seeing them thus engaged, Nanina attempted to escape from the studio without being noticed; but the priest stopped her just as she was hurrying by him, “My child,” he said, in his gentle, quiet way, “are you going home?” Nanina’s heart beat too fast for her to reply in words; she could ! only answer by bowing her head. i “Take this for your little sister,” pursued Father tlocco, putting a few silver coins in her hands; “I have got some customers for those mats she plaits so nicely. You need not bring them to my rooms; I will come and see 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 —you have always been a good girl; and as long as I am alive, my child, you shall never want I a friend and an adviser.” Nanina’s eyes filled with tears. She drew the mantilla closer than | ever around her face, as she tried to 1 thank the priest. Father Rocco i nodded to her kindly, and laid his | hand lightly on her head for a mo- | inent, then turned round again to i 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 busy over his cast. “I hope you will get on better with the bust to-morrow,” said Father Rocco politely; “lam sure you can not complain of your model.” i ‘ ‘Complain of her!” cried the young man warmly; “she has the most beautiful head I ever saw. If I were twenty times the scuptor that I am, I should despair of being able to do her justice.” He walked into the inner room to look at his bust again—lingered before it for a little while —and then turned to retrace his steps to the larger studio. Between him and the doorway stood three chairs. As he went by them,he absently touched the backs of the first two, and passed the third; but just as ho was entering the larger room he stopped, as if struck by a sudden recollection, returned hastily, and touched the third chair. Raising his eyes, as he approached the large studio again after doing this, he met the eyes of the priest fixed on him in unconcealed astonishment. “Signor Fabio 1” exclaimed Father Rocco, with a sarcastic smile, “who would ever have Imagined that you were superstitious?” “My nurse was,” returned the young man, reddening and laughing

rather uneasily, “She taught me some bad babbits that I have not got over yet.” With those words ho nodded, and hastily went out. “Superstitious,” said Father Rooco softly to himself. He smiled again, reflected for a moment, and then, going to the window, looked into the street. The way to the left led to Fabio’s palace, and the way to the right to the Campo Santo, in the neighborhood of which Nanina lived. The priest was just in time to see the young sculptor make the way to the right. After another half hour had elapsed, the two workmen quitted the studio to go to dinner, and Luca and. his brother were left alone. “We may return now,” said Father Rocco, “to that conversation which was suspended 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 in talking of our young pupil and your daughter; I object still more strongly to your insinuation that my desire to see them married (provided always that they are sincerely attached to each other) springs from a mercenary motive.” “You are trying to snare me, Rocco, in a mesh of fine phrases; but I am not to be caught. I know what my own motive is for hoping that Maddalena may get an offer of marriage from this wealthy young gentleman: she will have his money, and we shall profit by it. That is coarse and mercenary, if you please; but it is the true reason why I want to see Maddalena married to Fabio. You want to see it too; and for what reason, I should like to know, if not for mine?” “Of what use would wealthy relations be to me? What are people with money —what is money itself—to a man who follows my calling?” 1 ‘Money is something to everybody. ” “Is it? When have you found that I have taken any account of it? Give me money enough to buy my daily bread, and to pay for my lodging and my coarse cassock, and, though I may want much for the poor, for myself I want no more. When have you found me mercenary? Do I not help you in this studio, for love of you and of the art, without exacting so much as journeyman’s wages? Have I ever asked you for more than a few crowns to give away on feastdays among my parishioners? Money! money for a man who may summoned to Rome to-morrow, who may be told to go at half an hour’s notice on a foreign mission that may take him to the ends of the earth, 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 the sacred circle of the Church! Brother, do you see the dust and dirt and shapeless marble chips lying around your statue there? Cover that floor instead with gold, and, though the litter may have changed in color and form, in my eyes it would be litter still.” “A very noble sentiment, I dare say, Rocco, but 1 can’t echo it. Granting that you care nothing for money, will you explain to me why you are so anxious that Maddalena should marry Fabio? She has had offers from poorer men; you knew of them, but you have never taken the least interest in her accepting or rejecting a proposal- before.” “I hinted the, reason to you months ago, when Fabio first entered the studio.” “It was rather a vague hint, brother; can’t you be plainer day?”“I think I can. In the first place, let me begin by assuring you that 1 have no objection to the young man himself. He may be a little capricious and undecided, but he has no incorrigible faults that I have discovered. ” “That is rather a cool way of praising him, Rocco.” “I should speak of him warmly enough, if he were not the representative of an intolerable corruption and a monstrous wrong. Whenever I think of him, I think of an injury which his present existence perpetuates; and if I do speak of him coldly, it is only for that reason. ” Luca looked away quickly from his brother, and began kicking absently at the marble chips which were scattered over the floor around him. “I now remember,” he said, “what | that hint of yours pointed at. I ; know what you mean. “Then yon know,” answered the ' priest, “that while part of the wealth which Fabio d’ Ascoli possesses is honestly and incontestably his own, part, also, has been inherited by him from the spoilers and robbers of the church.” “Blame his ancestors for that; don’t blame him.” “I blame him as long as the spoil is not restored.” “How do vou know that it was I spoil, after all?” “I have examined more carefully 1 than most men the records of the

civil wars in Italy; and I know that the ancestors of Fabio d’ Ascoli wrung from the church, in her hour of weakness, property which they dared to claim as their right. I know of titles to lands signed away, in those stormy times, under the influence of fear, or through false representations of which the law takes no account. I call the money thus obtained spoil, and I say that it ought to be restored, aud shall be restored, to the church from which it was taken.” “And what does Fabio answer to that, brother?" ‘ T have not spoken to him on the subject.” “Why not?” “Because I have, as yet no influence over him. When he is married, his wife 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 are toward the Church, in whose bosom she has been roared?” Luca hesitated uneasily, and walked away a step or two before he spoke again, “Does this spoil, as you call it, amount to a large sum of money?” he asked in an anxious whisper. “I may answer that question, Luca, at some future time,” said the priest. “For the present let it be enough that you are acquainted with all I undertook to inform you of when we began -our conversation. You now know that if I am anxious for this mariage to take place, it is from motives entirely unconnected with self-interest. If all the property which Fabio's ancestors wrongfully obtained from the Church were restored to the Church to-morow, not one paulo of it would go into my pocket. I am a poor priest now, and to the end of my days shall remain so. You soldiers of *the world, brother, fight for your pay; I am a soldier of the Church," and I fight for my cause.” Saying these words he returned abruptly to the statuette; and he refused to speak, or leave his'employment again, until he had taken the mold off, and had carefully put away the various fragments of which it consisted. This done, he drew a writing-desk from the drawer of his working-table, and, taking out a slip of paper, wrote these lines: “Come down to the studio to-mor-row. Fabio will be with us, but Nanina will return no more.” Without signing what he had written, he sealed it up, and directed it to “Donna Maddalena;” then took his hat, and handed the note to his brother. “Oblige me by giving that to my niece,” he said. “Tell me, Rocco,” said Luca, turning the note round and round perplexedly between his finger and thumb, “do you think Maddalena will be lucky enough to get married to Fabio?” “Still coarse in your expressions, brother!” “Never mind my expressions. It is likely.” With those words he waved his hand pleasantly to his brother, and went out. CHAPTER III. From the studio Father Rocco went straight to his own rooms, hard by the church to which he was attached. Opening a cabinet in his study, he took from one of its drawers a handful of small silver money, consulted for a minute or so a slate ou which several names and addresses were written, provided himself with a portable iukhorn and some strips of paper, and again went out. He directed his steps to the poorest part of the neighborhood, and, entering some very wretched houses, was greeted by the inhabitants with great respect and affection. The women, especially, kissed his hands with more reverence than they would have shown to the highest crowned head in Europe. In return he talked to them as easily aud unconstrainedly as if they were his equals; sat clown cheerfuHy on dirty bedsides and rickety benches, and distributed bis little gifts of money with the air of a man who was paying debts rather than one bestowing charity. Where he encountered cases of illness he pulled out his inkho *n and slips of paper and wrote simple preI scrip tions to be made up from the i medicine chest of a neighboring con- | vent, which served the same merciI ful purpose then that is answered by ; dispensaries in our days. When he j had exhausted his money and got I through his visits he was escorted ! out of the poor quarter by a perfect i train of enthusiastic followers. The women kissed his hand again and the men uncovered as he turned and with a friendly sign bade them all farewell. As soon as he was alone again he walked toward the Campo Santo, and passing the house in which Nanina lived, sauntered up and down the street thoughtfully for some minutes. When he at length ascended the steep staircase that led to the room occupied by the sisters he found the door ajar. Pushing it open

gently, he saw La Blonde,., with her pretty fair profile turneci toward him, eating her evening meal of bread and grapes. At the opposite end of the room Scararaucoia was perched up on his hind quarters in a corner, with his mouth wide open to catch the morsel of bread which ha evidently expected the child to throw him. What the elder sister was doing the priest had not time to see, for the dog barked the moment he presented himself and Nanina hastened to the door to ascertain who the intruder might be. All that he could observe was that she was too confused on catching sight of him to be able to utter a word. La Biondella was the first to speak. “Thank you, Father Rocco,” said the child, jumping up with her bread in one hand and her grapes in the other—-“thank you for giving me so much money for my dinner mats. There they are, tied up together in a little parcel In the corner. Nanina said she was ashamed to think of you carrying them, and I said I knew where you lived and I should like to ask you to let me take them home.” “Do you think you can carry them all the way, my dear?” asked the priest. “Look, Father Rocco, see if I can’t carry them!” cried La Biondeiia, cramming her bread into one of the pockets of her little apron, holding her bunch of grapes by the stalk in her mouth and hoisting the package of dinner mats on her head in a moment. “See, I am strong enough to carry double,” said the child looking up proudly into the priest’s face. “Can you trust her to take them home for me?” asked Father Rocco, turning to Nanina. “I want to speak to you alone, and her absence will give me the opportunity. Can you trust her out by herself?” “Yes, Father Rocco; she often goes out alone.” Nanina gave this answer in low, trembling tones, and looking down confusedly on the ground. “Go, then, my dear,” said Father Rocco, patting the child on the shoulder, “and come back here to your sister as soon as you have left the mats. ” La Biondella went out directly In great triumph, with Scaramuccia walking by her side and keeping his muzzle suspiciously close to the pocket in which she had put her bread. Father Rocco closed the door after them, and then, taking the one chair which the room possessed, motioned to Nanina to sit by him on the stool. “Do you believe that I am your friend, my child, and that I have always meant well toward you?" he began. "The best and kindest of friends," answered Nanina. “Then you will hear what I have to say patiently, and you will believe that I am speaking for your good, even if my words should distress you?” (Nina turned away her head.) “Now tell me, should I be wrong, to begin with, if I said that my brothers’pupil, the young nobleman whom we call ‘Senor Fabio, ’ had been here to see you to-day?” (Nanina started up affrighted from her stool.) “Sit down again, my child; I am not going to blame you. I am only going to tell you what you must do for the future." He took her hand; It was cold and it trembled violently in his. H will not ask what he has been saying to you,” continued the priest, “for it might distress you to answer; and I have, moreover, had means of knowing that your youth and beauty have made a strong impression on him. I will pass over, then, all reference to the words he may have been speaking to you, and I will come at once to what I have now to say in my turn. Nanina, my child, arm yourself with all your courage, and promise me, before we part to- • night, that you will see Signor Fabio no more.” Nanina turned round suddenly and fixed her eyes on him, with an expression of terrified incredulity. “No more?” “You are very young and very Innocent,” said Father Rocco; “but surely you must have thought before now of the difference between Signor Fabio and you. Surely you must have remembered that you are among the ranks of the poor, and that he is high up among the rich and nobly born?” (to be continued.) Does Some Good Work. I Texas Sittings. | A.—What dentist made your teeth i for you? B.— These are my own teeth. No dentist made them. B. —You don’t say so? How deceptive they are! Why, they look as nice as the best kind of false | teeth. What a wonderful thing naj ture is! j Some scientists say there is no I truth in phrenology, but whenever : you see a man with a large lump on 1 the top of his head you may set St | down as a certainty that he is a coni eeited fellow. Phrenology may be | the most arrant humbug in the world, j but the lump on the top of the head ' never lies.