Rensselaer Republican, Volume 25, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 May 1893 — The Yellow Mask [ARTICLE]

The Yellow Mask

BY WILKIE COLLINS.

PART FIRST.

CHAPTER TH. -Continued. -Nsffinfc’s hinds droppedoiFllie priest’s knees. -She bent her head down otrtoenT, and begun to Weep! bitterly. “Surely you must have thought of that?” reiterated Father Rocco. “Oh, I have often, often thought of itl” murmured the girl. “I have » mourned over it, and cried about it *in secret for many nights past. He said I looked pale, and ill. and out of spirits to-day; and I told him it was thinking of that!” “And what did he say in return?” There was no answer. Father Rocco looked down. Nanina raised, her head directly from his knees, and' tried to turn it away again. He took her hand and stopped her. “Come!” he said; “speak frankly to me. Say what you ought to say What was his answer, my child, when you reminded him of the difference between you?” “He said I was born to be a lady,” • filtered the girl, still struggling to turn her face away, “and that I might make myself one if I would learn and be patient. He said that if he had all the noble ladies in Pisa to choose from on one side, and only little Nanina on the other, he would hold out his hand to me, and tell them, ‘This shall be my wife.’ He said love knew no difference of rank; and that if he was a nobleman and rich, it was all the more reason why he should please himself. He was so kind, that I thought my heart would burst while he was speaking; and my little sister liked him so, that she got upon his knee and kissed him. Even our dog, who growls at other strangers, stole to his side and licked his hand. Oh, Father Rocco! Father Rocco!” The tears burst out afresh, and the lovely head dropped once more, wearily, on the priest’s knee. Father Rocco smiled to himself, and waited to speak again till she was calmer. - -‘Supposing." he resumed, after some minutes of silence, “supposing Signor Fabio really meant all he said to you —” Nanina started up, and confronted the priest boldly for the first time since he had entered the room. I “Supposing!” she exclaimed, her cheeks beginning to redden and her dark-blue eyes flashing suddenly through her tears. “Supposing! Father Rocco, Fabio would never deceive me. I would die here at rour feet rather than doubt the 'east word he said to me!” Theories t signed to her quietly to return to the stool— “I never suspected the child had so much spirit .n her,” he thought to himself. in a voice that began to falter now—“I would die rather than doubt him.” • ] “J will not ask you to doubt him.” I said Father Rocco, gently, “and I will believe in him myself as firmly as you do. Let us suppose, my child, that you have learned patiently all the many things of which you are now ignorant and which it is necessary for a lady to know. Let us suppose that Signor Fabio has violated all the laws that govern, people in his high station and has taken you to him publicly as a wife. You would be happy then, Nanina, but would he? He has no father or mother to control him, it is true; but he has friends —many friends and intimates in his own rank —proud, heartless people, who know nothing of your worth and goodness; who, hearing of your low birth, would look on you and your husband, too, my child, with contempt. He has not your patience and fortitude. Think how bitter it would be for him to bear that con tempt—to see you shunned by proud women and carelessly pitied and patronized by insolent men. Yet all this, and more, he would have to endure or else quit the world he has lived in from boyhood—the world he was born to live in. You love him, I know —” Nanina’s tears burst out afresh. “Oh, how dearly —how dearly!” she murmured. “Yes, you love him dearly.” continued the priest; but would all ’ your love compensate him for everything else he must lose? It might at first; but there would come a time when the world would assert its influence over him again; when he would feel a want which you could not supply—a weariness which you could not solace. Think of his life then, and of yours. Think of the first day when the first secret doubt whether he had done rightly in man rying you would steal into his mind. We are not masters of our impulses. The lightest spirits have their moments of irresistible depression; the bravest hearts are not always superior to doubts. My child, my child, the world is strong, pride of rank is rooted deep and the human will is frail at best! Be. warned! For your own sake, and for Fabio’s, be warned in time.” j Nanina stretched out her hands toward the priest in despair. “Oh, Father Rocco! Father Rocco!” she cried, “why did you not tell me this before?” “Because, my child, I only knew Of the necessity for telling you today. But it is not too.late, it is never too late to do q/good action. You love Fabio, Naulha. Will you prove that love by making «. great sacrifice for his good?” •» ,

I wouidldie for his good!” “Will you nobly cure him of a passion winch will.be his ruin, if-not yours, by leaving Pisa to-morrow?— “Leave Pisa!” exclaimed ?«*mea. Her face grew deadly pale: she rose and moved back a step or two from the priest. “Listen to me,” pur-med Father Rocco. ‘’l have heeid you complain that you could not get regular employment at needlework. You shall have that employment if you will go with me—you and your little sister, too. of course—to Florence to-mor-row.” “I promised Fabio to go to the studio,” began Nanina, affrightedly. “I promised to go at 10 o’clock. How can I—” She stopped suddenly, as if her* breath were failing her. _ “I myself will take you and your sister to Florence,” said Father Rocco. without noticing the interruption. “Twill yfiace you under the care of a lady who will be as kind as a mother to you both. I will answer for your getting such work to do as will enable you to keep yourself hon estly and independently; and I wil undertake, if you do not like your life at Florence, to bring you back to Pisa after a lapse of three months only. Three months, Nanina. It is not a long exile.” ” ■ —■ “Fabio! Fabio!” cried the girl, sinking again on the seat and hiding her face. “It is for his good,” said Father ’Rocco, calmly; “for Fabio’s good, remember.” “What would he think of me if I went away? Oh, if l had but learned to write! If I only could write Fabio a letter!” “Am I not to be depended upon to explain to him all that he ought to know?” “How can I go away from him? Oh, Father Rocco, how can you ask me to go away from him?” “I will ask you to .do nothing hastily. I will leave you till tomorrow morning tp decide. At 9 o’clock I shall be in the street; and I will not even so much as enter this house, unless I know beforehand that you have resolved to follow my advice. Give me a sign from your window. If I see you wave your white mantilla out of it, I shall know that you have taken the noble resolution to save Fabio and to save yourself. I will say no more, my child; for, unless I am grievously mistaken in you, I have already said enough.” He went out, leaving her still weeping bitterly. ..... Not far from the house he met La Biondella and the dog on their way I back. The little girl stopped to re- ■ port to him the safe delivery of her ’ dinner mats; but he passed on.quick:ly with a nod and a smile. His inI teryiew with Nanina had left some | influence behind it, which unfitted him just then for the occupation of talking to a child. Nearly half an hour before 9 o’clock Oh morning Father Rocco set forth for the street in which Nanina lived. On his way thither he overtook a dog walking ! lazily a few paces ahead in the roadway,and saw at the same time an elegantly dressed lady coming toward him. The dog stopped as she approached. and growled and showed his teeth when she passed him. The lady, on her side, uttered an exclamation of disgust, but did not seem to be either astonished or frightened by the animal’s threatening attitude. Father Rocco looked after her with some curiosity as she walked by him. She was a handsome woman, and he admired her courage. “I know that growling brute well enough,” he said to himself, J‘but who can the lady be?” The dog was Scaramuccia, returning from one of his marauding expositions. The lady was Brigida,on her way to Luca Lomi’s studio. Some minutes before nine o’clock the priest took his post opposite Nanina’s window. It was open, but neither she nor her little sister appeared at it. He looked up anxiously as the church-clock struck the ;hour; but there was no sign for a minute or so after they were all silent. “Is she hesitating still?” said Father Rocco to himself Just as the words passed his lips the white mantilla was waved out of the window. Part Second. CHAPTER I. Even the master-stroke of replacing the treacherous Italian forewoman by a French dressmaker, engaged direct from Paris, did not at first avail to elevate the great Grifoai establishment above the reach of minor calamities. Mademoiselle Virginie had not occupied her new situation at Pisa quite a week before she fell ill. All sorts of reports were circulated as to the cause of this illness; and the Demoiselle Grifoni even went so far as to suggest that the health of the new fore woman had fallen a sacrifice to some nefarious practices of the chemical sort on the part of her rival in the trade. But, however, the misfortune had been produ*d, it was a fact that Mademoiselle Virginie was certainly very ill, and another fact that the doctor insisted on her being sent to the baths of Lucca as soon as she could be moved from her bed.

Fortunately for Dem. Grifoni. the Frenchwoman had succeeded in pro-’ ducing three specimens of her art before her health gave down. They comprised the evening dresji of yel - devoted herself on the morning when she first assumed her duties at Pisa; a black cloak and hood of an entirely new shape'; and an irresistibly fine looking dressing-gown, said to' have bggn into fashion by the princesses of the blood-royaT of li 'rance. These articles of costume, bn being cA: be ted in the showroom. electrified the ladies of Pisa; end orders from all sides Sowed in immediately on the Grifoni establishment. They were, of course, easily executed by the inferior workwomen, Bom the specimen designs of the Frehch dressmaker. So that the illness of Mademoiselle Virginie, though it might cause her mistress some temporary inconvenience, was, after all,, productive of no absolute loss. Two months at the baths of Lucca restored the new forewoman to health. She returned to Pisa, and resumed her place in the private workroom. Once re-established there she discovered that an important change had taken place during her absence. Her friend and assistant, Brigida, had resigned her situation. All inquiries made of the Demoiselle Grifoni ronly elicited one answer: the missing workwoman had abruptly left her place at five minutes’ warning, and had departed without confiding to any one what she thought of doing, or whither she intended to turn her steps. Months elapsed; the new year came; but no explanatory letter arrived from Brigida. The spring season passed off, with all its accompaniments of dress-making and dress-buying, but still there was no news of her. The first anniversary of Mademoiselle Virginie’s engagement with the Demoiselle Grifoni came around; and then at last a note arrived, stating that Brigida had returned to Pisa, and that if the French forewoman would send an answer, mentioning where her private lodgings were, she would visit her old friend that evening after business hours. The information was gladly enough given; and, punctually to the appointed time, Brigida arrived in Mademoiselle Virginie’s little sittingroom. Advancing with her usual indolent stateliness of gait, the Italian asked after her friend’s health as coolly, and sat down in the nearest chair as carelessly, as if they had not been separated more than a few days. Mademoiselle Virginie laughed in her liveliest manner, and raised her mobile French eyebrows in sprightly astonishment. - : - “Well, Brigida!” she exclaimed, “they certainly did you no injustice when thev nicknamed you Nothing m old Grifoni’s workshop. Where have you been? Why have you never written to me?” “I had nothing particular to write about; and besides, I always intended to come back to Pisa and see you,” answered Brigida, leaning back luxuriously in her chair. “But where have you been for nearly a whole year past? In Italy?” “No, at Paris. You know I can sing—not very well, but I have a voice, and most Frenchwomen (excuse the impertinence) have none. I met with a friend, and got introduced to a manager; and I hate been singing-at the theater —not the great parts, only the second. Your amiable countrywomen could not screech me down on the stage, but they intrigued successfully against me behind the scenes. In short, I quarreled with our principal lady, quarreled with the manager, quarreled ..Ithmvfrlend. and here I am, back at Pisa, with a little money saved in my pocket, and no great notion what I am to do next.” “Back at Pisa! Why did you leave it?” Brigida’s eyes began to lose tljeir indolent expression. She sat up suddenly in her chair, and set one of her hands heavily on a little table by her side. “Why?” she repeated. “Because, when I find the game going against me, I prefer giving it up at once to waiting to be beaten.” — “Ah! you refer to that last year's project of yours for making your fortune among the sculptors. I should like to know how it was you failed with the wealthy young amateur. Remember that I fell ill before you had any news to give me. Your absence when I returned from Lucca, and, almost immediately afterward, the marriage of your intended conquest to the sculptor’s daughter, proved to me, of course, that you must have failed. But I never heard how. I know nothing at this moment but the bare fact that Maddalena Lomi won the prize. ” “Tell me first, do she and her husband live together happily?” “There are no stories of their disagreeing. She has dresses, horses, carriages, a negro page, the smallest lap-dog in Italy—in short, all the luxuries that a woman can want; and a child, by the way, into the bargain.” “A child?” “Yes, a child; born little more than a week ago.” ' “Not a boy, I hope?" “No; a girl.” “I am glad of that. Those rich people always want the first born to be an heir. They will both be disappointed. lam glad of that." ' “Mercy on us, Brigida, how fierce you look!” ——: “Do I? It’s likely enough. I hate Fabio d’Ascoli and Maddalena Lomi —singly as man and woman, doubly as man and wife. Stop! I’ll tell you what you want to know. Only an-

swer me another question or two first. Have you heard anything about her health?” “How should I hear? Dressmakers can’t inquire at the doors, of the nobility.” ■‘True. Now one last question. That little simpleton, Nahina?” “I have never seen nor heard anything of-her: —Shccan’t’beat-Fisk,' •>r she would have called at our place for work.” “Ahl .I need-not have-asked about her if I had thought a moment beforehand. Father Rocco would be sure to keep her out of Fabio’s sight , Tor his niece's sake.”?! “What, he really loved that thread-paper of a girl,’ as you called her?" “Bettor than fifty such wives as he has got now! I was in the studio the morning he was tbld of her departure from Pisa. A letter was privately given to him, telling him that the girl had left the place out of a feeling of honor, and had hidden herself beyond the possibility of discovery to prevent him from compromising himself with all his friends by marrying her. Naturally enough, he would not believe that this was her own doing; and, naturally enough also, when Father Rocco was sent for, and was not to be found, he suspected the priest of being at the bottom of all the business. I never saw a man in such a fury of despair and rage. He swore that he would have all Italy searched for the girl, that he would be the death of the priest, and that he would never enter Luca Lomi’s studio again.” “And, as to this last particular, of course, being a man, he failed to keep his mood?" “Of course. At that first visit of mine to the studio I discovered two things. The first, as 1 said, was that Fabio was really in love with the girl; the second, that Maddalena Lomi was really in love with him. You may suppose I looked at her attentively while the disturbance was going on, and while nobody’s notice was directed on me. All women are vain, I know, but vanity never blinded my eyes. I saw directly that I had but one superiority over her—my figure. She was my height, but not well made. She had hair as dark as -mine; anT the rest of her face better than mine. My nose is coarse, my lips are too thick, afad my upper lip overhangs my under too far. She had none of those personal famts; and, as for capacity, she managed the young fool in his passion as well as I could have managed him in her place.” “How?” “She stood silent, with downcast eyes and a distressed look, all the time he was raving up and down the studio. She must have hated the girl, and been rejoiced at her disap?earance; but she never showed it. r ou would be an awkward rival (thought I) even to a handsomer, woman that I am. ’ However, I determined not to despair too soon and made up my mind to follow my plan just as if the accident of the girl’s disappearance had never occurred.I smoothed down the master sculptor easily enough—flattering him about his great reputation, and assuring him that the works of Luca Lomi had been the objects of my adoration since childhood, telling him I had heard of his difficulty in finding a model to complete his Minerva from, and offering myself (if he thought me worthy) for the honor —laying great stress on that word—for the honor of sitting to him. I don't know whether he was altogether deceived by what I told him; but he was sharp enough to see that I really could be of use, and he accepted -my nffer ..with a profusion of compliments We parted, having arranged that I was to give him a first sitting in a week’s time.” “Why put it off so long?” “To allow our young gentleman time to cool off ■ and return to the studio, to be sure. What was the use of my being there while he was away?" “Yes, yes—l forgot. And how long was it before he came back?” “I had allowed him more time than enough. When I had given my first sitting I saw him in the studio and heard it was his second visit there since the day of the girl’s disappearance. Very violent men are changeable and irresolute." “Had he made no attempt to discover Nanina?” “Oh, yes! He had searched for her himself and set others searching for her, but to no. purpose. Four days of perpetual disappointment had been enough to bring him to his senses. Luca Lomi wrote him a peace-making letter, asking what harm he or his daughter had done, even supposing Father Rocco was was to blame. Maddalena Lomi met him on the street and had looked resignedly away from him, as if she expected him to pass her. In short, they had awakened his sense of justice and good nature (you see I can impartially give him his due,) and they had got him back. He was silent and sentimental enough at first and shockingly sulky and savage with the priest.” “I wonder Father Rocco ventured within his reach.” “Father Rocco is not a man to be daunted or defeated by anybody, I can tell you. The same day on which Fabio came back to the studio he returned to it. Beyond declaring that he thought Nanina had done right, and had acted like a good and virtuous girl, he would say nothing about her or her disappearance. It was quite useless to ask him questions; he denied that any onehad a right to put them. Threatening, entreating, flattering—all modes of appeal were thrown away on hin. Ah, my dear, depend upon it, the

cleverest and politest man in Pisa, the most dangerous to an enemy and the most delightful to a friend, is Father Rocco. The rest of them, when I began to play my cards a little too ness to me, Father Rocco, from first to.last, treated me like a lady, when the others treated me like—" Tgethot about itnow. Tell me instead how you made your first approaches to toe young gentleman whom you talk of sh contemptuously as Fabio.” “As it turned out, in the worst possible way. First, -of course, 1 made sure of interesting him in me by telling him that I had knowi Nunina. Spfar it-Was. all well" enough. My next object was to persuade him thqt she could never have gone away if she had truly loved him alone; and that he must have had some fortunate rival in her own rank of life, to whom she had sacrificed him, after gratifying her vanity for a time by bringing a young nobleman to her feet. I had, as you will easily imagine, difficulty enough in making him take this view of Nanina’s flight. His pride and his love for the girl were both concerned in refusing to admit the truth of my suggestion. At last I succeeded. I brought him to that state of ruffled vanity and fretful self-assertion in which it is easiest to work on a man’s feelings —in which a man’s own wounded pride makes thb best pitfall to catch him in. I brought him, I say, to that state, and then she stepped in and profited by what I had done. Is it wonderful now that I rejoice in her disappointments—that I should be glad to hear any ill thing of her that any one can " tell nip?’' (to be continued.)