To Win the Love He Sought Part 3

The Sicilian interrupted her. His face was marble white, but his eyes were afire.

"His father! Spare me the pedigree! I know it! Margharita, stand there, where the moonlight touches your face. Let me look at you. Is it you, a daughter of the Marionis, who can speak so calmly of bringing this disgrace upon our name? You, my little sister Margharita, the proud-spirited girl who used to share in my ambitions, and to whom our name was as dear as to myself?"

"Leonardo, spare me!"

"Spare you? Yes, when you have told me that this is some nightmare, some phantasm--a lie! Spare you! Yes, when you tell me that this presumptuous upstart has gone back to his upstart country."

She dropped her hands from before her face, and stood before him, pale and desperate.

"Leonardo, I cannot give him up, I love him!"

"And do you owe me no love? Do you owe no duty to the grandeur of our race? _n.o.blesse oblige_, Margharita! We bear a great name, and with the honor which it brings, it brings also responsibilities. I do not believe that you can truly love this man; but if you do, your duty is still plain. You must crush your love as you would a poisonous weed under your feet. You must sacrifice yourself for the honor of our name."

"Leonardo, you do not understand. I love him, and cannot give him up. My word is given; I cannot break it."

He drew a step further away from her, and his voice became harder.

"You must choose, then, between him and me; between your honor and your unworthy lover. There is no other course. As my sister, you are the dearest thing on earth to me; as that man's wife, you will be an utter stranger. I will never willingly look upon your face, nor hear you speak. I will write your name out of my heart, and my curse shall follow you over the seas to your new home, and ring in your ears by day and by night. I will never forgive; I swear it!"

He ceased and bent forward, as though for her answer. She did not speak.

The deep silence was broken only by the far-off murmur of the sea, and the sound of faint sobbing from between her clasped hands. The sound of her distress softened him for a moment; he hesitated, and then spoke again more quietly.

"Margharita, ponder this over. Be brave, and remember that you are a Marioni. Till to-morrow, farewell!"

CHAPTER IV

"DOWN INTO h.e.l.l TO WIN THE LOVE HE SOUGHT"

It was two hours later, and the Marina was almost deserted. The streets and squares, too, of the southern city were silent and empty. It seemed as though all Palermo had gathered together in that sprawling, whitewashed building, called in courtesy a concert hall. Flashes of light from its many windows gleamed upon the pavements below, and from the upper one the heads of a solid phalanx of men and women, wedged in together, threw quaint shadows across the narrow street. The tradespeople, aristocracy, and visitors of the place had flocked together to the concert, frantically desirous of hearing the great singer who although so young, had been made welcome at every court in Europe. It was an honor to their island city that she should have visited it at all; much more that she should choose to sing there; and the quick Palermitans, fired with enthusiasm, rushed to welcome her. The heavy slumberous air was still vibrating with the shout which had greeted her first appearance, and the echoes from across the scarcely rippled surface of the bay were lingering among the rocky hills on the other side of the harbor.

The Sicilian heard it as he threaded his way toward the poorer part of the city, and a dull red glow burned for a moment in his sallow cheeks.

It maddened him that he, too, was not there to join in it, to feast his eyes upon her, and listen to the matchless music of her voice. Was she not more to him than to any of them? So long he had carried her image in his heart that a curious sense of possession had crept into all his thoughts of her. He was frantically jealous, heedless of the fact that he had no right to be. He would have felt toward the man on whom Adrienne Cartuccio had smiled, as toward a robber. She was his, and his only she should be. Years of faithful homage and unabated longing had made her so. His was a narrow but a strong nature, and the desire of her had become the mainspring of his life. His she should surely be! No other man had the right to lift his eyes to her. As he hurried through those silent streets, he forgot her many kindly but firm repulses.

Jesuitical in his love, any means by which he might win her seemed fair and honorable. And to-night, though he was stooping to treachery to possess himself of this long coveted jewel, he felt no shame; only his heart beat strong and fast with pa.s.sionate hope. The moment had come at length for him to play his last card, and at the very prospect of success heaven itself seemed open before his eyes.

He had been threading his way swiftly, and with the air of one well acquainted with the neighborhood, through a network of narrow streets and courts, filthy and poverty stricken. At last he came to a sudden pause before a flight of steps leading down to the door of a small wine shop, which was little more than a cellar.

From the street one could see into the bar, and the Sicilian paused for a moment, and peered downward. Behind the counter, a stout, swarthy-looking native woman was exchanging coa.r.s.e badinage with a man in a loose jersey and baggy trousers. There seemed to be no one else in the place, save another man who sat in the darkest corner, with his head buried upon his arms.

The Sicilian only hesitated for a moment. Then he pulled his soft hat lower over his eyes, and lighting a cigarette, to dispel as far as possible the rank stale odor of the place, stepped down and entered the wine shop.

Evidently he was not known there. The woman stared curiously at him as she pa.s.sed the gla.s.s of curacao for which he asked, and the man scowled.

He took no notice of either, but, with his gla.s.s in his hand, made his way across the sawdust-covered floor to the most remote of the small tables.

A few feet only from him was the man who slept, or who seemed to sleep, and all around quaint shadows of the tall buildings outside stealing in through the open window almost shut the two men off from the rest of the wine shop where the gas jets hung. The Sicilian smoked on in silence; his neighbor commenced to move. Presently the woman and her admirer resumed their talk, with their heads a little closer together and their voices lowered. They were absorbed in themselves and their coa.r.s.e flirtation. The man sipped more liquor, and the woman filled his gla.s.s with no sparing hand. The strong brandy ran through his veins quicker and quicker. He tried to embrace the woman, and failed, owing to the barrier between them. He tried again, and this time partially succeeded.

Then he tried to clamber over the counter, but missed his footing and fell in a heap on the floor, where he lay, to all appearance, too drunk to get up--helpless and stupefied.

The woman peered over at him with a sneer on her face. Then she arranged the bottles in their places, and called out a noisy greeting to the Sicilian who was smoking silently among the shadows with only the red tip of his cigarette visible in the darkness. He made no reply. She yawned, and looked downward at the drunken man once more. There was no sign of life in his coa.r.s.e face. He was wrapped deep in a drunken sleep, and he still had money in his pockets. Ah, well! It should be hers when these two strangers had gone.

She turned to a little recess behind the bar, and, approaching the wall, looked at herself in a cracked looking-gla.s.s which hung there. Something in her hair needed rearrangement, and she remained there straightening it with her fingers. From where she stood she was within hearing distance if any one descended the steps and entered the wine shop, so she did not hurry. The contemplation of her coa.r.s.e features and small black eyes seemed to inspire her with a strange pleasure. She remained at the gla.s.s, turning her head from side to side with a curiously grotesque satisfaction. Then one of her large gla.s.s earrings was dull.

She took it out, and rubbed it vigorously on her skirt, humming a popular tune to herself the while. The whole thing took time; but what matter? There was no one in the vault save two drunken men, and another who chose to sit in the darkness without making any response to her advances. If a fresh customer had descended the greasy stone steps, and pushed open the rickety swing door, he would have found her in her place, ready with the usual coa.r.s.e greeting or jest, should he chance to be a neighbor or an acquaintance. Meanwhile, she was happy where she was.

In the wine shop itself things were not exactly as she supposed. No sooner had her back been turned, than the man near whom the Sicilian had seated himself slowly raised his head, and looked around. a.s.sured of her departure, and after a moment's contemplation of the man who lay upon the floor to all appearance so hopelessly drunk, he turned toward the Sicilian.

"My orders, Signor," he whispered. "It is to be to-night?"

"Yes."

"The Signorina will not listen to reason, then?"

In the darkness the Sicilian felt the deep flush which stole into his olive cheeks. He was not there without an effort. In all his deeds and thoughts he had always reckoned himself as others had reckoned him, an honorable man. His presence in this place, and the means he was stooping to use, filled him with the most intense humiliation. Only one thing was stronger--his pa.s.sionate love for Adrienne Cartuccio.

"Do not breathe the Signorina's name," he muttered. "Receive your instructions, but make no comments."

"Command, Signor; I am ready," was the whispered answer.

"First; have you succeeded as you expected? The carriage and mules and men?"

"In ten minutes I could have them all here, Signor. The task was not easy, but it is accomplished. They are at the Signor's disposal. All that remains is for you to give the orders."

The Sicilian was perfectly silent for a moment. The darkness hid his face--hid the shame which for a moment lowered it, the shame which an honorable gentleman feels when he stoops to dishonor. It pa.s.sed away before the stronger feeling, and when he spoke his tone was firm though low.

"It is well. Listen, Pietro. The attempt is to be made to-night, in three hours' time. You will be prepared? The notice is sufficient?"

"More than sufficient, Signor. The sooner the better. The mouths of my men are closed with gold, and they are carefully chosen; but, one and all, they love the wine, and wine, in its way, is as powerful as gold.

See that animal yonder, Signor. My men love the drink as well as he, and before he reached that state he might have chattered away a dozen secrets."

The Sicilian watched the man who was lying on the sawdust-strewn floor.

Something in his breathing attracted him, and he leaned forward.

"Is he asleep, do you think?" he whispered. "I thought I saw his eyes open."

Pietro rose, and crawling like a cat, drew close to the drunken man. He pa.s.sed his hand lightly over him, and listened to his breathing. Finally he crept back to his seat.

"That is no spy!" he whispered; "he is only a common fisherman, and he is stupefied with drink. I watched him when he came in. Proceed, Signor.

Let me know your plans."

The Sicilian continued, speaking as rapidly as possible. He had conspired before, but honorably, and with men of his own rank. But here--in this low den, with such a companion--it made his heart sick. He was only anxious to get away as speedily as possible.

"To-night the Signorina sings at the Town Hall. She leaves there at ten o'clock, on foot, accompanied only by another lady and a manservant who is in my pay. She will dismiss her carriage, and walk. The road to the Villa Fiolesse, you know. They will pursue it past the turn, thinking to follow a winding path which leads from it into the grounds of the villa about half a mile further on. The road is quite deserted there, and sheltered by pine groves. At the entrance to the first grove the cart and mules must be in waiting--also your men. There will be no resistance; but, above everything, Pietro, remember this--no discourtesy or roughness to either of the ladies. Let them be treated firmly, but with the utmost respect. Remember that one will be my wife, and the other is my sister!"

"But you yourself, Signor! Shall you not be there?"

"No! If all goes well, I shall follow, and join you at Ajalito. At that place more mules must be purchased, as we shall take the mountain road to the Castle of Marioni, and the cart will be useless. Is all clear to you, Pietro?"

"It is clear, Signor!"