The Spell Part 17

"Why should I blame you, Inez? Is there any reason why I should blame any one?"

"No, except that the work takes your husband away from you so much."

"But I can't hold you responsible for that, can I? It is the work which draws you both, is it not--not each the other?"

Inez moved uneasily and withdrew her hand from Helen's lap. "Of course it is the work," she answered, quietly; "but, frankly, would you not rather have it discontinued?"

"No," replied Helen, without hesitation; "but I sincerely wish Jack might be less completely absorbed by it. I have no intention of opposing it, and I am willing to sacrifice much for its success, yet I see no reason why it should so wholly deprive me of my husband."

"It has opened up an entirely new world for me." Inez seemed suddenly obsessed by a reminiscent thought. Her troubled expression changed into one of rapt ecstasy. Helen watched the transformation, deeply impressed by the strange new light which she saw in the girl's eyes. "I must be more impressionable than I supposed," she continued, "for it all seems so real. I can see Michelangelo's face as I read his letters; I can see his lips move, his expression change--I can even hear his voice. I have watched him fas.h.i.+on the great David out of the discarded marble; I have heard his discussions with Pope Julius and Pope Leo; I have witnessed his struggle with Leonardo at the Palazzo Vecchio. The events come so fast, and the letters give such minute information upon so many topics, that I actually feel myself in the midst of it all. I know Vittoria Colonna as well as Michelangelo ever did, and I know far better than he why she refused to marry him. All these great characters, and others, live and move and converse with us these mornings at the library." Inez paused to get her breath. She was talking very fast. "I know it sounds uncanny," she went on, "but there is something in the very atmosphere which makes me forget who or what I am. Cerini comes and stands beside us, rubbing his hands together and smiling, and yet we hardly notice him. He is a part of it all. What he says seems no more real than the conversations and the communions we have with the others who died centuries ago. I realize how inexplicable all this must sound to you, because I find myself absolutely unable to explain it to myself. It must be a spell, as you say, but I have no strength to break it."

"It must be something," Helen admitted, gravely, "to affect both you and Jack the same way. I wonder what it is?"

Inez paid no heed to the interrogation. "You should see your husband, Helen, when he is at his work. You don't really know him as you see him here."

Helen felt herself impressed even more strongly than she had been during her visit to the library. Inez spoke with the same intensity and conviction which at that time had overwhelmed her previously conceived plans.

"Cerini said the same thing--" she began.

"Cerini is right," Inez interrupted. "Your husband is a G.o.d among them all. He is not a mere student, searching for facts, but one of those great spirits themselves, looking into their lives and their characters with a power and an intimacy which only a contemporary and an equal could do. Cerini says that his book will be a masterpiece--that it will place him among the great _savants_ of his time. No such work has been produced in years; and you will be so proud of him, Helen--so proud that he belongs to you! Is it not worth the sacrifice?"

As her friend paused Helen bowed her head in silence. "So proud that he belongs to you," Inez had just said. Did he belong to her--had he ever belonged to her? The new light in Inez' eyes, the intensity of her words, both convinced and controlled her. What was she, even though his wife, to stand in the way of such a champions.h.i.+p? What were the conventions of commonplace domestic life in the presence of this all-compelling genius? She felt her resentment against Jack become unimportant. With such absorption it was but natural that he should not act like other men.

The sound of voices in the hall brought both girls to themselves.

"Dare we come out?" asked Uncle Peabody, cautiously, pausing at the door. "These back-sliders are very repentant, and I will vouch for their good behavior."

"There is only one of us who requires forgiveness," added Armstrong, frankly, advancing to the divan. "I owe you both an apology; first of all to my wife, for not heeding her good advice, and then to my 'sister-worker,' as Cerini calls her, for adding to her discomfiture."

"If Inez will forgive you, I will cheerfully add my absolution," replied Helen, forcing a smile.

"I was really afraid that I was going to lose my right-hand man,"

continued Armstrong by way of explanation, "and my work must then have come to an abrupt conclusion."

"You give me altogether too much credit," replied Inez. "The work is already so much a part of yourself that you could not drop it if you lost a dozen 'sister-workers.'"

"It must never come to that, Jack," added Helen, seriously. "Inez will surely stay until the book is completed, and I shall do what little I can to help it to a glorious success."

"You are a sweet, sympathizing little wife." Armstrong placed his hand affectionately upon her shoulder. "Your interest in it will be all that I need to make it so."

Emory and Uncle Peabody instinctively glanced at each other, and for a moment their eyes met. It was but an instant, yet in that brief exchange each knew where the other stood.

BOOK II

VICTIM OF FATE

XII

All Florence--social, literary, and artistic--was at the Londi reception. The ancient villa, once the possession of the great Dante, fell into gentle hands when the present owner, thirty years before, entered into an appreciative enjoyment of his newly acquired property.

The structure itself was preserved and restored without destroying the original beauty of its architecture; the walls were renovated and hung with rich tapestries and rare paintings; priceless statuary found a place in the courts and corridors, but with such perfect taste that one felt instinctively that each piece belonged exactly where it stood as a part of the complete harmony.

Florentine society possesses two strong characteristics--hospitality and sincerity. No people in the world so cordially welcome strangers who come properly introduced to settle temporarily in their midst; no people so plainly manifest their estimates of their adopted aliens. There is no half-way, there is no compromise. They are courteous always, they are considerate even when they disapprove; but when once they accept the stranger into their circle they make him feel that he is and always has been a part of themselves.

Uncle Peabody had won this place long since. His genial disposition and quiet philosophy appealed to them from the first by its very contrast to their own impulsive Latin temperament. It was an easy matter, therefore, for him to introduce his niece to those whom he counted among his friends, and this he made it a point to do when he discovered how much she would otherwise have been alone. Helen had ceased to urge Jack to accompany her, and he seemed quite content to be omitted. Their first weeks in Florence had been devoted to getting settled in their villa and in rambling over the surrounding hills, entirely satisfied with their own society. The house-party had taken up another week, and even before the guests had departed Armstrong began his researches at the library, which required a larger portion of each day as time went on. The moment when Helen and Jack would naturally have jointly a.s.sumed their social pleasures and responsibilities had pa.s.sed, and the necessity for diversion of some kind prompted Helen gratefully to accept her uncle as a subst.i.tute.

"There is a countrywoman of ours--the Contessa Morelli," Uncle Peabody remarked, as he skilfully piloted Helen and Emory away from the crush in the reception-hall, indicating a strikingly attractive woman surrounded by a group of Italian gallants. "She came from Milwaukee, I believe, and married the t.i.tle, with the husband thrown in as a gratuity for good measure."

"She looks far too refined and agreeable to answer to your description,"

Helen replied, after regarding the object of his comments.

"She is refined and agreeable," a.s.sented Uncle Peabody, "and--worldly.

When you have once seen the count you will understand. She is a neighbor of yours, so you must meet her--the Villa Morelli is scarcely a quarter of a mile beyond the Villa G.o.dilombra."

"Don't overlook me in the introduction, will you?" urged Emory, eagerly.

"Still as fond as ever of a pretty face, Phil?" queried Helen, laughing.

"Of course," he acquiesced, cheerfully; "but this is a case of national pride. You and she--the two American Beauties present--would make any American proud of his country."

Helen smiled and held up a finger warningly as she followed Uncle Peabody's lead. The contessa acknowledged the introductions with much cordiality, but to Emory's disappointment devoted herself at once to Helen.

"So you are from dear, old, chilly Boston," she said, breezily. "The last time I pa.s.sed through was on a July day, and I was so glad I had my furs with me."

"Boston is celebrated for its east winds," volunteered Emory, calmly.

The contessa glanced at him for a moment to make sure that his misunderstanding was wilful.

"Yes," she replied, meaningly; "and I understand that in Boston the revised adage reads, 'G.o.d tempers the east wind to the blue-bloods.'"

"And I was just going to say some nice things about Milwaukee!" Emory continued.

"Then it is just as well that I discouraged you," the contessa interrupted. "No one who has not lived there can ever think of anything complimentary to say about Milwaukee except to expatiate upon its beer.

That seems to mark the limitations of his acquaintance with our city."

The contessa turned to Helen. "Mr. Cartwright tells me that you and your husband are my mysterious neighbors, about whom we have had so much curiosity. You must let me call on you very soon."

Helen was studying her new acquaintance with much interest. Her features were as clearly cut as if the work of a master-sculptor, yet nature had improved upon human skill by adding a color to the cheeks and a vivacity to the eye which made their owner irresistible to all who met her; while the simple elegance of her lingerie gown, in striking contrast to the dress of the Italian women near her, set off to advantage the lines of her graceful figure. She was a few years older than Helen, yet evidently a younger woman in years than in experience. Uncle Peabody's comments had naturally prejudiced Helen to an extent, yet she could not resist a certain appeal which unconsciously attracted her.

"I hope we may see much of each other," the contessa continued, cordially, scarcely giving Helen an opportunity even for perfunctory replies. "Morelli is housed by the gout at least half of the time, and he bores me to death with his description of the various symptoms. I will run over to Villa G.o.dilombra and let you rehea.r.s.e your troubles for a change. But, of course, you have no troubles--Mr. Cartwright said you were a bride, did he not?"

The contessa noticed the color which came in Helen's face, and her experience, tempered by her intuition, told her that it was not a blush of pleasure.