CHAPTER XVII. THE GARDEN AT ORVIETO
Soon after daybreak on the following morning the Cardinal's courierarrived at Orvieto with tidings that his Eminence might be expected thesame evening. It was a rare event, indeed, which honoured the villa witha visit from its princely owner; and great was the bustle and stir ofpreparation to receive him. The same activity prevailed within doors andwithout. Troops of men were employed in the gardens, on the terraces,and the various pleasure-grounds; while splendid suites of rooms, neveropened but on such great occasions, were now speedily got in readinessand order.
Gerald wandered about amid this exciting turmoil, puzzled and confused.How was it that he fancied he had once seen something of the very samesort, exactly in the self-same place? Was this, then, another rush ofthat imagination which so persisted in tormenting him, making life amere circle of the same events? As he moved from place to place, theconviction grew only stronger and stronger: this seemed the very statuehe had helped to replace on its pedestal; here the very fountain hehad cleared from weeds and fallen leaves; the flowers he had groupedin certain beds; the walks he had trimly raked; the rustic seats he haddisposed beneath shady trees; all rose to his mind and distracted himby the difficulty of explaining them. As he walked up the great marblestairs and entered the spacious hall of audience, a whole scene of thepast seemed to fill the space. The lovely girl--a mere child as she was,with golden hair and deep blue eyes--rose again before his memory, andhis heart sank as he bethought him that the whole vision must have hadno reality.
The rapid tramp of horses' feet suddenly led him to the window, andhe now saw the outriders, as they dashed up at speed, followed quicklyafter by three travelling carriages, each drawn by six horses, andescorted by mounted dragoons. Gerald did not wait to see his Eminencedescend, but hastened to his room to dress, and compose his thoughts forthe approaching interview.
The Chevalier had grown to be somewhat vain of his personal appearance.It was a Stuart trait, and sat not ungracefully upon him; and he nowcostumed himself with more than ordinary care. His dress was of a darkmaroon velvet, over which he wore a scarf of his own tartan; the collarand decoration presented by the Cardinal York ornamenting the frontof the dress, as well as the splendidly embossed dagger which once hadgraced the belt of the Prince Charles Edward. Though his toilet occupiedhim a considerable time, no summons came from his Eminence, either toannounce his arrival or request a meeting; and Gerald, half pained bythe neglect, and half puzzled lest the fault might possibly be ascribedto some defect of observance on his own part, at length took his hat andleft the house for a stroll through the gardens.
As he wandered along listlessly, he at last gained a little grassyeminence, from which a wide view extended over a vast olive plain,traversed by a tiny stream. It was the very wood through which, yearsbefore, he had journeyed when he had fled from the villa to seek hisfortune. Some indistinct, flitting thoughts of the event, the zigzagpath along the river, the far-away mountains of the Maremma, were yetpuzzling him, when he heard a light step on the gravel-walk near. Heturned, and saw a young girl coming toward him, smiling, and with anextended hand. One glance showed him that she was singularly beautiful,and of a demeanour that announced high station.
'Which of us is to say, "welcome here," Chevalier? at all events, letone of us have the courage to speak it. I am your guest, or your host,whichever it please you best.'
'The Contessa Ridolfi,' said Gerald, as he kissed her hand respectfully.
'I perceive,' said she, laughing, 'you have heard of my boldness,and guess my name at once; but, remember, that if I had waited to bepresented to you by my uncle, I should have been debarred from thusclearing all formality at a bound, and asking you, as I now do, toimagine me one you have known long and well.'
'I am unable to say whether the honour you confer on me or thehappiness, be greater,' said Gerald warmly.
'Let it be the happiness, since the honour must surely come from yourside,' said she, in the same light, half-careless tone. 'Give me yourarm, and guide me through these gardens; you know them well, I presume.'
'I have been your guest these four months and more, Contessa,' said he,bowing.
'So that this poor villa of ours may have its place in history, and menremember it as the spot where the young Prince sojourned. Nay, do notblush, Chevalier, or I shall think that the shame is for _my_ boldness.When you know me better you will learn that I am one so trained to thelicence of free speech that none are offended at my frankness.'
'You shall never hear me complain of it,' said Gerald quickly.
'Come, then, and tell me freely, has this solitude grown intolerable; isyour patience well-nigh worn out with those interminable delays of whatare called "your friends"?'
'I know not what you allude to. I came here to recover after a longillness, weak and exhausted. My fever had left me so low in energy, thatI only asked rest and quietness: I found both at the villa. The calmmonotony that might have wearied another, soothed and comforted _me_.Of what was real in my past life--what mere dreamland--I never couldsucceed in defining. If at one moment I seemed to any one's eyes ofprincely blood and station, at the next I could not but see myself amere adventurer, without friends, family, or home. I would have giventhe world for one kind friend to steady the wavering fabric of my mind,to bring back its wandering fancies, and tell me when my reason wasaright.'
'Will you take me for such a friend?' said Guglia, in a soft, low voice.
'Oh, do not ask me, if you mean it not in serious earnest,' he urgedrapidly. 'I can bear up against the unbroken gloom of my future; I couldnot endure the changeful light of a delusive hope.'
'But it need not be such. It is for you to decide whether you willaccept of such a counsellor. First of all,' added she hastily, and ereleaving him time to reply, 'I am more deeply versed in your intereststhan you are perhaps aware. Intrusted by my uncle, the Cardinal, to dealwith questions not usually committed to a young girl's hands, I haveseen most parts of the correspondence which concerns you; nay, more,I can and will show you copies of it. You shall see for yourself,what they have never yet left you to judge, whether it is for your owninterest to await an eventuality that may never come, or boldly try tocreate the crisis others would bid you wait for; or lastly, there isanother part to take, the boldest, perhaps, of all.'
'And what may that be?' broke in Gerald, with eagerness, for hisinterest was now most warmly engaged.
'This must be for another time,' said she quickly; 'here comes hisEminence to meet us.'
And as she spoke, the Cardinal came forward, and with a mingledaffection and respect embraced Gerald and kissed him on both cheeks.