CHAPTER XVI
That evening Morgana was in one of her most bewitching moods--even theold Highland word "fey" scarcely described her many brilliantvariations from grave to gay, from gay to romantic, and from romanticto a kind of humorous-satiric vein which moved her to utter quicklittle witticisms which might have seemed barbed with too sharp a pointwere they not so quickly covered with a sweetness of manner whichdeprived them of all malice. She looked her best, too,--she had robedherself in a garment of pale shimmering blue which shone softly likethe gleam of moonbeams through crystal--her wonderful hair was twistedup in a coronal held in place by a band of diamonds,--tiny diamondstwinkled in her ears, and a star of diamonds glittered on her breast.Her elfin beauty, totally unlike the beauty of accepted standards,exhaled a subtle influence as a lily exhales fragrance--and theknowledge she had of her own charm combined with her indifference as toits effect upon others gave her a dangerous attractiveness. As she satat the head of her daintily adorned dinner-table she might have posedfor a fairy queen in days when fairies were still believed in andqueens were envied,--and Giulio Rivardi's thoughts were swept to andfro in his brain by cross-currents of emotion which were not altogetherdisinterested or virtuous. For years his spirit had been fretted andgalled by poverty,--he, the descendant of a long line of proud Siciliannobles, had been forced to earn a precarious livelihood as an artdecorator and adviser to "newly rich" people who had neither taste norjudgment, teaching them how to build, restore or furnish their housesaccording to the pure canons of art, in the knowledge of which heexcelled,--and now, when chance or providence had thrown Morgana in hisway,--Morgana with her millions, and an enchanting personality,--heinwardly demanded why he should not win her to have and to hold for hisown? He was a personable man, nobly born, finely educated,--was itpossible that he had not sufficient resolution and force of characterto take the precious citadel by storm? These ideas flitted vaguelyacross his mind as he watched his fair hostess talking, now to DonAloysius, now to Lady Kingswood, and sometimes flinging him a lightword of badinage to rally him on what she chose to call his "sulks."
"He can't get over it!" she declared, smiling--"Poor Marchese Giulio!That I should have dared to steer my own air-ship was too much for him,and he can't forgive me!"
"I cannot forgive your putting yourself into danger," saidRivardi--"You ran a great risk--you must pardon me if I hold your lifetoo valuable to be lightly lost."
"It is good of you to think it valuable,"--and her wonderful blue eyeswere suddenly shadowed with sadness--"To me it is valueless."
"My dear!" exclaimed Lady Kingswood--"How can you say such a thing!"
"Only because I feel it"--replied Morgana--"I dare say my life is notmore valueless than other lives--they are all without ultimate meaning.If I knew, quite positively, that I was all in all to some ONE beingwho would be unhappy without me,--to whom I could be helper andinspirer, I dare say I should value my life more,--but unfortunately Ihave seen too much of the modern world to believe in the sincerity ofeven that 'one' being, could I find him--or her. I am very positivelyalone in life,--no woman was ever more alone than I!"
"But--is not that your own fault?" suggested Don Aloysius, gently.
"Quite!" she answered, smiling--"I fully admit it. I am what they call'difficult' I know,--I do not like 'society' or its amusements, whichto me seem very vulgar and senseless,--I do not like its conversation,which I find excessively banal and often coarse--I cannot set my soulon tennis or golf or bridge--so I'm quite an 'outsider.' But I'm notsorry!--I should not care to be INside the human menagerie. Too muchbarking, biting, scratching, and general howling among the animals!--itwouldn't suit me!"
She laughed lightly, and continued,--
"That's why I say my life is valueless to anyone but myself. And that'swhy I'm not afraid to risk it in flying the 'White Eagle' alone."
Her hearers were silent. Indeed there was nothing to be said. Whateverher will or caprice there was no one with any right to gainsay it.Rivardi was inwardly seething with suppressed irritation--but hishandsome face showed no sign of annoyance save in an extreme pallor andgravity of expression.
"I think,"--said Don Aloysius, after a pause--"I think our hostess willdo us the grace of believing that whatever she has experienced of theworld in general, she has certainly won the regard and interest ofthose whom she honours with her company at the present moment!"--andhis voice had a thrill of irresistible kindness--"And whatever shechooses to do, and however she chooses to do it, she cannot avoidinvolving such affection and interest as those friends represent--"
"Dear Father Aloysius!" interrupted Morgana, quickly andimpulsively--"Forgive me!--I did not think!--I am sure you and theMarchese and Lady Kingswood have the kindest feeling for me!--but--"
"But!"--and Aloysius smiled--"But--it is a little lady that will not becommanded or controlled! Yes--that is so! However this may be, let usnot imagine that in the rush of commerce and the marvels of science theworld is left empty of love! Love is still the strongest force innature!"
Morgana's eyes flashed up, then drooped under their white lids fringedwith gold.
"You think so?" she murmured--"To me, love leads nowhere!"
"Except to Heaven!" said Aloysius.
There followed a silence.
It was broken by the entrance of a servant announcing that coffee wasserved in the loggia. They left the dinner-table and went out into thewonder of a perfect Sicilian moonlight. All the gardens were illuminedand the sea beyond, with wide strands of silver spreading on all sides,falling over the marble pavements and steps of the loggia andglistening on certain white flowering shrubs with the smooth sheen ofpolished pearl. The magical loveliness of the scene, made lovelier bythe intense silence of the hour, held them as with a binding spell, andMorgana, standing by one of the slender columns which not onlysupported the loggia but the whole Palazzo d'Oro as with the petrifiedstems of trees, made a figure completely in harmony with hersurroundings.
"Could anything be more enchantingly beautiful!" sighed LadyKingswood--"One ought to thank God for eyes to see it!"
"And many people with eyes would not see it at all,"--said DonAloysius--"They would go indoors, shut the shutters and play Bridge!But those who can see it are the happiest!"
And he quoted--
"'On such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees And they did make no noise,--on such a night Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls And sighed his soul towards the Grecian tents Where Cressid lay!'"
"You know your Shakespeare!" said Rivardi.
"Who would not know him!" replied Aloysius--"One is not blind to thesun!"
"Ah, poor Shakespeare!" said Morgana--"What a lesson he gives usmiserable little moderns in the worth of fame! So great, sounapproachable,--and yet!--doubted and slandered and reviled threehundred years after his death by envious detractors who cannot write aline!"
"But what does that matter?" returned Aloysius. "Envy and detraction intheir blackness only emphasise his brightness, just as a star shinesmore brilliantly in a dark sky. One always recognises a great spirit bythe littleness of those who strive to wound it,--if it were not greatit would not be worth wounding!"
"Shakespeare might have imagined my air-ship!" said Morgana,suddenly--"He was perhaps dreaming vaguely of something like it when hewrote about--"
'A winged messenger of heaven When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air!'
"The 'White Eagle' sails upon the bosom of the air!"
"Quite true"--said the Marchese Rivardi, looking at her as she stood,bathed in the moonlight, a nymph-like figure of purely feminine charm,as unlike the accepted idea of a "science" scholar as could well beimagined--"And the manner of its sailing is a mystery which you onlycan explain! Surely you will reveal this secret?--especially when somany rush into the air-craft business without any idea of thescientific laws by which you uphold your great design? Much has beensaid
and written concerning new schemes for air-vessels moved bysteam--"
"That is so like men!" interrupted Morgana, with a laugh--"They willthink of steam power when they are actually in possession ofelectricity!--and they will stick to electricity without moving the onestep further which would give them the full use of radio-activity! Theywill 'bungle' to the end!--and their bungling is always brought aboutby an ineffable conceit of their own so-called 'logical' conclusions!Poor dears!--they 'get there' at last--and in the course of centuriesfind out what they could have discovered in a month if they had openedtheir minds as well as their eyes!"
"Well, then,--help them now," said Rivardi--"Give them the chance tolearn your secret!"
Morgana moved away from the column where she had leaned, and came morefully into the broad moonlight.
"My dear Marchese Giulio!" she said, indulgently, "You really are apositive child in your very optimistic look-out on the world of to-day!Suppose I were to 'give them the chance,' as you suggest, to learn mysecret, how do you think I should be received? I might go to the greatscientific institutions of London and Paris and I might ask to beheard--I might offer to give a 'demonstration,'" here she began tolaugh; "Oh dear!--it would never do for a woman to 'demonstrate' andterrify all the male professors, would it! No!--well, I should probablyhave to wait months before being 'heard,'--then I should probably meetwith the chill repudiation dealt out to that wonderful Hindu scientist,Jagadis Bose, by Burdon Sanderson when the brilliant Indian savanttried to teach men what they never knew before about the life ofplants. Not only that, I should be met with incredulity andridicule--'a woman! a WOMAN dares to assume knowledge superior toours!' and so forth. No, no! Let the wise men try their steam air-shipsand spoil the skies by smoke and vapour, so that agriculture becomesmore and more difficult, and sunshine an almost forgottenbenediction!--let them go their own foolish way till they learn wisdomof themselves--no one could ever teach them what they refuse to learn,till they tumble into a bog or quicksand of dilemma and have to beforcibly dragged out."
"By a woman?" hinted Don Aloysius, with a smile.
She shrugged her shoulders carelessly.
"Very often! Marja Sklodowska Curie, for example, has pulled manyscientists out of the mud, but they are not grateful enough toacknowledge it. One of the greatest women of the age, she is allowed toremain in comparative obscurity,--even Anatole France, though he calledher a 'genius,' had not the generosity or largeness of mind to praiseher as she deserves. Though, of course, like all really great souls sheis indifferent to praise or blame--the notice of the decadent press,noisy and vulgar like the beating of the cheap-jack's drum at a countryfair, has no attraction for her. Nothing is known of her privatelife,--not a photograph of her is obtainable--she has the lovelydignity of complete reserve. She is one of my heroines in thislife--she does not offer herself to the cheap journalist like amilliner's mannequin or a film face. She will not give herselfaway--neither will I!"
"But you might benefit the human race"--said Rivardi--"Would not thatthought weigh with you?"
"Not in the least!"--and she smiled--"The human race in its presentcondition is 'an unweeded garden, things rank and gross in naturepossess it merely,' and it wants clearing. I have no wish to benefitit. It has always murdered its benefactors. It deludes itself with theidea that the universe is for IT alone,--it ignores the fact that thereare many other sharers in its privileges and surroundings--presencesand personalities as real as itself. I am almost a believer in what theold-time magicians called 'elementals'--especially now."
Don Aloysius rose from his chair and put aside his emptied coffee-cup.His tall fine figure silhouetted more densely black by the whiteness ofthe moon-rays had a singularly imposing effect.
"Why especially now?" he asked, almost imperatively--"What has chancedto make you accept the idea--an old idea, older than the lost continentof Atlantis!--of creatures built up of finer life-cells than ours?"
Morgana looked at him, vaguely surprised by his tone and manner.
"Nothing has chanced that causes me any wonder," she said--"or thatwould 'make' me accept any theory which I could not put to the test formyself. But, out in New York while I have been away, a fellow-studentof mine--just a boy,--has found out the means of 'creating energy fromsome unknown source'--that is, unknown to the scientists ofrule-and-line. They call his electric apparatus 'an atmosphericgenerator.' Naturally this implies that the atmosphere has something to'generate' which has till now remained hidden and undeveloped. I knewthis long ago. Had I NOT known it I could not have thought out thesecret of the 'White Eagle'!"
She paused to allow the murmured exclamations of her hearers tosubside,--then she went on--"You can easily understand that ifatmosphere generates ONE form of energy it is capable of many otherforms,--and on these lines there is nothing to be said, against thepossibility of 'elementals.' I feel quite 'elemental' myself in thisglorious moonlight!--just as if I could slip out of my body like abutterfly out of a chrysalis and spread my wings!"
She lifted her fair arms upward with a kind of expansive rapture,--themoonbeams seemed to filter through the delicate tissue of her garmentsadding brightness to their folds and sparkling frostily on the diamondsin her hair,--and even Lady Kingswood's very placid nature wasconscious of an unusual thrill, half of surprise and half of fear, atthe quite "other world" appearance she thus presented.
"You have rather the look of a butterfly!" she said, kindly--"One ofthose beautiful tropical things--or a fairy!--only we don't know whatfairies are like as we have never seen any!"
Morgana laughed, and let her arms drop at her sides. She felt ratherthan saw the admiring eyes of the two men upon her and her mood changed.
"Yes--it is a lovely night,--for Sicily,"--she said. "But it would belovelier in California!"
"In California!" echoed Rivardi--"Why California?"
"Why? Oh, I don't know why! I often think of California--it is so vast!Sicily is a speck of garden-land compared with it--and when the moonrises full over the great hills and spreads a wide sheet of silver overthe Pacific Ocean you begin to realise a something beyond ordinarynature--it helps you to get to the 'beyond' yourself if you have thewill to try!"
Just then the soft slow tolling of a bell struck through the air andDon Aloysius prepared to take his leave.
"The 'beyond' calls to me from the monastery," he said, smiling--"Ihave been too long absent. Will you walk with me, Giulio?"
"Willingly!" and the Marchese bowed over Lady Kingswood's hand as hebade her "Good night."
"I will accompany you both to the gate,"--said Morgana, suddenly--"andthen--when you are both gone I shall wander a little by myself in thelight of the moon!"
Lady Kingswood looked dubiously at her, but was too tactful to offerany objection such as the "danger of catching cold" which the ordinaryduenna would have suggested, and which would have seemed absurd in thewarmth and softness of such a summer night. Besides, if Morgana choseto "wander by the light of the moon" who could prevent her? No one! Shestepped off the loggia on to the velvety turf below with an aerialgrace more characteristic of flying than walking, and glided alongbetween the tall figures of the Marchese and Don Aloysius like adream-spirit of the air, and Lady Kingswood, watching her as shedescended the garden terraces and gradually disappeared among thetrees, was impressed, as she had often been before, by a strange senseof the supernatural,--as if some being wholly unconnected with ordinarymortal happenings were visiting the world by a mere chance. She was alittle ashamed of this "uncanny" feeling,--and after a few minutes'hesitation she decided to retire within the house and to her ownapartments, rightly judging that Morgana would be better pleased tofind her so gone than waiting for her return like a sentinel on guard.She gave a lingering look at the exquisite beauty of the moonlit scene,and thought with a sigh--
"What it would be if one were young once more!"
And then she turned, slowly pacing across the loggia and entering thePalazzo, where the gleam of electric lamps within rivalled
themoonbeams and drew her out of sight.
Meanwhile, Morgana, between her two escorts stepped lightly along,playfully arguing with them both on their silence.
"You are so very serious, you good Padre Aloysius!" she said--"And you,Marchese--you who are generally so charming!--to-night you are a verymorose companion! You are still in the dumps about my steering the'White Eagle!'--how cross of you!"
"Madama, I think of your safety,"--he said, curtly.
"It is kind of you! But if I do not care for my safety?"
"I do!" he said, decisively.
"And I also!"--said Aloysius, earnestly--"Dear lady, be advised! Thinkno more of flying in the vast spaces of air alone--alone with anenormous piece of mechanism which might fail at any moment--"
"It cannot fail unless the laws of nature fail!"--said Morgana,emphatically--"How strange it is that neither of you seems to realisethat the force which moves the 'White Eagle' is natural force alone!However--you are but men!" Here she stopped in her walk, and herbrilliant eyes flashed from one to the other--"Men!--with pre-conceivedideas wedged in obstinacy!--yes!--you cannot help yourselves! EvenFather Aloysius--" she paused, as she met his grave eyes fixed fullupon her.
"Well!" he said gently--"What of Father Aloysius? He is 'but man' asyou say!--a poor priest having nothing in common with your wealth oryour self-will, my child!--one whose soul admits no other instructionthan that of the Great Intelligence ruling the universe, and from whoseordinance comes forth joy or sorrow, wisdom or ignorance. We are butdust on the wind before this mighty power!--even you, with all yourstudy and attainment are but a little phantom on the air!"
She smiled as he spoke.
"True!" she said--"And you would save this phantom from vanishing intoair utterly?"
"I would!" he answered--"I would fain place you in God's keeping,"--andwith a gesture infinitely tender and solemn, he made the sign of thecross above her head--"with a prayer that you may be guided out of thetangled ways of life as lived in these days, to the true realisation ofhappiness!"
She caught his hand and impulsively kissed it.
"You are good!--far too good!" she said--"And I am wild andwilful--forgive me! I will say good night here--we are just at thegate. Good night, Marchese! I promise you shall fly with me to theEast--I will not go alone. There!--be satisfied!" And she gave him abewitching smile--then with another markedly gentle "Good night" toAloysius, she turned away and left them, choosing a path back to thehouse which was thickly overgrown with trees, so that her figure wasalmost immediately lost to view.
The two men looked at each other in silence.
"You will not succeed by thwarting her!"--said Aloysius, warningly.
Rivardi gave an impatient gesture.
"And you?"
"I? My son, I have no aim in view with regard to her! I should like tosee her happy--she has great wealth, and great gifts of intellect andability--but these do not make real happiness for a woman. And yet--Idoubt whether she could ever be happy in the ordinary woman's way."
"No, because she is not an 'ordinary' woman," said Rivardi,quickly--"More's the pity I think--for HER!"
"And for you!" added Aloysius, meaningly.
Rivardi made no answer, and they walked on in silence, the priestparting with his companion at the gate of the monastery, and theMarchese going on to his own half-ruined villa lifting its crumblingwalls out of wild verdure and suggesting the historic past, when aCaesar spent festal hours in its great gardens which were now awilderness.
Meanwhile, Morgana, the subject of their mutual thoughts, followed thepath she had taken down to the seashore. Alone there, she stoodabsorbed,--a fairylike figure in her shimmering soft robe and thediamonds flashing in her hair--now looking at the moonlit water,--nowback to the beautiful outline of the Palazzo d'Oro, lifted on its rockyheight and surrounded by a paradise of flowers and foliage--then to thelong wide structure of the huge shed where her wonderful air-ship lay,as it were, in harbour. She stretched out her arms with a fatigued,appealing gesture.
"I have all I want!"--she said softly aloud,--"All!--all that money canbuy--more than money has ever bought!--and yet--the unknown quantitycalled happiness is not in the bargain. What is it? Why is it? I amlike the princess in the 'Arabian Nights' who was quite satisfied withher beautiful palace till an old woman came along and told her that itwanted a roc's egg to make it perfect. And she became at once miserableand discontented because she had not the roc's egg! I thought her afool when I read that story in my childhood--but I am as great a foolas she to-day. I want that roc's egg!"
She laughed to herself and looked up at the splendid moon, round as agolden shield in heaven.
"How the moon shone that night in California!" she murmured--"And RogerSeaton--bear-man as he is--would have given worlds to hold me in hisarms and kiss me as he did once when he 'didn't mean it!' Ah! I wonderif he ever WILL mean it! Perhaps--when it is too late!"
And there swept over her mind the memory of Manella--her rich, warm,dark beauty--her frank abandonment to passions purely primitive,--andshe smiled, a cold little weird smile.
"He may marry her,"--she said--"And yet--I think not! But--if he doesmarry her he will never love her--as he loves ME! How we play atcross-purposes in our lives!--he is not a marrying man--I am not amarrying woman--we are both out for conquest on other lines,--and ifeither of us wins our way, what then? Shall we be content to live on atriumph of power,--without love?"