Valerie’s astonishment was great. Four and twenty hours had not yet passed since Giraldi, on receipt of the letter in which Sidonie informed them of Ottomar’s betrothal to Fräulein von Wallbach, had burst into a furious rage, although they had long foreseen and expected this event; and today he appeared to encourage a second union, which would destroy, if not his fixed plans, at any rate, hopes that he had silently cherished and fostered.
Giraldi read these thoughts on her countenance. He continued with a smile:
“I said, for the present, my dear friend; only till the simpleton—he is a simpleton, I had already spoken to him yesterday evening before you came—only till he has pulled the chestnuts out of the fire for us; then he may go, and the more he burns his fingers the better pleased I shall be. He must, however, for the present be bound to us, for the following reasons: We do not require the consent of General von Werben for the sale of the property, as he is already doubly outvoted by Herr von Wallbach and our friend the Councillor; but what we do positively want, if the bargain is to be struck, is the consent of the Government to the making of the line; and, the Councillor is here again my informant, if this consent is obtained, it will only be because the Count is mixed up in the affair and rejoices in special protection in certain high circles, whose influence in important ministerial regions is particularly powerful just now. I am again unfortunate in not having your attention.”
“I am all attention.”
“To reward you I will strike the chord of love again: it is for our most pressing interest, and it is my most particular wish, that you should casually—I mean at some opportunity which your cleverness will readily seize upon—give your niece to understand that you think this marriage a particularly suitable one; and only wish, in order to avoid the appearance of desiring to derive a personal benefit from it in the sale of the property, that the affair should not be at once made public, or even settled—between ourselves let us say, not binding. This will make the young lady pause. I want no more till we are clear on the other side, and can then, as a reward for her obedience, perhaps do something to help on her particular inclinations. Do you quite understand?”
“Perfectly; to the minutest detail. You hinted before that my niece had a real inclination in another direction that would not interfere with us?”
“Which, in fact, when the time comes, I intend to forward by every lawful means, if it were only in order to pay the General back in the same coin for his past and present conduct towards a certain Signor Gregorio Giraldi, and a certain Signora Valerie—widowed Frau von Warnow, born Fräulein von Werben.”
The man’s lips smiled, but his black eyes glittered like the blade of a dagger when it flashes out of the sheath. Valerie suppressed the shudder that passed over her. She said, with a smile:
“I know your sagacity, your powers of divination; but here you have really surpassed yourself. All that is now wanting is the name of the happy man, where they first met, and when they last met.”
Giraldi bowed.
“The name may wait, signora! But before I tell you more about your charming niece, I must tell you a little anecdote about your excellent nephew, which may serve as a proof of the reward which Providence grants to those who trust in it.”
“The miracle, then?”
“Decide for yourself.”
The expression of his face had changed suddenly, the smile of superiority had vanished and had given place to deep earnestness; in the black eyes brooded melancholy night; even his voice sounded different—softer, more fervent—as he now, in his native tongue (he had hitherto spoken only German), continued in the tone of one who wishes to speak with all possible calm and clearness on a subject that moves him deeply.
“I went yesterday, after I had paid and received a few visits, to the Exhibition, and turned at once into the sculpture gallery. I had promised Guarnerio, Braga, and a few more of our friends in Milan and Rome, who had sent works there, to go at once and look after them, to see how they were placed, what impression they made, and whether the German sculptors bore comparison with them. They are wretchedly placed, and consequently produce little effect, and the German sculptors can quite hold their own with them. Your countrymen have progressed; they may boast of several talents of the very first order, such as Reinhold Begas, Siemering, and a third, whose name I read for the first time on a marvellous group of a Satyr, to whom a mischievous Cupid is holding a looking-glass—Justus Anders. I beg you will remember the name; it will appear again in my little history.
“Close to it, in a window, a life-sized figure first attracted my attention, because it was one of the few that was in a really good light. Doubtless a masterpiece, I thought, of which they are specially proud. But I was mistaken, it was not at least a work of the highest rank; finely conceived, but not so well carried out; a certain want of freedom in the technical part, which betrayed the pupil who has not long left school, and has for the first time attempted a higher flight. The subject also was not one to excite my interest—a young shepherd boy of the Campagna, in the ordinary costume, saying his Ave Maria, with raised eyes and clasped hands; but nevertheless the statue attracted me in a remarkable degree. Dare I acknowledge it? I thought I saw myself five-and-twenty, thirty years ago, as I so often roved through the Campagna and dreamed dreams over which I now smile; and looked up ecstatically into the glowing sky, which in my thought was peopled by bands
