The conquest of Rome

sheet of paper, he distinctly saw Donna Angelica Vargas alone in the diplomatic gallery, leaning on its velvet edge. He had felt her presence suddenly,

e became so strong that he rose from his seat, crossed the hall, and went out into the corridor, where he wandered about abstractedly, giving monosyllabic replies to all who spoke to him about

rgio, l

mmunal and Provincial Law, which was t

political or administrative question, he took him to his house, consulted him, or had long conversations with hi

e Vargas

ly, without turning his head. 'Do you t

h; the Extreme Left attach

speak, Sa

rdly

dinner at my house to-morrow; I wan

plied the other after

but the Minister whispe

p and keep my wife company for a little. She is bor

bored, y

ar Sangiorgio,' answered Don Silvio philosophi

, traversed the hall and corridors, and went up the stairs, curbing himself lest he shou

d?' he gently aske

rning slightly and putting out her hand to

ing at him, which she would also have done had he bee

to come here o

is a Minister, and many people think I am an influential woman.

close one

ife of a politician, of a Minister. Don Silvio is always afraid I sha

acquaintances?' he asked in a sympath

tural to me to be indulgent. But vulg

keep your

all! It is the moral being that suffers, and the nerves.

olitics so muc

them, and I can

a great and noble ide

er ideas as being noble, good, great, generous, fruitf

d to assure her. 'Yo

g real, represented by something concrete-religion by the Church, the figure of the Holy Virgin, Christ; our country by l

e murmured, after ho

exclaimed with

hate the

ity

ort, but an expression of

aces, pale and unhealthy! How worn out before their time are some of those men, and what nervousness in the gestures of others! They all seem aff

re a great passion,'

e three hundred people, who have minds, and who are educated, who have physical and moral courage, who have honest consciences and manly characters. Very well;

e Min

ot the mind ever go miserably to waste? Does not that mind, capable of creating wonders of

rue,' he

sically, is that not better than overthrowing a Ministry? Is it

rue,' he

r, here, where everything is summed up in a speech, where all worthy initiative is frittered aw

ht when we w

! We women, you see, understand the heroism of the battlefiel

heeks were aflame, and her hot words, surging into Sangi

it remain clean among so many personal schemes, so many unavoidable bargains, so much equivocation? Ho

rue,' he

et. No more friends. Confederates, clients, parasites, rivals, self-seekers-none but such. Their affection is not asked for, but their vote is. Who says "Yes" is a friend; who says "No" is a traitor. The privacy of the home disappears. It is invaded by a stream of strange people who sully it, who turn it into a vestibule, a courtyard, a street, a public square. Confidence vanishes. Our husband is worried and disturbed; we seek to know the reason, and he believes we cannot understand, for politicians despise the advice of women. At table the husband reads newspapers or answers telegr

s in his pockets, his thin, spare body swaying slightly, looking at an interlocutor through his shi

sion,' murmured Donna Angelic

ich

ov

e,' answered

*

ing down at table. 'Donna Angelica is in her

dered from the vacant chair to the great red flowers. The two deputies-the Minister and the important politician-eagerly discussed politics, eating all the while, Don Silvio slashing his meat nervously while he waxed warm over the Communal and P

ained a serious face; every now and then he seconded a remark from the Minister with a nod, with an air of restrained ad

Don Silvio at once tore open the despatches, opened and read the letters, cut the cover of the newspapers, and ran

tain places with a red pencil; the secretary read the marked passages with the placidity of an old diplomat. In the meantime Sangiorgio was vainly listening for some feminine sound, vainly keeping on the alert for

ball; and the great mystery of beauty adorning itself-amid lustre-imparting, perfumed liquids, loose hair, scattered flowers, billo

med to combine purity and the heat of passion. If only she would come out for a moment, to greet her husband, to greet her guest! If she would but show herself, radiant in her youth and beauty! Each time a door opened, as the evening wore on, Sangiorgio started, shutting his eyes, seeming

Angelica's youth and beauty, there were signs of the female excitement that precedes a ball, and to which is always due a ravishing confusion of scattered linen, silk stockings hanging out of open drawers, unstoppered vials, corsets straggling over the floor. But of such feminine disarray, of such intoxicating disorder, so fascinating to a husband or a lover, no indication passed outside her apartment. Through the three or four doors se

by his one wish, shut his eyes to avoid the blinding spectacle of Donna Angelica's beauty. But no one

lvio calmly, opening the Riforma, which had just been

wered Sangiorgio, who

*

at the palms that stood darkly against the white stucco of the walls. The women went up slowly, so as not to become ruffled, and in order that the even pallor or the florid pink of their cheeks might not be disturbed. After all their nervous excitement, the calm self-possession of women determined to look handsome asserted itself. It was enough to see how composedly, in the great, chilly, tapestried place transformed into a cloak-room, they u

d at their nearness to the scene of pleasure, their lips parted in elaborate ballroom smiles, of the sort which are diffused over the whole face, over the whole person. Near the door of the ballroom, t

orrent of sparks, a brilliant flash of lightning. The women were crowded together, and one female costume counteracted and neutralized another, to be in its turn counteracted and neutralized; neither materials nor colours might be distinguished; only a glimpse could be obtained of a bodice or a bit of shoulder-sleeve sometimes concealed by

d and transparent, whose colour no shadow could ever change; then came a firm white, under which flowed the rich blood as red cloth appears under a thin white fabric; elsewhere, a smooth, even surface, indicative of a moderate temperament and a moderate temperature, which nothing could affect; elsewhere again, an o

out of a calyx; in its luxuriance and spontaneousness it was like the richest out-blossoming of anything in the vegetable kingdom. Repeated in all tints th

h regard to individual charms; but, instead, there was sounded the grand note of the whole of woman's beauty, which the

person, the person, the woman. They, the men, were able to see nothing but a great blaze of jewellery, which killed everything else; they mere

close against the other, all smiles, with shoulders so high that they seemed escaping from the sleeves, arms hanging listlessly down, faces beautifully and unalterably serene. Behind them, under the band, and in the doorways, the black and white masses of men swayed silently to and fro. The moment of anticipation seemed interminable. Then in the door at the back appeare

The Honourable Galvagna, a Colonel from the Irredentist part of the country, and the Honourable Sangarzia, were patiently waiting to reach

recognised not one of them. Never had he seen so many women in a body, so closely ranged together, in all the splendours of beauty and dress, in all the potency of the

and the royal diadem astrally akindle, Sangiorgio caught sight of Donna Angelica Vargas on the arm of a bronzed old gentleman with dyed moustache and bristles on his head tha

er step one of her most potent charms; her white, brocaded train undulated gently behind h

ca's nimble, youthful figure, and the white brocade bodice, modestly cut and topped with a hazy fluff of white gauze;

of diamonds, studding the darkness of her locks, four in front, four at the back, set irregularly and withou

ilies of the valley, without leaves, a scarce visible little spray of lilies of the valley, put there for

ractions of the woman, and being entirely to the credit of the modesty of the lady. About the shoulders the dress was heavy enough to conceal the enticing, almost sensual place where a woman's shoulder becomes her arm. She wore the lightest of cream-coloured gloves of the finest kind, which, covering her elbow and three inches besides, lay moulded to her arm without a wrinkle. She wore no bracelets, but had on plain diamond earrings. The whole impression was one of chastity. There was none of the vacant stupidity of a cross-grained girl, but all the innocence of thought and emotion of a pure woman. To Francesco Sangiorgio it seemed as if he were in the prese

chastity and purity descended upon Sangiorgio like a refreshing breath, cooling the ardour of passion; affecting him like the beneficence of an innocent caress from the lips of a child, the hand of a sister, or a friend's embrace; invading him like a placid river, gently and silently overflowing its banks. His delirious pulse had abated; the vei

would not dance, refusing offers to do so, wrapt and engrossed as they were in the recollection of the words spoken to them by the Queen. Every woman in the place, whatever her wealth, rank, or beauty, whatever her charms of mind or body, coveted nothing beyond that moment's colloquy with the Queen, in the presence of two thousand people; they all forgot every other hope, wish, interest, or sentiment in the feminine ambition for that minute of conversation in public. The girls only, to whom this honour would not fall, who had come to exhibit their young fascinations, to be gay, to dance, to drown an innocent, romantic, amorous fancy-the girls, instead, were

they surrounded her standing. They comprised two Americans married to Roman Princes, one of them remarkably fair, and more English than American, the other slender, affable, and well dressed; Donna Vittoria Colonna, with black, diamond eyes; Donna Lavinia di Sora, with pearl-coloured face and pensive, leonine eyes; Countess Genzano, whose charms were artificial and whose hair was yellow; Princ

eir arms, opening and closing their large, soft, feather fans, each for the hun

nna Angelica's side, where, after ar

t such enamored and admiring glances at her that a slight blush tinged her cheeks. The Queen was speaking in French to the French Ambassadress, a spare, ascetic woman with a long face; yonder the

ancing,' obser

ance this time,' she replied calmly. 'La

ter

late

. Yet he saw that something of supreme importance was happening in this essentially feminine festive affair; he saw that these women were completely given over to some idea which

ere crowded together closer than ever, and, while they still hoped their turn was coming, ha

cklace showing, was conversing with Donna Lidia, the Prime Minister's wife, a hearty, ami

room the couples who had taken part in the quadrille were now promenading; engagements were being made for the polka; the young men were writing with pencils on the girls' programmes; the ladies who were strangers, or elderly, middle-aged, or old, sat on the last row of the red velvet benches with the formal air of people voluntarily bored, and were laden with jewels and splendid laces, and wore feathers in their hair. The women who had been ho

re, this evening,' said Sang

,' she vagu

ing, majestically and gracefully beautiful, in a tremulous, starry radiance. She was coming towards Donna Angelica, and Sangiorgio step

e with balls, the women of the middle class, and all those who had no official position, gave themselves up entirely to the pleasures of dancing; the orchestra was playing lively tunes by Métra and Fahrbach; the animation of the affair was at its height. Others were meanwhile promenading, sitting on lounges in the parlours, holding receptions, and circula

na Maria Gaston, a girl of gentle loveliness, the daughter of the Minister of Marine, a mundanely agreeable little angel, was not dancing, but was chatting at a window with three or four old Adm

omito, a gorgeous, sedate Juno; the Countess di Trecastagne, a pale Frenchwoman, married to a Sicilian; the Baroness di Sparanise, the clever lady whose eyes were black as Egyptian night; the mild and affable Marchioness di Costanza, with her caressing voice and gentle footsteps; the two fair-haired daughters of the Minister of Grace and

nd deputies, and had left abruptly, following Don Mario, whose political fortune she would

of his foot being grazed by the hem of her brocaded dress. She cast about for her husband, though very dispassionately, without urgency, and without making inquiries of anyone, exchanging but a few occasional phrases with

Maj

he answered, cast

o than

t know-I

or are you sure?' he

te sure,' she

upon her; she was

down, perhaps?' asked

aid; 'let us wa

ce, and incisive, oft cutting, language. The Countess di Roccamorice was eating sugared chestnuts as she chatted with the Grand Master of the Order of St. Maurice, with his white beard and discreet Lombard smile. The Princess di Rocco, the handsomest woman in Rome, was reclining in an easy-chair, with the Honourable Melillo, the Honourable Marchetti, and the Hono

murmured to Sangiorgio, who was condu

gnora Gasperini, the Secretary-General's wife, thus trying to recover her calm; but

to leave?' Sangi

e exclaimed

partments, arriving in the banqueting chamber, where folks were merrily chattering and glasses were clinking. They turned back, and finally, in the Don Quixote tapestry room, found Don Silvio in spirited debate with the Bri

m. 'You are too serious! What is it you are

h

u!' she said, leaning more emphatically on his a

e briefl

immediately turned to other subjects-the ball, the tapestries, Don Quixote, the heat

l the apartments, among hangings, flower-pots, embroidered curtains, white stucco, and gilt decorations, there was an

ary came up to her with

fice at once because of an important teleg

but as if conscious of being dispe

eplied, dismissing

rocade cloak. Without explanations, without a word passing between them, she took his arm again, and calmly descended the staircase, the Vargas groom having preceded them to call the carriage. Arrived at the open door o

feet and legs and the bottom of the small carriage with its rich folds;

n the third finger. In the semi-darkness of the carriage, which was making for old Rome from the Quirinal hill at a slow trot, Francesco Sangiorgio dwelt now on that sweet face, whose continued pallor rendered it more fascinating than ever, and now on that little hand, lying as listlessly in her lap as if she were overcome with mortal fatigue. In the l

but that white face, and that small, soft white hand, which seemed asleep; he neither sti

lain in the sunlight, barely rippling under the willows. Never had he felt himself thus enthralled by pure bliss, in which soul and senses were alike

e peculiar to her, her attitude was one of rest; it was not too loose and not too stiff. She was not asleep-oh no; her large, dark eyes were wide open,

like a ray of light, not the fulgurant opulence of jewellery. She was a young girl once more, in the pure, spiritual essence of beauty and grace, in a state of repose that was also a new birth. No flame lit up those lovely eyes, so full of peace, chiselled like a statue's. She, too, was very tranquil; her small hand was as wax against the white of her gown; her face was outlined like a luminous oval against the dark background of the carriage, and what she thought or felt was unrevealed. Beneat

o be engulfed in the whelming flood of spiritual bliss that stole over