CHAPTER VI.
Signora Biancona appeared to have touched the right chord. The bare possibility of such an idea broke down Ella"s opposition. "I will hear you," replied she, quickly, "but where?"
"In the little verandah at the right of the gallery. We shall be alone there; I will go first, you need only follow me."
With an almost imperceptible motion, Ella bowed her head. The few words had been exchanged so rapidly and softly, that no one had overheard a syllable, no one even noticed the close vicinity of the two ladies, who, at that moment, were only surrounded by strangers; therefore, none remarked it when Signora Biancona immediately afterwards disappeared from the room, and Ella a few minutes later followed her example.
The gallery, adorned with statues and paintings, next to the reception-room was almost empty. Only few guests had sought the cooler apartment, at the end of which a gla.s.s door led into a half-open verandah, which by day probably offered an extensive view over the surrounding gardens, but tonight had been included in the entertaining rooms, as it also had been decorated with flowering and foliage plants, and if not so brilliantly lighted as the saloons, yet was sufficiently so; at any rate it was quite empty, and the half-hidden room, lying somewhat apart, which was unknown to most of the guests, offered the possibility of an undisturbed conversation.
Beatrice was already there when Ella"s lace dress rustled through the doorway, but the young wife remained very close to it, without advancing even a single step beyond. With just the same unbending, proud bearing which she had shown at the first meeting in the _locanda_, did she now await the commencement of this half-compulsory interview. The Italian"s eyes hung with a truly devouring expression on the white figure which stood opposite to her, flooded with the light of the lamps, and whose beauty moved her to the bitterest hatred.
"Signora Eleonore Almbach!" began she at last, "I regret having to explain to you that your _incognito_ is already betrayed. For the present only to me, but I do not believe that it can be long maintained."
"And upon whom would it fall?" asked Ella quietly. "I did not spare myself when I a.s.sumed this _incognito_.
"Whom then? Perhaps Rinaldo?"
"I do not know Signor Rinaldo."
The words sounded so icily positive, that it was impossible to entertain any doubt as to what she meant to express, and Beatrice was silenced for a moment by them. It was quite beyond her to understand the pride which could not even forgive a Rinaldo for a breach of faith once made.
"Indeed, I was not prepared for this denial," replied she. "If Rinaldo--"
"You wished to speak to me," interrupted Ella, "and I promised to listen to you. That the decision has cost me something, I need hardly explain to you; at least I did not expect to hear this name from you, nor do I wish it. Let our conversation be as short as possible. What have you to say to me?"
"Above all, I have to beg you to employ a different tone in our interview," said Beatrice, with irritation. "You are speaking to Beatrice Biancona, whose name is surely known to you in other ways than merely through our personal connection with one another, and who may indeed endure hatred and enmity on the part of an opponent, but not the contempt you are pleased to express."
Ella remained perfectly unmoved at this demand. She stepped a little aside, under cover of the tall foliage plants, so that she might not be seen from the gallery, and then turned again to the speaker.
"I did not seek this interview. It was you, Signora, who to some extent forced me to it, therefore you must allow me to preserve the tone which I deem to be suitable towards you; none other is at my disposal."
A glance of wild, deadly hatred shot out of Beatrice"s eyes, but she felt that if she now gave way to her pa.s.sion, it would rob her of all power, and prepare her antagonist a new triumph. She therefore crossed her arms, and replied with annihilating scorn--
"You make me do severe penance, Signora Almbach, for having been the conqueror in a struggle whose prize was your husband"s love."
"You are mistaken," responded Ella, coldly. "I _never_ struggle for any man"s love. I leave that to women who first gain such a prize with difficulty, and then must ever tremble lest they lose it."
The last words seemed to have touched a sore spot. Beatrice paled.
"Certainly you had a right to claim him on the strength of the bridal altar," said she, still retaining the former contemptuous tone. "Only, alas, even this talisman does not protect one from the misfortune of being forsaken."
Now it was she who aimed mercilessly for a wound which she herself had made, but the arrow glanced harmlessly back. Ella drew herself up erect and proud--
"Certainly not from the pain of such a fate, but at any rate from its shame. For the forsaken wife there remain the interest, the sympathy of the whole world; for the forsaken lover--only contempt."
"Only that?" said Beatrice grimly. "You mistake, Signora; one other thing remains for her--revenge!"
"Is that intended for a threat to me?" asked Ella. "Whoever challenges your revenge, may seek to protect herself against it; I am free from it."
"Of course, you came from the north where pa.s.sion is not known, as we understand the word," cried the Italian. "With you prejudices, duties, the world"s opinion, stand for ever and ever in the front--a woman"s _love_ only comes in the second rank."
"Certainly in the second rank." Ella"s tone was now one of unconcealed scorn. "In the first stands woman"s honour; we are accustomed to place it unconditionally and everywhere in front--a prejudice certainly from which Signora Biancona has long since emanc.i.p.ated herself."
Ella did not know the rival whom she irritated, otherwise she would not perhaps have ventured to let the pride of the deeply injured wife speak in so crushing a manner; the effect was an appalling one.
It was as if all at once a demon sprang up in the Italian, as if her whole being really shot forth "death and destruction," so flashed her dark eyes; a half smothered cry of fury broke from her lips, and forgetting everything around her, she took one or two steps forward.
Ella shrank back at this more than threatening movement--
"What does that mean, Signora?" said she firmly. "Violence perhaps? You forget where we are. I see that I was wrong to accede to this interview, it is high time to end it."
Beatrice appeared to recover her senses to some extent; at least she stood still, although the unnatural expression of her eyes had not faded; convulsively her hand crushed the black lace veil which fell over her shoulders; she did not notice that in doing so one of the red flowers detached itself from her hair, and fell to the ground.
"You shall learn to repent these words--this hour, Signora," hissed she through her clenched teeth. "You do not know revenge? Very well, I know it, and shall know how to show it to you and him."
She swept away and left the young wife alone behind, who could not bring herself to re-enter the drawing-room immediately after this scene, and encounter Erlau"s anxious enquiries. Drawing a long breath, she sat down on one of the seats, and rested her head on her hand. This wild hatred and threat of vengeance did shake her, but it showed her the truth also, through all veils. Only the successful rival is hated, only what is lost is avenged, or at least what is given up for lost--the infatuation was at an end.
But whom did these threatening words concern? Reinhold? The wife paled; she herself had offered a firm bold front to the menace; but at this thought a breath as of trembling fear pa.s.sed through her soul, and as if in half unconscious pain she pressed her hand to her bosom and whispered--
"Oh, my G.o.d, that cannot be. She loves him surely."
"Eleonore!" said a voice quite close to her.
Ella started up. She recognised the voice at the first sound, even before she saw the figure, which stood on the other side of the doorway, as though it did not dare to pa.s.s. Reinhold seemed to gain courage when he saw no repelling movement, and entered completely.
"What is it?" asked he uneasily, "I find you alone here in this distant room, and just now I saw another come from it and hurry through the gallery. You spoke--"
"To Signora Biancona," added Ella, as he stopped.
"Did she insult you?" cried Reinhold irately. "I know her look, which betokened no good. I almost suspected it when I saw her disappear so suddenly from the drawing-room, and you were to be seen no more. I came too late, as it appears. Did she insult you, Ella?"
His young wife rose, and made a movement as if to leave--
"If she had done so, you understand surely that your protection would be the last which I should claim."
She tried to pa.s.s him, and reach the door. Reinhold made no attempt to detain her, but his glance rested upon her with such sad reproach, that she stopped involuntarily.
"Eleonore," said he softly, "one more question before you go--only one.
You were at my opera--why deny it? I saw you, as you saw me. What urged you to go?"
Ella lowered her eyes, as if it were a fault of which she was accused, and a treacherous warmth flowed over her brow and cheeks, as she hesitatingly replied--
"I wanted to become acquainted with the composer, Rinaldo, in his works."
"And now that you have become acquainted with him?"
"Do you wish for my judgment upon your new creation? The world says it is a masterwork."