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Pee A,
THE YELLOW MASK. 3
resembled one another in feature, Maddalena Lomi’s face betrayed strong
assions, but act an ungenerous nature. Iler father, with the same in-
Bications of a violent temper, had some sinister lines about his mouth
and forehead which suggested anything rather than an open disposition.
Father Nocco’s countenance, on the other hand, looked like the personifi-
cation of absolute calmness and invincible moderation; and his manner,
which, in a very firm way, was singularly quiet and deliberate, assisted
in carrying out the impression produced by his face. e daughter
seemed as if she could fly into a passion at a moment’s notice, and for-
give also at 2 moment’s notice. The father, appearing to be just as irrit-
able, had something in his face which said, as plainly as if in words,
“‘ Anger me, and I never pardon.” The priest looked as if he need never
be called on either to ask forgiveness or to grant it, for the double reason
that he could irritate nobody else, and that nobody else could irritate
im. ~
“Tocco,” said Luca, looking at the face of his Minerva, which was
now finished; ‘this statue of mine will make a sensation.”
“‘T am glad to hear it,” rejoined the priest dryly:
“Ttis a new thing in art,” continued Luca enthusiastically. ‘‘ Other
sculptors, with a classical subject like mine, limit themselves to the ideal
classical face, and never think of aiming at individual character. Now
do precisely the reverse of that. I get my handsome daughter, Madda-
lena, to sit for Minerva, and I make an exact likeness of her. I may lose
an ideal beauty, but I gain an individual character. People may accuse
me of disregarding established rules—but my answer is, that I make my
own rules. My daughter looks like a Minerva, and there she is exactly
as she looks.” ‘
“Tt is certainly a wonderful likeness,” said Father Rocco, approaching
the statue, .
“Tt is the girl herself,” cried the other.“ Exactly her expression, and
exactly her features. Measure Maddalena and measure Minerva, and,
from forehead to chin, you won’t find a hair’s breath of difference between
em.
“But how about the bust and arms of the figure, now the face is
done?” asked the priest, returning, as he spoke, to his own work.
“I may have the very model I want for them {o-morrow. Little Nan-
ina has just given me the strangest message. What do you think of a
Tysterions lady-admirer who offers to sit for the bust and arms of my
nerva
‘* Aro you going to accept the offer ?” inquired the priest.
“Tam going to receive her to-morrow; and if I really find that she is
the same height of Maddalena, and has a bust and arms worth modeling,
of course Ishall accept her offer; for she will be the very sitter I have
been looking after for weeks past. Who can she be? That’s the mystery
I want to tind out. Which do you say, Rocco—an enthusiast or an adven-
turess 7
“* T do not presume to say, for I have no means of knowing.”
‘Ah! there you are with’ your moderation again. Now, I do presume
to assert, that she must be either one or the other—or she would not have
forbidden Nanina to say anything about her in answer to all my first
natural inquiries. Where is Maddalena? I thought she was here a
minute ago.”
“* Sho is in Fabio’s room,” answered Father Rocco, softly. “Shall I
call her?”
“No, no!” returned Luca. He stopped, looked round at the work-
men, who were chipping away mechanically at their bit of drapery, then
advanced close to the priest, with a cunning smnile, and continued, in a
whisper; ‘If Maddalena can only get from Fabio’s room here to Fabio’s
alace over the way, on the Arno—come, come Rocco! don’t shake your
Read. {f IT brought her up to your church-door one of these days, as
Fabio d’Ascoli’s betrothed, you would be glad enough to take the rest of
the business off my hands, and make her Fabio d’Ascoli’s wife. You are
& very holy man, Rocco, but you know the difference between the clink of
the money-bag and the clink of the chisel, for all that!”
“Tam sorry to find, Luca,” returned the priest coldly, ‘‘that you allow
yourself to talk of the most delicate subjects in the coarsest way. This is
one of the minor sins of the tongue which is growing on you. When we
are alone in the studio I will endeavor to lead you into speaking of the
young man in the room there, and of your daughter, in terms moro be-
coming to you, to me, and tothem. Until that time allow me to goon
* with my work.
Luca shrugged his shoulders and went back to his statue. Father
Rocco, who had been engaged during the last ten minutes in mixing wet
Plaster to the right consistency for taking a cast, suspended his occupa-
ion, and, crossing the room to a corner next the partition, removed from
it a cheval-glass which stood there. He lifted it away gently, while his
brother’s back was turned, carried it close to the table at which he had
been at work, and then resumed his employment of mixing the plaster.
Having at last Prepared the composition for use, he laid it over the ex-
osed half of the statuette with a neatness and dexterity which showed
im to be a practised hand at cast-taking. Just as he had covered the|m
necessary extent of surface, Luca turned round from his statue.
‘* How are you getting on with the cast?” he asked. ‘Do you want
any help?”
‘*None, brother, Ithank you,” answered the priest. ‘Pray, do not dis-
turb either yourself or your workmen on my account.”
jaca turned again to the statue; and, at the same moment Father Roe-
co softly moved the cheval-glass towards the open doorway between the
twe rooms, placing it at such an angle as to make it reflect the figures of
the persons in the smaller studio. He did this with significant quickness
and precision. It was evidently not tho first time he had used the glass
tor Frarposes of secret observation.
Mechanically stirring the wet plaster round and round for the second
easting, the priest looked into the glass, and saw, as in a picture, all
that was going forward in the inner-room. Maddalena Lomi was stand-
ing behind the young nobleman, watching tho progress ho made with his
bust. Occasionally she took the modelling-tool out of his hand, and
showed him, with her sweetest smile, that she, too, as a sculptor’s daugh-
ter, understood something of the sculptor's art; and now and then, in the
pauses of the conversation, when her interest was especially intense in
Fabio’s work, she suffered her hand to drop absently on his shoulder, or
stooped forward so close to hmm that her hair mingled for a moment with
his. Moving the glass an inch or two, so as to bring Nanina well under
his eye, Father Rocco found that he could trace each repetition of these
little acts of familiarity by the immediate effect which they produced on
the girl’s face and manner. Whenever Maddalena 80 much as touched
the young nobleman—no matter whether she did so by premeditation, or
really y accident—Nanina’s features contracted, her pale cheeks grew .
paler, she fidgeted on her chair, and her fingers nervously twisted and
untivisted the loose ends of the ribbon fastened round her waist.
‘* Jealous,” thought Father Rocco; ‘I suspected it weeks ago.”
He turned away, and gave his whole attention for a few minutes to the
mixing of the plaster. When he looked back again at the glass, he was
just in time to witness a little accident which suddenly changed the rela-
tive positions of the three porsons in the inner room.
He saw Maddalena take up a modelling-tool which lay on a table nea
her, and begin to help Fabio in altcring the arrangement of the hair in
his bust. The young man watched what she was doing earnestly enough
for a few moments; then his attention wandered away to Nanina. She
looked at him reproachfully, and he answered by a sign which brought a
smile to her face directly. “Maddalena surprised her at the instant of the
change; and, following the direction of her eyes, easily discovered at
whom the smile was directed. She darted a glance of contempt at Nan-
ina, threw down the modelling-tool, and turned indignantly to the young
sculptor, who was affecting to be hard at work again.
“Signor Fabio,” she said, “the next time you forget what is due to
your rank and yourself, warn me of it, if you please, beforehand, and I
will take care to leave the room.” While speaking the last words she
passed through the doorway. Father Rocco, bending abstractedly over
is plaster mixture, heard her continue to herselt in a whisper as she
went by him, ‘If I have any influence at all with my father, that im-
pudent beggar-girl shail be forbidden the studio.”
“Jealousy on the other side,” thought the priest ‘Something must
be done at once, or this will end badly.”
He looked again at the glass, and saw Fabio, after an instant of hesita-
tion, beckon to Nanina to approach him. She left her seat, and advanced
half-way to his, then stopped. He stepped forward to meet her, and
taking her by the hand, whispered earnestly in her ear,’ When he had
done, before dropping her hand, he touched her cheek with his lips,
and then helped her on with the little white mantilla which covered her
head and shoulders, out of doors. The girl trembled violently, and drew
the linen close to her face as Fabio walked into the larger studio, and, ad-
dressing Father Rocco, said:
“Tam afraid I am more idle or more stupid than ever to-day. I can’t
get on with the bust at all to my satisfaction, so I have cut short the git-
ting, and given Nanina a half-holiday.”
At the first sound of his voice, Maddalena, who was speaking to her
father, stopped; and, with another look of ‘scorn at Nanina standing
trembling in the doorway, left the room. Luca Lomi called Fabio to him
as she went away, and Father Rocco, turning to the statuette, looked to
see how the plaster was hardening on it. Secing them thus engaged,
Nanina attempted to escape from the studio without being noticed; but
the priest stopped her just as she was hurrying by him
“My child,” said he, in his gentle, quiet way, ‘are you going home?”
Nanina’s heart beat too fast for her to reply in words—ske could only
answer by bowing her head.
‘Take this for your little sister,” pursued Father Rocco, putting a few
silver coins in her hand; ‘I have fot some customers for those mats she
plaits so nicely. You need not bring them to my rooms—I will come and
see you this evening, when I am gong my rounds among my parishioners,
and will take the mats away with me. You are a good girl, Nanina—you
have always been a good girl—and as long as I am alive, my child, you
shall never want a friend and an adviser.”
Nanina’s eyes filled with tears. She drew the mantilla closer than
ever round her faco as she tried to thank the priest. Father Rocco nod-
ded to her kindly, and laid his hand lightly on her head for a moment,
then turned round again to his cast. .
““Don’t forget my message to the lady who is to sit to me to-morrow,”
said Luca to Nanina, as she passed him on her way out of the studio.
After she had gone, Fabio returned to the priest, who was still busy
over his cast.
“Thope you will get on better with the bust. to-morrow,” said Father
Rocco, politely; ‘*I am sure you cannot complain of your model.”
“Complain of her!” cried the young man, warmly; ‘she has the
most beautiful head I ever saw. If I were twenty times the sculptor that
Iam, I should despair of being able to do her justice.”
He walked into the mner room to look at his bust again—lingered be-
fore it for a little while—and then turned to retrace his steps to the larger
studio. Between him and the doorway stood three chairs. As he went
by them, he absently touched the back of the first two, and passed the
third; but just as he was entering the larger room, stopped as if struck
by a sudden recollection, returned hastily, and touched the third chair,
Raising his exes, as he approached the large studio again after doing
this, he met the eyes of the priest fixed on him in unconcealed astonish.
ent.
“*Signor Fabio!” exclaimed Father Rocco, with a sarcastic smile;
“who would ever have imagined that you were superstitious! ”
“*My nurse was,” returned the young man, reddening, and laughing
rather uneasily. ‘She taught me some bad habits that I have not got
over yet.” With those words he nodded, and hastily went out.
‘‘Superstitious!” said. Father Rocco softly to ‘himself. He smiled
again, reflected for a moment, and then, going to the window, looked into
the strect. The way to the left led to Fabio’s palace, and the way to the
right to the Campo Santo, in the neighborhood of which Nanina lived.
The priest was just in time to see the young sculptor take the way to the
right.
After another half hour had elapsed, the two workmen quitted the
studio to go to dinner, and Luca and his brother were left alone.
‘*We may return now,” said Father Rocco, “to that conversation
which was suspended between us earlier in the day.”
‘‘T have nothing moro to say,” rejoined Luca, sulkily.
“Then you can listen to me, brother, with the greater attention,” pur-
sucd the priest. ‘I objected to the coarsencss of your tone in talking of
our young pupil and your daughter—I object still more Strongly to your
insinuation that n; ¥ desire to seo them married (provided always that
they are sinceroty attached to each other) springs from a mercenary
motive.”
“You are t
ing to snare me, Rocco, in .a mesh of fine phrases; but I ~
eo, Bae yo _ = Yee re
