Cecca was there, too, waiting her opportunity, with the little phial always in her pocket: for who knows when Madonna della Guardia may see the chance of earning her two promised masses? She is late this afternoon, the English governess; but she will come soon: she never forgets to come every Tuesday.
By and by, Minna duly arrived, and Colin kissed her before Cecca's very eyes—the miscreant1! and she took off her bonnet2 even, and sat down and seemed quite prepared to make an afternoon of it.
'Cecca,' Colin cried, 'will you ask them to make us three cups of coffee?—You can stop, Minna, and have some coffee, can't you?'
Cecca didn't understand the English half of the sentence, of course, but she ran off quite enchanted3 to execute the little commission in the Italian bent4 of it. A cup of coffee! It was the very thing; Madonna della Guardia, what fortune you have sent me!
Colin and Minna sat talking within while the coffee was brewing5, and when it was brought in, Cecca waited for her opportunity cautiously, until Minna had taken a cup for herself, and laid it down upon the little bare wooden table beside her. It would never do to put the medicine by mistake into the cup of the Englishman; we must manage these little matters with all due care and circumspection6. So Cecca watched in the background, as a cat watches a mouse's hole with the greatest silence and diligence, till at last a favourable7 chance occurred: and then under the pretence8 of handing Minna the biscuits which came up with the coffee, she managed cleverly to drop half the contents of the phial into the cup beside her. Half was quite enough for one trial: she kept the other half, in case of accident, to use again if circumstances should demand it.
Just at that moment a note came in from Maragliano. Could Colin step round to the other studio for a quarter of an hour? A wealthy patron had dropped in, and wanted to consult with him there about a commission.
Cohn read the letter through hastily; explained its contents to Minna; kissed her once more: (Ha, the last time, the last time for ever! he will never do that again, the Englishman!) and then ran out to see the wealthy patron.
Minna was left alone for that half-hour in the studio with Cecca.
Would she drink the coffee, now? that was the question. No, as bad luck and all the devils would have it, she didn't seem to think of tasting or sipping9 it. A thousand maledictions! The stuff would get cold, and then she would throw it away and ask for another cupful. Blessed Madonna of Monte-leone, make her drink it! Make her drink it! Bethink you, unless she does, dear little Madonna, you do not get your candles or your masses!
Still Minna sat quite silent and motionless, looking vacantly at the beautiful model, whom she had forgotten now to feel angry or jealous about. She was thinking, thinking vacantly; and her Italian was so far from fluent that she didn't feel inclined to begin a conversation off-hand with the beautiful model.
Just to encourage her, then (there's nothing like society), Ceeca drew up her three-legged stool close beside the signorina, and began to sip10 carelessly and unconcernedly at her own cup of coffee. Perhaps the sight of somebody else drinking might chance by good luck to make the Englishwoman feel a little thirsty.
But Minna only looked at her, and smiled half-unconsciously. To her great surprise, the Italian woman perceived that two tears were slowly trickling11 down her rival's cheeks.
Italians are naturally sympathetic, even when they are on the eve of poisoning you; and besides one is always curious to know what one is crying for. So Cecca leaned forward kindly12, and said in her gentlest tone: 'You are distressed13, signorina. You are suffering in some way. Can I do anything for you?'
Minna started, and wiped away the two tears hastily. 'It is nothing,' she said, 'I didn't mean it. I—I fancied I was alone, I had forgotten.'
'What! you speak Italian!' Cecca cried, a little astonished, and half anxious to enjoy her triumph by anticipation14. 'Ah, signorina, I know what is the matter. I have guessed your secret: I have guessed your secret!'
Minna blushed. 'Hush,' she said eagerly. 'Not a word about it. My friend may return. Not a word about it.'
But still she didn't touch her coffee.
Then Cecca began to talk to her gently and soothingly15, in her best soft Italian manner. Poor thing, she was evidently very sad. So far away from her home too. Cecca was really quite sorry for her. She tried to draw her out and in her way to comfort her. The signorina hadn't long to live: let us at least be kind and sympathetic to her.
For, you see, an Italian woman is capable of poisoning you in such a perfectly16 good-humoured and almost affectionate fashion.
At first, Minna didn't warm very much to the beautiful model: she had still her innate17 horror of Italian women strong upon her; and besides she knew from her first meeting that Cecca had a terrible vindictive18 temper. But in time Cecca managed to engage her in real conversation, and to tell her about her own little personal peasant history. Yes, Cecca came from Calabria, from that beautiful province; and her father, her father was a fisherman.
Minna started. 'A fisherman! How strange. And my father too, was also a fisherman away over yonder in England!'
It was Cecca's turn to start at that. A fisherman! How extraordinary. She could hardly believe it. She took it for granted all along that Minna, though a governess, was a grand English lady; for the idea of a fisher man's daughter dressing19 and living in the way that Minna did was almost inconceivable to the unsophisticated mind of a Calabrian peasant woman. And to wear a bonnet, too! to wear a bonnet!
'Tell me all about it,' Cecca said, drawing closer, and genuinely interested (with a side eye upon the untasted coffee). 'You came to Rome then,' jerking her two hands in the direction of the door, 'to follow the Englishman?' 'Signora Cecca,' Minna said, with a sudden vague instinct, in her tentative Italian, 'I will trust you. I will tell you all about it. I was a poor fisherman's daughter in England, and I always loved my cousin, the sculptor20.' Cecca listened with the intensest interest. Minna lifted her cup for the first time, and took a single sip of the poisoned coffee.
'Good!' thought Cecca calmly to herself. 'If she takes a first sip, why of course in that case she will certainly finish it.'
Then Minna went on with her story, shortly and in difficulty, pieced out every here and there by Cecca's questions and ready pantomime. Cecca drank in all the story with the deepest avidity. It was so strange that something should just then have moved the Englishwoman to make a confidante of her. A poor fisherman's daughter, and neglected now by her lover who had become a grand and wealthy sculptor! Mother of God, from the bottom of her heart, she really pitied her.
'And when he came to Rome,' Cecca said, helping21 out the story of her own accord, 'he fell in with the grand English ladies like the one with the military papa; and they made much of him; and you were afraid, my little signorina, that he had almost forgotten you! And so you came to Rome on purpose to follow him.'
Minna nodded, and her eyes filled with tears a second time.
'Poor little signorina!' Cecca said earnestly.
'It was cruel of him, very cruel of him. But when people come to Rome they are often cruel, and they soon forget their lovers of the province.' Something within her made her think that moment of poor Giuseppe, who had followed her so trustfully from that far Calabria.
Minna raised the cup once more, and took another sip at the poisoned coffee. Cecca watched the action closely, and this time gave a small involuntary sigh of relief when Minna set it down again almost untasted. Poor little thing! after all she was only a fisherman's daughter, and she wanted her lover, her lover of the province, to love her still the same as ever! Nothing so very wrong or surprising in that! Natural, most natural.... But then, the Englishman, the Englishman! she mustn't be allowed to carry off the Englishman.... And Giuseppe, poor Giuseppe.... Well, there, you know; in love and war these things will happen, and one can't avoid them.
'And you knew him from a child?' she asked innocently.
'Yes, from a child. We lived together in a little village by the sea-shore in England; my father was a fisherman, and his a gardener. He used to go into the fields by the village, and make me little images of mud, which I used to keep upon my mantelpiece, and that was the first beginning, you see, of his sculpture.'
Mother of heaven, just like herself and Giuseppe! How they used to play together as children on the long straight shore at Monteleone. 'But you were not Christians23 in England, you were pagans, not Christians!'
For the idea of images had suggested to Cecca's na?ve mind the notion of the Madonna.
Minna almost laughed, in spite of herself, at the curious misapprehension, and drew out from her bosom24 the little cross that she always wore instead of a locket. 'Oh yes,' she said simply, without dwelling25 upon any minor26 points of difference between them; 'we are Christians—Christians.'
The girl examined the cross reverently27, and then looked back at the coffee with a momentary28 misgiving29. After all, the Englishwoman was very gentle and human-like and kind-hearted. It was natural she should want to keep her country lover. And besides she was really, it seemed, no heretic in the end at all, but a good Christian22.
'When people come to Rome and become famous,' she repeated musingly30, 'they do wrong to be proud and to forget the lovers of their childhood.' Giuseppe loved her dearly, there was no denying it, and she used to love him dearly, too, down yonder on the shore at Monteleone.
Minna raised her cup of coffee a third time, and took a deeper drink. Nearly a quarter of the whole was gone now; but not much of the poison, Cecca thought to herself, thank heaven; that was heavy and must have sunk to the bottom. If only one could change the cups now, without being observed! Poor little thing, it would be a pity, certainly, to poison her. One oughtn't to poison people, properly speaking, unless one has really got some serious grudge31 against them. She was a good little soul, though no doubt insipid32, and a Christian, too; Madonna della Guardia, would the bargain hold good, Cecca wondered silently, seeing the Englishwoman had miraculously33 turned out to be after all a veritable Christian. These are points of casuistry on which one would certainly like to have beforehand the sound opinion of a good unprejudiced Calabrian confessor.
'You think he makes too much of the tall signorina!' Cecca said lightly, smiling and nodding. (Cecca had, of course, an immense fund of sympathy with the emotion of jealousy34 in other women.)
Minna blushed and looked down timidly without answering. What on earth could have possessed35 her to make so free, at this particular minute, with this terrible Italian model woman? She really couldn't make it out herself, and yet she knew there had been some strange unwonted impulse moving within her. (If she had read Von Hartmann, she would have called it learnedly the action of the Unconscious. As it was, she would have said, if she had known all, that it was a Special Providence37.)
So wishing merely to change the subject, and having nothing else to say at the moment, she looked up almost accidentally at the completed clay of the Nymph Bathing, and said simply: 'That is a beautiful statue, Signora Cecca.'
Cecca smiled a majestic38 smile of womanly gratification, and showed her double row of even regular pearl-white teeth with coquettish beauty. 'I posed for it,' she said, throwing herself almost unconsciously into the familiar attitude. 'It is my portrait!'
'It is a splendid portrait,' Minna answered cordially, glancing quickly from the original to the copy, 'a splendid portrait of a very beautiful and exquisitely39 formed woman.'
'Signorina!' Cecca cried, standing40 up in front of her, and roused by a sudden outburst of spontaneous feeling to change her plan entirely41, 'you are quite mistaken; the master does not love the tall lady. I know the master well, I have been here all the time, I have watched him narrowly. He does not love the tall lady: she loves him, I tell you, but he does not care for her; in his heart of hearts he does not love her; I know, for I have watched them. Signorina, I like you, you are a sweet little Englishwoman, and I like you dearly. Your friend from the village in England shall marry you!' ('Oh, don't talk so!' Minna cried parenthetically, hiding her face passionately42 between her hands.)
'And if the tall lady were to try to come between you and him,' Cecca added vigorously, 'I would poison her—I would poison her—I would poison her! She shall not steal another woman's lover, the wretched creature. I hate such meanness, signorina, I will poison her.'
As Cecca said those words, with an unfeigned air of the deepest and most benevolent43 sympathy, she managed to catch her long loose scarf as if by accident in the corner of the light table where Minna's half-finished cup of coffee was still standing, and to upset it carelessly on to the floor of the studio. The cup with a crash broke into a hundred pieces.
At that very moment Colin entered. He saw Minna rising hastily from the settee beside the overturned table, and Cecca down on her knees upon the floor, wiping up the coffee hurriedly with one of the coarse studio towels. Cecca looked up in his face with a fearless glance as if nothing unusual had happened. 'An accident, signor,' she cried: 'my scarf caught in the table. I have spilt the signorina's cup of coffee. But no matter. I will run down immediately and tell them below to make her another.'
'Cecca and I have been talking together, Colin,' Minna said, replacing the fallen table hastily, 'and, do you know, isn't it strange, she's a fisherman's daughter in Calabria? and oh! Colin, I don't believe after all she's really half such a bad sort of girl as I took her to be when I first saw her. She's been talking to me here quite nicely and sympathetically.'
'Italians are all alike,' Colin answered, with the usual glib44 English faculty45 for generalisation about all 'foreigners.' 'They'll be ready to stab you one minute, and to fall upon your neck and kiss you the very next.'
Going out of the studio to order more coffee from the trattoria next door, Cecca happened to meet on the doorstep with her friend Giuseppe.
'Beppo,' she said, looking up at him more kindly than had been her wont36 of late: 'Beppo, I want to tell you something—I've changed my mind about our little difference. If you like, next Sunday you may marry me.'
'Next Sunday! Marry you!' Beppo exclaimed, astonished. 'Oh, Cecca, Cecca, you cannot mean it!'
'I said, next Sunday, if you like, you may marry me. That's good ordinary sensible Calabrian, isn't it? If you wish, I'll give it you in Tuscan: you can understand nothing but Tuscan, it seems, since you came to Rome, my little brother.'
She said the words tenderly, banter46 as they were, in their own native dialect: and Beppo saw at once that she was really in earnest.
'But next Sunday,' he exclaimed. 'Next Sunday, my little one! And the preparations?'
'I am rich!' Cecca answered calmly. 'I bring you a dower. I am the most favourite model in all Rome this very moment.'
'And the Englishman—the Englishman? What are you going to do with the Englishman?'
'The Englishman may marry his sweetheart if he will,' the girl replied with dogged carelessness.
'Cecca! you did not give the.... medicine to the Englishman?'
Cecca drew the half-empty bottle from her pocket and dashed it savagely47 against the small paving-stones in the alley48 underfoot. 'There,' she cried, eagerly, as she watched it shiver into little fragments. 'See the medicine! That is the end of it.'
'And the cat, Cecca?'
Cecca drew a long breath. 'How much of it would hurt a human being—a woman?' she asked anxiously. 'Somebody has drunk a little by mistake—just so much!' And she measured the quantity approximately with the tip of her nail upon her little finger.
Giuseppe shook his head re-assuringly, shrugged49 his shoulders, and opened his hands, palms outward, as if to show he was evidently making no mental reservation. 'Harmless!' he said. Quite harmless. It would take a quarter of a phial at least to produce any effect worth speaking of.'
Cecca clasped her silver image of the Madonna ecstatically. 'That's well, Beppo,' she answered with a nod. 'I must go now. On Sunday, little brother! On Sunday. Beppo—Beppo—it was all a play. I love you. I love you.'
But as she went in to order the coffee the next second, she said to herself with a regretful grimace50: 'What a fool I was after all to waste the medicine! Why, if only I had thought of it. I might have used it to poison the other one, the tall Englishwoman. She shall not be allowed to steal away the little signorina's lover!'
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1
miscreant
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| n.恶棍 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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circumspection
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| n.细心，慎重 | |
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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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9
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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insipid
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| adj.无味的，枯燥乏味的，单调的 | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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42
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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43
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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glib
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| adj.圆滑的，油嘴滑舌的 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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46
banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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48
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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49
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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