'Not ours the fault, Madame la Marquise,' quickly retorted Alfieri; 'you rejected us each in turn. Felice was too dull, Adriano too lively, Giorgio was vain, and I--I forget what I was.'
'Worst of all, a great genius in the full blaze of his glory. No; I 'll take Signor Gherardi--that is, if he will permit me.'
Gerald took off his cap and bowed deeply in reply; as he lifted his head he beheld for the first time the features of her who addressed him. She was a lady no longer young, past even the prime of life, but retaining still something more than the traces of what had once been great beauty: fair brown hair, and blue eyes shaded by long dark lashes, preserved to her face a semblance of youthfulness; and there was a coquetry in her riding-dress--the hat looped up with a richly jewelled band, and the front of her habit embroidered in gold--which showed that she maintained pretensions to be noticed and honoured.
As Gerald rode along at her side, she drew him gradually and easily into conversation, with the consummate art of one who had brought the gift to high perfection. She knew how to lead a timid talker on, to induce him to venture on opinions, and even try and sustain them. She understood well, besides, when and how, and how far, to offer a dissent, and at what moments to appear to yield convictions to another. She possessed all that graceful tact which supplies to mere chit-chat that much of epigram that elevates, without pedantry; a degree of point that stimulates, yet never wounds.
'The resemblance is marvellous!' whispered she to Alfieri, as he chanced to ride up beside her; 'and not only in look, but actually in voice, and in many a trick of gesture.'
'I knew you 'll see it!' cried the poet triumphantly.
'And can nothing be known about his history? Surely we could trace him.'
'I like the episode better as it is,' said he carelessly. 'Some vulgar fact might, like a rude blow, demolish the whole edifice one's fancy had nigh completed. There he stands now, handsome, gifted, and a mystery. What could add to the combination?'
'The secret of an illustrious birth,' whispered the Marquise.
'I lean to the other view. I 'd rather fancy nature had some subtle design of her own, some deep-wrought scheme to work out by this strange counterfeit.'