Chapter XXXIX: Afterwards

"Man seeks pleasure and self--great unforeseen results follow. Man seeks God and others--and there follows pleasure."--ARNOLD TOYNBEE.

For the next two or three weeks the story of Carlo and Anita was in every one's mouth; the account of Comerio's vengeance, and the alarming news of brigandage in the very environs of Naples, created something like a panic, while, as to Donati's share in the matter, opinions were divided. Some called him a hero, some a fool, others remarked cynically that in any case the affair would be a good advertisement for him, and that now, at any rate, he might be expected to draw large houses.

Merlino, when he learnt all, made scarcely any comment on what had happened. He merely wound up the affairs of his Company, and announced his retirement from the position of Impresario. Only in regard to Gigi did he show any sign of feeling.

"You'll be kind to the child, Val?" he said, as he bade his brother-in-law good-bye. "I shall stay in America for a few years till this scandal has had time to fade in people's minds. But you'll go to the school and see that Gigi is all right, now and then; won't you?"

"He shall be like my own child!" said Carlo, warmly. "His holidays shall always be spent with us."

People were surprised that the new baritone fulfilled his engagement at the San Carlo that summer. Some called him cold-blooded, others called him brave and honorable, and both those who praised and those who blamed flocked to hear him. He went his way, as ever, with straightforward simplicity, thinking of the past with thankfulness and of the future with eager hope.

"_Carina_," he said, one afternoon, as he sat beside Francesca in the familiar old belvedere which had sweet memories for them both,--"_Carina_, here is work enough for me for months to come,--offers of engagements all over Europe. Piale wishes to know which of them we are pleased to accept."

"We?" she said, smiling and blushing.

"You do not think I could go without you?" he exclaimed. "You will not send me away alone?"

"No," she said, with deepening color; "I don't think you would take enough care of yourself."

"Darling!" he said, drawing her towards him, "why should we wait any longer? Let us be married quietly while Mr. Britton and Clare are still here."

"But they are only here for another week," said Francesca.

"_Ebbene?_" said Carlo, with a world of expression in his tone.

"How could I be ready?" she faltered. "A wedding takes a great deal of preparation--certainly Flora's did. I must at least have a dress that is fit for your eyes to look on."

"If you want to dress to please me, I will tell you what to wear," he said, smiling. "Wear that white dress like a baby's--the one you wore on the night of our betrothal."

"That old nainsook!" she cried. "Why, Carlo, it is more fit for the rag-bag than for a wedding!"

He made one of his expressive Neapolitan gestures.

"I should like nothing else so well, and you will see it will wash and get up in two days' time, and look as good as new. Oh, I am very learned in such matters now, I assure you."

She smiled, and nestled close to him.

"I will wear anything to please you, _mio caro_! And, after all, we don't want to be thinking of new dresses just now. All I want is to go away from everything else for a little while--away with you. Let us go somewhere among the mountains where there are no people and no newspapers--nothing but just we two by ourselves!"

He kissed her white forehead.

"_Carina_," he said thoughtfully, "if one did not believe success to be a sort of sacrament, it would frighten one."

She mused over the old definition in the Prayer-book, and caught his meaning.

"They said at Merlebank it was useless knight-errantry," she replied; "but I think they changed their minds when they saw the smile on Nita's face after all was over. Do you remember what she said about those days on the yacht? It made me cry, for I never saw till then how fearful temptation must be."

"She conquered, and is at rest!" said Carlo, steadying his voice with an effort. "Father Cristoforo told me he never knew one so young who had so little clinging to life. It is as she would have wished."

For some time he was grave and silent; his mind was full of Nita's sad story.

"Does it not seem to you more than three years," he said at length, "since we last sat here together like this? To me it seems like a lifetime."

"And, oh, Carlo," said Francesca, clinging to him, "I don't know how it is--but, though so many sad things have come between, I can't help feeling happier even than long ago! I thought I couldn't be happier than I was when you first told me you loved me, here in this summer-house,--but now, Carlo! ... now! ..."

* * * * * *

So, one day in the following week, Francesca put on the old white dress and her confirmation veil, and Kate twined orange-blossom and myrtle into a wreath, and Sibyl and Gigi gathered the prettiest white flowers they could find in the garden, and with infinite pains made them up into a very original bridal bouquet. Then every one at Casa Bella drove in to Naples, where Carlo awaited them with Enrico Ritter at his side; and presently, with Piale, Marioni, old Florestano, and Sardoni and his wife, for spectators, the two lovers were quietly married.

"After all," said Captain Britton, when the bride and bridegroom had driven away, "though, I suppose, a voice like that must be used, yet I shall always think that Carlo deserved to be something better than a singer."

"My dear sir," exclaimed Piale, vehemently, "the life of a good singer is one perpetual course of self-denial! And, I assure you, we, too, have had our heroes. Must a whole profession be despised because some of those engaged in it are not all they should be? When a man like Donati is sent to us, for Heaven's sake let us keep him, and say, as in duty bound, 'DEO GRATIAS!'"

THE END.