Reanda

“ So Reanda was dead at last. It was nothing to him, now, though it might have meant much if the man had died two years earlier. Living people were very little to Paul Griggs. They might as well be dead, he thought. Nevertheless, the bald fact that Reanda was gone, made him thoughtful. Another figure had disappeared out of his life, though it had not meant very much. He believed, and had always believed, that Reanda had loved Francesca in secret, though she had treated him as a mere friend, as a protectress should treat one who needs her protection. ”

“ No one recognized this more fully than Angelo Reanda, and he would as soon have thought of being in love with her, as men love women, as he would have imagined that his father, for instance, could have loved Maria Addolorata, the Carmelite nun.
The one human point in his devoted adoration lay in his terror lest Francesca Campodonico should die young and leave him to grow old without her. ”

“ Either San Lorenzo, or Santo Spirito—with the mad or with the dead."
"Poor Reanda!"
"Yes—poor Reanda, if you like. People envy me, they say I am a great artist. If they think so, let them say it. It seems to them that I am somebody." He laughed, almost hysterically. "Somebody! Stuff for Santo Spirito! That is all she has left me in two years—not yet two years."
"Do not talk of Santo Spirito," said Francesca. "You shall not go mad. When you are unhappy, think of our friendship and of all the hours you have here every day." She hesitated and seemed to make an effort over herself. ”

“ It was like her to go straight to Reanda and take up the battle where she had interrupted it. Her anger had been sudden, but it was not brief. She had left weakness, and had found strength to add to her own, and she wished the man who had hurt her to feel how strong she was, and how she was able to take her life out of his hands and to keep it for herself, and live it as she pleased in spite of him and every one. ”

“ Once or twice she looked up as though she were about to speak.
"It is as I tell you," said Reanda, nodding his head slowly.
Francesca made up her mind, but the scarlet blood rose in her face.
"It is better to be honest and frank," she said. "Is Gloria jealous of me?" She was so much ashamed that she could hardly look at him just then.
"Jealous! She would kill you!" he cried, and there was anger in his voice at the thought. "Do not go to her. Something might happen."
The blush in Francesca's face deepened and then subsided, and she grew very pale again. ”

“ She looked at him and smiled, and then wondered why the smile came. There is a ruthless cruelty in the half-unconscious impulses of the purest innocence, of which vice itself might be ashamed in its heart. It is simple humanity's assertion of its prior right to be happy. She smiled spontaneously because she knew that Reanda no longer loved Gloria, and she felt that he could not love her again ”

“ Reanda began to understand that his wife was not happy, and the certainty reacted strongly upon him. He became more sad and abstracted from day to day, when he was not with her. He longed, as only a man of such a nature can long, for a friend in whom he could confide, and of whom he could ask advice. He had such a friend, indeed, in Francesca Campodonico, but he was too proud to turn to her, and too deeply conscious that she had done all she could to give Gloria the social position the latter coveted. ”

“ In Francesca Campodonico there was much more than such superficial taste, and in her Reanda found the only true companion he had ever known. He might have been for twenty years the intimate friend of all Roman society without meeting such another, and he knew it, and appreciated his good fortune. For he was not naturally a dissatisfied man, nor at all given to complain of his lot. Few men are, who have active, creative genius, and whose profession gives them all the scope they need. ”

“ The head was colossal, extraordinary, almost unearthly; the expression was strange.
"What a monster!" exclaimed Francesca at last, as he stood aside, still touching the enormous sketch here and there with his long brush, at arm's length. "It is terrible," she added, in a lower tone.
"Truth is always terrible," answered Reanda. "But you cannot say that it is not like her."
"Horribly like. It is diabolical!"
"And yet it is a beautiful head," said the artist. "Perhaps you are too near." He himself crossed the hall, and then turned round to look at his work. "It is better from here," he said. ”

“ He was moved by the strongest incentives which can act upon a man, at the time when he himself is strongest; namely, necessity and love. Even Gloria could never discover whether he had what she would have called ambition. He himself said that he had none, and she compared him with Reanda, who believed in the divinity of art, the temple of fame, and the reality of glory.
In the young man's nature, Gloria had taken the place of all other divinities, real and imaginary. His enduring nature could no more be wearied in its worship of her than it could be tired in toiling for her. ”

“ For months she struggled against anything which could make her regret the marriage she had made. But at last she admitted the fact that she regretted it, for it thrust itself upon her and embittered her own life. Then she became conscious in her heart of a silent and growing enmity for Gloria, and of a profound pity for Angelo Reanda. Being ashamed of the enmity, as something both sinful in her eyes, and beneath the nobility of her nature, she expressed it, if that were expression, by allowing her pity for the man to assert itself as it would. ”

“ Tell Donna Francesca not to bring them—not to come herself any more. I hate to feel that she is thrusting me down the throat of a society that does not want me! She only does it to put me under an obligation to her. I am sure she talks about me behind my back and says horrid things—"
"You are very unjust," said Reanda, hurt by the vulgarity of the speech and deeply wounded in his own pride. [23]
"You defend her! You see!" And the colour rose in Gloria's cheeks.
"She has done nothing that needs defence. She has acted always with the greatest kindness to me and to us. ”

“ He was nervous, melancholy, and unstrung, and he began to talk about himself and his married life for the first time, pouring out his sufferings and thoughtless of what Francesca might think and [61] feel. He, too, was natural. Unlike his wife, he detested emotion. To be angry was almost an illness to his over-finely organized temperament. In a way, Griggs had been right in saying that Reanda seemed to paint as an agent in the power of an unseen, directing influence. Beauty made him feel itself, and feel for it in his turn with his brush. ”

“ At Oreanda they sat on a seat not far from the church, looked down at the sea, and were silent. Yalta was hardly visible through the morning mist; white clouds stood motionless on the mountain-tops. The leaves did not stir on the trees, grasshoppers chirruped, and the monotonous hollow sound of the sea rising up from below, spoke of the peace, of the eternal sleep awaiting us. So it must have sounded when there was no Yalta, no Oreanda here; so it sounds now, and it will sound as indifferently and monotonously when we are all no more. ”

“ There is no deception at which she would stop, if she hoped to be benefited by it. I am sure of it. It is in her blood—not on your side of the house, not on the Burdick side, thank Heaven! but on her mother’s. She is useful to you because—excuse me, Rena—you do not like trouble, and she takes it all from you, and does it in a purring kind of way which soothes you to sleep, as it were, or shuts your eyes to her real character. Don’t take her to Oakfield. Don’t go there yourself. If you do not like the will and do not mean to have anything to do with it, or with Reginald, say so at once ”

“ Alas, for me!"
"It shall not be!" cried the noble boy. "I will go out of this place as poor as I came; but I will take Reutha with me. I will work all the days of my life; but Reutha shall not stay here. Hill-people! I want none of your treasures; but I command you to give me my sister, and let us go!"
Arndt folded his arms around Reutha, and walked with her through all the gorgeous rooms, the Hill-men and women following behind, and luring him with their sweetest songs and most bewitching smiles. But Reutha's voice and Reutha's smile had greatest power of all over her brother's heart. ”

“ He had been wandering in his gardens one evening, when the star was white with Earthlight. After awhile he turned away and sought Father Renaudin where he sat beside the fire.
Regan drew a low couch to the side of the table and watched him, silently.
“Well?” asked Father Renaudin.
“Father Renaudin, it is all worth nothing, 118worse than nothing! It is endless repetition of misery with each day! It is a beautiful world, but it lasts forever! That is too long! It is a subject world, completely so! If I could see the face of that one woman whom I love on Earth, I would give all, all!” ”

“ Renard smiled with cold contempt as he answered:—
"When the white man dies, he thinks he is at peace; but the red men know how to torture even the ghosts of their enemies. Where is his body? Let the Hurons see his scalp!"
"He is not dead, but escaped."
Magua shook his head incredulously, and added—
"Is he a bird, to spread his wings; or is he a fish, to swim without looking at the sun! The white chief reads in his books, and believes the Hurons are fools!" ”

“ As to how José Rizal would stand such a test applied to his career and all of it, take this testimony of Retana, who from antecedent probability at least would invent no extravagance of praise. Even in his youth, said Retana, every injustice, every crime, every wrong, struck home to his sensibilities. He walked with unsmirched garments through a world filled with the reek of a sordid time and the cruelty that man [214] works upon man, trying to make a protest against all oppressions and busy to the end with the troubles of his fellows but not with his own. ”

“ McPherson delighted her. To stand well with him might be a means of advancing her cause with Reginald. “Beauty and good dressing take with every old man,” she thought, and her toilet was faultless when, after dinner, she came out upon the piazza where I was sitting with Rena. Her gown, which fell in soft folds around her perfect figure, was black, with no color to relieve it except the roses she had pinned on the bosom of her dress.
“O Irene!” Rena exclaimed, “how lovely you look! I always like you best in black, and the roses are the color of your cheeks.” ”

“ Turning to Father Renaudin, Regan held toward him a shining band of silver, set with gems.
“Here, Father Renaudin, put this on my brow! You are the highest religious dignitary of the world in which I am!”
“Not so!” cried I. “No man’s subject am I! The people rule! Father Renaudin, you will not found a monarchy where no such absurd abomination has ever existed!”
“Have not the worlds themselves one sun supreme for ruler? Find in the universe one whirling, stupendous monarchy! Where is the denunciation in Holy Writ against a good king? God himself upholds thrones!” ”

“ Ranata smiled with both sympathy and interest. Then she sighed. “I believe your brother is the only person I envy—I mean the only person I’d be if some fairy would bid me choose. He has his destiny in his own hands. He has done such wonderful things! He is famous and powerful; his future holds the most astounding possibilities—and he is only thirty-one! Oh, your America! Where will you stop? And what will you do to poor old Europe?” ”

“ A wonderful peace was on his face; a strange delight was in his eyes.
“Earth has not all she needs. We can learn faster here!” he replied to our wondering comments.
“He thinks he has seen another vision, I believe!” whispered Isabella.
“No; he thinks nothing! Father Renaudin is of the mould of that humanity which does see visions if ever they are seen!” said Regan.
Just then we saw the great world rise up—a fiery globe, where dimly emerald and palely blue were lands and seas. The continents turned before our eyes. The light of this giant moon made it still day for us, though our sun had set. ”

“ Was that Regan, abandoned to such grief that Father Renaudin was alarmed? Men did not die, but they might go mad!
“Regan, be calmer! I have a hope for you,” cried Father Renaudin, “really a hope for you and for Rondah! I pity you! Know that I, too, have loved, have loved and lost hopelessly! You need not be hopeless! I learned a secret of importance at the Sun Island! This will be the last revolution for you to reach Rondah! At the next the star will be captured by Jupiter 120and will whirl as one of the satellites about it until the end of time! You can gather your people, build and adorn! ”

“ And among [85] these poor little maidens, who worked so hard and sang so mournfully, was his own sister Reutha.
"No one cares for me," she murmured; and her song had in it a plaintive sweetness, very different from the way in which the little Danish maiden spoke on earth. "Reutha is alone—her hands are sore with toil—her feet bleed—but no one pities her. Arndt sleeps in gorgeous clothes, while Reutha toils in rags. Arndt is the master—Reutha is the slave! Poor Reutha is quite alone!" ”

“ Colin answered. “A girl with no nonsense, and such a face and such an air and manner. I congratulate you, my boy; yes, I do. Sandy did well for you.”
Rex began to feel damp again as he had the night before, but he closed his book and said:
“You mean Miss Burdick?”
“Certainly. Whom should I mean?” Mr. McPherson replied. “The other one! What is her name?”
“Rena,” Rex said, and he went on: “Yes, Miss Rena is a nice little girl, with wonderful eyes like Nannie’s, but she can’t hold a candle to Irene. ”