The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-11-15


mariners winds when they blew, as prevent an
intercourse so favored and so facilitated by cir
cumstances. The steward had million reasons
in the year to visit the mill. and VIII N the miller
insulted him and forbade him his doors he had
no power to prevent him from fishing in
the waters. from walking on the bank,
from making signals from the villa ter
races, and appointments in the cane brakes
and the vine-felds Nothing could have
broken OH the intrigue except the departure of
one or the other of the lovers from Marca But
FaiAo Meiegarl would not go away from place
where MS interests and his passions both con-
tinued to hold him; and it never entered the
mind OF the miller to take his wife elsewhere.
He had dwelt at the mill all the years of his life,
and his forefathers for five generations before
him. To change their residence never occurred
to such people as these; they are fixed like the
cypress trees In the ground, and dream no more
than they of new homes. Like the tree they
never change till death fells them.
Generosa continued to pour out her woes,
leaning against the pillar of the porch, and play
ing with twig of pomegranate whose buds
were not more scarlet than her own lips; ard
Gesualdo continued to press on her his good
counsels, knowing all the while that he might
well speak to the swallows under the church
caves for any benefit that he could effect. In
sole answer to the arguments of Gesualdo she
retorted in scornful words:
You may find duty enough for you because
you are saint" she added with less of rever
ence than of disdain, but am no saint, and
will not spend all my best days tied to the side
of a sickly and sullen old man"
You are wrong, my daughter" said Gesualdo
sterniy. He colored; he knew not why Il
know nothing of these passions" he added with
some embarrassment |But know what duty
is, and yours is clear"
He did not know much of human nature. and
or woman nature nothing; yet he dimly compre-
nended mat Generosa was now at that crisis OF
her HE when all the ardors of her youth and all
the delight m her own power made her passion
ately rebellous against the cruelties of her fate
when 1t was impossible TO make duty look other
than hateful to her, and when the very peril and
olfhculty which surrounded her love story
maoe IL the sweeter and more ire
Slstanle to her. She was of a passionate,
ardent. careless. daring temperament; and the
dangers of the intrigue which she pursued had
no terrors for her, whilst the indifference which
she had felt for years for her husband had deep
ened of late into hatred.
Zone is not a stick. nor a stone. nor beam of
timber, nor block of granite, that one should
be able to live without love all ones days." she
cried with passion and contempt.
She threw the branches of pomegranate over
the hedge, she gave him glance half contemp
tuous and half compassionate, aud left the
church door,
After all, what should he understand" she
thought. HE is a saint, but he is not a man"
Gesualdo looked after her moment as she
went over the courtyard and between the stems
OF the expresses out towards the open hillside.
The sun had set; there was a rosy afterglow
which bathed her elastic figure in carmine
light; she had that beautiful walk which some
Italian women have who have never worn shoes
In the first fifteen years of their lives The light
shone on her dusky auburn hair. her gold ear
rings the slender column of her throat her Wig
orous and voluptuous form. Gesualdo looked
AFTER her. and subtle warmth and pain passed
through him. bringing with it sharp sense of
guilt. He looked away from her, and went with
In his church and PRAYED.
That night Falko Melegari had just alighted
from the saddle of his good grey horse when he
was told that the Parocco of San Bartolo was
waiting to see him.
The villa had been famous and splendid in
other days; but it formed now only one of the
many neglected possessions of a gay young
noble, called Ser Baldo by his dependents,
who spent what little money he had in pleas
ure places out of Italy, seldom never came
near his estates, and accepted without investl-
gatlon all such statements of accounts as Ills
various men of business were disposed to send
to him.
His steward lived on the ground floor of the
great villa, in the vast frescoed chambers with
their domed and gilded ceilings. their scuiptured
corDices, their carved doors, their stately
couches. with the satin dropping in shreds,
and the pale tapestries with the moths and the
mice at work III them. His narrow camp bed,
his deal table and chairs were sadly out of place
in those once splendid halls. but he did not
think about it; he vaguely liked the space and
the ruined grandeur about him. and all the
thoughts he had were given to his love, Gene
rosa, the wife of Tasso Tassilo. From the Ser
races of the villa he could the mill, mile
further down the stream, and he would pass half
the short nights of the summer looking at the
distant lights of it.
He was only five-and-twenty, and he was pas
sionately in love- with all the increased ardor of
forbidden passion.
He was fair haired and bluo-eyed, was well
made and very tall; in character he was neither
better nor worse than most men of his age, but
as a steward he was toerabiy honest and as
lover he was thoroughly sincere. He went with
a quick step into the central hall to meet his
visitor: he supposed that the vicar had come
about flowers for the feast of Saints Peter and
Paul, which was on the morrow. Though the
villa gardens were wholly neglected they were
still rich In flowers which wanted no care, lilies.
lavender, old-fashioned roses oleanders red and
white, and magnolia trees.
Good evening Reverend Father, you do me
honor. he said, as he saw Gesualdo SIS there
anything that can do for you2 am your hum
bic servant"
Gcsualdo looked at him curiously He had
never noticed the young man before; he had
seen him ride past, he had seen him at mass he
had spoken to him of the feasts of the church,
but he had never noticed him. Now, he looked
at him curlously as he answered, without any
preface whatever
Il am come to speak to you of Generosa Fe,
the wife of Tasso Tassilo."
The young steward colored violently He was
astonished and silent.
''She loves you" said Gesualdo. simply.
Falko Melegari made gesture as though he
implied that it was his place neither to deny nor
to affirm
Isle loves you" said Gesualdo again
The young man had that fatuous smile which
unconscously expresses the consciousness of
conquest But he was honest in his passion and
ardent in it.
mot so much as love her." he said, raptur-
ously, forgetful of his nearer.
Gesualdo frowned
''She is the wife of another man." he said. with
reproof. Fako Melegari shrugged his shoulders;
that did not seem any reason against it to him.
How will it end?" said the priest
The lover smiled.
'These things always end in one way"
Gesuado WINGED, as though some one had
wounded him.