The evening tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 189?-190?, 1896-12-08
PRINCESS CESARINI.

saw her first as I was walking along
a white road that led from - old city of
Lucca to the -Bagni. How tired / was!
During the long hours of my tramp 1 had
met but little traffic, white oxen slowly
dragging loads, slowly, not because of
their burden, but from that natural pas
sive dignity that will accept the yoke, yet
will not be lashed to servitude-and peas
ant women, fine creatures, like the oxen,
mountain bred, carrying their boots upon
their head and singing mournful songs
with placid faces. Fate, as the yoke, must
be borne, but they would pay no toll Of
fear. The river swept on my right, in its
wide bed of gray stones, like great blue
serpent threading through the hot land
and far before me were the purple Aper
mines, Turing the traveller to their fresher
heights.
She passed, and the dust few from the
horses feet all about me. How divine and
strange and beautiful she was, and so
young! Her dusky hair formed soft halo
round her white face under the wide brim-
med hat with Its great plumes-a face like
flower. Her gown-I noticed her gown
-shimmered green, and round her white
throat was intwined tiny chain with q
turquoise heart attached She passed so
near me / might have touched her and
looked at me with grave, wondrous eyes,
the color Of the deep sea. Some one else
was In the carriage, slight figure in gray.
had no thoughts for her companion.
| 1t was night when reached the Bagpi.
The freflies lowered in the air, and the
dark Expresses about the villa gardens
looked black in the shadowy blue of an
Italian night heard there that the Prin-
cess Cesarini had arrived that afternoon,
the illustrious and bountiful princess, the
beloved of the poor. Then knew that
, had seen the princess and that loved
her-I, the poor student, the wanderer
through foreign cities, loved the great
princess. went next day to the casino,
having come only to seek the hills. She
was there, and all the people turned to
look at her. asked of one near, "Who
are those ladiesf" just for the joy of hear
| ing her name spoken. 'Tis the Princess
Cesarini and her companion, F" said the by
stander. Her companion was old, and her
clothes looked shabby. thought, "Shs IL
| poor and dependent, expatriated perhaps
even as /, yet what would not suffer to
be for one brief hour in her shoesp'
When they had gone, stole away and
climbed up the mountain side. The blood
surged like torrents of fire In my veins,
and my heart beat. cursed the fate that
had made me as was, then blessed the
Maker who had created her so fair. lay
down with my face near the grass, and the
beetles and strange winged things hum
med in my ears, and the birds tapped low,
not noticing was there, and far below at
my feet wound the river, and all about
me were the mountains. l whispered her
name to blades of grass, to the sweet
heavens and down the shadowy valley and
laughed to myself. Then lay quite still
and watched the coming of dawn, and
knew there was no hope.
Every day she went for a drive. Every
day went to the foot>of the steps that led
down from the terrace garden and watch
ed her mount the old barouche. Every
evening / waited there to see her come
home. On rare occasions she would turn
her eyes to mine with little pensive look
Of recognition, Of wondering humor. Then
the universe was ours.
Once 1t happened that my princess came
down to the foot of the steep steps before
the carriage had come. She was dressed
all in white, and on the hem of her gown
were embroidered little punches of wild
roses. She seemed not to see me and look
ed long up the winding road. / saw man
was approaching, whereat my heart stood
still with sullen rage, and she, as IL she
had read my thoughts, cast quick glance
Of gentle sweetness that rebuked the angry
man Of me to shame.
Then the days few-winged days, for
on each l saw my princess. What mattered
II she were walking with him, driving
with him, sitting in the terraced garden
| with him, If she remembered to turn her
head, while he was speaking, to look at
mef = = never dreamed of the end
How should Ip Yet it came swift and sure,
and was left desolate. On that evening
she stole to the terrace wall and looked
down at'me where / stood in the road far
below her, and saw there were tears in
her eyes. A cry broke from me, but she
put her finger on her lips, and I knew I
must not speak. He was there in the ter
raced garden. She remained quite still,
then suddenly pluoked a crimson flower
from the edge of the crumbling wall and
lhrew 1t to me as she turned away.
She had gone the next day-my princess
had gone, and I was alone
I came across the little old lady one
morning ON the river bed, seated In the
shadow Of an immense bowlder. She was
sketching. had crept down there among
the rocks and stones to get near the blue
thread of water that had narrowed through
the heat OF the summer to q serpentine
Inc 1t flowed the way she had gone.
"How can you do i5" said recklessly.
"How can you do it?"
She looked up at me, at first little
startled; then she smiled. .Oh, it's you,
s it?"
Eyes, madam, It is I, or rather my
SDdy."
"What Is it you don't wish me to dor"
"Draw 80 dreadfully-when she has gone
no."
"who has gone."
"The Princess Cesarini."
"You know the princessp"
"who can be here and not know herr