J -^'i, »- J_i*/ni'i<^ i%v.'') w^mh,r,-m.s — ._-. ^--. PL M^von (5. ©aalar. 2121.®. ib94 P2 3 R52 ""*" ""'™™"i' '■""='7 World shut out / The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924024904942 THE WORLD SHUT OUT THE WORLD SHUT OUT BY NORVAL RICHARDSON NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1919 ■^ ???3S CorviiosT, 1919, av CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS Published September, 1919 THE BCRIBNER PREM Mwy-' st THE WORLD SHUT OUT I IL Signer Awocato Giacomo Torrecella, to give his resonant name and supplement of titles in full, resorted to a homely, and very human gesture: he scratched his head. Who wouldn't, per Bacco, with a letter like this in the hand! It was most frightfully disturbing ; it was even shocking. More than that, it was going to shake Signor Torrecella out of the comfortable, serene existence which his more than sixty years demanded. He sighed deeply and continued the homely and human gesture. It was now eight years since his sentimental and imaginative nature had been torn asunder by a most painful experience. Eight years! But he had got through it rather successfully, on the whole. Yes, quite successfully. But, now, here it was, all over again. Try as hard as you might, you could never bury the past. It was always 1 THE WORLD SHUT OUT rising up and facing you in the most disconcerting way. Dio mio, and women — ^how they pestered one! The more you loved them the more they pestered you. Yes, he loved her. If she had been his own child he couldn't have loved her more. The joy of seeing her would offset the pain of her com- ing under such questionable circumstances. His frowns ended in a smile. He picked up the letter and read it again. It was dated in London. "Caro Amico," it ran. "I am coming back to Italy. I am leaving on the train which follows this letter. When you read it I shall be in Rome, awaiting you, impatiently awaiting you, at the Grand Hotel. I wonder how long it will take you to come to me ! I shall give you two hours. My train arrives at ten. If you are not at the hotel by noon I shall come rushing to you. If you do come, and I know you wiU, ask for Mrs. Francis. That is the name under which I shaU appear in Home. It will save so much annoyance, so many tiresome questions, the seeing of tiresome people. I suppose there are some stuffy people still there who would be interested in looking me up — simply 2 THE WORLD SHUT OUT out of curiosity if nothing else. But I don't want to see anyone but you — and the villa. Of course you are wondering how I have the heart to return to Italy. I do too. But the call is irresistible. I must. Remember, while you are reading this, I am patiently awaiting you." Signor Torrecella put down the letter and looked at his watch. Accidente! It was already twenty minutes to twelve. When he put on his hat his hand was visibly trembling. A trim, English maid, not speaking a word of Italian, opened the door to him and showed him into a sitting room. "Madame is awaiting you, sir; she will come at once." He looked about the room anxiously. It was not at all the sort of place in which he expected to find her. To his Italian eyes it seemed strange and very foreign; and already it had taken on an air of personality that made it very far removed from an hotel apartment. There were dainty em- broidered pillows on the sofa; there? were several THE WORLD SHUT OUT vases of flowers; there were some evidently much read books; and there was a large photograph of a woman in a silver frame on the table with a bowl of marigolds beside it; there was even a very faint fragreince everywhere that suggested the intimate presence of a charming woman. Not a Latin woman, no! Signor Torrecella shook his head. No, it was indefinably different from any- thing he had expected. And he was vastly troubled. Had eight years in foreign lands made her into some strange being whom he was going to find unsympathetic and beyond comprehension? He knew so little of foreigners; he had always found them difficult, even disturbing. Their ideas were always extraordinary and a bit mad. Would hers be? Santa Pazienza! She was standing before him before he was aware that she had entered the room, holding out both hands to him and smiling through tears. How beautiful she was ! — in her trailing black draperies which made her seem wonderfully tall and stately ! And her great dark eyes, dimmed with tears ! Torrecella grasped her hands and bowed over 4 THE WORLD SHUT OUT them and raised them to his lips. He couldn't re- member ever having been so agitated. Then, when he looked at her again, she was nearer to him and holding her cheek up to be kissed. He, stiU trem- bling — ^per Bacco, what an old man he was be- coming! — ^performed the salutation and found the other cheek awaiting his lips. Tears were in his eyes now. They were both weeping. "We are not going to be babies, Torrecella." How her voice brought everything back to him ! Eight years surely could not have passed ! "But we can't help being human beings," he answered in a shaking voice; "We can't help re- membering." She turned from him and sank down on the sofa and nodded towards the chair near her. He gazed at her a little longer and finally smiled. Now she was not so tall nor so stately. Seated she was much smaller, much more herself, much more the girl he remembered. It must have been that som- ber trailing gown which had made him think her changed. She wasn't changed at all. Yes, a little older, a little more the woman of the world, but 6 THE WORLD SHUT OUT all this only outwardly. At heart she was still the same little girl he had loved- "We are not going to remember, Torrecella." She reached for his hand and pressed it. "We are going to look forward. That is the only way to be happy." "You are happy?" She looked towarcls the photograph of tfie woman on the table and smiled, not a smile of gaiety, rather a smile of ineffable tenderness. "Yes, she made me happy. She taught me how to be. One must learn, you know. When she died I promised her that .1 would go on being happy, being happy myself, and making others so. Tliat is why I have come back to Italy." The worried look sprang again into TorreceUa'is eyes. He sensed the approach of those ma^ for- eign ideas. As if one could learn to be happy un- less life let one be ! What under the sun was she leading up to? Surely Italy was the last place in the world for Her to be happy in ! "Now don't shake your head before you know what I mean to do." 6 THE WORLD SHUT OUT But there was so much that he must tell her first. Where should they begin? — ^at the Princi- pessa's death, perhaps — and had he yet heard from the American who had inherited the estate? Ques- tion followed question until poor • TorreceUa felt his head whirling. When she had asked him every question that could possibly have entered a sane or insane woman's head she sank farther back on the sofa and looked at him as though she expected answers to come as easily. Toirecella cleared his throat and attempted the impossible. Surely they should begin with the Principessa's death, as that was the most impor- tant event which had occurred. Her testament left everything to the only remaining member of the family — at least the only remaining member as far as the world knew. "Have you heard from him?" He had, only that day. The letter was in his pocket at that moment. She asked if she might see it. When she returned it to him her eyes were clouded. 7 THE ^ORLD SHUT OUT "I thought — :| hoped he might not come." Not come when he was inheriting one of the largest estates in Italy! JVhat made her have such a silly thought? "He knows nothing about Italy; he has never been here; his mother died at his birth. There is nothing to make him love it." "But the rents ! You forget that the income is enormous. It will surely appeal to an American." "When do you think he will arrive?" "Within the month, the letter says." "Then I have a month to the advantage." There it was again, this mad plan of hers that was stirring in her mind. Torrecella got up and walked the floor. He wanted to know what it was and yet he hated to know. Uncertainty might be better than knowledge. He stopped before her and stared down at her much as he would have stared at some willful uncontrolled child. Indeed, that is what she was, despite her look of experiaice and worldly knowledge, ai mere child determined upon some impossible adventure. "Cara mia," he said in answer to her upturned S THE WORLD SHUT OUT face. "What are you up to? What does it all mean? Why have you come back to Italy?" Her eyes silently reproved him, and for a few moments she sat with her hands clasped idly in her lap, meeting his glance with an indefinable depth of tragedy in her face that smote him. "I couldn't help coming back, Torrecella. Everything in me called to me to return. I know now that I have been waiting for this moment ever since I went away. There is one spot in the world that calls to me always — ^you know what I mean — the little Campo Santo in the olive groves on the slopes of the Alban Hills. My heart is there. It always will be. I said I had forgotten, but I haven't. I never shall. I have come back to live — and die here.'* Torrecella took out his handkerchief. At last her secret was out and it was even worse than he had expected. Come back to live in Italy ! Mar donna Santissima ! She had gone stark mad ! "But you can't live here!" "Why not — as an English woman? No one will know me. I shall preserve my incognito always." 9 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "But, but where will you live?" "At the villa — of course. Where else should I live?" "Santa Pazienza! How can you live there when it now belongs to an American?" "Ah, there is where I need your help. How am I to get possession of it? You are a lawyer; you must know the way to go about it." Signor Torrecella sat down and groaned. That evening he dined meagerly in his solitary apartment in old Rome and afterwards went up to the terrace and walked there far into the night. He saw nothing about him ; he was as unconscious of the brooding dome of St. Peter's, of the sinister mass of San Angelo, of the fast flowing dark Tiber, as if they were not all there before him. He saw only what he termed the fantastic adven- ture she had planned and asked him to carry out for her. Of course he could not refuse to aid her; she knew that before she told him anything. He was as wax in her hands. But what was it going to lead to? Surely some sinister disaster, 10 THE WORLD SHUT OUT he was certain of that. Madonna mia ! First, she wanted him to arrange for her to rent the little casino in the magnolia grove adjoining the villa. That was easy enough, as the Frincipessa had been accustomed for years to let it to foreigners. He could explain to the American when he came that this had been the custom. So far so good. Then she wanted him to plan with this unknown Ameri- can, who no doubt would speak not a word of Italian, to sell the villa — ^to her. She wanted it to live in — all very well — ^but more than that she wanted it so as to turn it into a school for orphans — a place where forsaken children would be taken in, given a home, and, as she had put it, made happy. An entirely preposterous plan for a young and beautiful woman! He had opposed the idea with all his strength. To begin with, he was sure the American would not think of selling the villa. She scoffed at this excuse. Of course he would sell it. It could not possibly mean anything to him. He would consider her offer a wonderful chance to get it off his hands. She would make the price interesting; she was rich enough to do 11 THE WORLD SHUT OUT that. And just here Torrecella put his finger on what he considered the dangerous spot. She was rich and consequently could put fantastic dreams into realities. Too much money was a curse. She would find that out when it was too late. Argu- ments and reason availed nothing. She was every bit as determined and fixed in her ideas as the Principessa had been. Then, to make the situa- tion all the more vastly Histurbing, after she had told this to him, she had explained that it was only what she planned. The only definite thing she wanted at the moment was to go straight to the casino, the next day, if you please, and install herself there before the American owner arrived. After that she would have plenty of time to judge of the best way of approaching him. The main thing was for her to be there before he arrived. Why.' She offered no satisfactory explanation* Of course, like all women, she had told him only half the truth; but he had not lived more than half a century for nothing. He would tell her that to-morrow and wash his hands of the whole questionable proceeding unless she came out 12 THE WORLD SHUT OUT frankly and told him what was really in her mind. He threw away his cigar and went down to his room, He had known it was going to be a dis- turbing day — and it had been. He was uncom- monly tired, really worn out. And still there was something awaiting him, a letter from her on his table. j "You left rather worried and bothered to-day. I am full of regrets. But I have no one else to turn to. Surely you are not going to forsake me. But you never have. Why should I doubt you now! And forgive me when you see how happy I shall be in Italy!" Of course he was not going to forsake her, though he saw no more peace ahead of him. If she were happy in Italy he would be happy too. Though she would not be; she could not. There was no happiness possible for any member of her accursed family. 18 II P IRST impressions are so much a matter of one's mood at the moment that one is boimd to admit, upon later and calmer judgment, that they are usually unfair. If one is tired and hot and dusty and confoundedly bored — all of which Galbraith was — one can't possibly view anything favorably; the jeweled gates of a fairy city would not appear inviting under such circumstances. Besides, Gal- braith was prejudiced, unfavorably. He hadn't wanted to make the trip. The whole affair was an infernal nuisance. Now that he had actually ar- rived he wondered why under the sun he had come. He didn't have to, there was no one to make him, he was surely his own master, it could have been arranged in some fashion, there are always lawyers to do such things for one, and yet the fact re- mained that he had come. Indeed, he was there, at the journey's end. The unspeakable road over which he had just 14 THE WORLD SHUT OUT journeyed, the hired motor, the careless chauffeur, the dust! Good heavens, the dust! Did it never rain in this forsaken land ! Even the olive groves were white with the gritty powder. Then the vil- lage perched on the side of a mountain, the end- less climb up a road shut between high walls, the crumbling, shabby houses which couldn't possibly have been painted for centuries, and finally the Piazza with a few, scraggy plane trees, a fountain in the centre and at least a thousand — there couldn't have been one less — ragged, screaming urchins who ran after the motor and actually had the cheek to hang on the mud guards! Then, at last, at one side of the Piazza, a high wall, two heavy stone pillars and an iron gate through which nothing could be seen, as the spaces between the elaborate grill were filled with strips of wood. It was for all the world like a gaol, a prison, a place where criminals were thrown and left to perish. And the heat ! A little more and the sun would come down and bum up what it had already parched. Galbraith drew a long breath, stood up, at- IS THE WORLD SHUT OUT tempted to shake some of the dust from him, gdve it up as hopeless and got out of the motor. A heavy iron knocker confronted him. He hfted it and frowned as the weird design caught his at- tention. A dragon with a human face — a woman's face ! There was something leering about it ; leer- ing, sinister, ominous. He let it fall and turned away, still frowning. An answer came in the sound of footsteps. A cham jangled and fell to the pavement; a bolt, heavy, rusty, complaining, was shot back; a key grated in the lock; and at last the gate moved, trembled as though in fear, and swung back. Through the opening Galbraith's glance jumped quickly to the view within. It was like spring water to the parched lips of a desert traveller. He gave slight attention to the custodian who was bowing profoundly and offering fine sounding phrases of Welcome, only nodded towards the mo- tor and his luggage and passed in. Already his first harsh impressions were modulating. Here at least was protection from the blazing sun; the long line of cypresses, cool and black, created a 16 THE WORLD SHUT OUT shade that seemed the one thing he desired; there was the delicious scent of fresh green things and somewhere in the distance he heard the sound of rushing, refreshing waters. Yes, this was very much better; and down the vista he caught sight of a jolly garden, a riot of color, a fountain in which water trickled over green moss, and the fafade of a house that was all orange-colored stucco. Thank goodness he had got safely away from the dusty Piazza and the screaming urchins ! But the silence! He could put out his hand and touch it. Not a soul in sight, only some birds hopping about, friendly, hospitable birds, evi- dently very much at home and ready to extend a welcome. He walked along slowly, passed a little white house set back beyond the cypresses, and came at last into the garden and up to the front of the orange-colored house. He stopped before the door. It was not a much used door surely; the garlands of Banksia roses that fell half way across it testified to that. Indeed, it looked exactly as though it had not been opened during those one, 17 THE WORLD SHUT OUT two, three — Galbraith couldn't remember — cen- turies which had rolled by since it was constructed. It was a wonderful old door, warmed and mellowed by suns and dews, seamed with cracks and held to- gether by bars of iron, and as redolent of adven- ture as the face of an old crusader. Again the ugly knocker with the leering wo- man's face confronted him and again he frowned. The hideous thing interrupted an impression that was becoming very agreeable. Frowning as be- fore, he let it fall and started at the tremendous clatter it made. Even the friendly birds flew away in a panic. Then, once more, as he waited in the returning silence, he heard the sound of footsteps. This time they were old footsteps, he was sure of that, old and careful, clad in felt or velvet, muffled and surely moving down marble steps. Suddenly he caught himself smiling. It was all so exactly like a fairy tale, — ^the enchanted portal, the deserted garden, the forbidden entrance, the tread of unseen feet. Everything suggested enchantment, most of all the dragon with the woman's face and the spray 18 THE WORLD SHUT OUT of yellow roses striking against his brow. Then, to accentuate the fairy tale, the old face that finally peered out at him from the opened door, old as the door itself, wrinMed, weathered, old, old, old, yet isomehow alert and siui-warmed and very, very mellow. "Che cosa desidera, Signore?" This was his greeting as he stood rather for- biddingly across the threshold with a dignity that made GaJbraith forget the amusing livery of brown coat, shabby trousers and felt slippers. "What do you wish, sir? Only the garden is open to visitors ; the villa is closed. The Signora Principessa is dead." "Yes, I know," Galbraith replied. "But I am not a visitor." Suddenly the old head bent forward. His keen eyes fastened upon Galbraith's face with discon- certing intentness ; an expression of wonder, of be- wilderment, of such a piercing quality that Gal- braith moved back a step. The old man followed, drawing nearer all the time, his eyes still filled with the strange glow. 19 THE yrORLD SHUT OUT Galbraith took refuge in speech. "I had a letter in Rome from my lawyer, Signor Torrecella. He was out of town but he wrote me to come here, that you '* The old man held up both hands as though to impose silence. "Signore ! Signore !" His voice broke with ex- citement. "Dio mio ! Arcipicchio ! Corpo di Bac- co!" On and on went the rich, resonant exclam- ations, his voice trembling under the passionate strain. Then, quite suddenly, he leaned forward, grasped both of Galbraith's hands and covered them with kisses. "You are the Principe! — the Principino! — ^the grandson of the Frincipessa! Come from across the world, across the great water — from the America! Benvenuto, Principino!" Galbraith finally got his hands free, a bit abashed by this florid welcome; but the old man reached for them again and clung to them. "Ah, Signor Principino " "But I am not Signor Principino — ^I am not a prince at all — I am only Gordon Galbraith — from New York." 20 THE WORLD SHUT OUT The fire in the old eyes faded and went out. "You are not the Principino — come from America !" Galbraith laughed. "I am not a prince, but I do come from America — ^yes." "You are not the grandson of the Signora Principessa?" "Yes, I am that ; I'll have to admit it." Once more the fires were blazing. "Ah!" A sigh that was tremendous relief. "Then you are the little baby of Donna Maria — the piccolina Donna Maria — ^who left us, Dio mio, how many years ago!" Galbraith nodded gravely. "Yes, my mother's name was Maria." "Then you are the Principino ! Who else could you be!" His hands, clasped in exaltation, were extended to heaven. "Grazie a Dio!" Dutiful thanks thus rendered, he stood to one side of the door, assumed an important pose and bowed cere- moniously. His gestures made the event histori- cal. "Enter, Signor Principino." Galbraith entered. Dank air smote him in the 21 THE WOKLD SHUT OUT face, a chilly blast that robbed the servant's wel- come of its warmth. The murmur of gurgling, rushing, unseen water accentuated the feel of damp and musty things. He climbed the steps, broad slabs of stone that wound round three times where never a ray of sun penetrated, and came out into a large hall, one side of which was a loggia. Through the columns another garden came into view, very different from the one below; that one , had been gay, intimate, bright with flowers; this one, several terraces above, w£is more a grove of cypresses and ilex, rows and rows of them, formal, with a depth of green that was almost black. Down a vista, at the moment burning in a low shaft of the sun, was a cascade, intricate jets of water coming from dolphins' hiouths, from vases held by sea nymphs, from immense cornucopias balanced in the arms of gods who lounged upon strange monsters; all vividly gay, afire from the sun, and framed by the silence of black shadow- ing trees. Again the penetrating silence ; the mys- terious, still presence of centuries long dead. "By Jove, it's wonderful," exclaimed Galbraith, 22 THE WORLD SHUT OUT forgetting the long journey, the dust and the heat. "It's Olympian!" He went down the three steps that led to the walk along which he viewed the cascade and stopped there, surprised into wonder. He had never imagined anything like this. He had seen gardens before, perhaps every bit as large, even larger, but they had not impressed him as this one did. There was a very certain, definite charm here; he could not put it into words; he was not sure that he understood what it was; indeed, standing there in the silence, he found himself a little bewildered, even troubled. With his back to the house he was unconscious of the two pairs of eyes bent upon him. The old servant, reaching the top of the steps several min- utes after him, had called to his colleague, a woman not quite so old as himself, yet old enough to be in perfect sympathy with the place. Standing side by side they gazed at the newcomer who had just arrived from some strange part of the great world. "Who is he?" the woman whispered. 23 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "Madonna mia! Who js he! Listen to the woman. Look at him, Pasquarosa." "But I do not see his face. How can I tell?" "How can you tell! Corpo di Bacco ! Isn't his back enough? Whoever had a back like that! Look at his shoulders, vecchietta mia. Look at his long neck and the way the hair grows upon his head. Are you too old to see? Whoever carried his head that way but a Prince of Val- dragone !" The woman passed her hands across her eyes as though her vision had suddenly failed her. "What are you telling me, Vittorio! It is not possible. Have I gone back over many years 1 Am I look- ing at Don Claudio? But it cannot be. He is dead. We put flowers on his grave every giomo dei morti." "No, no, foolish Pasquarosa. Dan Claudio is surely dead. This is the little baby of Donna Maria. He has come back from across the world to live with us." Pasquarosa shook her head. "The little baby 24 THE WORLD SHUT OUT of Donna Maria! How can. that be? That is a man I see; he is not a little baby." "FooUsh one! He couldn't be a little baby al- ways, could he? That was thirty years and more gone. He has grown into a man. Hai capito?" The woman pushed aside Vittorio and went towards Galbraith. It was all well enough to listen to Vittorio, but he was old and gpven to talking out of his fancies. How was it possible for this signore to be the little bambino of Donna Maria ! She must see with her own eyes before she could understand. She drew nearer and nearer the stranger; she coughed to attract his attention; he turned towards her; she saw his face. Holy Mother! It was true! She couldn't be sure by the back of his neck, nor his black hair, nor the way he carried his head, but one look into his eyes was enough. He mas the bambino of Donna Maria ! .| Suddenly her whole body became rigid with fear. She stood perfectly still except for her fingers; they moved slowly, the two central ones closing 26 THE WORLD SHUT OUT and leaving the first and little fingers extended stiffly. This accomplished, the spasm of fear ap- peared to pass from her. She smiled broadly, grabbed Galbraith's hands as Vittorio had done and covered them with kisses ; but if Galbraith had been observant and aware of the significance he would have seen that her first and little fingers were still held stiffly pointing. "Get up," Vittorio commanded, when Pasqua- rosa's effusive welcome had carried her to her knees. "The Principino must be shown to his rooms. Dinner must be prepared for him. Run, run to the Piazza and buy food for him, raw ham and melons, fresh pasta, fettucini, a fat chicken to be roasted, some of the large purple figs from the Campagna, a fiascone of the golden wine and one of the red. And listen, Pasquarosa, tell every- one you meet in the Piazza that the Principe di Valdragone has come home from across the world!" Pasquarosa retreated to the house in search of the largest basket she possessed and Vittorio conducted Galbraith with all the importance that 26 THE WORLD SHUT OUT the moment demanded into the house and to the rooms which had been occupied by the Princi- pessa. "And the bath?" asked Galbraith, looking about the rooms with- an expression that was far from contented. "The bath!" Vittorio repeated, a little bewil- dered. "You don't mean to tell me my grandmother didn't have a bathroom !" Vittorio's eyes grew troubled; then, suddenly, he smiled with great relief. "Ah, Principino, the Signora went every year to the haths at Salso- maggiore. But they are a day's journey and more." Their conversation was interrupted by the ar- rival of the portiere with the valises. Without a moment's hesitation Galbraith opened one of the bags, took out some fresh linen, a towel and soap, rolled them into a parcel and started towards the garden. "What is it the Principino wishes now?" said Vittorio, who haid watched his every motion. 27 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "I am going to bathe in the fountain, Vittorio ; out there where I saw the cascade." "But, Signor Principino, that is not done ! The garden is open to visitors in the afternoon." "Then you can stand guard and tell all of those who approach that the view of the cascade is forbidden for the moment." Vittorio, still protesting, tried to follow him. But it was impossible. Galbraith*s long legs had already carried him to the spot he was going to desecrate. In despair Vittorio accosted Pasqua- rosa, who, with basket on arm and shawl upon head, was on her way to the Piazza. "We are lost, Pasquarosa," he moaned. "He is like all the rest of them — ^mad, mad as a volpino. Listen to me, Pasquarosa. Do you know what he has done! He has gone to the fountain, he has taken off all his clothes, he is as naked as the sacred bambino, and he is standing in the water up to here." He ended with his hand to his neck. Once more Pasquarosa's first and little fingers stiffened, then she crossed herself, threw the shawl quite over her face and turned away with an om- 28 THE WORLD SHUT OUT inous nodding of the head. It was exactly what she had felt would be the case. Hadn't she lived two-score years with the Frincipessa ! How could a child — or a grandchild — or any member of the family be otherwise! Still bemoaning her fate and that of the family she served, she went out of the garden, passed through the gate and crossed the Piazza. But she was not quite ready yet either to make purchases for the Principino's dinner or to disseminate the startling news of his return. That would have to wait a few minutes. Instead she went straight to the Duomo, bought a candle, lighted it and placed it at the feet of the Virgin, her favorite Virgin, the one who wore the red robe embroidered with grapes and wheat. Then, kneeling, she said a prayer for the little bambino of Donna Maria who had come back home from across the world. "Holiest of Mothers, Pasquarosa implores thee, even if he be mad — as anyone can see-^— to give him a kind heart, a much kinder heart than thou gavest the Signora Principessa. Not that Pasqua- rosa has the right to criticize what thou doest, 29 THE WORLD SHUT OUT Holy Mother, but thou knowest full well that the Signora Principessa had the heart of a dragon. Not once in her whole life did she give poor Pas- quarosa enough maccheroni to calm her hunger; and the damp room she made her sleep in was the cause of the pains she has now in her legs. Still, Holy Mother, don't keep her too long in Purga- tory, just long enough to know what it means to suffer. And please, Madonna Santissima, let not this new Principino who has come back to us cast the evil eye upon his poor servants. Amen." After carefully inspecting the candle to see that it was burning steadily, Pasquerosa rose and went out to the Piazza; and whilst the Principino's dinner was bought, and carefully, mind you, for even in a moment of such importance Pasquerosa had no intention of being cheated, the glad tidings were passed on from mouth to mouth. Meanwhile, Galbraith, in the fountain, was cool- ing himself in waters that flowed from distant Alban heights. 80 Ill Raw ham and melon!" Galbraith looked at the platter Vittorio had just placed before. It was quite fancifully ar- ranged; thin slices of ham rolled into cylindrical form and pieces of orange-colored melon between. A sort of Renaissance hors d'oeuvres, he decided ; then his glance traveled to the fiasco of golden wine wrapped in its original straw protection, to the silver goblet beside it with the recurring em- blem of the dragon with the woman's face, to the old Capo di Monte plates, to the strip of yellowed filet which served as cloth, and on gradually to the wall of the terrace covered with garlands of pink geranium beyond which loomed a view that made him fairly catch his breath. What a view ! What history, what drama, what vivid beauty! Far off to the right the Sabine Mountains, naked, gray, faint yellow, violet, rose, 31 THE WORLD SHUT OUT swimming in mists» sbftened by a translucent veil, with a tiny spot of white glowing halfway up the heights^-^ancient Tibur, medieval Tivoli. To the northj Soracte of Horatian fame, abrupt, stac- cato, isolated. Then Monte CimiQo and the de- scending line of hills which reached to the sea; and the sea itself — a thin cord of brazen surface. So much for the frame. The picture within this boundary, a vast plain ; to the superficial eye flat, to the sophisticated a mass of rolling land, fields, meadows, waste spaces, all undulating to and from unseen streams, the undulations so broad and rhythmic that they became great sustained chords of music broken now and then by little notes, grace notes, aren't they? — ^made of isolated watch towers from which fires used to carry tidings from one end of the wide plain to its farthest exttemity — tidings of war, of devastation, of onrushing dis- aster, of world victories. They were carrying sig- nals at this very moment, sun signals, and in such a way that a connected chain appeared to be strung directly across the spaces. Now and then a fragment of an arch appeared, sometimes several 32 THE WORLD SHUT OUT of them connected, remnants of aqueducts, though seemingly without relation to anything — apart, irrelevant, dead. But details were not a part of the view ; it was the feeling of vast space which it created that made its grandeur. It might easily have been an ocean, so blue was it, so green, so made up of ever^changing lights. And out of this sea, far off, mysterious, somehow ominous, yet sparMing and vibrant, rose a city which gave voice to the vast plains ; not one voice alone, but thou- sands of voices, voices from every land, tdngues primitive and civilized, incomprehensible to one another and yet understanding too, uuderstanding of what at the heart of things is eternal. The wide plains seemed to ring with these voices, some of them savage yells — greedy, domineering, cruel; some calm, soothing, restful; some cold and severe; some mere inarticulate cries of ferocity and bar- barism ; yet all of them alike in one note — a wail of despair and failure and utter futility. And above these cries, lifting itself out of their midst, created as it were by them, rose a dome serenely still and aloof. 83 THE WORLD SHUT OUT Galbraith shaded his eyes with his hands and gradually shut out the view. It was like closing a portal against the world. The vision left him a little dizzy. He turned and found Vittorio watching him. "Raw ham and melon!" he repeated automati- cally. "My dear fellow, do you expect me to dine on such .exotic food as this.'"' Vittorio lowered his gleaming black eyes with a respectful bow. The Signora Principessa always began her dinner with melon and prosciuto. When there were no melons she had figs. "And still lived beyond her allotted time!" "Scusi, Principino?" Galbraith frowned. "Vittorio, I beg of you not to call me Principino." How then was the Signer Principino to be ad- dressed? He was not Signor Conte, nor Signor Marchese. Ecco! Vittorio*s aged shoulders rose and fell. The question was quite settled. Cosi — there remained only Signor Principino. "No, not even that remains. In America we are all just plain misters. Your Italian equivalent is 34 THE WORLD SHUT OUT signore — or signorino, if you find me too young for the most substantial form; hence I am, to you, Vittorio, if you please, Signorino." Vittorioi's face showed complete lack of convic- tion. Va bene, but wasn't the Signorino's — this pronounced with frank disapproval — ^grandmother a Principessa? And wasn't the Signorino- — again pronounced as though the word caused bitterness in the mouth — the sole heir to the property, the only living member of the family, the only one left to hand the name of Valdragone down as many years, well, as many as had already passed. It wasn*t for the Principino — spoken brazenly and with full con- viction of right — ^to say. He zms the Principino, and that was the end of it. Per Bacco ! "Then you refuse, Vittorio, absolutely, to ac- cept me as an American.'"' Vittorio's eyes swept toward the magnificent view. Of course, if the Principino insisted upon being called by a strange unpronounceable foreign name, he, Vittorio, being only a servant, would have to obey his orders; but when one had the 35 THE WORLD SHUT OUT right to the titles of Valdragone, why, in the name of the Sainted Mother, didn't one use them? The titles had been in existence before that new coun- try the Principino came from was ever heard of; had been in existence as long as those hills over there; there was not a family to be found as old as the Valdragone. "AK, no^, Vittorio, you are making me out too old. You'd have me the scion of worn-out stock — and I won't be that. The Vtddragone family is a comparatively new one. There are heaps of well-known people who outdate us by several cen- turies. You've forgotten all about Tarpeia, the lady who had the distinction of having a rock named after her, all because she fancied the gen- tlemen who lived on yon hills more than she did her own kin in that distant city. There was General Hannibal, too, who spent two long years just here back of us, looking down with envious eyes upon the city he could not capture. Th«i there was Cincinnatus, who ploughed in those very fields beneath us ; and heaps and heaps of others — all of them preceding the Valdragone." 36 THE WORLD SHUT OUT Vittorio shook his head. "I never heard of them, Principino." He removed what was left of the raw ham and melon and put In its place a platter of steaming spaghetti, covered with rich tomato sauce and Parmesan cheese. This was followed by a chicken with roasted potatoes, a salad, a sweet sou£9e, and at last delicious coiFee. Galbraith resigned himself to Vittorio's insist- ence upon the use of Principino; he saw it was quite impossible to change a custom which had apparently come into existence before the world itself. Instead of further argument he lighted a cigarette and, rising, strolled across the terrace to the wall covered with pink geraniums. He was in that mood which follows a refreshing bath in a fountain and a satisfactory repast — that happy mood which is the precursor of comfortable digestion. The sun had just dropped behind the long line of faraway hills. Lights were glowing, deeper and deeper, and more and more intense; he felt as though he were in the heart of a mam- moth jewel. And in this mood of perfect digestion 37 THE WORLD SHUT OUT his gleuice, as it -reached the garden below him, came to an abrupt stop and remained riveted there. ■■ *.,', 88 IV Into the world of vibrating color had suddenly come a spot of white, a mere spot, an atom, out- lined at that moment against the rich blackness of a cypress — a woman in a white gown. She was without a hat and she moved about slowly as though she were in her own garden, quite at home. Galbraith watched her closely. Yes, she was at home, there was no doubt of that. See the tvay she stopped before the flaming Judas tree and broke off some faded blossoms — ^just as a gar- dener would have done. She stood a few minutes beside the fountain, she even sat on the rim of the basin and threw something into the Water — ^pei«- haps supper for the goldfish. She plucked a spray of yellow roses, the same that barred the portal of the villa, and slipped it into the ribbon at her waist. Then she walked — or did she float? — towards the wall which formed the barrier of the garden and which formed also, many feet below, 39 THE WORLD SHUT OUT the beginning of that stupendous view. She stopped there — ^lingered perhaps expresses it bet- ter, for there was something gentle in the quiet way she moved — and became, as the lights blazed about her, an integral part of the picture. Galbraith smoked three cigarettes and she was still there; yes, thoroughly at home; probably a contadina from the village who, using the visitors* privilege, came to the garden at its most perfect hour. That at least showed good taste and appre- ciation. Undoubtedly a sympathetic contadina, and an undeniably graceful one. Her manner of plucking that spray of roses and the way she threw crumbs to the goldfish had shown her grace, espe- cially in the long, slim line of her arms. And the way she moved! Exactly ^ that swimming motion of Meredith's heroines. On the whole, and with the reservation that must be accorded the distance from which she was seen — and perfect digestion — he had to admit there was a certain charm in her presence. He turned to Vittorio. "Do visitors come into the garden in the evening?" 40 THE iWORLD SHUT OUT "No, Principino. The gates are closed at six." Galbraith indicated the lady. "There is some- one here now.'* Vittorio approached the wall and peered down into the garden. Galbraith noticed that his old eyes lighted up much as they had when he met him at the door and recognized lum< "That is not a visitor, Principino," he said, jsmiling. "No?" "That is the Principino's inquilina." "My what?" "Your tenant." "Ah, so I let property, do I? Does the lady live in the house with me?" "She rents the casino from the Principino — the little house across the driveway." "The little white house surrounded with mag- nolias?" "Si, Principino — that is the casino. It has al- ways been let by the Principessa. It brings five hundred lire a month." Vittorio's face showed great respect for the amount mentioned. 41 THE >VORLD SHUT OUT "Then she's an old inquilina — as yqii call her?" "No, Signorino Principino, she only came a month ago; just after the Principessa died." "Italian, I suppose?'* "No, 4 foreigner — an English lady; perhaps from the Principino's own new country." "My own new country!" He smiled over the unimplied contempt. "No," with another glance at the white figure motionless against the blazing sky. "No, I venture to say she is not American. Even from this distance I somehow have the feel- ing that there is nothing new about her." "She speaks English," Vittorio suggested. "So do I speak Italian." "But the Principino is Italian." The lady turned and came directly towards the villa. Perhaps she was going to call, pay her re- spects to her landlord; a bit informal, without a hat, but how was one to know what customs were in this place that was older than the world! Probably modem conventions had never come into fashion here. 42 THE WORLD SHUT OUT However, just as she reached the door, she turned to the left and walked slowly on, her head bowed slightly so that Galbraith could see only a crown of warm brown hair. At the comer of the house she stopped, hesitated a moment, then van- ished up an outside flight of steps which led to the upper garden. "By Jove, she's coming up into the ilex grove — to the cascade. I really must have a closer view of her. She does look rather fetching; besides, if she's my tenant *' He threw away his cigarette, ran lightly into the house — ^Vittorio was left with eyes raised to heaven and hands outstretched. Madonna mia! These mad Valdragone ! — and to the room in which he had dressed. He had suddenly remembered that the windows of this room gave directly upon the garden steps. As luck would have it— and say what you please, luck, chance, fate, give it any name under the sun, has a great deal to do with what happens to us ; makes us in a way puppets — ^weU, fate, let us say, placed Galbraith in the shadow; of the room in 43 THE WORLD SHUT OUT such a position that he could look out, play spec- tator, and yet be quite unseen. The lady came up the steps, she passed just be- neath where he stood, he could almost touch her, he was sure he caught the fragrance of her pres- ence, and was going on towards the shadows of the upper garden when — fate again ! — she stopped, or to be more exact, was stopped, by a voice calling softly to her. She looked up and GaJbraith saw her face. Of course you'll say she had everything in her favor — tind she did. The stage couldn't have been better set; the crumbling lichen-covered steps on which she stood; the wall festooned with pink ge- ranium, a delicate assembly of old grays and moss greens and fresK pinks, pastel in softness; the varnished gloom of the ilex grove just bdiind; the pure black of the silent cypresses; the glory of the flaming heavens — all this fairly vibrating in the sunset radiance. Yes, the setting was per- fectly chosen; and in it, a part of it, she stood, in a white gown, a simple, fresh, fragrant, summer frock, a sprig of yellow roses in the ribbon at her 44 THE >VORLD SHUT OUT waist, a scarf'^of old lace, a bit yellowed, thrown about her shoulders. At first Galbraith saw only the top of her head as he had seen it from the terrace, with its crown of warm brown hair which was not arranged in any special style, but appeared to lie apart naturally itowards the center. This was probably what gave her that suggestion of the Madonna expression, this with her low brow and wide-apart, gentle, dark eyes, an impression which Galbraith felt the mo- ment she lifted her face. Her age? — ^who could say? Perhaps twenty-five; perhaps a little more. But what difference does age make if the woman has charm! And she had it, he decided, looking down at her, more of it than he had ever seen be- fore in a woman, a special charm made up of many components — ^beauty, line, personality, and, most of all, a certain mellowness which did not come from age or experience, but rather from some- thing very sympathetic and very sensitive. She lifted her face, sought the voice that had caKed to her and, finding it, smiled. It was such a lovely smile, slow, caressing, and so very, very 46 THE WORLD SHUT OUT sweet. It changed her like magic into a young girl. Had he thought her twenty-five! He was entirely wrong. She was only a child. "'Signora!" Galbraith heard a low voice, un- mistakably Pasquarosa's, coming from the window next his. "Signora mia, he has come — the Prin- cipino !" The laily's smile faded. She lifted her eyebrows an amazing distance ; her eyes widened in surprise, almost fright. She came a step nearer. "When?" "To-day — ^this evening." "Where is he?" "On the terrace. He dines there at this mo- ment." The lady — ^the designation is Galbraith's own; shtf was no longer the young girl — ^looked up, then down, the steps as though meditating flight. How- ever, she reconsidered this; she even came nearer the window. "Pasquarosa" — this eagerly — "what is he like?" A dubious silence followed the question; then: 46 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "Pasquarosa will not speak yet — only — she thinks » "Yes?" "The Principino is a little strano." "Strange? How?" Pasquarosa's voice lowereiJI confidentially. "Signora, I myself have seen him but once — for a moment; but Vittorio tells me that he talks in a strange manner. Imagine it, Signora, only this evening at dinner he told Vittorio there were many families about here older than the Valdragone — a lady in Rome, a Generale Annibale, up Monte Cavo way, a certain Cincinatto down in the Campagna, people we have never heard of — ^never, never! Then, Signora," the voice grew lower and lower, it was almost a whisper now, "he had no sooner arrived than he rushed out into the garden and bathed in the fountain — ^naked, Signora, naked as when he came into the world — ^naked as the Sacred Bambino ! Vittorio saw him." A gleam of humor shot through the lady's eyes. "But what does he look like, Pasquarosa — in the face?" 47 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "Dio mio, he is a Valdragone — one of them gone a little mad! I make the sign of the horns when he speaks to me. AU the Valdragoni have the evil eye.'* A shadow passed swiftly across the lady's face. "All — Pasquarosa ?" This was answered with an expressive "GiAl Well— at least the men. Do you want him to come to see you, Signora?" The lady's finely arched brows again rose that surprising distance. "I? Surely not!" "Pasquarosa thought " "No, no, Pasquarosa, I don't want to see, to know, anyone — ^most of all the Principe di Valdra- gone. Thank you, cara mia. A riverdici." She left quickly, one might almost have called it running away, down the steps and across the drive- way to the casino. She needn't bother, mused Galbraith, turning from the window and lighting a cigarette. He had no intention of breaking in upon her solitude. She wasn't half so pretty as he had thought, any- way. She was too, too — ^he sought vainly for an 48 THE WORLD SHUT OUT adjective that would soothe his offended mood — too, yes, he had it at last, too theatrical looking, with her warm hair and smooth skin and big eyes and red mouth and ridiculously lifting eyebrows. Of course it was only fortuitous that he should have looked down at the little white house among the magnolias before he closed his windows that night. "Don't you worry a moment !" he acldressed the casino in a bored voice. "You will enjoy all the undisturbed solitude you wish, as far as I am concerned, provided" — and this sordid touch ex- presses perfectly the infected condition of the wound — "you pay your five hundred lire promptly the first of every month." 49 V That was an immensely clever idea of Mon- taigne p^re to have- Montaigne fils dra;im gently from the arms of slumber by the peaceful sounds of a flute. Music, creating as it does a. borderland between things real and unreal — ^with a tendency towards the latter — ^projects one into a floating condition from which a landing may be managed without a jar — provided the music continues. Galbraith landed comfortably on the sad, world- weary, exquisite Valse Triste of Sibelius. He had always loved and hated that bit of Finnish music ; it made him abominably sad, it made him gay in a feverish way, it excited him inexplicably towards the end when a supreme effort is made to break away from shadow and come out into warm, thrill- ing sunshine; yet, with those three sad chords at the end he usually felt satisfied — or at least re- signed. When he opened his eyes the first object they 60 THE WORLD SHUT OUT rested on was a crucifix, the tortured figure of a Christ in ivory, the cross old chased silver. It appeared huge in the darkened chamber and sin- gularly significant against the background of faded yellow damask with which the walls were hung. He lay a few minutes in the half light, his eyes open, his mind recalling and assorting the experi- ences of the day before, his ears eagerly listening ; and all the while the music continued — ^the Valse Triste repeated and extraordinarily well played, followed by some Brahms waltzes and the last movement of the Tchaikowsky Pathetique. He threw back the covers, got out of bed and groped his way to the window. With the curtains drawn back the morning light flooded the room; the crucifix lost its sinister domination and sank back into unimportance; the faded damask shone warmly; the sad music came to an end; and the glory of the sunlight, a radiance that warmed the soul, stirred into activity all of his pleasantest thoughts. Vittorio awaited him on the terrace. Would he like his coffee there or out in the pergola where 51 THE WORLD SHUT OUT the olive groves began? The olive grove, by all means, Galbraith answered, going in the direction indicated and finding a little temple of yellow, crumbling stucco from which he could look out upon hillsides thickly covered with silver-green olive trees — an ideal color for' "the morning, early morning in its fresh, cool, misty tones. Vittorio followed with the coffee. Had the Prin- cipino slept well? He had, but he had been awakened by the sad- dest music he had ever heard. Who was it played the piano? The English lady in the casino played the piano- forte. Had the music disturbed the Principino? No, it had not disturbed him; it was a bit de- pressing, though. Why did she choose such abom- inably sad themes? A morning like this everyone should be gay. Vittorio considered this dubiously. His fine old head wagged. If the heart were gay it was all well enough; but what difference did it make how much the sun shone if the heart were heavy? "You mean the English lady has a heavy heart?" 62 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "No, Principino, it was you who said the music was sad. Perhaps the Signora received a letter this morning — " He stopped abruptly and pulled a letter from his pocket. "This just came for the Principino." Galbraith found it uninteresting enougK-^-at least it was not the sort of letter that made one either sad or gay; it was a short note from the administrator of the estate stating he would have the honor to come that evening to pay his respects to the Principe di Valdragone and discuss some legal matters with regard to turning over the property to him. Galbraith sipped his coffee and looked out over his possessions. His possessions ! He smiled and frowned, though there was nothing ia them at that moment to cause anything other than smiles. Without the hot sun- set colors the scene was less theatric, more pas- toral, infinitely more intimate and quiet. From where he sat a road was visible winding along the hillside, in and out among olive groves. Few signs of life broke the peaceful silence — a wine-cart £8 THE [WORLD SHUT OUT lumbering slowly along the roaid to Rome; some women in a vineyard singing lustily while they dug in the earth about the vines. That was all. He might have been thousands of miles away froni the rush of modern life. He loafed through the morning — ^physically and mentally. Energy seemed a thing of the past ; all the rush, the excitement, the travel, the changing scenes of the past fortnight sank into distant memory, almost forgotten, hushed into oblivion. Was this Italy? In the late afternoon he went down the circular staircase and out to the jolly little garden before the house. He passed the Judas tree where the lady in white had passed the evening before; he sniifed the yellow roses on the vine from which she had plucked a Spray and slipped into the ribbon at her waist ; he sat on the ledge about the fountfiin and watched the goldfish — the very same she had fetched supper to; then he went to the wall and leaned against it — exactly as she had done. While he stood there wondering if she were going to come out again and if she would speak to him, and what 64 THE WORLD SHUT OUT she would say if she did, and what he would reply, and how she would look when she was actually there before him, talking to him — ^you see, the wound of the night before was healing — ^he heard a carriage roll up the driveway and stop before the house. He turned and saw a footman descending and hfting the dragon knocker; he saw the door open and Vittorio receive a card; then he saw him com- ing towards him. "The Signora Marchesa Santacasa wishes to see the Principino." Galbraith took the card and glanced at it. "I never heard of her. What does she want?" yittorio raised his expressive shoulders. How could he know? The Marchesa lived in the villa nearest the Principino. Perhaps she had come to pay her respects," "Do I have to see her?" It would be polite and most gracious of the Principino. Galbraith drew a long breath ; he hated the idea of visitors at the moment when the lady in white— BS THE WORLD SHUT OUT by this time the wound was completely healed — might come out of hiding and show herself in the garden; however, if the Marchesa of the Sainted House had been good enough to call, he supposed he would have to be gracious enough, as Vittorio put it, to receive her. He found the carriage to be a very smart Vic- toria, and in it an old lady, smart too, in laces and silks and a much-befrilled parasol. She held out her hand to him and as he took it he knew in a flash that he wfis going to like her immensely; her bright, smiling, clever, wrinkled face was full of camaraderie. "Are you the Principe di Valdragone?" Her face-^-main went up and she took Galbraith in from head to foot. He drew himself up with an unconcealed frown. How insistent that infernal title was ! "No," he replied. "My name is Gordon Gal- braitL" The old lady gasped. "You don't mean to say you are not going to use your title! I thought that was the first thing Americans went after.'* 66 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "American women — ^yes." Her head went up with a jerk. "Do you mean to be insulting?'* "Insulting! I don't think I understand." 'Did you read my card? I am an American woman who uses her title." Galbraith could not keep back a smile. "But, of course, you had to. When you married an Italian, you were no longer an American. Your position became (dependent upon that of your husband.'* She met this disdainfully. "What gave you such an absurd idea? I am over sixty and I have never yet been dependent upon a living soul." "I was speaking figuratively." "No — ^not even figuratively, or any other way of speaking. Even though I married an Italian, I remained American. Do you understand?" "An American Marchesa ! But you were always that!" She met this with a wrinkling of her whole face and settled back in the victoria. "Now you are trying to pacify me with com- 57 THE WORLD SHUT OUT pllments — a woman of sixty. I suppose, though," with a sigh, "I am more susceptible than ever. . . . Will you drive with me?" "But — I was told you had come to call." "So I did; can't I make it driving?" Galbraith threw a furtive glance about the gar^ den. Perhaps the lady in white was not coming out; perhaps it was too early for her; the sun was still high; it was a full hour before sunset. He took his place beside the Marchesa. They drove down the avenue of cypresses and out to the Piazza; then, skirting the town, left it behind them. "So you are not going to use the title?" She was back at the subject of vital interest at the first opportunity. Galbraith was not sure that he would frown or laugh. The subject was so eternally recurrent. "Wouldn't it be rather absurd?" "That depends upon the point of view. It ia yours by right, isn't it?" "But I am an American citizen. I always shall be." 68 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "You are half ItaHan?" "Physically — yes; mentally — not a bit." Again the face-Jl-main went up and a close in- spection followed. "You look the part. I should never take you to be anything but an Italian." Galbraith made a wry face. "Aren't you pleased? They are a Handsome race." He bowed to the compliment. "I find Ameri- cans handsomer." The old lady's eyes twinkled. "American wo- men — ^yes; I'll admit that; but not the men. I detest clean-shaven faces. They are too, too — what shall I say? — colorless; perhaps a bit emas- culated." "Then you think a black mustache gives sex?" "It's a fairly large component; not too florid, not too much curled, but" — the smartly-gloved hands went out in a comprehensive gesture — "suf- ficiently hirsuit." Galbraith found his first impression deepening. He liked her immensely ; there was something quick and gay and very plucky 'about her. In spite of S9 THE WORLD SHUT OUT her threescore years, and possibly a few more un- acknowledged, she was as young as himself. Per- haps a bit extravagant in her attire — ^he glanced at her black chiffons covered with a joUy design of roses, her sumptuous use of laces, her very gay parasol and her frankly made-up face. But why shouldn't one dress gaily if one felt gay ! Little by little she told him of her life there. "I came as a tourist to Rome, I remained a win- ter, met a man, fell in love with him the first mo- ment I laid my eyes on him, married him, and here I've been ever since. But, like aU good things in life, he didn't last long — only ten years. I woke up at thirty to find myself saddled with his estates which had been redeemed, I'll confide to you, with my own money — and quite alone. Somehow, I've got along fairly weU. Happy? Well, not exactly that — ^but contented. Like most normal beings, I need frivolous things now and then, so I go to Rome in the winter for them. I have a town palace, but I never open it — ^my legs were not made for Roman staircases. Instead, I take a suite at one of those horrible hostelries 60 THE WORLD SHUT OUT which have sprung up in recent years — ^very com- fortable, very warm, outrageously dear, I literally pay through the nose — ^but I am amused looking on at the modem products of all the nations under the sun. When I am fed up with that side of life I come back here and rusticate." "Now," she ended, "I've told you everything there is to know about me. I've left out the skdeton because there really isn't one — ^unfortu- nately for my romance. I only wanted you to know that I was a harmless, lonely old lady living by herself, delighted that she now has a neighbor from her own land, one to whom she can be con^ fidential, and one who," here she sought Galbraith's eyes, "might be willing to make a confidant of her. Are we going to be friends?" Galbraith pressed her outstretched hand. "I'm sure we are; but I'm afraid I have no skeleton either." She scoffed at this. "You, a Valdf agone, with- out a skeleton! Of course you have; you just have not found it yet. There must be a collec- tion." 61 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "But, you see, being the American branch, I have lost that possession." "And now you have come back to dig them up." "Indeed, I have no such intention. I am going to let the* past sleep." The old lady's eyes were frankly doubting. "I wonder if that will be possible! I wonder if the past will let yov, sleep !" Galbraith looked at her quickly. Evidently she knew something that he did not know. This was the second suggestion that had come to him. He recalled the words of the lady in white: "Above all, the Principe di Valdragone." "Let's talk intimately," the Marchesa continued as she saw the troubled look flash across his face. "Impersonal conversations are so boring. Life is too short to waste time beating about the bush. I'm dying to know all about you. Are you mar- ried? I hope not.'* She was continually making Galbraith laugh. Didn't she approve of the holy state of matri- mony? 62 THE WORLD SHUT OUT Oh, yes, for some people; but if she liked a man, she was sure to hate his wife. He put her mind at rest; he was not married. Bachelor? He nodded. She had to be precise; there were all sorts of unmarried people these days who weren't bachelors. "All I know about you is that your mother was the daughter of the Princess of Valdragone; that she married an Americaji and never came back to Italy ; that she is dead and that you, at the death of your grandmother, being the last survivor of the family, have inherited the property — ^and the title. You see how wanting in detail my informa- tion is." "It is quite complete — and correct. There is absolutely nothing more to know." Again she scoffed. "Now you are becoming rather tiresome. You refuse to talk about your- self. You reject my proffered friendship." Galbraith hastily denied that. She only needed a few details to complete his history which he would at once put at her disposal. His mother 63 THE WORLD SHUT OUT had married a Protestant, which was sufficient reason for his grandmother never to see her again. She had died si few years after her marriage — when he was bom. At ten he was an orphan, living with a bachelor uncle, his father's brother. The only tie he had ever had with Italy was the maid his mother had brought with her, and who had remained as his nurse and from whom he had learned to speak Italian. , But she had died when he was young, so that absolutely no influence had been left which in any way had bound him to Italy. After that? Well, his life had been that of the average American boy — ^school, college, and latterly his profession, if he must admit it, was that of a fairly successful lawyer. "Then you arrive here without any prejudices whatever?" "Not only without prejudices, but in absolute ignorance. I know nothing about my family, this part of it, and I haven*t even seen the administra- tor who is in charge of the estate. He is coming to-night to dine with me and make me spend the night, I suppose, in signing papers." 64 THE WORLD SHUT OUT The Marchesa received this in silence. It ap- peared a bit extravagant, yet Galbraith's face was convincingly frank. "So you know nothing, absolutely nothing," she took up again, "about your grandmother's — ^what shall I call it? — career?" "Nothing. Was it so extraordinary?'* The Marchesa lowered her parasol and signalled the driver to return to the villa. "My dear young man, you have much to learn." "And you are going to be kind enough to begin my instruction?" The old lady hesitated. "No; on the whole, I think it wiser to leave that to your lawyer." "But his information will be so dry, so legal. Yours would be illuminating." "Uliiminating — ^yes, I admit that myself; but it wouldn't really be good form — ^the first day I met you. Later — ^who knows!" They were entering the gates of the villa now. "You knew her weU?" Galbraith asked. "I? Heavens, no! Do you think she would 6S THE WORLD SHUT OUT speak to an American? Common, vulgar, abhoi> rently new, no traditions, no families, no crests, nothing but filthy money !" "She sounds frightfully unsympathetic," Gal- braith mildly commented. "Unsympathetic !'* The old lady tossed her head with real fire. "You express it gently. Do you see that iron knocker on your door? That dragon with the woman's face? That is what the peasants about here' call the portrait of the Princess of Valdragone. Now I suppose I have offended you hopelessly." Galbraith laughed, really amused. She was not the sort one could possibly be offended with. Yet beneath his laughter lurked an unpleasant sensa- tion of something sinister. He was just on the point of replying to the Marchesa when a flash of white in the garden made him stop short in the middle of a sentence. She saw his glance, followed it, and together they watched a white figure disappear in the shrubbery about the casino. The old lady held up an accusing finger. 66 THE \VORLD SHUT OUT "To think you have been lying to me through- out this afternoon! Shame on you!" Galbraith was at a loss to understand ; his face showed It. "You said you had left out no details. Now, quite innocently, I find a woman in the case who went entirely luimentioned. Right here in the villa with you, too!" "There is nothing easier to explain. She, I was told last night, is my inquilina. She rents the casino from me." "Who is she?" "I haven't the slightest idea." "She appeared rather good-looking." He considered this. "Yes — ^in a way." "Then you have seen her?" "From a distance." "Italian?" "English — ^they say." "Who say?" "My servants." "WiU you call?" "No— I think not." 67 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "Isn't it an obligation?" "Not when she said she wanted to see no one — least of all the Principe di Valdragone." The Marchesa laughed, delighted. "She said that to you?" "To my servant." "But since you are not the Principe di Valdra- gone, only Mr. Galbrajth, a simple American, wouldn't that make a difference?" "It might, if I were sufficiently interested. Somehow, though, I have an unaccountable fear of professional pianists. They are too — too tem- peramental." The old lady's eyes brightened. , "She plays ! How delightful ! I am hungry for music. I shall call on her at once — especially if she is Anglo- Saxon. She ought to be an oasis in this desert. What is her name?" "I haven't the slightest idea." "You are hopeless ! Well, I shall find out, and in a few minutes. . . . Are you coming to see me?" "Any day you set. I hope it will be soon." 68 THE [WORLD SHlfT OUT She gave him her hand — ^this time he kissed it — and her friendly smile. "Then Sunday. We'll have tea on the terrace. Au' revoii".'* 69 VI They had finished dinner, Galbraith and Signor Torrecella, and were still sitting at the table. Vittorio had removed the cloth and left only the tall silver candlesticks and a glass platter of Ve- netian fruit which served as decoration. In the dim glow of the candles the room appeared enor- mous; its walls, frescoed in imitation of > broad Corinthian columns through which painted land- scapes showed, towered up to- a domed ceiling. Through the open windows the outside world shone indistinctly in the warm colors of an Italian night in May — deep purple sky, deep red stars, deep black cypresses; and from its warmth came the strong, sweet scent of shrubbery and flowers and running waters. Galbraith, through a haze of cigar smoke, looked long and intently at the face of the man sitting opposite him. It was a singularly picturesque face, big in feature, almost heavy in its modeling, warm in coloring; the forehead rather low and 70 THE WORLD SHUT OUT broad from which the hair, black with streaks of gray, grew back in broad waves, handsome, leo- nine; the nose, pure Roman; the mouth, covered by a large, black, florid mustache, sensual and generous ; the heavy jaw and chin brutal ; the eyes, prominent, round, black, luminous, and filled with a certain intellectual activity and great physical virility that made for personality. Somehow one felt that he was still very much what his ancestors had been ; in the gleam of his fine eyes one caught flashes from a past that was long (dead and yet still insistently ahve. With a word of apology, the Signer Awocato rose from the table and fetched from a chair where he had put it a much worn leather portfolio. He laid it on the table and opened it. Galbraith won- dered, as yellowed bits of paper with dangling seals were exposed under the soft glow of the candles, if he were going to be brought face to face with the skeleton the Marchesa was so sure existed. For a moment he almost dreaded this delving into the past. After aJl, it was a part of himself ; at least the blood that was in his veins now 71 THE WORLD SHUT OUT was the same that had made that past. For the first time he realized that influence, tradition, call it what you will, was going to enter into his life. The lawyer began reading the details of the will. The list of real estate seemed interminable — property in Rome, country places in Umbria, in Tuscany, a castle in the Pontine Marshes, uncul- tivated lands in the provinces of Apulia and Cala- bria. Galbraith was bewildered by the strange names and what they represented. Out of the mass he clung to two facts which seemed tangible — a palace in Rome which dated from the XVth Cen- tury and this villa in which he was already domi- ciled. A few personal bequests caught his atten- tion, particularly of two thousand lire which was to be divided between Vittorio and Fasquarosa in appreciation of their faithful services. Otherwise the estate was left to him in its entirety. The reading finished, the lawyer sat back in his chair and lighted one of the long, thin Tuscan cigars which he preferred to the more elaborate Habanas his host oifered him. Finally Galbraith broke the long silence. "You 72 THE WORLD SHUT OUT jH"obably don't know what a stranger I am to all this." He swept his hand in a gesture which com- prised the papers on the table and their surround- ings. "My mother died at my birth; my father never mentioned Italy to me — ^you no doubt know why ; consequently, when I received your letter in- forming me that I had inherited this property, it came like a bolt out of the blue. I am as ignorant of what this family of Valdragone represents as though I had never heard of them. Judging from a few things I have heard since I arrived, I fancy tiie family possesses some rather interesting char- acteristics, particularly" — ^he smiled whimsically — "my grandmother. Was she really such a — what shall I say— belle dame sans merci?" The lawyer's glance shifted from Galbraith's; for a few moments he appeared to be weighing the question. "Gia!" he exclaimed, under his breath. "She was an extraordinary woman — ^the Princi- pessa." Then, quickly, as though changing the subject: "Do you know the history of Italy — ^it's history of the past fifty years?" "Only superficially." 73 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "It was a terrible struggle. It is not over yet. Years still raust pass before we are a really united country. The struggle has left scars that are not yet healed! it separated families which have not yet come together; it explains so much that the outsider does not understand, for beyond the struggle of - bringing a nation together as one people was that deeper one of allegiance to a faith which had to suffer in order that unity might be achieved. . . . Your grandmother was a black — a Papist ; it was in the blood ; two popes had been members of her family. When you know this, you will not wonder that when Victor Emmanuel en- tered Rome and Pio Nono had to fly from his kingclom like an ordinary fugitive, she felt that she was a fugitive too, that the kingdom to which her allegiance was a matter of centuries had been in- vaded and subjected to the usurper. She closed her Roman palazzo, barred and sealed the doors, brought everything she valued most here and made a public vow that she would never return to Rome until the Pope had been restored to his power. Even when he returned to the Vatican and took 74 THE WORLD SHUT OUT up his residence there she maintained that he was only a prisoner; that if his feet were not per- mitted to touch the polluted pavements of Rome, neither would hers. . . . She lived here looking down upon Rome for forty years, her religion with its lost cause turning gradually from bitter- ness into hatred — a hatred that grew into pas- sionate cruelty towards mankind." Galbraith sighed with relief. It was the story of a lost cause and an all-sweeping devotion to it. He found himself rather applauding. "I begin to understand now my mother's situ- ation. She was bom in this milieu?" The lawyer nodded. "Yes, in the Palazzo in Rome. When you open the Palazzo you will see the room that was hers. It was never opened after she fled with your father — a Protestant whom the Principessa had forbidden in the Pa- lazzo." "And my mother's brother?" Ah, Don Claudio! The Signor Avvocato had known him well. His marriage, too, was a m&- alliance — from the Principessa's point of view; a 75 THE WORLD SHUT OUT girl from the north whose father was a member of the court of the usurper who called himself king. He, too, had been denied the Palazzo, the Principessa never saw him after his marriage, and when he and his wife died suddenly of a fever that was devastating Rome, even then the Principessa would not relent and take their orphaned child to her heart. He himself, the Signor Awocato, had been ordered to carry the child to the Convent of the Sacred Heart in Florence and put her in the care of the sisters there. This child would, on coming of age, have inherited the property which was now his, for his mother had been given her share when she had gone to America. Galbraith's glance returned tcthe papers. "Did this orphan, the daughter of Don Claudio, die young?" The lawyer searched among the papers and found a thin envelope. Looking at it, his whole face softened. It was exactly as though the ques- tion had suddenly brought to life a very tender memory; a memory, though, without joy, for his expression was that of very deep sadness. 76 THE WORLD SHUT OUT He hdd up the envelope. "This is the record of her death — in Switzerland — eight years ago." "Ah, then she died out of Italy?" "Yes — -she had left Italy — she had disappeared." "Disappeared ?" The lawyer drew out a large handkerchief and wiped his brow. He faltered over further expla- nation. He used the word disappeared because the PrincipBssa had always expressed it that way ; the world was told that; at least until her death was announced. "You are not making a very clear story of it," Galbraith commented, his eyes intent upon the older man. "Why was it necessary to say she dis- appeared?" "Principe, I beg you will not ask it of me. My last words to the Principessa were that I would not tell it to the world. You, most of all, she did not wish to know it." «Why?» **She felt, I think, that you might wish to know the details, to trace the matter, to discover per- 77 rrHE WORLD SHUT OUT haps ." He broke off abruptly and, rising, crossed to the window and stood with his back to the room. Galbraith lighted a cigarette and drew at it 3eeply. Here at last was the skeleton. Suddenly he determined to speak morfe frankly to this lawyer than he had yet intended. "I hope, Signor Torrecella, that it is my right to know everything about this family. Before I return to America " The lawyer turned quickly. "Return to Amer- ica?'' "Before I return I wish to have everything set- tled. If there has been wrong done to a member of this family, and I judge, from what you say, that this daughter of Don Claudio was badly treated, I wish to do everything in my power to make reparation, if such a thing is possible." The lawyer was back at the table, leaning his hands upon it and staring intently at Galbraith. "Do I understand, Principe, that you will not remain here?" Galbraith smiled. "No, I have no intention of 78 THE WORLD SHUT OUT remaining here; furthermore, I am not sure that I shall accept this inheritance." Signor Torrecella's fine eyes showed consterna- tion. "But, Principe, if you refuse the inheri- tance, there will never be a chance to right the wrong. All the property would go to the church." "Then you admit that a wrong has been done! Yet you hesitate to tell me." "Should not one respect an oath made to the dead?" "Not if, by observing it, the living are injured." Suddenly the lawyer's whole expression changed ; his prominent eyes grew wider and more search- ing. "The living!" he exclaimed. Galbraith rose, impatient and somewhat an- noyed. "Signor Torrecella, we seem to be talk- ing at cross purposes. If you know anything about my family that I should know, that would help me in my decision? about this property, I beg that you wiU tell me at once." Torrecella sank down in a chair and covered his face with his hands. He was torn between the 79 THE WORLD SHUT OUT temptation of what he thought was right, more than that, what would clear the situation forever, and what he had promised to do. In the end the promise conquered. He lifted his face and met Galbraith's watchful ejes. "Principe, I gave my oath. Do not ask me to break it." Galbraith's expression hardened. "Then the property goes to the church. I shall accept noth- ing unless I know the truth. Even then I may not accept it — ^if there is anything dishonorable attached to it." Torrecella's dilemma increased. Surely duty and promises made for vastly conflicting emotions. Either one or the other led to disaster. Fate was lifting the responsibility and forcing him to risk at least half the truth. "You are making me perjure my soul," he broke out with hot resentment. "I am only insisting upon what I feel is my right." "You are determined " "Quite." 80 THE WORLD SHUT OUT Torrecella drew a long breath, then spoke hur- riedly, as though he wished what he was saying to be spoken and back of him forever. "Francesca, Don Claudio's daughter, ran away from the convent in which the Principessa had placed her. She was only sixteen at the time and miserably unhappy. She came straight here to the Principessa and implored her to let her remain here. But, you see, the Principessa hated her. Her father had married a woman who was of the enemies of the Vatican. The child of such a mar- riage could be nothing less than an enemy too. The Principessa would not have her in the house. She could not look calmly upon her. She sent her away— out of Italy — ^to Switzerland, where she died a year later." Torrecella looked at Galbraith and found him smiling oddly at him. "Signor Awocato, you are telling me half the truth." "Signor Principe, half or whole, it is the truth — and it is all that I can tell you." A candle tilted and spluttered in its socket. 81 THE JPVORLD SHUT OUT Galbraith rose anil straightened it. Then he crossed to the window and stood there a long time. The skeleton was not yet out of the closet, but at least he knew in which closet it was kept. Why did this old, faithful friend of the family wish to hide the story from him? Was it so sordid that it would make him ashamed of the blood that was in his veins? He stared out into the sweet-scented night. The sound of singing, far-off, a warm tenor voice, floated across the still night to him — a gay, lilting song with an ever-recurrent minor strain. The fountain in the garden gurgled weirdly. Across the dim Campagna, broad as the world, some lights flickered — ^Rome. "If this Francesca Valdragone is (dead . You spoke of righting a wrong . Isn't it too late to do anything?'* The lawyer stiU sat at the table, his arms stretched out before him. Without turning, he spoke: "Principe, do you believe the dead know what we do?" Galbraith threw away his cigarette. He watched it fall and disappear in the garden below. For a 82 THE WORLD SHUT OUT moment he saw it glow in the darkness, then go out. "I don't know that I have ever thought of that." "They do, Principe. I am as sure of it as I am that we are here to-night talking to each other. Little Francesca is listening to us. She hears us. Whatever we do she will know it. Why is it not possible to do something that would please her, something that perhaps she would have done if she had lived?" Galbraith came back and sat down beside the man who had just advanced what at first struck him as extravagant sentiment. But the sentiment impressed him, touched him. He looked at the fine Roman face with a new interest. This was a side he would never have suspected. "What would she have done, Signor Torre- ceDa?" "Founded a home, I think, for girls who, as she, had been left without parents and forced to face the world alone and unprotected. Why not do this rather than renounce the right to the prop- erty — rather than leave it to those who have never 83 THE WORLD SHUT OUT heard of Francesca. Believe me, Principe, she would know. And think what it would mean to her. She would know then that she had not suf- fered in vain ; that through her joy and happiness and protection had come to others. Don't think me a dreamer or a man emneshed in fanciful ideas. I speak to you from the heart. We Italians are a sentimental race ; deep down in us is an old love of the beautiful, the beautiful in the material and in the spiritual world. If you had known the child Francesca you would imderstand." He got up slowly and held out his hand to Gal- braith and, as their eyes met, he smiled in a way that changed his whole personality. "You come from a practical race, Principe, at least oh your father's side ; from your mother you have something dse. I think I have found it to- night. If I have touched it I shall be satisfied." Galbraith answered his smile. "I think you have touched it — yes. But you must give me a little time. You see, a month ago, all this did not exist for me.'* 84 VII It was only a step from the villa, across the gravel walk, to the casino gate, but Torrecella made it with effort. He was breathing hard; he could even hear the sound himself; it was distinct and loud on the great stillness of the night. At the gate he pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his brow. What a frightfully still, oppressive night! Scirocco was in the air and it took a Roman to know what scirocco meant. It sapped all the energy out of one in an hour. An English- man had said that it made one feel like a restless rag. That expressed it exactly. Per Bacco! — and it came all the way from the Lybian desert. • She was awaiting him in a dimly lit room, her face, her eyes, her extended hands full of questions. Torrecella sank into a chair, still mopping his brow, still breathing hard. — ^how old and excitable he was growing ! — and accepted with murmured thanks the glass of Marsala she proffered him. 85 THE iWORLD SHUT OUT "You have seen him?" He nodded. She waited without trying to dissemble her im- patience. "Ebbene, Torrecella — ^what is he like?" Torrecella's han3s went up in protest. *'What is he like ! A woman's question ! Always, what is he like ! Haven't you seen him?'* She admitted that she had seen hini from a clis- tance — ^walking about the garden. She was not sure, but she fancied he was a real Valdragone; his long, lean figure; his smallish black head; somehow he had made her think of her father. Was he not like him? "You say all this and then ask me what he is like! You have seen him as well as I." She smiled leniently at Torrecella's accusation. "At least I haven't dined with him — as you have." "How do I know you haven't ! How 3o I know what you have Idone !" "No-no. I am keeping nothing from j/otb," His shoulders went up full of doubts. "I watched for him the evening he was to arrive. 86 THE WORLD SHUT OUT He walked up the avenue, quite alone, anid passed near where I could see him. I fancied I saw an expression of surprised pleasure on his face. I'm sure the place appealed to him. Then, after din- ner, I saw him again, but only for a moment, I was going up the steps into the ilex grove when he suddenly appeared at the window, saw me, and hid — at least he thought he was hidden — and listened to what I said." "What you said! To whom?" "To Pasquarosa. She had called to me from the kitchen window." "What did you say?" Whimsical lights glowed in her eyes. "You are going to be shocked." TorreceUa sniffed. "I'm sure of that." She frowned and turned away. "Then I shan't tell you." "You must. It is your duty to tell me every- thing. I must know each step you make. Other- wise" — he threw out his hands — "I'll wash my hands of the whole questionable affair at once." "Questionable !" 87 THE WORLD SHUT OUT «Si — si. For it is nothing else. What did you say?" "I merely asked Pasquarosa if he had come. Then" — after a slight pause — "1 asked her what he was like." "Of course — ^woman's eternal question ! Go on." "Then, after Pasquarosa had given a most un- complimentary description of him — and told me he had bathed in the fountain— she asked me if I wished him to come to see me." "And you replied yes." "Not at all. I replied that he was the last pep- son in the world I wanted to come to see me." Torrecella was on his feet. "You said that! But why — ^why!" "A man who hides behind a window and listens to a conversation is an — an eavesdropper." "Nonsense ! You did the same thing. You just confessed it." "I only looked. I did not listen." "There is no diiference. Besides, any man would look and listen to a pretty woman. I'd do it myself. Are you sure he heard you?" 88 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "Quite." Torrecella sank down with a deep sigh. Per- haps, after all, it was better that he had heard her. It would at least be an inhibition to their meeting; and somehow their meeting seemed to him fraught with dangers. He could not be at all sure of what she would say or do. Yes, the longer they were kept apart the more quickly and satisfactorily the whole matter would be despatched and got rid of. He could be sure of the man ; but the woman, no, none of them! He pulled a long, thin Toscana from his pocket and fumbled with a match. In the end she lighted it for him. When he had drawn at it and blew a long cloud of smoke straight out before him, she smiled at him in her wistful, appealing, irresistible way. "And now — ^your impressions." His impressions were not at all personals He appeared a pleasant enough man; perhaps a bit better than he had expected. On the whole, for an American, he supposed he was rather unusual ; this, of course, because of the fact that he was half 89 THE WORLD SHUT OUT Italian. He spoke Italian perfectly. He hadn't appeared much interested in the property ; but he had asked numerous questions about the family, about his grandmother — and particularly about Francesca Valdragone. She started. "Why Francesca Valdragone?" "Because, well, because I told him that if she had lived she would have been the rightful heir." "Yes, yes, go on. Why do you hesitate?" "Signorina mia, I am not hesitating! If you interrupt, politeness demands that I stop. Ecco! He wanted to know what had happened to Fran- cesca Valdragone. He demanded that I tell him. He said it was his right to know. He must know everything before he accepted the inheritance." "And you told him " "That she had run away from a convent and gone to Switzerland and died there." "Ah!" A hot gust of wind rushed into the room, bring- ing with it a heavy scent of roses and orange blos- soms. The night — ^at least so thought Torrecella — ^was growing more and more oppressive. 90 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "He appeared impressed with what I told him of Francesca Valdragone; so impressed that I thought it the moment to speak to him of your plan. I asked him if he would be interested in Hoing something in memory of Francesca Valdra- gone; something that I felt sure she would have done if she had lived. Wait. Listen to me. I have not finished. You do not know yet what I am leading up to. He asked what I meant. I told him that I felt sure she would have founded a school for children — children like herself — who were left in their childhood without parents. Was not that an inspiration? It is the first step towards getting the villa for you — ^and at a bar- gain. Do you understand?" She looked at him out of a long, depressing, pitying silence. "Poor Torrecella! The scirocco has reached your brain. What should appeal to him in such an idea — a stranger here — an American!" "But he listened, I tell you." "Of course " "And he is simpatico." SI THE WORLD SHUT OUT "Ah, Torrecella, you are a dear^ — you are full of good intentions — but you are a Roman. I see — I shall have to work alone." Torrecella groaned. "Santa Pazienza!" Then he added with a touch of justified pleasure at the consternation it might bring, "You will have to work rapidly. He will return to America almost immediately." d2 vin At breakfast Vittorio presented a note to Gal- braith. The envelope was sealed with lavender wax and beneath a gold crown ran the legend: "Se non vuol fare del male non fare del bene," which counseled one to do no good if one wished to do no evil. It was from the Marchesa Santa- casa. "I bearded the lion in the den; a very charm- ing lion she is too — ^real charm. I use the word with precision. Incidentally she is not a profes- sional pianist; also incidentally she is coming to tea with me this afternoon — quite informally. I assured her no one else would be here. Of course I was not sure at the moment I made this state- ment that you would come; but if you come in your humble capacity of plain American, without titles or background, she need never know the difference." Galbraith slipped the note in his pocket and 93 THE WORLD SHUT OUT looked Sown at the casino. There was no sign of life there; it was basking undisturbed in the sun- light. If she didn't wish to meet him why should he force himself on her ! Particularly if she were one of the sort who had heard and believed the story of the evil eye ! But the Marchesa's invitar tion! "He ought to accept that. It would be un- gracious and unneighborly not to. Yes, he would go. The lady would not have to talk to him. What a primitive notion ! The evil eye ! And this the XXth Century! He turned to Vittorio and fired a question. "Vittorio, do you believe in such a thing as tKe jettatura — the evil eye?'* Vittorio hastily made the sign of the cross. The Principino surely knew that everyone in Italy be- lieved in it. "Which means then that you do. I had hope3> Vittorio, that you were more advanced. I am dis- appointed in you — bitterly disappointed. You believe then that I, a Valdragone, may at will cast an evil influence over you?" Vittorio smiled confidently. 94 THE WORLD SHUT OUT "No, Frincipino, jou can do poor old Vittorio no harm. He is protected by his great grand- father." "Lucky man! Does he protect you from speUs?" Vittorio drew himself up proudly; his eyes glowed with an intense light; his manner became solemn and confidential; his hands were already forming elaborate gestures. His great grandfather was a wonderful man. If the Principino were to go anywhere in the country about Castel del Piano he would hear of him — even though he had been dead for more than fifty years. Through his cool-headed courage he had saved not only his and his children's children, but again their children down to the seventh genera- tion. More than that, he had liberated the whole town. From what? From the evil eye — ^the jet- tatura! It happened this way. "Senta, Principino ! My great grandfather was a woodcutter. Every morning he went into the forest to cut fagots. At nightfall he returned to his family in the town. One day, as he entered 95 THE WORLD SHUT OUT the forest, he heard a strange sound — a sound that was the malicious voices of women, that and un- holy laughter. The sound seemed to come from a tree near him. He looked up and saw something that made his blood run cold. There on the bough just above his head sat three snow-white goats. Suddenly the sound of the voices ceased and the creatures looked down at him out of their wicked yellow eyes. My great grandfather lost no time. He knew what this strange sight meant. The creatures were not really goats — they were witches ! His good mother, poverella, had taught him what to do. He took his long hunting knife with which he trimmed the fagots and drove it into the trunk of the tree. Corpo di Bacco ! What a noise went up from the three white goats ! Santa Croce, how they did scream ! But my great grand- father paid no attention ; he knew that they could not now move from the tree. He went into the forest and finished his day's work. At dusk he had to pass the tree again. The three goats had disappeared but in their place, Principino, were three women, women from Castel del Piano, women 96 THE WORLD SHUT OUT everyone knew. When they saw my great grand- father they began screaming again — ^talking and begging and imploring him to remove the knife and let them come down. They knew as well as he that if he did not remove the knife they would have to remain in the tree until they died. Dio Santissimo! But they were ugly, with their hair hanging down, their wild eyes and their hoarse voices coaxing and whining and threatening! "My great grandfather stood with his hands making the horns, but he was frightened. Finally the ugliest of the three leaned over and said: 'Amilcare' — that was my great grandfather*s name — 'Amilcare, if you wiU let us come down we promise to go away from here and never come back; more than that, we will liberate the town from the fatture we have cast on the people. Marriuccia, who is fading away — ^no- one knows why— shall be restored to health ! Fabiano's dumb child shall speak! The wife of the Sindaco shall regain her sight ! All shall be right in the town 1 More than this, Amilcare, for you we promise, we promise on the heads of the Saints, that you and 97 THE WORLD SHUT OUT yours shall be liberated from the evil eye and from all spells for seven generations. Seven genera- tions, Amilcare!'" Vittorio mopped his brow with bts hand. The monient for him was the tense one of his life. "You will understand, Principino, that my great grandfather could not lose such an oppor- timity. It would make his old age peaceful and it would protect those (dear to him even to the seventh generation. It would also make the town a safe place to live in. So — ^he went to the tree and drew out the knife. The three women came down with the swiftness of lightning and vanished into the shadows of the forest forever. And it was as they had promised, Principino. Their evil in- fluence had been removed as they had promised. By the next