Cecilia Part 12

"I believe you, and I understand," she answered. "But how it sounds! If you had known that you were to sit next to me, nothing would have induced you to come!"

From her place next the master of the house, the Countess Fortiguerra looked at them, and was pleased to see that they were already on good terms.

"Thank you," Cecilia added in a quiet voice, and gravely. "Besides," she continued, "there is no reason, in the world why we should not be good friends, is there?"

She looked full at him now, without a smile, and he realised for the first time how very young she was. A married woman with an instinct for flirtation might have made the speech, but a girl older than Cecilia would have known that it might be misunderstood. Guido answered her look with one in which doubt did not keep the upper hand more than a single second.

"There is no reason whatever why we should not be the best of friends,"

he answered, in a tone as low as her own. "Perhaps I may be of service to you. I hope so. Besides, I am made for friends.h.i.+p!"

He laughed rather carelessly as he spoke the last words, and glanced round the table to see whether anybody was watching him. He met the Countess Fortiguerra's approving glance.

"Why do you laugh at friends.h.i.+p?" asked Cecilia, not quite pleased.

"I do not laugh at friends.h.i.+p at all," Guido answered. "I laugh in order that people may see me and hear me. This is the first service I can render you, to be natural and unconcerned, as I generally am. If I behaved in any unusual way--if I were too grave, or too much interested--you understand!"

"Yes. You are thoughtful. Thank you."

There was a little pause, during which a luxuriant lady in green, who sat on Guido's other side, determined to attract his attention, and spoke to him; but before he could answer, some one opposite asked her a question about dress, which was intensely interesting to her, because she dressed abominably. She promptly fell into the snare which had been set for her with the evil intention of leading her on to talk foolishly.

She followed at once, and Guido was free again.

"Now that we are friends," he said to Cecilia, "may I ask you a friendly question?"

"Ask me anything you like," she answered, and her innocent eyes promised him the truth.

"Were you told anything, before we met at my aunt's the other day?"

"Not a word! And you?"

"Nothing," he replied. "I remember that on that very afternoon----" he stopped short.

"What?"

"You may not like what I was going to say."

"I shall, if it is true, and if you have a good reason for saying it."

"Lamberti and I were together, talking, and I said that nothing would ever induce me to marry an heiress, unless it were to save my father or mother from ruin. As that can never happen, all heiresses are perfectly safe from me! Do you mind my having said that?"

"No. I am sure you were in earnest."

A shadow had crossed her face at the mention of Lamberti's name.

"You do not like my friend," he said, and as he spoke, the shadow came again and deepened.

"How can I like him or dislike him? I hardly know him."

She felt very uncomfortable, for it would have been quite natural that Lamberti should have spoken to Guido of her strange behaviour in the Forum. Guido answered that one often liked or disliked people at first sight.

"I think that you and I liked each other as soon as we met," he concluded.

"Yes," Cecilia answered, after a little thought. "I am sure we did. Tell me, what makes you think that I dislike your friend? I should be very sorry if he thought I did."

"When I first spoke of him a few moments ago, your expression changed, and when I referred to him again, you frowned."

"Is that all? Are you sure that is the only reason for your opinion?"

Guido laughed a little.

"What other reason could I have?" he asked. "Do not take it so seriously!"

"He might have told you that he himself had the impression----"

"He has hardly mentioned your name since we both met you," Guido answered.

It was a relief to know that Lamberti had not spoken of having met her unexpectedly, and of her cry, and of her flight. Yet somehow she had already been sure that he had kept the matter to himself. As a matter of fact, Guido had never thought of her, even in the most pa.s.sing way, as the possible heroine of the adventure in the Forum. The story had interested him, but the personality of the lady did not; and, moreover, from the way in which Lamberti had spoken, Guido had very naturally supposed her to be a married woman, for it would not have occurred to him that a young girl could be strolling among the ruins quite alone.

Cecilia felt relieved, and yet, at the same time, she felt a little girlish disappointment at the thought that Lamberti had hardly ever spoken of her to his most intimate friend, for she was quite sure that Guido told her the exact truth. She was angry with herself for being disappointed, too. The man's face had haunted her so long in half-waking dreams; or at least, a face exactly like his, which, the last time, had turned into his without doubt. Yet she had evidently made no impression upon him, until she had made a very bad one, the other day. She wondered whether he thought she was a little mad. She was afraid of meeting him wherever she went, and yet she now wished he were at the table, in order that she might prove to him that she was not only sane, but very clever.

She knew that she wished it, and for a few moments she did not hear what Guido was saying, but gazed absently at the flowers on the table, unconsciously hoping that she might see them turn into the face she feared; but that did not happen.

Guido talked on, till he saw that she was not listening, and then he was silent, and only glanced at her from time to time while he heard in his ears the cackling of the vivid lady in green. There was going to be a change in the destinies of womankind, and everybody was to be perfectly frightful for ever afterwards. To be plain, the sleeves "they" were wearing now were to be altogether given up. "They" had begun to wear the new ones already in Paris. Rejane had worn them in her new piece, and of course that meant an imminent and universal change. And as for the way the skirts were to be made, it was positively indecent. Rejane was far too much of a lady to wear one, of course, but one could see what was coming. Here some one observed that coming events cast their shadows before.

"Not at all, not at all!" cried the lady in green. "I mean behind."

"How long shall you stay in Rome?" Guido asked, to see whether Cecilia would hear him now.

"Always," she answered. "For the rest of my life."

"I am glad of that. But I meant to ask how late you intended to stay this year?"

"I should like to spend the summer here."

"It is the pleasantest time," Guido said.

"Is it? Or are you only saying that in order to agree with me? You need not, you know. I like people who have their own opinions, and are full of prejudices, and try to force them upon everybody, whether they are good for every one or not!"

"I am afraid I shall not please you, then. I have no prejudices to speak of, and my opinions are worth so little that I never hesitate to change them."

"But you do not look at all feeble-minded," said Cecilia, innocently studying his face.

"Thank you!" Guido laughed. "You are adorable!" he added rather flippantly.

"Is that your opinion?" asked the young girl, smiling, too, as if she were pleased.

"Yes. That is my firm opinion. Do you object to it?"

"Oh no!" Cecilia answered, still smiling sweetly. "You have just told me that your opinions are worth so little that you never hesitate to change them. So why in the world should I object to any of them?"