Niccolina Niccolini [A tale.] By the author of 'Mademoiselle Mori,' etc

Front matter

NICCOLINA NICCOLINI. NICCOLINA NICCOLINI. BY The Author of 'mademoiselle mori,' 'atelier du lvs,' 'the secret of madame de monlac,' etc. LONDON : GARDNER, DARTON & CO., 3, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS, E.C., AND 44, VICTORIA STREET, S.W. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE 1 I MOTHEE AND CHILD A YOUTHFUL AETIST 14 II 31 III HOW ME. DALTON AVROTE A LETTEE FLIGHT 49 IV HOW LINA'S MOTHEE AVENT AWAY HOW LINA WENT TO SCHOOL - 62 V 79 VI 92 VII VIII. A QUIET LIFE - Ill MIETILLA TO THE EESCUE A NEW HOME - 128 IX 148 X. WHAT LINA EECOLLECTED LIFE IN THE PALAZZO 164 XI 180 XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. AN OFFEE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES WHAT ME. EAYNEE HEABD AT THE EED EOSE A BOLT FEOM THE BLUE 203 227 254 IN THE VALLEY 269 WHAT GINO HAD TO SAY SOMEBODY'S CHILD NICCOLINA NICCOLINI.

Chapter I. Mothee And Child

The Mediterranean Sea sparkled blue under a May sun ; every little wave that curled before it died on the beach glittered in green trans parency. In the distance there were great tracts of purple water ; a thin haze, born of the heat, veiled the mountains ; the air was heavy with the scent of orange blossom ; each leaf of the olives reflected light ; a nightingale was singing among them. Under the slight shade of their boughs a little child was seeking pale, lingering peri winkles and white garlics, to add to the yellow poppies and beautiful rose-coloured convolvulus which she had brought from the shore. Now and then she ran to a girl in deep mourning, sitting on a bench, to show her some flower, finer than the rest, or to ask some question, heedless of the indifference of the reply which she received.

Although the girl looked too young to be the mother of a child of this age, the little one called her mammina (' mammy '). They both spoke Italian, but something in the intonation of the elder showed it was not her native tongue. Her languid, discontented air and drooping figure made a startling con trast with the joyous health and overflowing spirits of the child, who indeed was unlike her in every respect — brown-skinned, dark-eyed, with wavy black hair, rebellious to the ribbon that bound it, while the mother was pale, fair-haired, fair - skinned, with small, childish features. The little one's restless spirits seemed to annoy her. ' Yes ; go and see if Giovanna and her goat are in the wood,' she assented with a sigh of relief, in reply to the child's eager request, and when left alone she leant her head wearily back against the trunk of the olive behind her, and closed her eyes, as if it tired her to keep them open.

She heard a brisk step coming through the wood, but did not care to look up until an English voice said : ' Could you kindly tell me ' And then, /l&otber anb Cbilb 3 in quite another tone : ' Good heavens ! it is Elvira Dalton !' The speaker stood before her, a little, middle aged gentleman with a fresh complexion and white whiskers, not in the least the kind of person to call up the look of dismay which appeared on the girl's face when she recognised him. She opened her lips and closed them again without speaking, while he leaned on his cane and contemplated her with unmistakable wonder and disapproval. ' Elvira Dalton !' he repeated, as if he could not recover from his surprise, and then, observ ing her black dress, a new expression came on his face. ' My poor girl,' he said gently, ' I see you are in trouble.' ' I am a widow,' she answered with pale lips. ' What brings you to this out-of-the-way place ?' ' We were at Lucca, but I was ill, and I had not courage to stay there when Gaetano ' ' No, no, I understand ; but you are not alone ?

Your husband ' — he said the word as if he were swallowing something bitter — ' he had a family ?' ' Yes ; he had a family.' ' Well then, where are they ? What kind of people are they, to leave you alone at such a time ?' asked her companion angrily. He felt a strong desire to quarrel with some body, and as he could not do so with this frail creature, he turned upon her unknown con nections. ' No doubt they have been unkind to you.' ' I have nothing to complain of,' she answered with indifference ; ' but they are not the kind of people I am used to.' And then, seeing him move his head up and down expressively, she bit her lips as if repenting her admission. ' My mother-in-law and her daughters inter fered too much with my little girl,' she added, as if to turn her companion's attention from what she had said before. ' Just so ; you never liked being interfered with.

So you have a little girl ? Where is she ? I should like to see her.' ' She will come back presently. ' What have you called her ?' ' Niccolina.' A look of pleasure shone on her old friend's face. ' Good, good ; I am glad of it, though it is an odd name for a girl. Your father will be gratified. You called her after him, of course ?' /Ibotber anb Cbilb 5 ' Yes ; and besides, in Italy the family name is often given as the baptismal one,' she replied, as if unwilling to assent entirely to what had been suggested. ' I should like to see her. But why on earth did you not let us know that you were a widow, and had a child ?' Elvira's pale cheeks flushed. ' I had Avritten once already and had no answer,' she said with keen resentment. ' But of course I know the reason ; he was not allowed to send one.' ' Tut-tut ! do not talk such nonsense.

The whole truth is, that your father wanted to marry a lady suitable in every way, so on hearing it you declared you would not live in the same house with her.' ' I kept my word.' ' You did indeed. I honestly own that you ought to have been told sooner.' ' I am glad you allow that much, Mr. Rayner.' ' Well, well, your father hates scenes, and he knew what he had to expect. You ruled him from babyhood with scenes, my dear. How often he has given you your OAvn way to avoid one !' ' He did not give me my own way when he put a stranger into my mother's place.' ' Or in yours, eh ?' * You have no right to say that !' retorted Elvira, stung. Her old friend laughed, but added seriously : ' Let us leave the past alone. I feel sure your good father is ready to forgive you ; tell him you are sorry for your disobedience, and go home to him.' ' Thanks !

You really think that my step mother and her boy — I read of his birth in a newspaper — will really let me have a corner in my father's house ?' ' You read the boy's birth in a paper ! Did you also read of his death ?' ' No ! Is he dead then ?' she exclaimed, starting. ' Poor papa ! He was always wishing I were a hoy.' She spoke gently, really moved. ' Mr. Rayner, tell him that — that I am very sorry for his loss.' ' You will tell him yourself, my dear girl. Here is an opportunity to show that you really regret your ill conduct, which has embittered his life these last years. I speak frankly ' ' You always did,' answered Elvira with a faint smile. ' You are a mother now, and understand me, my dear. A mother !' he repeated, looking at her childish features with a comical wonder. ' You flbotber anb Cbilb 7 don't look twenty, but I believe you are twenty four.

How old is the child ?' ' Just six years old. ' ' Was your husband good to you ?' asked Mr. Rayner brusquely. ' Yes, most good ; and if he had not been I should not tell you,' she ansAvered with petu lance, which made her old friend smile ; but he repented of his question, seeing her cover her face and burst into sobs. ' I wanted nothing, nothing, while I had Gaetano.' Mr. Rayner had always supposed that the Italian painter who had secretly married the rich merchant's daughter was an adventurer, and he was much moved by this grief, which seemed to put things in a new light. ' My poor girl, forgive me. I see he was a good husband, and I am glad of it ; I am glad of it. How could he help loving you, when you gave up everything for him !' Elvira dried her eyes in haste without answering, because she heard her little daughter's voice in the distance calling : ' Mamma, are you there ?

Do you know what Giovanna's goat has done ? It snatched my nosegay out of my hand and wanted to eat it ; my flowers are quite spoiled ! I told it how naughty it was, but it is not at all sorry !' She spoke Italian, which Mr. Rayner under stood fairly well ; he looked with a smile at Elvira, and then turned his eyes with great interest on the child running towards them through the olives in high indignation. His face fell on seeing her near. ' She is not like your family,' he said. ' Not at all,' answered the young mother, and a keen ear might have detected a faint regret in her tone, which echoed that in his. Seeing a stranger, the child stopped short, and then advanced slowly, looking hard at him with the very dark eyes which did not please him. ' Does she not speak English ?' he asked in a gruff tone. ' A little.' ' A little !

What have you been about ? You ought to take her home at once and have her properly brought up. She is the heir of •your family, since your little brother is dead.' ' So she is !' murmured Elvira, who had not yet thought of this; she seemed struck, and not pleasantly. Mr. Rayner, taken up with the idea which he had suggested, did not notice the effect he had produced. 'Yes, you ought to go to your mother's country,' he went on, turning to the child, and flbotber anb Cbilb 9 raising his voice a little, as if he thought this would make her understand better ; ' you must turn into an English girl as fast as possible. Does she follow what I say ?' he asked, looking at Elvira. ' Have you understood, my little girl ?' she asked in English. The child was still looking at Mr. Rayner. ' I do not like this old man,' she answered in Italian, drawing back from the hand which he stretched out to her, trying to induce her to come to him. ' She looks at me as if I were an enemy.

You see that you must take her as soon as possible among your old friends. Upon my word ! I cannot understand your not going home long ago. It is most unfair to this child, and you must want to see your father.' ' Ah, I do !' murmured Elvira, her eyes filling with tears. ' Well,' said her friend joyously, ' that is easily done.' ' What do you mean ?' ' I mean that a few hours would bring him here.' ' Is he in Italy then ?' 'These last four months. I came abroad with them.' The colour which had flushed Elvira's cheeks faded ; the expression of mingled joy and fear vanished from her face, and she said, very coldly : ' " Them " ! Then she is here, too ?' ' Why, yes. Did you suppose your father had left his wife behind ? He came abroad on her account.' ' Ah, that is why he came to Italy !' ' She has been out of health ever since her boy's death,' went on Mr. Rayner, as usual too much occupied with his own train of thought to notice how what he said affected his hearer ; ' and she suffered from the efforts she made to cheer your father — she is a brave woman.

At last she broke down, and of course he wanted her to see every doctor in London ; you know the state of mind he would be in. Well, to make my story short, she was ordered abroad, and she asked me to join them ; said it would be good for your father, and other kind things, and as I always have to escape our east winds, I was glad enough to agree.' ' Ah ! I might have guessed that if my father came to Italy it would be on her account,' said Elvira with bitterness, and this time her com panion caught her meaning. ' That does not hinder their being anxious to /Ibotber anb Cbilb 11 find you. In fact, it was the hope of learning something about you that made your step mother willing to go abroad.' ' Many thanks !' answered Elvira with irony. ' Naturally, she does not want the world to say it is she who has driven me from my father's house.' ' Don't let me hear you talk like that, Elvira.

It is pure nonsense, and a heartless speech besides, and I don't want to believe you heartless.' ' Perhaps I am,' she answered with a faint, cold smile. ' Mr. Rayner ' — and now she spoke imploringly — ' you will not tell them you have seen me ?' ' My dear girl, do you really suppose I can hide it from your father, who is longing to see you ? or not tell him he has a grandchild ? Of course I must. And it seems to me that if he and Mrs. Dalton can overlook the past — in their place I tell you honestly I should find it hard to do so — all you have to do is to be grateful to them.' ' And kneel down and ask pardon,' added Elvira, with a mocking smile. ' Exactly. That is just what you ought to do.' ' Quite so,' she answered, and a cold and obstinate expression overspread her small face. ' All the same, I think you will find it wiser to say nothing about our meeting.' Mr. Rayner looked at her with a gesture of impatience. ' Elvira !' he exclaimed, ' you always were the most spoiled, perverse Why, what o'clock is it ?' he interrupted himself, hearing a clock strike in the little town near. ' What ! what !

I shall miss my train. I walked over the hills from Ospedaletti and lost my way. How on earth am I to manage if I miss this train !' He got up in great haste. ' Think over what I have said, my dear,' he added, standing before her, and looking anxiously into her face. ' Think of it when you say your prayers to night. You are a mother : you ought to understand a child's duty to its parents ; and take care of your health : you are only a shadow of your old self. Good-bye, little girl ; here, take this and buy a doll. We shall see one another again. I shall certainly miss my train.' He hurried away, and Elvira looked after him, feeling as if with him vanished all hold on the old life which she recollected Avith a great longing — the life when she had been so in dulged and prosperous and important, while /Ibotber anb Cbilb 13 now she Avas only the widow of Gaetano Nicco lini, a portrait-painter who had not even lived long enough to make himself a name.

So keen a pang of mortification struck her that she sprang up to beg him once more to be silent as to their meeting, but he was already out of sight, hastening to the little station in such a flurry lest he should be late that it was not till he had taken his ticket, with some minutes to spare, that he recollected he had not asked Elvira where she lived. ' Blockhead !' he said to himself. ' But it does not matter ; it will be easy to find her in this small place. What could induce her to bury herself here ? Perhaps to keep out of the way of any English. What a wrong-headed creature ! Obstinate and weak, just as she used to be ! Spoiled, spoiled from the cradle — that is where it is ! And the child, nothing but a little Italian ! A handsome girl though. High time she was in an English home.

I can't think Ellie will refuse to go back ; she is not perverse enough for that. No, of course she will go back, and her stepmother will soon win her heart. Things must come right now.'

Chapter II

A YOUTHFUL ARTIST. Little Niccolina's eyes had followed Mr. Rayner with a far from friendly look. 'Why did that old gentleman scold you, mammy ?' she asked. Her mother made no reply, but rose to go indoors, and when the child pulled her dress, repeating her question, answered with a tired voice : ' Do not worry me, Lina ; my head aches very much.' The little girl was used to such replies ; she was silent for a moment, then she for got an ailment known to her only by name, and skipped along beside her mother, chattering and trying to make her look at every butterfly and lizard that crossed their path. She observed everything, enjoyed everything ; she was running over with joyous life, while the young mother, a pale shade in her deep a l^outbsul artist 15 mourning, seemed indifferent to all around her, and moved silently towards the little villa which she occupied with the child and an old servant, hired for the season.

But there was an obstinate will in that frail body and a great pride, or perhaps rather a vanity, which just then was strongly roused, stung and mortified by certain things said by her old friend, who among many excellent qualities had not the precious gift of tact, and unawares had produced quite another effect than the one he had intended. She was reflecting so deeply that if she replied to the child it was without knowing what she said, but she became dimly aware that Lina was asking leave to stay in the little garden. ' Stay if you like,' she answered, glad to dispose of her, and went indoors, while Lina ran to look at a nightingale's nest built near the ground, in the branches of a red geranium. She came there daily without ever touching the nest ; she loved animals and insects, and had no fear of any.

Now she came up very softly, stretching out her neck to see better, and her little face lighted up with pleasure on seeing the bird upon its nest. The creature looked at her with its bright eyes, seeming to recognise her as a friend, and after a moment she withdrew as quietly as she had come, happy and satisfied, to seek some new entertainment. An odd collection of empty snail-shells and pebbles of many shapes and colours was presently heaped up in her frock and carried to a shady corner, where she knelt down and arranged them in angles, crosses, curves and squares, quite wrapped up in her occupation, and showing a perception of colour and shape far from common in a child, or, indeed, in a grown-up person. She had inherited it from her father. When her mother wanted to make her happy on a wet day she had only to give her a piece of paper and a pencil, and she would draw for an hour at a time, and ask for nothing else ; but though glad to keep her quiet, Elvira did not see this gift with satisfaction, and took no interest in it.

She did not care to be reminded that her husband had been only a nameless artist. Although exceedingly jealous of any inter ference with her little daughter, Elvira was not fond of children, and soon was weary of their presence, and her bad health made their restless spirits and constant questions a trial to her. If she could have managed it, she would have liked to keep her little girl in a nursery, with an English nurse to be answerable for a ]2outbful Hrtist 17 her ; as it was, she let her spend a good deal of time alone, as she was doing now. Lina was very happy alone ; she had never had play fellows, and found amusements for herself; but it was not at all an Italian way of bringing her up. No Italian child would have been thus sent out to play by herself, with neither mother nor maid to look after her.

This style of education greatly shocked Lina's grandmother, the Signora Niccolini, or, as she was always called, Sora Ersilia, and she had said so very plainly, all the more that she was disposed to judge her English daughter-in-law severely for other reasons ; but Elvira replied curtly that she meant to bring up her daughter in the English way, and liked her to be independent. ' No doubt it spares you trouble,' Sora Ersilia returned sarcastically. Elvira resented her observations, and, as it had always been her habit to escape from any thing that annoyed her, she went away with Lina, and established herself near the little Riviera town where Mr. Rayner had found her. Her mother-in-law had vainly urged that the right place for a young widow was with her husband's family, if she did not return to her father, and that her weak health required the care of some experienced person.

Elvira knew that it was only a sense of duty and no wish to keep her that made Sora Ersilia urge her to remain ; she was not at all at ease or happy among her husband's family, and she was alarmed by the rights they assumed over Lina. Her health really needed a milder climate than that of Tuscany, and she could back herself by doctors' orders to go to the Riviera. With the bitter sense that she had made a failure of her life hot within her, she had chosen a place where she was most unlikely to meet anyone who had known her formerly, and also one where living was cheap. She had a small income, which seemed ample in Italian eyes, but to herself she appeared very poor indeed. However, it made her quite independent of her husband's family. She had passed the winter alone, glad to be away from her mother and sisters-in-law, but growing weaker and sadder each month.

She was tired of living, and full of bitterness. ' If my father had not married again everything would have gone right,' she thought constantly ; and her dislike of the stepmother whom she had only once seen grew and grew, although she longed intensely to return to the comforts and shelter of her old home. a Jfloutbful artist 19 When Lina had finished playing with her pebbles she got up, and stood thinking what to do next. Seeing a heap of sand, she ran to it, and strewed handful after handful on the path, smoothed it doAvn with her little hands, and then with a stick traced in it something in tended to be the portrait of Mr. Rayner. She smoothed it out several times with her stick and hands, stamping with impatience at not satisfying herself, and frowning with anxiety until she succeeded in obtaining a certain likeness to the neat little old gentleman.

While most children would have been contented to produce no matter what caricature, Lina already criticised her work, and was not easily contented. At length she considered the portrait finished ; she stood up and looked at it with satisfaction ; then, taking her stick, and gesticulating with one little brown hand, she exclaimed : ' That is you, ugly old man ! and now I will punish you for making mammy cross — there !' — planting the stick in the right eye — ' and there !' — putting out the left one. ' Now you can never see any more how to come here ; and that is going into your mouth to teach you not to say nasty things ; and now you are dead ' — wiping it all out — ' and buried,' as she poured a lapful of sand over the spot where had been the likeness of poor Mr. Rayner. Satisfied with this vengeance, she went indoors to find the maid, and presently came into the sitting-room where her mother lay on a sofa, full of unhappy thoughts, to ask if she might have a boiled egg for her supper. ' Speak English ; I am sick of Italian,' said Elvira impatiently. ' I — desire — an egg — to drink,' said the child, seeking her words and translating literally. ' An egg to drink !

That is not English,' said her mother with irritation, but she had not energy enough to set it right, and Lina looked at her and was silent. Presently Pempina, the maid, brought the supper ; she had cooked need, and the egg for Lina. Need are made of chestnut flour, and eaten alone or with cheese or sausages, as hot as they can be swallowed. It is a favourite Italian dish, but Elvira did not like them at all ; in fact, she disliked Italian cookery in general, and she was not able to eat what she disliked, for her appetite was feeble and fitful. Moreover, Pempina's cookery was not tempting. Even had Elvira knoAvn how to improve it, which she did not — her ignorance of all household matters scandalized Sora Ersilia — Pempina a artist 21 would not have let her interfere. She was a perverse old woman, and would only go her own way.

Elvira had several times told her not to cook need, but she paid no heed. Need were an excellent dish ; if the mistress did not like them, so much the worse for her ; other people would eat them. Elvira hardly touched her supper, but Lina ate with good appetite, chattering and chirping like the cicalas outside. ' I saw a biacco ' (harmless snake) ' in the garden,' she said all at once. ' You will not tell ? I won't have it killed. I like snakes. Do you, mammy V ' Yes,' answered Elvira, without attending, or she would certainly have given an emphatic negative. ' Mammy, have you got a father ?' Elvira heard this time and started, ' What makes you ask ?' she said. ' That ugly old man said so. ' ' What ! You understood ?' exclaimed Elvira, dismayed ; and then, hoping to turn the child's mind away from the subject, she added in a tone of reproof : ' Mr. Rayner is not an ugly old man.

You are very naughty to call him so.' ' But have you a daddy, mammina f Knowing how tenacious was the child when bent on having an answer, Elvira made a sign of assent. ' And a mamma ? ' She is dead.' ' Like my daddy. Do you think they are in Paradise, or in that other place, deep, deep down, that Mariuccia told me about ' — Mariuccia was her grandmother's Tuscan maid — ' or perhaps on the great mountain where people go before they are let into Paradise. A man went there alive — he was a Florentine, like Mariuccia, but I do not know if she knew him — and when he came back he told Avhat he had seen. There was a picture of him in a book ; papa showed it me.' ' I do not know what you are talking about.' ' He went to the mountain,' Lina continued, unheeding, ' and there he saw great kings and lords, and there were some who had to go almost on hands and knees, slowly, slowly, all round it, carrying great stones, to punish them for having been too proud ; and others were weep ing, with their eyes sewn up ; those were envious people — but how did they cry if their eyes were sewn up ?' ' What nonsense !' said Elvira, who had never read Dante's great poem.

Probably Mariuccia had not read it either, but the Florentine a l)outbsul artist 23 people have no need to read the ' Divina Corn media ' in order to know it. ' It is not nonsense !' retorted the little one indignantly. ' It is true. The man was called Dante, and he also went down, down, under the earth, and he saw such dreadful things that when he came back his face was so sad and dark that the people who saw him go by used to say : " Look at the man who has been down to hell !" Mariuccia told me.' ' Nonsense,' repeated Elvira. ' Mariuccia ought not to tell you such silly stories.' ' I love Mariuccia,' said the child, looking at her mother under her black eyelashes. ' She is never too tired to play Avith me. I want to go back to nonna (grandmamma) and my aunts.' ' Are you very fond of them ?' ' Yes.