The lilies of Florence : and other stories and legends

Front matter

For INFANTS and CHILDRE^^

** Castoria is so well adapted to children that I recommend it as superior to any prescription known to me.”

H. A. Archer, M. D.,

Contents

THE LILIES OF FLORENCE : page

I. — Born of the Lilies, ii

11. — The Charcoal Sketch, • . • • • .21

I. Born Of The Lilies

Midnight.

The streets of Florence wet with a drenching rain.

Now and then a gleam of lightning from the surrounding hills, and a rumble of thunder.

The storm had passed, and had surrendered the city to darkness and silence.

Above the drip, drip, drip of the wet trees and walls, old Lucrezia heard another sound. It was a moan — as of one sleeping with a weight on his breast.

The lights burned dimly in the old Etruscan palace, and as Lucrezia leaned on her withered elbow, and looked into the adjoining room, she could see little Fritz tossing about on his couch.

She left her bed and hurried to his side. He was sleeping, but some disturbing dream was robbing him of rest. Unintelligible words occasionally came from his quivering lips.

The touch of her hand upon his brow did not awaken him, though he began breathing more naturally, and his hands ceased reaching out after some unseen object.

Lucrezia watched him for several minutes, and after the W’eary look on his face was replaced by a smile of childish happiness, she returned to her bed.

Oh, papa,” he said in the morning. had such a wonderful dream last night.”

Did you ? ” answered Count Ahmberg, somewhat gruffly. ^‘You are like your mother. She was always having wonderful dreams. Her head was so full of romantic nonsense that I sometimes wearied of her. The same Italian taint seems to be in your blood. I had

THE LILIES OF FLORENCE.

hoped that you might escape it, and so be sensible. It is a mistake for a German to wed an Italian.’*

Say, rather,” said Lucrezia, though he did not hear her, ‘‘ that it is a mistake for an Italian to wed a German.”

The boy saw that his father was displeased, but he was too young to understand the full meaning of what had been said. He thought most of his dream. His father, too, was always frowning ; he was used to that.

‘‘ Then you will not listen to my dream ? ” he ventured, after a little while.

Nonsense ! There, don’t whimper. I always indulged the mother, so I suppose I must always indulge the son. Here, come sit on my knee and tell me what you dreamed.”

The Count’s manner failed to dismay the boy, and the little fellow sprang upon his father’s knee with a merry laugh.

Old Lucrezia frowned and gritted her teeth.

‘‘ It was an evil day when my lady wedded you,” she muttered. The winter in your heart sent all the summer from hers. And you were angry, monster, because she died after a year of life with you ! Altro ! The boy is like her, though, and if you can you will kill him the same way.”

The boy was happy enough now, and it is doubtful if he could have been made, just at that time, to agree with Lucrezia. He was permitted to sit upon his father’s knee — the supreme pleasure and honor of his little life !

His happiness, and the joyous light it sent into his brown eyes, annoyed the Count. His gravity, for a moment relaxed, returned.

When are you going to tell me the dream ? ”

‘‘Now, papa.”

“Very well. Begin.”

“You remember that pretty place on the Arno where mamma used to sit and weep. Lucrezia takes me there sometimes, and — and I — weep, too.

“ I thought in my dream that I was there, and that a pretty lady, who said she was my mamma, came and wanted me to go with her.

“ She took hold of my hand, and we walked along together up the Arno. She said she was going to take me to see the daughter of the lilies — a little babe who was to gr(j\v up into a beautiful womnn and be !ny wife.

“We only went a little way before we came to the babe.

She lay in a bed of great white lilies, smiling and holding her hands out to us. Her face and arms were so white and beautiful, and her eyes and hair were brown and soft.

“Just as I stooped to take her up in my arms I thought that you, papa, came and struck me down and cast her from me.

“ Then there was great trouble, and some one — mamma, perhaps — smoothed my hair and stroked my face.

“ Tliere were storms, and war, and angry words, and finally I thought I was grown up — a man — and that the babe had grown into a maiden, more beautiful than ever, and was lying on my bosom.

“ Then I opened my eyes. The sun was shining through the clouds on the very spot where I dreamed that the babe lay in the lilies.

“ Let me go there with Lucrezia this morning, and find the babe and bring her home. Will you, papa ?

“ Yes.’' And the Count turned to Lucrezia. “ Go with this young fool and show’ him that dreams hold nothing in them but moonshine. If you teach him the right lesson from this folly I may some day be able to forget that he is not wholly a German. Go with him at once and let this thing end.”

Then he left the breakfast room, angrily, and with as much haste as seemed consistent with his sense of dignity.

“ Oh, nurse — oh, Lucrezia,” moaned the boy, “ tell me why papa is so angry.”

She shook her head.

Her face was very grave as she replied :

“ Perhaps it is because you are your mother’s son.”

Irony is lost on a five-year-old boy. Fritz thought only of the dream.

“Is it such a sin to dream, Lucrezia?”

“ Not if you don’t tell your father. You should have told me this dream first.”

“ Why ? ”

“ I should have then hindered your telling him.”

The boy sighed. Caste and nationality are such empty sentiments to children. Right and wrong are simply two kinds of confusion, and life itself is contradictive.

“ Do you think, Lucrezia, that he wdll take the dream-babe away from me if we find her out there in the meadows among the sweet-smelling lilies ?”

Lucrezia’s old eyes filled with tears at his faith in the

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dream. He was thoroughly Italian. None of the father’s cold, Northern blood was in those delicate veins.

Wait, first, child, and see if we find her.”

The boy, gentle enough usually, stamped his little foot impatiently.

“We will surely find her. I know that she is there .waiting for me — just as I dreamed she was.”

Lucrezia smiled.

Such a strange child he was.

So like his beautiful mother, who heard sweet voices everywhere, sang quaint little melodies that nobody had ever heard before, and laughed and kissed her hands to shadows which nobody else could see.

And then — she was always dreaming. Dreams were the same to little Fritz that they always had been to his mother.

Lucrezia hoped that some of his dreams might come true — none of his mother’s ever had.

Such a happy, careless girl she had always been before that stern, hard German count came. Then her sorrow began.

She could not learn to love Count Ahmberg ; but her father bade her wed him, and she was too much afraid of both her father and the Count to disobey.

So she was married.

In a year she was buried.

Her interest in life was quickl)^ gone. Even Fritz, helpless babe as he was, could not keep her. The oil had burned out of her lamp.

Her German husband’s hauteur stilled the wonderful voices she used to hear ; she no longer kissed her little brown fingers to the shadows, and she dared not dream. Life was so heavy upon her dainty shoulders that she cast the burden from her.

“ Come, Lucrezia.”

The boy’s voice startled the old nurse.

“ Come, Lucrezia ; let us go for the babe. The lilies are wet and cold with the rain. She will find my little bed warmer and drier.”

The old woman tottered away with the boy, half in jest and half in earnest.

Along the Arno they went, hand in hand. The meadows were white and sweet with the lilies, the air was warm with the sunshine, and bright colors hung in the clouds above the hills.

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The boy smiled as he walked.

Here is where mamma used to come. The babe is but a little farther on. There ! hark ! I liear it crying now ! ”

Lucrezia held her breath. A child was crying — close at hand. Could it be ? — but no! She laughed. It was only the child of some peasant which had wandered from its mother. She would try to find its home and take it there.

They hastened on.

A few paces farther and they came to a child — a naked female child — lying in the lilies, as Fritz had said.

Still Lucrezia doubted that this forlorn babe had any connection with the dream.

Would it not have been there just the same without the dream ?

Living so long near a matter-of-fact German count had made her sceptical.

See !” shouted Fritz. “ This is the very one mamma said was the daughter of the lilies. Her face, hair, eyes — all are the same. I told you we should find her. Look ! she holds her hands up to me just as she did in the dream ! ’*

And before Lucrezia could prevent him, small and slender though he was, he had caught the child up in his arms and was kissing her. The child crowed, and put her arms about his neck.

Lucrezia searched the meadows over and over again. There was no sign or trace of anyone but the child.

As the grass and the lilies were not trampled — and they would show it they were so wet — the child must have been brought there before the storm.

That seemed almost incredible. The storm would have surely swept the little one into the Arno, she was lying so near its edge, thought Lucrezia.

“What are you looking for, Lucrezia?’' demanded Fritz.

“ For the mother of this little one.”

“ Don’t you know ? Haven’t I told you that she is the daughter of the lilies ? ” he exclaimed, angrily. “ Mamma, who is in heaven and knows everything, told me so in my dream.”

Lucrezia smiled. The boy’s faith in his dream could not be shaken.

“ Now we will go home,” he said. “ Papa will want to see the dream-babe. How very beautiful she is ! ”

i6 THK LILIES OF FLORENCE.

Lucrezia doubted the Count’s pleasure.

The little waif was taken along through the meadows, and through the streets of Florence, to the ancient palace which was the Italian home of Count Ahmberg.

Fritz was happier than he had ever been before in his life. To him the child was a gift from his mother.

The daughter of the lilies ! ” he kept saying. How his mother would have indulged the fancy, thought Lucrezia, had she been living !

When Count Ahmberg came home to dine he met Fritz in the hall with a cynical smile.

Well, you young fool, has this morning’s wallow through the wet lilies impressed you with the shallowness of dreams ? ”

The Count’s words bewildered the boy ; he could only say :

We found her.”

“Did what?”

“ We found her.”

“ Found whom ? ”

“The dream-babe. She was down among the wet lilies — just as I knew she would be.” And then the boy cringed and drew back before the expression which suddenly came upon his father’s face.

“ Lucrezia,” cried the Count, “ what does this imbecile boy mean ? ”

Lucrezia had dressed the dream-babe in a frock which Fritz had once worn. The little one was now sleeping on the boy’s bed.

The old nurse answered the Count’s question by placing the child before him.

He glanced carelessly at the little one, then started from his chair and stood in the middle of the floor.

“ Altro ! ” he exclaimed.

The nurse bit her lip to keep from smiling, The Count had respect for Italian expletives if he had none for Italian people.

His face was pale and he was trembling.

To the nurse and the boy it seemed an age before he spoke.

Finally he cleared his throat.

“ Who is this child ? How came she here ? ”

His agitation afforded Lucrezia the most exquisite pleasure.

Fritz answered the question.

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She is the dream-babe, papa, of whom mamma ''

‘‘Silence, imbecile. Lucrezia, will you answer me?’*

“ So far as the child’s coming here is concerned, J will. I brought her here myself. I do not know who she is.”

He looked at the babe for several minutes. He was angry with himself for betraying his agitation, still he could not control himself.

“You brought her here, Lucrezia?”

“ Yes.”

“ From whence ? **

“From the banks of the Arno.”

“ And you are fool enough, then, to think that this is the babe the boy dreamed about ? **

She shook her head.

“ I do not know.”

“ Altro r

He was regaining his composure.

“You and Fritz are both imbeciles.’*

His voice was harsh and stern again. German blood was once more in the ascendency.

“Very likely,” she said, curtly. “ All Italians are.”

“ Did you tell me you found this brat on the Arno ? ”

“ I did.”

“Why did you not leave her there ? **

She matched his mood. The glitter in her eyes was even colder than that in his.

“ You sent us, Count Ahmberg, to a place which your son had dreamed of. We found a naked child there, exactly as he had dreamed, in a bed of lilies, alone by herself.”

He snapped his fingers.

“And you can give no reason more sensible than this for bringing the vermin here ?**

“It was your son’s will.”

“A most excellent answer.”

Lucrezia jerked her hand impatiently, but did not reply.

When she raised her eyes, she saw that the Count was again staring at the child.

The eyes of little Fritz were full of tears. He was wondering how it would end, and if his father would really take the little one away — as he had dreamed.

Lucrezia was pondering on the Count’s agitation and perplexity.

Why was he so startled when he first saw the dream-babe ? Of whom did that smiling, cooing infant remind 2 i8 THE LILIES OE FLORENCE.

him ? What hidden, perhaps forgotten, page in his life did that little face recall ?

From the Count she looked to the child. It had the features, hair and eyes of her own sunny Italy. Its skin, though, was white as northern snow ; that much was Saxon.

It was not Count Ahmberg’s child. Some unaccountable but unmistakable instinct told her that.

Then a strange gleam shot into her eyes. She was beginning to understand.

If her suspicion was correct, the hand of Providence, even now, was raised to strike that heartless man a telling blow. Justice would be measured out to him from a place higher than the courts. Then she shuddered. Might not the innocent fall with him ? God grant they be beyond his reach when the danger came — he was so bitter and vindictive, and would surely try to destroy others with himself.

The Count sighed. When Lucrezia looked at him, he was aroused from his revery, and was about speaking.

A sudden thought flashed through her mind. She would make a test. His first words should be a symbol — she would judge by them whether she had guessed the truth.

The defiance was all gone from both voice and manner when the Count again spoke. His anger was also gone.

He was more gentle and subdued than she had seen him since one sad morning, years ago, when she had awakened him to tell him that his wife was dead.

Was there nothing about this child, when you found it, to tell you of its parentage ? ”

Had he been looking at her instead of at the child he would have seen an expression of satisfaction and triumph come upon her face. It had vanished before he looked from the child to her. Her test had succeeded. He had given her the symbol.

“ There was nothing. Count.’'

No clothing — no jewel ?”

The child was naked. I searched the river banks for several yards, but there was nothing to tell who left her there.”

Again he sighed.

How old is the child ? ” he asked.

“ About a year.”

‘‘ My God ! ” he exclaimed, it must be hers. But how can it be — how came she here in Italy ?”

It was a strange spectacle — a strong man cowering before an infant.

Lucrezia’s eyes glowed more like coals than ever. She knew the Count’s presumption and his dread.

“ Did you wish me to answer that question, Count ? ”

He glanced at her confusedly, and then left the room without speaking.

Fritz pulled the child from Lucrezia’s lap, and, placing it on the floor, sat down beside it.

Did you see my mamma, dear, when you came down from heaven ? Did she tell you about me ? ”

The dream-babe cooed in a way that Fritz interpreted ‘‘Yes,” and then the two children rolled over on the floor together, and the younger one tried to catch the sunbeams that came flickering in through the trees. Lucrezia did not heed them ; she was thinking of the Count.

“He believes that he knows whose child this is, and so do I,” she muttered. “ If we are right — if this little one is indeed that — that woman’s daughter, the Count’s prophetic curse may have a fulfilment he little expected. What if Fritz’s dream comes true and he does marry this — well, spite marriages have often visited stranger consequences upon better heads.”

Footsteps sounded along the corridor, and presently the Count came in again.

The children still played upon the floor.

“Lucrezia,” he said, “you seem to think the — you understand me — I do not wish to let that accursed name cross my lips. Why do you think that this is her daughter ? ”

“ They look alike.”

He frowned.

“Why did you bring her away from the Arno then ? She might have drowned had you left her there.”

“ You discovered the resemblance first. Count ; and I am no murderess that I should destroy this child, even if it is hers. I have no grudge against the mother. Why should I have one against the daughter — if it be hers?”

“ Are you not in my service ? ”

“ Yes, as nurse to your son — not as assassin of those whom you hate.”

“You speak boldly.”

“ I have nothing to fear.”

The nurse held the supremacy. Try as he would he could not assume the air he wished.

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She watched the struggle which was going on within him, and expected every moment that he would become turbulent.

What was it that held him in check ? She had never before taunted him without stirring up a tempest. He was always a demon when disturbed. Why had he borne her words so passively now ?

She was sure that she had nothing to do with his changed manner.

The influence which had so subjected him must indeed be powerful.

She watched him half in triumph and half in dismay. She was somewhat troubled.

Was he softening toward his son ? If so, her vigil would soon be ended, and the promise which she gave a dead woman — a dead mother — would no longer bind her to a life which had become burdensome, like that mother’s.

Did the dream-babe, for its supposed mother’s sake, so move and sway the Count ? The child, then, was doing that which its mother, not as a babe but as a magnificent woman, had already done.

Perhaps — and now the old nurse’s face grew pale — it was the presence of the dead ! The child-wife might be once more in that chamber where she had died. As a spirit, she might dare to brave that cold man’s stubborn will — she might be wrestling with him.

Lucrezia was afraid to raise her eyes lest she should see the shadow of the dead wife and mother near the man whose harshness had so early ended her life.

She glanced at the children. The sunlight was wavering and flickering upon them through the trees outside the window, and they looked like two cherubs.

The Count moved in his chair. There was a pleasant light in his eyes, and the harsh lines were all gone out of his face.

In her wonderment Lucrezia forgot her supremacy.

“ Lucrezia, what do you think of the boy’s dream ?”

His voice was so gentle that even Fritz noticed it, and paused in his play.

“ Finding the child where we did is certainly remarkable. It was exactly as he said ; the place was the same, the child is the same.”

His voice grew still softer.

“ Do you think my dead wife would like to have her son marry this babe, if she is the daughterof — you understand ?”

“Your wife loved you too devotedly to wish anything else.”

“ And the dream-babe’s supposed mother ; do you think such a wedding would gratify her, living or dead ? ”

“You know it would.”

For a long time he paced up and down the room in silence.

Fritz and the child watched him as they played.

Lucrezia watched the three.

Usually discreet, she then committed the error of supposing that she, by a bit of superstition, could bring about the result for which she was hoping, and which, but for her untimely interference, would probably have come of itself.

“Count,” she said, “in your wife’s family, so they say, each male infant always weds the first naked female infant upon whom he looks. So, you see, fate ”

His whole manner underwent an instant change. His face was livid with rage and he seemed like a fiend.

She had touched the wrong chord, and, appalled at what she had done, she fell in a shivering heap on the floor and watched him in terror.

“ Curse fate ! ” he exclaimed, as he stamped his feet furiously. “ And curse all your idle Italian superstitions ! The child goes into the Arno this hour ! ”

Lucrezia interposed herself, with uplifted hands, betwe,en Count Ahmbergand the children, but he pushed her aside..

Fritz sprang to his feet, caught the child in his arms and tried to hold her fast ; but the Count tore the struggling babe from those brave little arms, and flung the boy to the floor, where he lay with the blood streaming from his mouth.

“You have done murder ! ” screamed Lucrezia.

Her answer was a curse, and an instant later the Count seized the dream-babe by one leg, and, with its head and other members dangling, darted with it out of the room.