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The Eternal City, a novel by Hall Caine |
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Part 3. Roma - Chapter 9 |
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_ PART THREE. ROMA CHAPTER IX It was the sweetest morning of the Roman winter. The sun shone with a gentle radiance, and the motionless air was fragrant with the odour of herbs and flowers. Outside the gate which leads to the old Appian Way grooms were waiting with horses, blanketed and hooded, and huntsmen in red coats, white breeches, pink waistcoats, and black boots, were walking their mounts to the place appointed for the meet. In a line of carriages were many ladies, some in riding-habits, and on foot there was a string of beggars, most of them deformed, with here and there, at little villages, a group of rosy children watching the procession as it passed. The American and English Ambassadors were riding side by side behind a magnificent carriage with coachman and tiger in livery of scarlet and gold. "Who would think, to look on a scene like this, that the city is seething with dissatisfaction?" said the Englishman. "Rome?" said the American. "Its aristocratic indifference will not allow it to believe that here, as everywhere else in the world, great and fatal changes are going on all the time. These lands, for example--to whom do they belong? Nominally to the old Roman nobility, but really to the merchants of the Campagna--a company of middlemen who grew rich by leasing them from the princes and subletting them to the poor." "And the nobles themselves--how are they faring?" "Badly! Already they are of no political significance, and the State knows them not." "They don't appear to go into the army or navy--what do they go into?" "Love!" "And meantime the Italian people?" "Meantime the great Italian people, like the great English people, the great German people, and the people of every country where the privileged classes still exist, are rising like a mighty wave to sweep all this sea-wrack high and dry on to the rocks." "And this wave of the people," said the Englishman, inclining his head toward the carriage in front, "is represented by men like friend Rossi?" "Would be, if he could keep himself straight," said the American. "And where is the Tarpeian rock of friend Rossi's politics?" The American slapped his glossy boot with his whip, lowered his voice, and said, "There!" "Donna Roma?" "A fortnight ago you heard his speech on the liveries of scarlet and gold, and look! He's under them himself already." "You think there is no other inference?" The American shook his head. "Always the way with these leaders of revolution. It's Samson's strength with Samson's weakness in every mother's son of them." "Good-morning, General Potter!" said a cheerful voice from the carriage in front. It was Roma herself. She sat by the side of the little Princess, with David Rossi on the seat before them. Her eyes were bright, there was a glow in her cheeks, and she looked lovelier than ever in her close-fitting riding-habit. At the meeting-place there was a vast crowd of on-lookers, chiefly foreigners, in cabs and carriages and four-in-hand coaches from the principal hotels. The Master of the Hunt was ready, with his impatient hounds at his feet, and around him was a brilliant scene. Officers in blue, huntsmen in red, ladies in black, jockeys in jackets, a sea of feathers and flowers and sunshades, with the neighing of the horses and yapping of the dogs, the vast undulating country, the smell of earth and herbs, and the morning sunlight over all. Don Camillo was waiting with horses for his party, and they mounted immediately. The horse for Roma was a quiet bay mare with limpid eyes. General Potter helped her to the saddle, and she went cantering through the long lush grass. "What has your charming young charge been doing with herself, Princess?" said the American. "She was always beautiful, but to-day she's lovely." "She's like Undine after she had found her soul," said the Englishman. The little Princess laughed. "Love and a cough cannot be hidden, gentlemen," she whispered, with a look toward David Rossi. "You don't mean...." "Hush!" Meantime Rossi, in ordinary walking dress, was approaching the horse he was intended to ride. It was a high strong-limbed sorrel with wild eyes and panting nostrils. The English groom who held it was regarding the rider with a doubtful expression, and a group of booted and spurred huntsmen were closing around. To everybody's surprise, the deputy gathered up the reins and leaped lightly to the saddle, and at the next moment he was riding at Roma's side. Then the horn was sounded, the pack broke into music, the horses beat their hoofs on the turf and the hunt began. There was a wall to jump first, and everybody cleared it easily until it came to David Rossi's turn, when the sorrel refused to jump. He patted the horse's neck and tried it again, but it shied and went off with its head between its legs. A third time he brought the sorrel up to the wall, and a third time it swerved aside. The hunters had waited to watch the result, and as the horse came up for a fourth trial, with its wild eyes flashing, its nostrils quivering, and its forelock tossed over one ear, it was seen that the bridle had broken and Rossi was riding with one rein. "He'll be lucky if he isn't hurt," said some one. "Why doesn't he give it the whip over its quarters?" said another. But David Rossi only patted his horse until it came to the spot where it had shied before. Then he reached over its neck on the side of the broken rein, and with open hand struck it sharply across the nose. The horse reared, snorted, and jumped, and at the next moment it was standing quietly on the other side of the wall. Roma, on her bay mare, was ashen pale, and the American Ambassador turned to her and said: "Never knew but one man to do a thing like that, Donna Roma." Roma swallowed something in her throat and said: "Who was it, General Potter?" "The present Pope when he was a Noble Guard." "He can ride, by Jove!" said Don Camillo. "That sort of stuff has to be in a man's blood. Born in him--must be!" said the Englishman. And then David Rossi came up with a new bridle to his sorrel, and Sir Evelyn added: "You handle a horse like a man who began early, Mr. Rossi." "Yes," said David Rossi; "I was a stable-boy two years in New York, your Excellency." At that moment the huntsman who was leading with two English terriers gave the signal that the fox was started, whereupon the hounds yelped, the whips whistled, and the horses broke into a canter. Two hours afterwards the poor little creature that had been the origin of the holiday was tracked to earth and killed. Its head and tail were cut off, and the rest of its body was thrown to the dogs. After that flasks were taken out, healths were drunk, cheers were given, and then the hunt broke up, and the hunters began to return at an easy trot. Roma and David Rossi were riding side by side, and the Princess was a pace or two behind them. "Roma!" cried the Princess, "what a stretch for a gallop!" "Isn't it?" said Roma, and in a moment she was off. "I believe her mare has mastered her," said the Princess, and at the next instant David Rossi was gone too. "Peace be with them! They're a lovely pair!" said the Princess, laughing. "But we might as well go home. They are like Undine, and will return no more." _ |
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