"My dear friend, I intended to talk with you at my house; but my impatience to announce some good news to our friends, who are visiting the marquis, led me to bring you here with us. The whole evening belongs to us, and I can talk with you here as well as elsewhere. But let us go forward noiselessly; we are not expected and I want to surprise them."
The marquis and his guests, after conversing a long time, were still on the terrace looking out upon the sea, where the horizon was ablaze with the last rays of the sun, while the stars appeared one by one in the zenith. Michel was listening with deep interest to the marquis, whose conversation was instructive, albeit always affable and unaffected. What was his surprise when, on raising his head, he saw three persons seated about the table, laden with refreshments, which he had just left to walk to the balustrade, and when, in those three persons, he recognized Agatha, Mila, and Magnani!
At first he had no eyes except for Agatha, and hardly recognized his sister and his friend. The princess was dressed, however, with the utmost simplicity, in a dress of pearl-gray silk, with a guardaspalle of black lace thrown over her head and shoulders. She seemed to him a little less fresh and youthful than she had appeared under the bright lights. But, in a moment, the charm of her manner, her frank smile, her pure and sincere glance, made her seem even younger and more attractive than on the first day.
"Are you surprised to see your dear daughter here?" she asked Pier-Angelo. "But she told you, did she not, that she should not dine alone? And you see! you left her at home, and like Cinderella, she appears in the midst of the fête, resplendent in costume and beauty. As for Master Magnani, he is the enchanter who attends her; but as we are not dealing with Don Magnifico on this occasion, the enchanter will not dazzle the father's eyes so that he will not recognize his cherished daughter. Cinderella therefore can challenge the glances of all present."
As she spoke Agatha raised Mila's veil, and disclosed her radiant as a sun; such is the expression of the legend.
Michel looked at his sister. She was fairly beaming with confidence and joy. The princess had arrayed her in a gown of bright pink silk, with several strings of beautiful great pearls about her neck and arms. A wreath of natural flowers, wonderfully beautiful and arranged with consummate art, crowned her dark face without concealing the abundant treasures of her hair. Her little feet were daintily shod, and her pretty fingers opened and closed Agatha's splendid fan with as much grace and dignity as any marchesina. She was a muse of the Renaissance, a patrician maiden, and a lovely damsel of the South, radiant with health, nobility, and poetic charm.
Agatha looked at her with an air of motherly pride, and smiled lovingly as she talked of her in Pier-Angelo's ear.
Michel then turned his eyes upon Magnani. He was gazing alternately at the modest princess and the lovely silk-spinner of the Catanian suburb with extraordinary emotion. He was no better able than Michel to understand the strange and bewildering dream in which he seemed to be moving. But it is certain that he saw Mila only through a cloud of gold and fire, which emanated from Agatha and was projected upon her young friend as if by magic.
XLI
JEALOUSY AND GRATITUDE
The princess led the marquis and Pier-Angelo aside to tell them that Ninfo was in the Piccinino's hands, and that she had been so informed by an eye-witness of his capture whom she was not at liberty to name.