HIS GRACE AND PEGGY
Although it was not necessary for me to rise early at this place of peace and beauty, the château of Capello, yet, long habit was upon me, and, by sunrise, I was up and dressed and out in the fair, fresh autumn morning. I made straight for the Italian garden, and was not surprised to find Francezka there before me.
She was sitting on the bench by the statue of Petrarch. The hoar frost glittered on the ground, just touched by the shafts of light which were to grow into the great sun. The air was soft and mild, and Francezka had no hat upon her dark hair, but sat wrapped in her crimson mantle.
She was gravely studying the inscription on the statue of Petrarch.
“Life flies apace and tarries not an hour,” she said, translating to me. “Monsieur Gaston Cheverny was mistaken in saying the next line is here—about Death following Life with huge strides. I am glad it is not here—it would be too sad.”
“Whoever placed the inscription here had looked into the serious face of Life which always confronts us,” I said.
Francezka turned on me two laughing eyes.
“Life turns a face all smiles to me now,” she said. “I am glad I am not complete mistress of myself and my possessions yet. One should sip and taste of pleasure before drinking a full draft. My father, you must know, did not have the French idea of marrying me out of hand; and I mean not to marry until I find a man I can not live without. It will be time enough then. And as for being timid—only look at my Aunt Peggy! She does as she likes and has done so all her life; and instead of being herself afraid, everybody is afraid of her—and she is very much esteemed by all who know her.”
I had seen, for long, that Madame Riano’s example was not wasted on her niece, but Francezka, like most young spirits—or rather, all young spirits—knew not how to weigh and compare. Madame Riano had never enjoyed the beauty or the fortune of this young girl, and her youth was safe from the dangers that lie in the path of beauty and riches.