CHAPTER X
Two weeks later the picture "Sleep and Death" was finished. Svirski began another which he intended to call "Euterpe." But his work did not advance. He said that the light was too sharp; and for whole sittings, instead of painting, he was looking at the bright face of Panna Cervi. He seemed to be seeking the proper expression for Euterpe. He gazed so persistently that the lady grew red under the influence of his eyes; he felt in his breast an increasing disquiet. At last, on a certain morning, he said suddenly in a kind of strange, altered voice,—
"I notice that you ladies love Italy immensely."
"We and grandfather," answered Panna Cervi.
"I, too. Half my life passes in Rome and in Florence. There the light is not so sharp at present, and it would be possible to paint whole days. Oh, yes! Who could help loving Italy! And do you know what I think sometimes?"
Panna Maria lowered her head, and, opening her lips somewhat, began to look at him carefully, as she always did when listening to him.
"I think that every man has two fatherlands: one his own, the nearer, and the other Italy. Only think, all culture, all art, all science, everything came from there. Let us take, for instance, the Renaissance.… Really, all are, if not the children, at least the grandchildren of Italy."
"True," answered Panna Maria.
"I do not know whether I mentioned that I have a studio in the Via Margutta in Rome, and that when the light becomes too sharp in this studio I am yearning for that one. Here it is—if we should all go to Rome—that would be perfect! Afterward we could go to Warsaw."
"There is no way to carry out that plan," answered Panna Maria, with a sad smile.
But he approached her quickly, and, taking her two hands, began to speak, looking at her with the greatest tenderness in his eyes.
"There is a way, dear lady, there is a way! Do you not divine it?"
And when she grew pale from happiness, he pressed both her palms to his breast and added,—
"Give me thyself and thine—"