By a powerful effort he mastered his emotion, referring it to the
impression made upon him by her appearance. He spoke also of sacrifices,
which, even when voluntarily made, painfully wound the heart; of a
self-abnegation which could find its consolation in the happiness of a
friend, but which failed not to leave a sting in the soul that had
cherished fallacious hopes.
Mary understood him, and was grateful for his kindness.
"Thanks, thanks, signor," she said, warmly, as she passed on to salute
other guests.
When Mary approached the piano, and addressed a few kind words to Master
Christian, many Italian gentlemen begged her to favor them with a
canzone.
With her father's permission, the young girl consented to gratify the
guests. She hesitated awhile as to the language in which to sing, and was
turning over the leaves of a book handed her by Master Christian. The old
Deodati expressed a wish to hear a song in the language of the Low
Countries, and begging pardon of the Italian gentlemen, Mary said she
would sing a Kyrie Eleison in her maternal tongue.
Master Christian seated himself at the piano, to accompany her, and
commenced a prelude.
The first notes of the young girl were like a gentle murmur. By degrees
her voice became firmer and stronger, until at the end of each strophe the
word eleïson rose like a sonorous hymn to heaven.
The measure was remarkably slow, simple, and full of a tranquil melody.
Mary evidently felt the peculiar character of this chant, for instead of
endeavoring to add to the effect, she softened still more her singularly
sweet voice, and let the words drop slowly from her lips, as if the
songstress herself were ravished in contemplation and was listening to
celestial music.
At first the Italian gentlemen exchanged glances, as if to express the
thought that this chant could not compare with the brilliant lively style
of the Italian music. But this unfavorable opinion was not of long
duration. They, like all others, soon yielded to the irresistible
fascination of Mary's exquisite voice. They listened with such rapt
attention that not the slightest movement was made in the room, and one
might have heard the murmur of the leaves in the garden as they were
gently stirred by the breeze of May.
Mary had concluded her song and lifted her eyes to heaven with an
expression of adoration. All who gazed upon her felt as though they were
contemplating an angel before the throne of God. Even Simon Turchi was
subdued by admiration, and he even momentarily lost sight of the hatred
and jealousy which lacerated his heart.