(Copyright Story.) The Winner of the Prize.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIII, Issue XXVI, 24 December 1904, Page 9

(Copyright Story.) The Winner of the Prize.

AN ITALIAN STORY.

By

JOSEPH HOCKING.

’(Author of “Flame of Fire,” “Follow the Gleam,” “All Men are Liars,” etc.)

“What is this place. Signore? Is it possible you have never heard? Why, not even San Marco in Venezia or Giotto’s Tower in Firenze or even la chiesa del San Giovanna in Rome is more renowned. Scusi Signore, but you surprise me. What! Never heard of the Easter Races at Purungo! Ah, but you have not lived in London?”

“Yes,” I replied, "Tm a Londoner. I have lived there for many years.” “Then Signore has not come to Italy often?”

“Yes, I generally come each year.” “But not to Purungo.” “No, not to Purungo. This is my first visit here.”

“Still I am surprised, that you have not heard of the Easter Races. They are renowned, Signore. People come to them from Firenze, from Pisa, yes, even from Rome itself. And ho wonder. Italy lias no finer sight to show. Ah, you should be here then, Signore, Yon say Purittigo is beautiful now; but then, ah! you should see it then. Then the flags fly, then the streets are decorated, ail the shops are (dosed. Ko one works that day, no not one. All the children are here, all, all! 4s for the Hignoriaas, —ah, but they all come, all, all! Beauty! But you do not know, Signore. In 'Juscany we have the beauty of Italy, and in Purungo we have all the beanty of Tifscany. So what would you? ’ And they come from miles around, all in their best attire. Ah. but the Stgnbrinas rival the glory of the sky, they are more splendid than the flowers that grow on the slopes below Valambxosa. No wonder many come from Rome to behold! ”

I could not help being amused, and although I did my best to hide my expression of amusement I am afraid I was not altogether successful. "Ah, you smile, Signore, but wait till next week. You will see for yourself thqn. You see this square: well, the horses course around here. The ground as you see does not form a perfect square, tlie pmzza is so much longer than it is wide. That makes the race so much more difficult, for that end being narrow, well; the tnrnfng has to be sudden; moreover-, if this is not done with great skill the horses dash into the wall yonder, and both they and their riders are killed. Ah! more than one brave fellow has been killed at that corner.”

My attention was naturally drawn to the spot to which he pointed, and I saw how true his words might be, for the end of the square to which he pointed •was narrow, and the turnfings were sudden. Indeed ft seethed to me that a horse going nt full speed must rush headlong upon the high stone wall, and thus be dashed to death.

The square in which we stood was called the Piazza della Santa Maria, and was situated in the heart of the little town of Purungo in Tuscany. Ou the One side was a high wall, on the top of ■which was a promenade, and on which •were now placed seats for spectators at the coming races. At the other side was a row of houses, and at each end also was a high stone wall. The square was not large. Perhaps it was two hundred yards long by forty yards wide, and in the midst thereof were gay flower beds. The racecourse could not be more than about forty or fifty feet wide, where several horses wire to run abreast, each taking turns as to which should run on the inside and the outside of the circle.

“Yon see,” went on my companion, a black-eyed young Italian of about itwenty-eight. years of age, “the rtce is open to all Italy, and tiie winner in the great race is, well ” and theu he stopped iu. though words were altogether in•Uflicient to express his feelings, “He is made much of,” I suggested. ■•‘A&le much of, Signore! He is almost! made a god of, especially if he be » Purungo man. Whoever wins the final race —ah, but nothing denied him. No woman would say no to the man

who wins that race, and who at the same time asked iier to be his wife. Why think, Giovanni Lueano was but poor, and not good to look upon, yet did the Mayor’s only daughter, who had despised him up to this time, willingly become his bride when he had won it. How could she help it? Was he not the talk of Italy? was not every highborn dame for miles around ready to kiss his hand? Ah, I know, no man better!” I saw his lips tremble as he spoke, and he dashed the back of his right hand across his eyes as if to wipe away his tears. “And have you ever ridden in one of these races?” I asked. “But last year. Signore.” “And you won?” “No, I did not win!” “Ah!” “No, I did not win, he won,” and he pointed to another young fellow about his own age who was theu passing by. “He won?” “Ay, he won, he won,” and there was a far-away look in his eyes. “Tell me about it,” I said. “Ah, but would you eare to hear?” “I would indeed. Is there a story attached to the race? Did you both love the same maid? Tell me.” “But how did you know, Signore?” “It is true then; you loved the same maid, and you ran the race, and he won both the race and her. Is that it?” His eyes flashed fire, and he turned in the direction whither his rival had first gone, but he did not speak. “Ah,” I thought, “now I shall have a story of an Italian’s hatred, and an Italian’s revenge. This of itself should be worth coming to Italy for,” and the whole plan of the thing spread itself out before my eyes in a moment. Here were two hot-headed Italian youths in love with the same black-eyed maid. Possibly she had been coy to both, but determined to bestow her hand upon the winner of the race. They as a consequence hated each othef like poison, and when the other man had won it, my companion made up his mind to have revenge.

“Tell me,” I said, “your story should be interesting.” "Yes,” he said, and I thought his voice grow hard, “yes, ills interesting,” and again he looked towards the retreating figure of the man with a strange look in his eyes, but he did not speak again. “He seems a fine fellow,” I said, trying to make him speak further. “He must be a formidable rival. Doubtless you hate him!"

“Ay, he is a strong man,” he said, “strong as a young lion, and he has nerves of steel. Yes, steel! We were always rivals. We fought as boys, and fenced, and performed feats of strength together, and he generally won.” "No wonder you hate him,” I suggested.

“Hate him! Signore!” and I felt I would not like to meet the man alone on a dark night. “And did he strive fairly honourably? Did he ever take mean advantages? ’ 1 said, doing my best to put the thought in my mind in understandable Italian.

“Fairly! Honourably!” he cried, “ah, but I will tell you the whole story. Signore. Then you will know. He was better born than I, better house,’ better educated. He wore better clothes, aud was better looking.” “No,” I said, “not better looking.” He bowed. “You compliment me highly, Signore, for he is said by some to be the handsomest man in Tuseanny. His father is rich, aud he bears an old name. What would you? He is called Luca della Robbia, and is said to be a descendant of the great artist. His father is a marble merchant, and he has great quarries, and keeps vessels of his own to send the wondrous things he carves all over the world. You see that great white jialazzo on: the hillside? That is his father’s, and Luca will have it some day.

He will have the proudest position in Tuseanny. As for me—well, I am only I*aolo Bianeo, and my father is a sculptor. Not that I am of the people’ Signore. My mother was of the Fontane family, and she brought my father the Fontane house and farm as a dowry; but it is nothing like Palazzo Robbia. Still my mother’s blood made it possible for Luca and 1 to go to the same school —it enabled me to have him as a playmate.

“I did not mind him being cleverer than I, or sharper than I, or handsomer than I—nay, nor was he always sharper and cleverer than I. There were times when I beat him. But presently 1 cast my eyes upon Beatrice del Verona, and I loved her. Ah, Signore, I loved her, and the moment I discovered 1 loved- her, I knew that he also loved her.” “And she was very beautiful?” I said, growing more and more interested in his story.

“Bcllissima, Signore. Ah, but you do not know! 1 thought first she favoured me, and then I thought she favoured him. I asked my father to plead for the hand of Beatrice for me. He did, and the Signore del Veroua said that he would allow his daughter to choose for herself. English fashion, Signore, English fashion! He also told my father that Signore Della Robbia had a=ked for Beatrice for Luca, so you see howthings stood.

“I believed Beatrice loved me best. Oh, yes, 1 believe she did, but what would you? I did not own the Palazzo Robbia, I did not possess an income of 200.000 lire a year, 1 had to work, to work for my bread. I am an artist, Signore, a sculptor.

“One day Beatrice asked me if I was going to ride in the Spring races, and I said yes, for I had trained a horse on the Fontane farm, a horse so good that even Luca had not a belter.

“‘Ah,’ she said, ‘Luce* della Robbia is also going to ride in the races.’

“I looked into her eyes and I knew what she meant. I had asked her for her love, and this was her answer. If I won, I knew that 1 coidd ask for nothing in vain; but if Luca won—well, even although she loved me the best, she could not refuse him. For what maid can refuse the hand of the man who wins against all Italy in the Spring races. She might have refused the winner if he came from Napoli, or Genoa, or Lombardy, although that would be difficult; but one from Purungo, and that one Luca della Robbia, he who bore, the best

beloved name in Italy. Ah. no! That would be impossible. Mid yet I believed »he loved me the best—yes, 1 believed that. “ 'And if I win in the great nice, Beatrice?’ I said. “Then, Signore, she looked at me, and her eyes grew soft and velvety, aud I knew! I knew! ".‘But if Luca wins?’ I said, scarcely daring to keep my eyes on her, ‘what then ?’ “‘Then he will he the better man, Paolo,’ she said, ‘then my father would not say him nay.’ “ ’And if your father said yes,’ I replied. “T should have to obev him,’ she replied. “Ah, Signore, you can see how things stood now, and you will not wonder that I went back to the stables and took my horse Carlo out to try his speed, his steps, and his staying power. No man could be more careful of his greatest treasure than I was him. No mother ever tended a sick child like I tended Carlo. I would allow no one else to groom him, or feed him; I did it all. “Then I bated Luca, my life-long friend, and he hated me, for" both of us loved Beatrice to distraction. He knew that no rider in Italy besides myself could heat him, and I knew that I need fear no one but him. And we both loved the same woman.

"For weeks we never looked each other in the eyes, and although I blush to th:nk of it now. Signore, I schemed how I could get his horse Leone lamed, or made unfit for the race. But grazia a Dio, 1 did nothing, no I did nothing. For how could 1? The Beatrice I loved was as pure and as holy as the Beatrice whom Dante loved’; and so if I won her unfairly I should for ever be ashamed to look into her eyes. No one knows, Signore, how u pure woman can keep u man from selling himself to the devil.

"And yet we hated each other. Grande Dio, how we did hate each other! Every time I passed him I thought of the devil, and I longed to drive my stillctto into his heart. As for him. Ah, if you had seen his eyes you would know. “When it became known that we wore both going to ride in the great race, there was much excitement, for every one knew what it meant.. Beatrice was not the first woman who had been won on this Square, nay nor will she be the hist. Many a proud woman in Pu-

rvngo learnt to love a man as he eon the victory here. How eould she help! Nay, every woman regards it an honour to be eh o sen by the victor on rueh a day, for the eyes of all Italy in upon her, in (envy and admiration. ■'Thus Beatrice' was not the only woman who thought of us. More than one, ay, more than ten of the fairest maids of Tuscauny wondered whether the winner would think of them! "No one seemed to doubt that one of ns would win in the great race. As all men said, ‘lt will be either Paolo or Luca; but which?’ And as I heard them debate nmorig : themselves, I set my teeth together and swore that it should be I.

“Ah, Signore, but excitement ran high as the day drew near. The Italians, as yon know, are great gamblers, and thousands of lire were staked on the result of the race, but no stake was as great as mine. I tan not for money; but for the woman 1 loved.

"Not that great money prizes were not given. Bather two thousand lire were to be given for the man who came in first in the great race, but as I say, I thought not of that. I never gambled. 1 have seen its evil, I ran for love, and the stake was a life-time’s happiness. If I won there could be no happier man in Italy than I. If I lost! but you can imagine, S’gnore! “At last the day came, and the crowds gathered. There were thousands and tens of thousands of people from all over Italy. It was a great festa for the town. First of all as many as eould went to the great cathedral to pray, for it is a religious festa. Signore, and much of the money goes to the Chiesa. Besides, the clergy came to the race, and cheered like mad. All the town was. gaily decorated, and every man, woman and- child had holiday. “At first the interest was not so keen. They were only little races. Boys eould win them. Old men eould •win them, so 1 took rib notice, but presently the grand race came on. “Oh ray heart did beat, while my brain was on fire! I saw Luca there, seated on his horse Leone, and never did I see the weak points of my own Carlo as I did then. I was sure that -Leone stood half a hand higher, I feared he had most staying power.

"The conditions of the race were simple. Only ten riders could compete, and every competitor must have in previous years won other raees. That was simple enough as far as Luca and I were concerned, for we had won races from boyhood. Then we were to g? around the course ten fines, changing, and interchanging, so that we should each'take our turn in having the inside and outside of the ground. After that the two who came in first after ten rounds, should run five'rounds for the tinal vietorv.

Well, Luca and I came in first. Everyone expected that, and the others dropped out naturally, and when Luca and I came in neck to neck after the first ten rounds, the people shouted and cheered, but it was nothing but what they ha<l expected. “But then came the great trial. I examined my Carlo and my heart beat high with hope. He was scarcely winded. He tossed h's head proudly as

much .s if to say that what we had done was nothing, and that I might depend on him. I looked around among the seats where the great people of the district sat, and there 1 saw Beatrice, her eyes all shining with excitement, her mouth slightly open, showing the perfect ivory of her teeth. "Ah, Signore, have you ever been in love? Ah. no, you English do not know what love is. You are too eold. too calculating. But I, firande Dio! I loved, and I felt that, all the world would be black if I did not win her. Paradise itself would be poor if Beatrice did not belong to me.

"She waved her hand, but whether it was to me or to Luca I knew not. but Ire thought it was for him, for he smiled back like a man well pleased.

"Well, the race commenced. Three times we went around, and neither seemed to gain advantage. Sometimes he would lead by half a neck, and then I. But in the fourth and fifth round came the struggle. It was then that we had to prove whether Carlo or Leone were the better horse, and whether Luca or 1 were the better man.

"1 gained! Oh. yes. I gained! I heard Luca’s horse panting liehind me, and although 1 heard the whip cracking, and the voice of Luca urging him on. he could not gain on me. 1 used no whip. Why should 1 ? Carlo did not need it. He felt the love fires in iny veins, and he dashed forward.

"Those sharp corners! Ah, they arc difficult to manage, but what then! Neither Luca nor 1 wore babies at horsemanship. and we were riding for the happiness of a lifetime. And I gained! At the starting of the fifth and final round I was ten yards ahead. Ten yards, think of it! -Mv heart beat high. I eould have shouted for joy. 1 came along here, just here. Signore, at full gallop! I had only that sharp, dangerous corner to turn, and the race was won. In truth 1 had it- already. Then. I did not see it. niy eyes were on iny work, but one of the flags which flew from that pole there, the Italian national flag. slipped from its rope and fell fluttering downs. "Did anyone plan it? Hod knows, but 1 do not think so. Anyhow. just as I was turning the corner —1 had nearly turned, else 1 had not been here alive, now—the flag was carried by the breeze right over my head, and it fell upon me, enveloping mv face, so that I could not see.

“Now. you see, Signore. Naturally' I was obliged to slacken speed, and before 1 eould get it from me Luca had dashed ahead of me. My Carlo did his best, and had we another round I believe I should have won, but there was not: and so he came in a full length before me. “Many there were who cried out that Luca had not run the race fairly, and that we sliould ride again, but the judges were much in awe of the owner of the Palazza Robbia, and so he was declared victor.” Paola Bianea stopped and looked at me, as though Ire wondered how his story had affected me. "So Luca won." I said, “that is why you hate him!” “I hate him!” he cried. “Grande Dio no!” “And yet he won the race! And he won the woman you loved!” “You de not know Luca," lie said, “I did not tlien. But we both went to where

she was, and he fell before her. But her ryes were not upon him; H»ey were upon me.

“She had in tferliand the two thousand lire, t for it was she who was to give the prize, ano then the father of Beatrice, who was president of the race, spoke. ‘The prize has been won by Lueadella Bolz bia,’ be said, ‘won against alFcomers. The money is his, and aught else lie may ask is his too.’

“Ah, Signore, you may guess what I felt, for ills meaning was plain, and yet there was great joy in my heart. "Beatrice banded him tlie money, but spoke no word. Luca eouhl have claimed her! Oh, yes, he could. The people had decreed, and he could have claimed her.”

“I saw Luca look at her as he took the money, and then he looked at me. " ‘I have won the race, Signorina,’ he said, almost in a whisper. “ 'Here is the prize,’ she said.

“‘But the prize, Signorina?’ “She did not speak, but again she looked at me. I knew what was in his mind, knew the battle he was fighting. There before him was the woman he loved, the woman to win whom he had run the race. But he felt he had won it by an accident, felt too that her eyes were eold when she looked on him. " ‘The prize, Signorina, who has won that?’ "So low was his voice that no one but she and 1 heard it: besides, all the people were ebeering like mad. “Again she looked at me, and as she looked 1 saw that her eyes lieeame soft and velvety. He saw it too, and he had his answer. “Even then he could have claimed her. Even then she would not have said him nav, but Luca had a noble heart.

“He rose to his feet to speak, for this was expected of the winner of the great race, and then a great stillness fell upon the multitude.

“Parlate Voi! Paria Lei!” shouted some one, so he doffed his hat and spoke. “ ‘According to the decision of the judge I have won the prize,’ lie said, and

- his voice rang like a bell throughout ths —septa re, ‘but’ the race would have bees won by Paolo Bianea but for an accident. Therefore'l will take the fnoney, but he will take the real prize, and th* joy!’ * * K '

“Ab, Signore, I know what it eost him to say that, and I fell on his neck and embraced him. Everyone knew What it meant, and everyone knew it was just.”

■ “And so you won the Signorina?” 1 said eagerly. He laughed. “The Signore has , promised to coin* and look at my work.” he said. “If Signore will I will introduce him to the Signora Bianco.” A few miintes later, we stood together in a pleasant Italian garden, and there I beheld one of the most beautiful women it has ever been my fortune to see. In the garden also was a nurse who carried a baby in her arms. The woman looked up as we entered, and then gave a glad look as she saw my companion.

“I have just been telling the Signore Inglese about the race last year, Carlesima mia,” he said. She looked at me again, then at her husband: and as I saw the liglit in her eyes I had no doubt as to who had won the prize in the great race.