Juana | Page 9

under their hereditary shame, the

mother had the courage to renounce her child for her child's sake, and
to seek, not without horrible suffering, for another mother, another
home, other principles to follow, other and saintlier examples to imitate.
The abdication of a mother is either a revolting act or a sublime one; in
this case, was it not sublime?
At Tarragona a lucky accident threw the Lagounias in her way, under
circumstances which enabled her to recognize the integrity of the
Spaniard and the noble virtue of his wife. She came to them at a time
when her proposal seemed that of a liberating angel. The fortune and
honor of the merchant, momentarily compromised, required a prompt
and secret succor. La Marana made over to the husband the whole sum
she had obtained of the father for Juana's "dot," requiring neither
acknowledgment nor interest. According to her own code of honor, a
contract, a trust, was a thing of the heart, and God its supreme judge.
After stating the miseries of her position to Dona Lagounia, she
confided her daughter and her daughter's fortune to the fine old Spanish
honor, pure and spotless, which filled the precincts of that ancient
house. Dona Lagounia had no child, and she was only too happy to
obtain one to nurture. The mother then parted from her Juana,
convinced that the child's future was safe, and certain of having found
her a mother, a mother who would bring her up as a Mancini, and not
as a Marana.
Leaving her child in the simple modest house of the merchant where
the burgher virtues reigned, where religion and sacred sentiments and
honor filled the air, the poor prostitute, the disinherited mother was
enabled to bear her trial by visions of Juana, virgin, wife, and mother, a
mother throughout her life. On the threshold of that house Marana left a
tear such as the angels garner up.
Since that day of mourning and hope the mother, drawn by some
invincible presentiment, had thrice returned to see her daughter. Once
when Juana fell ill with a dangerous complaint:
"I knew it," she said to Perez when she reached the house.
Asleep, she had seen her Juana dying. She nursed her and watched her,

until one morning, sure of the girl's convalescence, she kissed her, still
asleep, on the forehead and left her without betraying whom she was. A
second time the Marana came to the church where Juana made her first
communion. Simply dressed, concealing herself behind a column, the
exiled mother recognized herself in her daughter such as she once had
been, pure as the snow fresh-fallen on the Alps. A courtesan even in
maternity, the Marana felt in the depths of her soul a jealous sentiment,
stronger for the moment than that of love, and she left the church,
incapable of resisting any longer the desire to kill Dona Lagounia, as
she sat there, with radiant face, too much the mother of her child. A
third and last meeting had taken place between mother and daughter in
the streets of Milan, to which city the merchant and his wife had paid a
visit. The Marana drove through the Corso in all the splendor of a
sovereign; she passed her daughter like a flash of lightning and was not
recognized. Horrible anguish! To this Marana, surfeited with kisses,
one was lacking, a single one, for which she would have bartered all the
others: the joyous, girlish kiss of a daughter to a mother, an honored
mother, a mother in whom shone all the domestic virtues. Juana living
was dead to her. One thought revived the soul of the courtesan--a
precious thought! Juana was henceforth safe. She might be the
humblest of women, but at least she was not what her mother was--an
infamous courtesan.
The merchant and his wife had fulfilled their trust with scrupulous
integrity. Juana's fortune, managed by them, had increased tenfold.
Perez de Lagounia, now the richest merchant in the provinces, felt for
the young girl a sentiment that was semi-superstitious. Her money had
preserved his ancient house from dishonorable ruin, and the presence of
so precious a treasure had brought him untold prosperity. His wife, a
heart of gold, and full of delicacy, had made the child religious, and as
pure as she was beautiful. Juana might well become the wife of either a
great seigneur or a wealthy merchant; she lacked no virtue necessary to
the highest destiny. Perez had intended taking her to Madrid and
marrying her to some grandee, but the events of the present war
delayed the fulfilment of this project.
"I don't know where the Marana now is," said Perez, ending the above

history, "but in whatever quarter of the world she may be living, when
she hears of