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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 01:22:43 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20358-8.txt b/20358-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0dd582d --- /dev/null +++ b/20358-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5577 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jerry Junior, by Jean Webster + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jerry Junior + +Author: Jean Webster + +Illustrator: Orson Lowell + +Release Date: January 14, 2007 [EBook #20358] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JERRY JUNIOR *** + + + + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Louise Pryor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + + Jerry Junior + + + + + [Illustration: "Constance studied the mountains a moment"] + + + + + Jerry Junior + + By + Jean Webster + Author of "When Patty Went to College," etc. + + With Illustrations + by Orson Lowell + + New York + The Century Co. + 1907 + + + + + Copyright, 1907, by + THE CENTURY CO. + + * * * * * + + Copyright, 1906, 1907, by + THE CROWELL PUBLISHING COMPANY + + * * * * * + + _Published April_, 1907 + + + THE DE VINNE PRESS + + + + +List of Illustrations + + FACING PAGE + + "Constance studied the mountains a moment" _Frontispiece_ + + "'Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?'" 5 + + "The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown hair, was + sitting at ease on the balustrade" 23 + + "Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation" 29 + + "He had also shifted his position so that he might command the + profile of the girl" 45 + + Beppo and the donkeys 67 + + "Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of admiration" 71 + + "Constance ahead on Fidilini, an officer marching at each side + of her saddle" 85 + + "She seated herself in the deep embrasure of a window close + beside Tony's parapet" 95 + + "The man bowed with a gesture which made her free of the book" 119 + + "She turned the pages and paused at the week's entries" 133 + + "Constance ripped the letter open and read it aloud" 149 + + "Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and came running + forward to meet them" 199 + + "The two mounted the steps of the jail and jerked the bell" 253 + + "Never before had he had such overwhelming reason to doubt his + senses" 273 + + + + +Jerry Junior + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The courtyard of the Hotel du Lac, furnished with half a dozen tables and +chairs, a red and green parrot chained to a perch, and a shady little +arbor covered with vines, is a pleasant enough place for morning coffee, +but decidedly too sunny for afternoon tea. It was close upon four of a +July day, when Gustavo, his inseparable napkin floating from his arm, +emerged from the cool dark doorway of the house and scanned the burning +vista of tables and chairs. He would never, under ordinary circumstances, +have interrupted his siesta for the mere delivery of a letter; but this +particular letter was addressed to the young American man, and young +American men, as every head waiter knows, are an unreasonably impatient +lot. The court-yard was empty, as he might have foreseen, and he was +turning with a patient sigh towards the long arbor that led to the lake, +when the sound of a rustling paper in the summer house deflected his +course. He approached the doorway and looked inside. + +The young American man, in white flannels with a red guide-book +protruding from his pocket, was comfortably stretched in a lounging chair +engaged with a cigarette and a copy of the Paris _Herald_. He glanced up +with a yawn--excusable under the circumstances--but as his eye fell upon +the letter he sprang to his feet. + +"Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?" + +[Illustration: "'Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?'"] + +Gustavo bowed. + +"_Ecco_! She is at last arrive, ze lettair for which you haf so moch +weesh." He bowed a second time and presented it. "Meestair Jayreen +Ailyar!" + +The young man laughed. + +"I don't wish to hurt your feelings, Gustavo, but I'm not sure I +should answer if my eyes were shut." + +He picked up the letter, glanced at the address to make sure--the name +was Jerymn Hilliard Jr.--and ripped it open with an exaggerated sigh of +relief. Then he glanced up and caught Gustavo's expression. Gustavo came +of a romantic race; there was a gleam of sympathetic interest in his eye. + +"Oh, you needn't look so knowing! I suppose you think this is a love +letter? Well it's not. It is, since you appear to be interested, a letter +from my sister informing me that they will arrive tonight, and that we +will pull out for Riva by the first boat tomorrow morning. Not that I +want to leave you, Gustavo, but--Oh, thunder!" + +He finished the reading in a frowning silence while the waiter stood at +polite attention, a shade of anxiety in his eye--there was usually +anxiety in his eye when it rested on Jerymn Hilliard Jr. One could never +foresee what the young man would call for next. Yesterday he had rung +the bell and demanded a partner to play lawn tennis, as if the hotel kept +partners laid away in drawers like so many sheets. + +He crumpled up the letter and stuffed it in his pocket. + +"I say, Gustavo, what do you think of this? They're going to stay in +Lucerne till the tenth--that's next week--and they hope I don't mind +waiting; it will be nice for me to have a rest. A _rest_, man, and I've +already spent three days in Valedolmo!" + +"_Si_, signore, you will desire ze same room?" was as much as Gustavo +thought. + +"Ze same room? Oh, I suppose so." + +He sank back into his chair and plunged his hands into his pockets with +an air of sombre resignation. The waiter hovered over him, divided +between a desire to return to his siesta, and a sympathetic interest in +the young man's troubles. Never before in the history of his connection +with the Hotel du Lac had Gustavo experienced such a munificent, +companionable, expansive, entertaining, thoroughly unique and +inexplicable guest. Even the fact that he was American scarcely accounted +for everything. + +The young man raised his head and eyed his companion gloomily. + +"Gustavo, have you a sister?" + +"A sister?" Gustavo's manner was uncomprehending but patient. "_Si_, +signore, I have eight sister." + +"Eight! Merciful saints. How do you manage to be so cheerful?" + +"Tree is married, signore, one uvver is betrofed, one is in a convent, +one is dead and two is babies." + +"I see--they're pretty well disposed of; but the babies will grow up, +Gustavo, and as for that betrothed one, I should still be a little +nervous if I were you; you can never be sure they are going to stay +betrothed. I hope she doesn't spend her time chasing over the map of +Europe making appointments with you to meet her in unheard of little +mountain villages where the only approach to Christian reading matter is +a Paris _Herald_ four days old, and then doesn't turn up to keep her +appointments?" + +Gustavo blinked. His supple back achieved another bow. + +"Sank you," he murmured. + +"And you don't happen to have an aunt?" + +"An aunt, signore?" There was vagueness in his tone. + +"Yes, Gustavo, an aunt. A female relative who reads you like an open +book, who sees your faults and skips your virtues, who remembers how dear +and good and obliging your father was at your age, who hoped great things +of you when you were a baby, who had intended to make you her heir but +has about decided to endow an orphan asylum--have you, Gustavo, by chance +an aunt?" + +"_Si_, signore." + +"I do not think you grasp my question. An _aunt_--the sister of your +father, or perhaps your mother." + +A gleam of illumination swept over Gustavo's troubled features. + +"_Ecco_! You would know if I haf a _zia_--a aunt--yes, zat is it. A aunt. +_Sicuramente_, signore, I haf ten--leven aunt." + +"Eleven aunts! Before such a tragedy I am speechless; you need say no +more, Gustavo, from this moment we are friends." + +He held out his hand. Gustavo regarded it dazedly; then, since it seemed +to be expected, he gingerly presented his own. The result was a shining +newly-minted two-lire piece. He pocketed it with a fresh succession of +bows. + +"_Grazie tanto_! Has ze signore need of anysing?" + +"Have I need of anysing?" There was reproach, indignation, disgust in the +young man's tone. "How can you ask such a question, Gustavo? Here am I, +three days in Valedolmo, with seven more stretching before me. I have +plenty of towels and soap and soft-boiled eggs, if that is what you mean; +but a man's spirit cannot be nourished on soap and soft-boiled eggs. +What I need is food for the mind--diversion, distraction, amusement--no, +Gustavo, you needn't offer me the Paris _Herald_ again. I already know by +heart the list of guests in every hotel in Switzerland." + +"Ah, it is diversion zat you wish? Have you seen zat ver' beautiful Luini +in ze chapel of San Bartolomeo? It is four hundred years old." + +"Yes, Gustavo, I have seen the Luini in the chapel of San Bartolomeo. I +derived all the pleasure to be got out of it the first afternoon I came." + +"Ze garden of Prince Sartonio-Crevelli? Has ze signore seen ze cedar of +Lebanon in ze garden of ze prince?" + +"Yes, Gustavo, the signore has seen the cedar of Lebanon in the garden of +the prince, also the ilex tree two hundred years old and the india-rubber +plant from South America. They are extremely beautiful but they don't +last a week." + +"Have you swimmed in ze lake?" + +"It is lukewarm, Gustavo." + +The waiter's eyes roved anxiously. They lighted on the lunette of +shimmering water and purple mountains visible at the farther end of the +arbor. + +"Zere is ze view," he suggested humbly. "Ze view from ze water front is +consider ver' beautiful, ver' nice. Many foreigners come entirely for +him. You can see Lago di Garda, Monte Brione, Monte Baldo wif ze ruin +castle of ze Scaliger, Monte Maggiore, ze Altissimo di Nago, ze snow +cover peak of Monte--" + +Mr. Jerymn Hilliard Jr. stopped him with a gesture. + +"That will do; I read Baedeker myself, and I saw them all the first night +I came. You must know at your age, Gustavo, that a man can't enjoy a view +by himself; it takes two for that sort of thing--Yes, the truth is that I +am lonely. You can see yourself to what straits I am pushed for +conversation. If I had your command of language, now, I would talk to the +German Alpine climbers." + +An idea flashed over Gustavo's features. + +"Ah, zat is it! Why does not ze signore climb mountains? Ver' helful; +ver' diverting. I find guide." + +"You needn't bother. Your guide would be Italian, and it's too much of a +strain to talk to a man all day in dumb show." He folded his arms with a +weary sigh. "A week of Valedolmo! An eternity!" + +Gustavo echoed the sigh. Though he did not entirely comprehend the +trouble, still he was of a generously sympathetic nature. + +"It is a pity," he observed casually, "zat you are not acquaint wif ze +Signor Americano who lives in Villa Rosa. He also finds Valedolmo +undiverting. He comes--but often--to talk wif me. He has fear of +forgetting how to spik Angleesh, he says." + +The young man opened his eyes. + +"What are you talking about--a Signor Americano here in Valedolmo?" + +"_Sicuramente_, in zat rose-color villa wif ze cypress trees and ze +_terrazzo_ on ze lake. His daughter, la Signorina Costantina, she live +wif him--ver' yong, ver' beautiful--" Gustavo rolled his eyes and clasped +his hands--"beautiful like ze angels in Paradise--and she spik Italia +like I spik Angleesh." + +Jerymn Hilliard Jr. unfolded his arms and sat up alertly. + +"You mean to tell me that you had an American family up your sleeve all +this time and never said a word about it?" His tone was stern. + +"_Scusi_, signore, I have not known zat you have ze plaisir of zer +acquaintance." + +"The pleasure of their acquaintance! Good heavens, Gustavo, when one +ship-wrecked man meets another ship-wrecked man on a desert island must +they be introduced before they can speak?" + +"_Si_, signore." + +"And why, may I ask, should an intelligent American family be living in +Valedolmo?" + +"I do not know, signore. I have heard ze Signor Papa's healf was no good, +and ze doctors in Americk' zay say to heem, 'you need change, to breave +ze beautiful climate of Italia.' And he say, 'all right, I go to +Valedolmo.' It is small, signore, but ver' _famosa_. Oh, yes, _molto +famosa_. In ze autumn and ze spring foreigners come from all ze +world--Angleesh, French, German--_tutti_! Ze Hotel du Lac is full. Every +day we turn peoples away." + +"So! I seem to have struck the wrong season.--But about this American +family, what's their name?" + +"La familia Veeldair from Nuovo York." + +"Veeldair." He shook his head. "That's not American, Gustavo, at least +when you say it. But never mind, if they come from New York it's all +right. How many are there--just two?" + +"But no! Ze papa and ze signorina and ze--ze--" he rolled his eyes in +search of the word--"ze aunt!" + +"Another aunt! The sky appears to be raining aunts today. What does she +do for amusement--the signorina who is beautiful as the angels?" + +Gustavo spread out his hands. + +"Valedolmo, signore, is on ze frontier. It is--what you say--garrison +_cittą_. Many soldiers, many officers--captains, lieutenants, wif +uniforms and swords. Zay take tea on ze _terrazzo_ wif ze Signor Papa and +ze Signora Aunt, and most _specialmente_ wif ze Signorina Costantina. Ze +Signor Papa say he come for his healf, but if you ask me, I sink maybe he +come to marry his daughter." + +"I see! And yet, Gustavo, American papas are generally not so keen as you +might suppose about marrying their daughters to foreign captains and +lieutenants even if they have got uniforms and swords. I shouldn't be +surprised if the Signor Papa were just a little nervous over the +situation. It seems to me there might be an opening for a likely young +fellow speaking the English language, even if he hasn't a uniform and +sword. How does he strike you?" + +"_Si_, signore." + +"I'm glad you agree with me. It is now five minutes past four; do you +think the American family would be taking a siesta?" + +"I do not know, signore." Gustavo's tone was still patient. + +"And whereabouts is the rose-colored villa with the terrace on the lake?" + +"It is a quarter of a hour beyond ze Porta Sant' Antonio. If ze gate is +shut you ring at ze bell and Giuseppe will open. But ze road is ver' hot +and ver' dusty. It is more cooler to take ze paf by ze lake. Straight to +ze left for ten minutes and step over ze wall; it is broken in zat place +and quite easy." + +"Thank you, that is a wise suggestion; I shall step over the wall by all +means." He jumped to his feet and looked about for his hat. "You turn to +the left and straight ahead for ten minutes? Good-bye then till dinner. I +go in search of the Signorina Costantina who is beautiful as the angels +in Paradise, and who lives in a rose-colored villa set in a cypress grove +on the shores of Lake Garda--not a bad setting for romance, is it, +Gustavo?--Dinner, I believe, is at seven o'clock?" + +"_Si_, signore, at seven; and would you like veal cooked Milanese +fashion?" + +"Nothing would please me more. We have only had veal Milanese fashion +five times since I came." + +He waved his hand jauntily and strolled whistling down the arbor that led +to the lake. Gustavo looked after him and shook his head. Then he took +out the two-lire piece and rang it on the table. The metal rang true. He +shrugged his shoulders and turned back indoors to order the veal. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The terrace of Villa Rosa juts out into the lake, bordered on three sides +by a stone parapet, and shaded above by a yellow-ochre awning. Masses of +oleanders hang over the wall and drop pink petals into the blue waters +below. As a study in color the terrace is perfect, but, like the +court-yard of the Hotel du Lac, decidedly too hot for mid-afternoon. To +the right of the terrace, however, is a shady garden set in alleys of +cypress trees, and separated from the lake by a strip of beach and a low +balustrade. There could be no better resting place for a warm afternoon. + +It was close upon four--five minutes past to be accurate--and the usual +afternoon quiet that enveloped the garden had fled before the garrulous +advent of four girls. Three of them, with black eyes and blacker hair, +were kneeling on the beach thumping and scrubbing a pile of linen. In +spite of their chatter they were working busily, and the grass beyond the +water-wall was already white with bleaching sheets, while a lace trimmed +petticoat fluttered from a near-by oleander, and a row of silk stockings +stretched the length of the parapet. The most undeductive observer would +have guessed by this time that the pink villa, visible through the trees, +contained no such modern conveniences as stationary tubs. + +The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown hair, was sitting at +ease on the balustrade, fanning herself with a wide brimmed hat and +dangling her feet, clad in white tennis shoes, over the edge. She wore a +suit of white linen cut sailor fashion, low at the throat and with +sleeves rolled to the elbows. She looked very cool and comfortable and +free as she talked, with the utmost friendliness, to the three girls +below. Her Italian, to an unaccustomed ear, was exactly as glib as +theirs. + +The washer-girls were dressed in the gayest of peasant clothes--green and +scarlet petticoats, flowered kerchiefs, coral beads and flashing +earrings; you would have to go far into the hills in these degenerate +days before meeting their match on an Italian highway. But the girl on +the wall, who was actual if not titular ruler of the domain of Villa +Rosa, possessed a keen eye for effect; and--she plausibly argued--since +one must have washer-women about, why not, in the name of all that is +beautiful, have them in harmony with tradition and the landscape? +Accordingly, she designed and purchased their costumes herself. + +There drifted presently into sight from around the little promontory that +hid the village, a blue and white boat with yellow lateen sails. She was +propelled gondolier fashion, for the wind was a mere breath, by a +picturesque youth in a suit of dark blue with white sash and flaring +collar--the hand of the girl on the wall was here visible also. + +[Illustration: "The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown hair, +was sitting at ease on the balustrade"] + +The boat fluttering in toward shore, looked like a giant butterfly; and +her name, emblazoned in gold on her prow, was, appropriately, the +_Farfalla_. Earlier in the season, with a green hull and a dingy brown +sail, she had been prosaically enough, the _Maria_. But since the advent +of the girl all this had been changed. The _Farfalla_ dropped her yellow +wings with the air of a salute, and lighted at the foot of the +water-steps under the terrace. The girl on the parapet leaned forward +eagerly. + +"Did you get any mail, Giuseppe?" she called. + +"_Si_, signorina." He scrambled up the steps and presented a copy of the +London _Times_. + +She received it with a shrug. Clearly, she felt little interest in the +London _Times_. Giuseppe took himself back to his boat and commenced +fussing about its fittings, dusting the seats, plumping up the cushions, +with an air of absorption which deceived nobody. The signorina watched +him a moment with amused comprehension, then she called peremptorily: + +"Giuseppe, you know you must spade the garden border." + +Poor Giuseppe, in spite of his nautical costume, was man of all work. He +glanced dismally toward the garden border which lay basking in the +sunshine under the wall that divided Villa Rosa from the rest of the +world. It contained every known flower which blossoms in July in the +kingdom of Italy from camellias and hydrangeas to heliotrope and wall +flowers. Its spading was a complicated business and it lay too far off to +permit of conversation. Giuseppe was not only a lazy, but also a social +soul. + +"Signorina," he suggested, "would you not like a sail?" + +She shook her head. "There is not wind enough and it is too hot and too +sunny." + +"But yes, there's a wind, and cool--when you get out on the lake. I will +put up the awning, signorina, the sun shall not touch you." + +She continued to shake her head and her eyes wandered suggestively to the +hydrangeas, but Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation. Not being a +cruel mistress, she dropped the subject, and turned back to her +conversation with the washer-girls. They were discussing--a pleasant +topic for a sultry summer afternoon--the probable content of Paradise. +The three girls were of the opinion that it was made up of warm sunshine +and cool shade, of flowers and singing birds and sparkling waters, of +blue skies and cloud-capped mountains--not unlike, it will be observed, +the very scene which at the moment stretched before them. In so much they +were all agreed, but there were several debatable points. Whether the +stones were made of gold, and whether the houses were not gold too, and, +that being the case, whether it would not hurt your eyes to look at them. +Marietta declared, blasphemously, as the others thought, that she +preferred a simple gray stone villa or at most one of pink stucco, to +all the golden edifices that Paradise contained. + +It was by now fifteen minutes past four, and a spectator had arrived, +though none of the five were aware of his presence. The spectator was +standing on the wall above the garden border examining with appreciation +the idyllic scene below him, and with most particular appreciation, the +dainty white-clad person of the girl on the balustrade. He was +wondering--anxiously--how he might make his presence known. For no very +tangible reason he had suddenly become conscious that the matter would be +easier if he carried in his pocket a letter of introduction. The purlieus +of Villa Rosa in no wise resembled a desert island; and in the face of +that very fluent Italian, the suspicion was forcing itself upon him that +after all, the mere fact of a common country was not a sufficient bond of +union. He had definitely decided to withdraw, when the matter was taken +from his hands. + +[Illustration: "Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation"] + +The wall--as Gustavo had pointed out--was broken; it was owing to this +fact that he had been so easily able to climb it. Now, as he stealthily +turned, preparing to re-descend in the direction whence he had come, the +loose stone beneath his foot slipped and he slipped with it. Five +startled pairs of eyes were turned in his direction. What they saw, was a +young man in flannels suddenly throw up his arms, slide into an azalea +bush, from this to the balustrade, and finally land on all fours on the +narrow strip of beach, a shower of pink petals and crumbling masonry +falling about him. A momentary silence followed; then the washer-girls, +making sure that he was not injured, broke into a shrill chorus of +laughter, while the _Farfalla_ rocked under impact of Giuseppe's mirth. +The girl on the wall alone remained grave. + +The young man picked himself up, restored his guide book to his pocket, +and blushingly stepped forward, hat in hand, to make an apology. One knee +bore a splash of mud, and his tumbled hair was sprinkled with azalea +blossoms. + +"I beg your pardon," he stammered, "I didn't mean to come so suddenly; +I'm afraid I broke your wall." + +The girl dismissed the matter with a polite gesture. + +"It was already broken," and then she waited with an air of grave +attention until he should state his errand. + +"I--I came--" He paused and glanced about vaguely; he could not at the +moment think of any adequate reason to account for his coming. + +"Yes?" + +Her eyes studied him with what appeared at once a cool and an amused +scrutiny. He felt himself growing red beneath it. + +"Can I do anything for you?" she prompted with the kind desire of putting +him at his ease. + +"Thank you--" He grasped at the first idea that presented itself. "I'm +stopping at the Hotel du Lac and Gustavo, you know, told me there was a +villa somewhere around here that belongs to Prince Someone or Other. If +you ring at the gate and give the gardener two francs and a visiting +card, he will let you walk around and look at the trees." + +"I see!" said the girl, "and so now you are looking for the gate?" Her +tone suggested that she suspected him of trying to avoid both it and the +two francs. "Prince Sartorio-Crevelli's villa is about half a mile +farther on." + +"Ah, thank you," he bowed a second time, and then added out of the +desperate need of saying something, "There's a cedar of Lebanon in it and +an India rubber plant from South America." + +"Indeed!" + +She continued to observe him with polite interest, though she made no +move to carry on the conversation. + +"You--are an American?" he asked at length. + +"Oh, yes," she agreed easily. "Gustavo knows that." + +He shifted his weight. + +"I am an American too," he observed. + +"Really?" The girl leaned forward and examined him more closely, an +innocent, candid, wholly detached look in her eyes. "From your appearance +I should have said you were German--most of the foreigners who visit +Valedolmo are German." + +"Well, I'm not," he said shortly. "I'm American." + +"It is a pity my father is not at home," she returned, "_he_ enjoys +meeting Americans." + +A gleam of anger replaced the embarrassment in the young man's eyes. He +glanced about for a dignified means of escape; they had him pretty well +penned in. Unless he wished to reclimb the wall--and he did not--he must +go by the terrace which retreat was cut off by the washer-women, or by +the parapet, already occupied by the girl in white and the washing. He +turned abruptly and his elbow brushed a stocking to the ground. + +He stooped to pick it up and then he blushed still a shade deeper. + +"This is washing day," observed the girl with a note of apology. She rose +to her feet and stood on the top of the parapet while she beckoned to +Giuseppe, then she turned and looked down upon the young man with an +expression of frank amusement. "I hope you will enjoy the cedar of +Lebanon and the India rubber tree. Good afternoon." + +She jumped to the ground and crossed to the water-steps where Giuseppe, +with a radiant smile, was steadying the boat against the landing. She +settled herself comfortably among the cushions and then for a moment +glanced back towards shore. + +"You would better go out by the gate," she called. "The wall on the +farther side is harder to climb than the one you came in by; and besides, +it has broken glass on the top." + +Giuseppe raised the yellow sail and the _Farfalla_ with a graceful dip, +glided out to sea. The young man stood eyeing its progress revengefully. +Now that the girl was out of hearing, a number of pointed things occurred +to him which he might have said. His thoughts were interrupted by a fresh +giggle from behind and he found that the three washer-girls were laughing +at him. + +"Your mistress's manners are not the best in the world," said he, +severely, "and I am obliged to add that yours are no better." + +They giggled again, though there was no malice behind their humor; it was +merely that they found the lack of a language in common a mirth-provoking +circumstance. Marietta, with a flash of black eyes, murmured something +very kindly in Italian, as she shook out a linen sailor suit--the exact +twin of the one that had gone to sea--and spread it on the wall to dry. + +The young man did not linger for further words. Setting his hat firmly on +his head, he vaulted the parapet and strode off down the cypress alley +that stretched before him; he passed the pink villa without a glance. At +the gate he stood aside to admit a horse and rider. The horse was +prancing in spite of the heat; the rider wore a uniform and a shining +sword. There was a clank of accoutrements as he passed, and the wayfarer +caught a gleam of piercing black eyes and a slight black moustache turned +up at the ends. The rider saluted politely and indifferently, and jangled +on. The young man scowled after him maliciously until the cypresses hid +him from view; then he turned and took up the dusty road back towards the +Hotel du Lac. + +It was close upon five, and Gustavo was in the court-yard feeding the +parrot, when his eye fell upon the American guest scuffling down the road +in a cloud of white dust. Gustavo hastened to the gate to welcome him +back, his very eyebrows expressive of his eagerness for news. + +"You are returned, signore?" + +The young man paused and regarded him unemotionally. + +"Yes, Gustavo, I am returned--with thanks." + +"You have seen ze Signorina Costantina?" + +"Yes, I saw her." + +"And is it not as I have said, zat she is beautiful as ze holy angels?" + +"Yes, Gustavo, she is--and just about equally remote. You may make out my +bill." + +The waiter's face clouded. + +"You do not wish to remain longer, signore?" + +"Can't stand it, Gustavo; it's too infernally restful." + +Poor Gustavo saw a munificent shower of tips vanishing into nothing. His +face was rueful but his manner was undiminishingly polite. + +"_Si_, signore, sank you. When shall you wish ze omnibus?" + +"Tomorrow morning for the first boat." + +Gustavo bowed to the inevitable; and the young man passed on. He paused +half way across the court-yard. + +"What time does the first boat leave?" + +"At half past five, signore." + +"Er--no--I'll take the second." + +"_Si_, signore. At half-past ten." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +It was close upon ten when Jerymn Hilliard Jr., equipped for travel in +proper blue serge, appeared in the doorway of the Hotel du Lac. He looked +at his watch and discovered that he still had twenty minutes before the +omnibus meeting the second boat was due. He strolled across the +court-yard, paused for a moment to tease the parrot, and sauntered on to +his favorite seat in the summer house. He had barely established himself +with a cigarette when who should appear in the gateway but Miss Constance +Wilder of Villa Rosa and a middle-aged man--at a glance the Signor Papa. +Jerymn Hilliard's heart doubled its beat. Why, he asked himself +excitedly, _why_ had they come? + +The Signor Papa closed his green umbrella, and having dropped into a +chair--obligingly near the summer house--took off his hat and fanned +himself. He had a tendency toward being stout and felt the heat. The +girl, meanwhile, crossed the court and jangled the bell; she waited +two--three--minutes, then she pulled the rope again. + +"Gustavo! Oh, Gustavo!" + +The bell might have been rung by any-one--the fisherman, the +omnibus-driver, Suor Celestina from the convent asking her everlasting +alms--and Gustavo took his time. But the voice was unmistakable; he +waited only to throw a clean napkin over his arm before hurrying to +answer. + +"_Buon giorno_, signorina! Good morning, signore. It is beautiful +wea-thir, but warm. _Gią_, it is warm." + +He bowed and smiled and rubbed his hands together. His moustaches, fairly +bristling with good will, turned up in a half circle until they caressed +his nose on either side. He bustled about placing table and chairs, and +recklessly dusting them with the clean napkin. The signorina laid her +fluffy white parasol on one chair and seated herself on another, her +profile turned to the summer house. Gustavo hovered over them, awaiting +their pleasure, the genius itself of respectful devotion. It was +Constance who gave the order--she, it might be noticed, gave most of the +orders that were given in her vicinity. She framed it in English out of +deference to Gustavo's pride in his knowledge of the language. + +"A glass of _vino santo_ for the Signore and _limonata_ for me. I wish to +put the sugar in myself, the last time you mixed it, Gustavo, it was all +sugar and no lemon. And bring a bowl of cracked ice--_fino_--_fino_--and +some pine nut cakes if you are sure they are fresh." + +"Sank you, signorina. _Subitissimo_!" + +He was off across the court, his black coat-tails, his white napkin +streaming behind, proclaiming to all the world that he was engaged on the +Signorina Americana's bidding; for persons of lesser note he still +preserved a measure of dignity. + +The young man in the summer house had meanwhile dropped his cigarette +upon the floor and noiselessly stepped on it. He had also--with the +utmost caution lest the chair creak--shifted his position so that he +might command the profile of the girl. The entrance to the summer house +was fortunately on the other side, and in all likelihood they would not +have occasion to look within. It was eavesdropping of course, but he had +already been convicted of that yesterday, and in any case it was not such +very bad eavesdropping. The court-yard of the Hotel du Lac was public +property; he had been there first, he was there by rights as a guest of +the house; if anything, they were the interlopers. Besides, nobody talked +secrets with a head waiter. His own long conversations with Gustavo were +as open and innocent as the day; the signorina was perfectly welcome to +listen to them as much as she chose. + +She was sitting with her chin in her hand, eyeing the flying coat-tails +of Gustavo, a touch of amusement in her face. Her father was eyeing her +severely. + +"Constance, it is disgraceful!" + +She laughed. Apparently she already knew or divined what it was that was +disgraceful, but the accusation did not appear to bother her much. Mr. +Wilder proceeded grumblingly. + +"It's bad enough with those five deluded officers, but they walked into +the trap with their eyes open and it's their own affair. But look at +Gustavo; he can scarcely carry a dish without breaking it when you are +watching him. And Giuseppe--that confounded _Farfalla_ with its yellow +sails floats back and forth in front of the terrace till I am on the +point of having it scuttled as a public nuisance; and those three +washer-women and the post-office clerk and the boy who brings milk, and +Luigi and--every man, woman and child in the village of Valedolmo!" + +"And my own dad as well?" + +Mr. Wilder shook his head. + +[Illustration: "He had also shifted his position so that he might +command the profile of the girl"] + +"I came here at your instigation for rest and relaxation--to get rid of +nervous worries, and here I find a big new worry waiting for me that I'd +never thought of having before. What if my only daughter should take it +in her head to marry one of these infernally good-looking Italian +officers?" + +Constance reached over and patted his arm. + +"Don't let it bother you, Dad; I assure you I won't do anything of the +sort. I should think it my duty to learn the subjunctive mood, and that +is impossible." + +Gustavo came hurrying back with a tray. He arranged the glasses, the ice, +the sugar, the cakes, with loving, elaborate obsequiousness. The +signorina examined the ice doubtfully, then with approval. + +"It's exactly right to-day, Gustavo! You got it too large the last time, +you remember." + +She stirred in some sugar and tasted it tentatively, her head on one +side. Gustavo hung upon her expression in an agony of apprehension; one +would have thought it a matter for public mourning if the lemonade were +not mixed exactly right. But apparently it was right--she nodded and +smiled--and Gustavo's expression assumed relief. Constance broke open a +pine nut cake and settled herself for conversation. + +"Haven't you any guests, Gustavo?" Her eyes glanced over the empty +court-yard. "I am afraid the hotel is not having a very prosperous +season." + +"_Grazie_, signorina. Zer never are many in summer; it is ze dead time, +but still zay come and zay go. Seven arrive last night." + +"Seven! That's nice. What are they like?" + +"German mountain-climbers wif nails in zer shoes. Zey have gone to Riva +on ze first boat." + +"That's too bad--then the hotel is empty?" + +"But no! Zer is an Italian Signora wif two babies and a governess, and +two English ladies and an American gentleman--" + +"An American gentleman?" Her tone was languidly interested. "How long has +he been here?" + +"Tree--four day." + +"Indeed--what is he like?" + +"Nice--ver' nice." (Gustavo might well say that; his pockets were lined +with the American gentleman's silver lire.) "He talk to me always. +'Gustavo,' he say, 'I am all alone; I wish to be 'mused. Come and talk +Angleesh.' Yes, it is true; I have no time to finish my work; I spend +whole day talking wif dis yong American gentleman. He is just a little--" +He touched his head significantly. + +"Really?" She raised her eyes with an air of awakened interest. "And how +did he happen to come to Valedolmo?" + +"He come to meet his family, his sister and his--his aunt, who are going +wif him to ze Tyrollo. But zay have not arrive. Zey are in Lucerne, he +says, where zer is a lion dying, and zey wish to wait until he is dead; +zen zey come.--Yes, it is true; he tell me zat." Gustavo tapped his head +a second time. + +The signorina glanced about apprehensively. + +"Is he safe, Gustavo--to be about?" + +"_Si_, signorina, _sicuramente_! He is just a little simple." + +Mr. Wilder chuckled. + +"Where is he, Gustavo? I think I'd like to make that young man's +acquaintance." + +"I sink, signore, he is packing his trunk. He go away today." + +"Today, Gustavo?" There was audible regret in Constance's tone. "Why is +he going?" + +"It is not possible for him to stand it, signorina. Valedolmo too dam +slow." + +"Gustavo! You mustn't say that; it is very, very bad. Nice men don't say +it." + +Gustavo held his ground. + +"_Si_, signorina, zat yong American gentleman say it--dam slow, no +_divertimento_." + +"He's just about right, Gustavo," Mr. Wilder broke in. "The next time a +young American gentleman blunders into the Hotel du Lac you send him +around to me." + +"_Si_, signore." + +Gustavo rolled his eyes toward the signorina; she continued to sip her +lemonade. + +"I have told him yesterday an American family live at Villa Rosa; he say +'All right, I go call,' but--but I sink maybe you were not at home." + +"Oh!" The signorina raised her head in apparent enlightenment. "So that +was the young man? Yes, to be sure, he came, but he said he was looking +for Prince Sartorio's villa. I am sorry you were away, Father, you would +have enjoyed him; his English was excellent.--Did he tell you he saw me, +Gustavo?" + +"_Si_, signorina, he tell me." + +"What did he say? Did he think I was nice?" + +Gustavo looked embarrassed. + +"I--I no remember, signorina." + +She laughed and to his relief changed the subject. + +"Those English ladies who are staying here--what do they look like? Are +they young?" + +Gustavo delivered himself of an inimitable gesture which suggested that +the English ladies had entered the bounds of that indefinite period when +the subject of age must be politely waived. + +"They are tall, signorina, and of a thinness--you would not believe it +possible." + +"I see! And so the poor young man was bored?" + +Gustavo bowed vaguely. He saw no connection. + +"He was awfully good-looking," she added with a sigh. "I'm afraid I made +a mistake. It would be rather fun, don't you think, Dad, to have an +entertaining young American gentleman about?" + +"Ump!" he grunted. "I thought you were so immensely satisfied with the +officers." + +"Oh, I am," she agreed with a shrug which dismissed forever the young +American gentleman. + +"Well, Gustavo," she added in a business-like tone, "I will tell you why +we called. The doctor says the Signor Papa is getting too fat--I don't +think he's too fat, do you? He seems to me just comfortably chubby; but +anyway, the doctor says he needs exercise, so we're going to begin +climbing mountains with nails in our shoes like the Germans. And we're +going to begin to-morrow because we've got two English people at the +villa who adore mountains. Do you think you can find us a guide and some +donkeys? We want a nice, gentle, lady-like donkey for my aunt, and +another for the English lady and a third to carry the things--and maybe +me, if I get tired. Then we want a man who will twist their tails and +make them go; and I am very particular about the man. I want him to be +picturesque--there's no use being in Italy if you can't have things +picturesque, is there, Gustavo?" + +"_Si_, signorina," he bowed and resumed his attitude of strained +attention. + +"He must have curly hair and black eyes and white teeth and a nice smile; +I should like him to wear a red sash and earrings. He must be obliging +and cheerful and deferential and speak good Italian--I won't have a man +who speaks only dialect. He must play the mandolin and sing Santa +Lucia--I believe that's all." + +"And I suppose since he is to act as guide he must know the region?" her +father mildly suggested. + +"Oh, no, that's immaterial; we can always ask our way." + +Mr. Wilder grunted, but offered no further suggestion. + +"We pay four lire a day and furnish his meals," she added munificently. +"And we shall begin with the castle on Monte Baldo; then when we get very +proficient we'll climb Monte Maggiore. Do you understand?" + +"Ze signorina desires tree donkeys and a driver at seven o'clock +to-morrow morning to climb Monte Baldo?" + +"In brief, yes, but _please_ remember the earrings." + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile a commotion was going on behind them. The hotel omnibus had +rumbled into the court yard. A _fachino_ had dragged out a leather trunk, +an English hat box and a couple of valises and dumped them on the ground +while he ran back for the paste pot and a pile of labels. The two +under-waiters, the chamber-maid and the boy who cleaned boots had drifted +into the court. It was evident that the American gentleman's departure +was imminent. + +The luggage was labelled and hoisted to the roof of the omnibus; they all +drew up in a line with their eyes on the door; but still the young man +did not come. Gustavo, over his shoulder, dispatched a waiter to hunt him +up. The waiter returned breathless. The gentleman was nowhere. He had +searched the entire house; there was not a trace. Gustavo sent the +boot-boy flying down the arbor to search the garden; he was beginning to +feel anxious. What if the gentleman in a sudden fit of melancholia had +thrown himself into the lake? That would indeed be an unfortunate affair! + +Constance reassured him, and at the same time she arose. It occurred to +her suddenly that, since the young man was going, there was nothing to be +gained by waiting, and he might think--She picked up her parasol and +started for the gate, but Mr. Wilder hung back; he wanted to see the +matter out. + +"Father," said she reproachfully, "it's embarrassing enough for him to +fee all those people without our staying and watching him do it." + +"I suppose it is," he acknowledged regretfully, as he resumed his hat and +umbrella and palm leaf fan. + +She paused for a second in the gateway. + +"_Addio_, Gustavo," she called over her shoulder. "_Don't_ forget the +earrings." + +Gustavo bowed twice and turned back with a dazed air to direct the +business in hand. The boot-boy, reappearing, shook his head. No, the +gentleman was not to be found in the garden. The omnibus driver leaned +from his seat and swore. + +_Corpo di Bacco_! Did he think the boat would wait all day for the sake +of one passenger? As it was, they were ten minutes late and would have to +gallop every step of the way. + +The turmoil of ejaculation and gesture was approaching a climax; when +suddenly, who should come sauntering into the midst of it, but the young +American man himself! He paused to light a cigarette, then waved his hand +aloft toward his leather belongings. + +"Take 'em down, Gustavo. Changed my mind; not going to-day--it's too +hot." + +Gustavo gasped. + +"But, signore, you have paid for your ticket." + +"True, Gustavo, but there is no law compelling me to use it. To tell the +truth I find that I am fonder of Valedolmo than I had supposed. There is +something satisfying about the peace and tranquility of the place--one +doesn't realize it till the moment of parting comes. Do you think I can +obtain a room for a--well, an indefinite period?" + +Gustavo saw a dazzling vista of silver lire stretching into the future. +With an all-inclusive gesture he placed the house, the lake, the +surrounding mountains, at the disposal of the American. + +"You shall have what you wish, signore. At dis season ze Hotel du Lac--" + +"Is not crowded, and there are half a hundred rooms at my disposal? Very +well, I will keep the one I have which commands a very attractive view of +a rose-colored villa set in a grove of cypress trees." + +The others had waited in a state of suspension, dumbfounded at what was +going on. But as soon as the young man dipped into his pocket and fished +out a handful of silver, they broke into smiles; this at least was +intelligible. The silver was distributed, the luggage was hoisted down, +the omnibus was dismissed. The courtyard resumed its former quiet; just +the American gentleman, Gustavo and the parrot were left. + +Then suddenly a frightful suspicion dawned upon Gustavo--it was more than +a suspicion; it was an absolute certainty which in his excitement he had +overlooked. From where had the American gentleman dropped? Not the sky, +assuredly, and there was no place else possible, unless the door of the +summer house. Yes, he had been in the summer house, and not sleeping +either. An indefinable something about his manner informed Gustavo that +he was privy to the entire conversation. Gustavo, a picture of guilty +remorse, searched his memory for the words he had used. Why, oh why, had +he not piled up adjectives? It was the opportunity of a lifetime and he +had wantonly thrown it away. + +But--to his astonished relief--the young man appeared to be bearing no +malice. He appeared, on the contrary, quite unusually cheerful as he +sauntered whistling, across the court and seated himself in the exact +chair the signorina had occupied. He plunged his hand into his pocket +suggestively--Gustavo had been the only one omitted in the distribution +of silver--and drew forth a roll of bills. Having selected five crisp +five-lire notes, he placed them under the sugar bowl, and watched his +companion while he blew three meditative rings of smoke. + +"Gustavo," he inquired, "do you suppose you could find me some nice, +gentle, lady-like donkeys and a red sash and a pair of earrings?" + +Gustavo's fascinated gaze had been fixed upon the sugar bowl and he had +only half caught the words. + +"_Scusi_, signore, I no understand." + +"Just sit down, Gustavo, it makes me nervous to see you standing all the +time. I can't be comfortable, you know, unless everybody else is +comfortable. Now pay strict attention and see if you can grasp my +meaning." + +Gustavo dubiously accepted the edge of the indicated chair; he wished to +humor the signore's mood, however incomprehensible that mood might be. +For half an hour he listened with strained attention while the gentleman +talked and toyed with the sugar bowl. Amazement, misgiving, amusement, +daring, flashed in succession across his face; in the end he leaned +forward with shining eyes. + +"_Si, si_," he whispered after a conspiratorial glance over his shoulder, +"I will do it all; you may trust to me." + +The young man rose, removed the sugar bowl, and sauntered on toward the +road. Gustavo pocketed the notes and gazed after him. + +"_Dio mio_," he murmured as he set about gathering up the glasses, "zese +Americans!" + +At the gate the young man paused to light another cigarette. + +"_Addio_, Gustavo," he called over his shoulder, "_don't_ forget the +earrings!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The table was set on the terrace; breakfast was served and the company +was gathered. Breakfast consisted of the usual caffč-latte, rolls and +strained honey, and--since a journey was to the fore and something +sustaining needed--a soft-boiled egg apiece. There were four persons +present, though there should have been five. The two guests were an +Englishman and his wife, whom the chances of travel had brought over +night to Valedolmo. + +Between them, presiding over the coffee machine, was Mr. Wilder's sister, +"Miss Hazel"--never "Miss Wilder" except to the butcher and baker. It was +the cross of her life, she had always affirmed, that her name was not +Mary or Jane or Rebecca. "Hazel" does well enough when one is eighteen +and beautiful, but when one is fifty and no longer beautiful, it is +little short of absurd. But if anyone at fifty could carry such a name +gracefully, it was Miss Hazel Wilder; her fifty years sat as jauntily as +Constance's twenty-two. This morning she was very business-like in her +short skirt, belted jacket, and green felt Alpine hat with a feather in +the side. No one would mistake her for a cyclist or a golfer or a +motorist or anything in the world but an Alpine climber; whatever Miss +Hazel was or was not, she was always _game_. + +Across from Miss Hazel sat her brother in knickerbockers, his Alpine +stock at his elbow and also his fan. Since his domicile in Italy, Mr. +Wilder's fan had assumed the nature of a symbol; he could no more be +separated from it than St. Sebastian from his arrows or St. Laurence from +his gridiron. At Mr. Wilder's elbow was the empty chair where Constance +should have been--she who had insisted on six as a proper breakfast hour, +and had grudgingly consented to postpone it till half-past out of +deference to her sleepy-headed elders. Her father had finished his egg +and hers too, before she appeared, as nonchalant and smiling as if she +were out the earliest of all. + +"I think you might have waited!" was her greeting from the doorway. + +She advanced to the table, saluted in military fashion, dropped a kiss on +her father's bald spot, and possessed herself of the empty chair. She too +was clad in mountain-climbing costume, in so far as blouse and skirt and +leather leggings went, but above her face there fluttered the fluffy +white brim of a ruffled sun hat with a bunch of pink rosebuds set over +one ear. + +"I am sorry not to wear my own Alpine hat, Aunt Hazel; I look so +deliciously German in it, but I simply can't afford to burn all the skin +off my nose." + +"You can't make us believe that," said her father. "The reason is, that +Lieutenant di Ferara and Captain Coroloni are going with us today, and +that this hat is more becoming than the other." + +"It's one reason," Constance agreed imperturbably, "but, as I say, I +don't wish to burn the skin off my nose, because that is unbecoming too. +You are ungrateful, Dad," she added as she helped herself to honey with a +liberal hand, "I invited them solely on your account because you like to +hear them talk English. Have the donkeys come?" + +"The donkeys are at the back door nibbling the buds off the rose-bushes." + +"And the driver?" + +"Is sitting on the kitchen doorstep drinking coffee and smiling over the +top of his cup at Elizabetta. There are two of him." + +"Two! I only ordered one." + +"One is the official driver and the other is a boy whom he has brought +along to do the work." + +Constance eyed her father sharply. There was something at once guilty and +triumphant about his expression. + +"What is it, Dad?" she inquired sternly. "I suppose he has not got a +sash and earrings." + +"On the contrary, he has." + +"Really? How clever of Gustavo! I hope," she added anxiously, "that he +talks good Italian?" + +"I don't know about his Italian, but he talks uncommonly good English." + +"English!" There was reproach, disgust, disillusionment, in her tone. +"Not really, father?" + +"Yes, really and truly--almost as well as I do. He has lived in New York +and he speaks English like a dream--real English--not the +Gustavo--Lieutenant di Ferara kind. I can understand what he says." + +"How simply horrible!" + +"Very convenient, I should say." + +[Illustration: Beppo and the donkeys] + +"If there's anything I detest, it's an Americanized Italian--and here in +Valedolmo of all places, where you have a right to demand something +unique and romantic and picturesque and real. It's too bad of Gustavo! +I shall never place any faith in his judgment again. You may talk English +to the man if you like; I shall address him in nothing but Italian." + +As they rose from the table she suggested pessimistically, "Let's go and +look at the donkeys--I suppose they'll be horrid, scraggly, knock-kneed +little beasts." + +They turned out however to be unusually attractive, as donkeys go, and +they were innocently engaged in nibbling, not rose-leaves but grass, +under the tutelage of a barefoot boy. Constance patted their shaggy +mouse-colored noses, made the acquaintance of the boy, whose name was +Beppo, and looked about for the driver proper. He rose and bowed as she +approached. His appearance was even more violently spectacular than she +had ordered; Gustavo had given good measure. + +He wore a loose white shirt--immaculately white--with a red silk +handkerchief knotted about his throat, brown corduroy knee-breeches, and +a red cotton sash with the hilt of a knife conspicuously protruding. His +corduroy jacket was slung carelessly across his shoulders, his hat was +cocked jauntily, with a red heron feather stuck in the band; last, +perfect touch of all, in his ears--at his ears rather (a close +examination revealed the thread)--two golden hoops flashed in the +sunlight. His skin was dark--not too dark--just a good healthy out-door +tan: his brows level and heavy, his gaze candor itself. He wore a tiny +suggestion of a moustache which turned up at the corners (a suspicious +examination of this, might have revealed the fact that it was touched up +with burnt cork); there was no doubt but that he was a handsome fellow, +and his attire suggested that he knew it. + +Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of admiration. + +"He's perfect!" she cried. "Where on earth did Gustavo find him? Did you +ever see anything so beautiful?" she appealed to the others. "He looks +like a brigand in opera bouffe." + +[Illustration: "Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of +admiration"] + +The donkey-man reddened visibly and fumbled with his hat. + +"My dear," her father warned, "he understands English." + +She continued to gaze with the open admiration one would bestow upon a +picture or a view or a blue-ribbon horse. The man flashed her a momentary +glance from a pair of searching gray eyes, then dropped his gaze humbly +to the ground. + +"_Buon giorno_," he said in glib Italian. + +Constance studied him more intently. There was something elusively +familiar about his expression; she was sure she had seen him before. + +"_Buon giorno_," she replied in Italian. "You have lived in the United +States?" + +"_Si_, signorina." + +"What is your name?" + +"I spik Angleesh," he observed. + +"I don't care if you do speak English; I prefer Italian--what is your +name?" She repeated the question in Italian. + +"_Si_, signorina," he ventured again. An anxious look had crept to his +face and he hastily turned away and commenced carrying parcels from the +kitchen. Constance looked after him, puzzled and suspicious. The one +insult which she could not brook was for an Italian to fail to understand +her when she talked Italian. As he returned and knelt to tighten the +strap of a hamper, she caught sight of the thread that held his earring. +She looked a second longer, and a sudden smile of illumination flashed to +her face. She suppressed it quickly and turned away. + +"He seems rather slow about understanding," she remarked to the others, +"but I dare say he'll do." + +"The poor fellow is embarrassed," apologized her father. "His name is +Tony," he added--even he had understood that much Italian. + +"Was there ever an Italian who had been in America whose name was not +Tony? Why couldn't he have been Angelico or Felice or Pasquale or +something decently picturesque?" + +"My dear," Miss Hazel objected, "I think you are hypercritical. The man +is scarcely to blame for his name." + +"I suppose not," she agreed, "though I should have included that in my +order." + +Further discussion was precluded by the appearance of a station-carriage +which turned in at the gate and stopped before them. Two officers +descended and saluted. In summer uniforms of white linen with gold +shoulder-straps, and shining top-boots, they rivalled the donkey-man in +decorativeness. Constance received them with flattering acclaim, while +she noted from the corner of her eye the effect upon Tony. He had not +counted upon this addition to the party, and was as scowling as she could +have wished. While the officers were engaged in making their bow to the +others, Constance casually reapproached the donkeys. Tony feigned +immersion in the business of strapping hampers; he had no wish to be +drawn into any Italian tźte-ą-tźte. But to his relief she addressed him +this time in English. + +"Are these donkeys used to mountain-climbing?" + +"But yes, signorina! _Sicuramente_. Zay are ver' strong, ver' good. Zat +donk', signorina, he go all day and never one little stumble." + +His English, she noted with amused appreciation, was an exact copy of +Gustavo's; he had learned his lesson well. But she allowed not the +slightest recognition of the fact to appear in her face. + +"And what are their names?" she inquired. + +"Dis is Fidilini, signorina, and zat one wif ze white nose is Macaroni, +and zat ovver is Cristoforo Colombo." + +Elizabetta appeared in the doorway with two rush-covered flasks, and Tony +hurried forward to receive them. There was a complaisant set to his +shoulders as he strode off, Constance noted delightedly; he was +felicitating himself upon the ease with which he had fooled her. Well! +She would give him cause before the day was over for other than +felicitations. She stifled a laugh of prophetic triumph and sauntered +over to Beppo. + +"When Tony is engaged as a guide do you always go with him?" + +"Not always, signorina, but Carlo has wished me to go to-day to look +after the donkeys." + +"And who is Carlo?" + +"He is the guide who owns them." + +Beppo looked momentarily guilty; the answer had slipped out before he +thought. + +"Oh, indeed! But if Tony is a guide why doesn't he have donkeys of his +own?" + +"He used to, but one unfortunately fell into the lake and got drowned and +the other died of a sickness." + +He put forth this preposterous statement with a glance as grave and +innocent as that of a little cherub. + +"Is Tony a good guide?" + +"But yes, of the best!" + +There was growing anxiety in Beppo's tone. He divined suspicion behind +these persistent inquiries, and he knew that in case Tony were +dismissed, his own munificent pay would stop. + +"Do you understand any English?" she suddenly asked. + +He modestly repudiated any great knowledge. "A word here, a word there; I +learn it in school." + +"I see!" She paused for a moment and then inquired casually, "Have you +known Tony long?" + +"_Si_, signorina." + +"How long?" + +Beppo considered. Someone, clearly, must vouch for the man's +respectability. This was not in the lesson that had been taught him, but +he determined to branch out for himself. + +"He is my father, signorina." + +"Really! He looks young to be your father--have you any brothers and +sisters, Beppo?" + +"I have four brothers, signorina, and five sisters." He fell back upon +the truth with relief. + +"_Davvero_!" + +The signorina smiled upon him, a smile of such heavenly sweetness that +he instantly joined the already crowded ranks of her admirers. She drew +from her pocket a handful of coppers and dropped them into his grimy +little palm. + +"Here, Beppo, are some soldi for the brothers and sisters. I hope that +you will be good and obedient and _always_ tell me the truth." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +After some delay--owing to Tony's inability to balance the chafing-dish +on Cristoforo Colombo's back--they filed from the gateway, an imposing +cavalcade. The ladies were on foot, loftily oblivious to the fact that +three empty saddles awaited their pleasure. Constance, a gesticulating +officer at either hand, was vivaciously talking Italian, while Tony, +trudging behind, listened with a somber light in his eye. She now and +then cast a casual glance over her shoulder, and as she caught sight of +his gloomy face the animation of her Italian redoubled. The situation +held for her mischief-loving soul undreamed-of possibilities; and though +she ostensibly occupied herself with the officers, she by no means +neglected the donkey-man. + +During the first few miles of the journey he earned his four francs. +Twice he reshifted the pack because Constance thought it insecure (it was +a disgracefully unprofessional pack; most guides would have blushed at +the making of it); once he retraced their path some two hundred yards in +search of a veil she thought she had dropped--it turned out that she had +had it in her pocket all of the time. He chased Fidilini over half the +mountainside while the others were resting, and he carried the +chafing-dish for a couple of miles because it refused to adjust itself +nicely to the pack. The morning ended by his being left behind with a +balking donkey, while the others completed the last ascent that led to +their halting-place for lunch. + +It was a small plateau shaded by oak trees with a broad view below them, +and a mountain stream foaming down from the rocks above. It was owing to +Beppo's knowledge of the mountain paths rather than Tony's which had +guided them to this agreeable spot; though no one in the party except +Constance appeared to have noted the fact. Tony arrived some ten minutes +after the others, hot but victorious, driving Cristoforo Colombo before +him. Constance welcomed his return with an off-hand nod and set him about +preparing lunch. He and Beppo served it and repacked the hampers, +entirely ignored by the others of the party. Poor Tony was beginning to +realize that a donkey-man lives on a desert island in so far as any +companionship goes. But his moment was coming. As they were about to +start on, Constance spied high above their heads where the stream burst +from the rocks, a clump of starry white blossoms. + +"Edelweiss!" she cried. "Oh, I must have it--it's the first I ever saw +growing; I hadn't supposed we were high enough." She glanced at the +officers. + +The ascent was not dangerous, but it was undeniably muddy, and they both +wore white; with very good cause they hesitated. And while they +hesitated, the opportunity was lost. Tony sprang forward, scrambled up +the precipice hand over hand, swung out across the stream by the aid of +an overhanging branch and secured the flowers. It was very gracefully and +easily done, and a burst of applause greeted his descent. He divided his +flowers into two equal parts, and sweeping off his hat, presented them +with a bow, not to Constance, but to the officers, who somewhat sulkily +passed them on. She received them with a smile; for an instant her eyes +met Tony's, and he fell back, rewarded. + +The captain and lieutenant for the first time regarded the donkey-man, +and they regarded him narrowly, red sash, earrings, stiletto and all. +Constance caught the look and laughed. + +"Isn't he picturesque?" she inquired in Italian. "The head-waiter at the +Hotel du Lac found him for me. He has been in the United States and +speaks English, which is a great convenience." + +The two said nothing, but they looked at each other and shrugged. + +The donkeys were requisitioned for the rest of the journey; while Tony +led Miss Hazel's mount, he could watch Constance ahead on Fidilini, an +officer marching at each side of her saddle. She appeared to divide her +favors with nice discrimination; it was not her fault if the two were +jealous of one another. Tony could draw from that obvious fact what +consolation there was in it. + +[Illustration: "Constance ahead on Fidilini, an officer marching at each +side of her saddle."] + +The ruined fortress, their destination, was now exactly above their +heads. The last ascent boldly skirted the shoulder of the mountain, and +then doubled upward in a series of serpentine coils. Below them the whole +of Lake Garda was spread like a map. Mr. Wilder and the Englishman, +having paused at the edge of the declivity, were endeavoring to trace the +boundary line of Austria, and they called upon the officers for help. The +two relinquished their post at Constance's side, while the donkeys kept +on past them up the hill. The winding path was both stony and steep, +and, from a donkey's standpoint, thoroughly objectionable. Fidilini was +well in the lead, trotting sedately, when suddenly without the slightest +warning, he chose to revolt. Whether Constance pulled the wrong rein, or +whether, as she affirmed, it was merely his natural badness, in any case, +he suddenly veered from the path and took a cross cut down the rocky +slope below them. Donkeys are fortunately sure-footed beasts; otherwise +the two would have plunged together down the sheer face of the mountain. +As it was it looked ghastly enough to the four men below; they shouted to +Constance to stick on, and commenced scrambling up the slope with +absolutely no hope of reaching her. + +It was Tony's chance a second time to show his agility--and this time to +some purpose. He was a dozen yards behind and much lower down, which gave +him a start. Leaping forward, he dropped over the precipice, a fall of +ten feet, to a narrow ledge below. Running toward them at an angle, he +succeeded in cutting off their flight. Before the frightened donkey could +swerve, Tony had seized him--by the tail--and had braced himself against +a boulder. It was not a dignified rescue, but at least it was effective; +Fidilini came to a halt. Constance, not expecting the sudden jolt, +toppled over sidewise, and Tony, being equally unprepared to receive her, +the two went down together rolling over and over on the grassy slope. + +"My dear, are you hurt?" + +Mr. Wilder, quite pale with anxiety, came scrambling to her side. +Constance sat up and laughed hysterically, while she examined a bleeding +elbow. + +"N--no, not dangerously--but I think perhaps Tony is." + +Tony however was at least able to run, as he was again on his feet and +after the donkey. Captain Coroloni and her father helped Constance to her +feet while Lieutenant di Ferara recovered a side-comb and the white sun +hat. They all climbed down together to the path below, none the worse +for the averted tragedy. Tony rejoined them somewhat short of breath, but +leading a humbled Fidilini. Constance, beyond a brief glance, said +nothing; but her father, to the poor man's intense embarrassment, shook +him warmly by the hand with the repeated assurance that his bravery +should not go unrewarded. + +They completed their journey on foot; Tony following behind, quite +conscious that, if he had played the part of hero, he had done it with a +lamentable lack of grace. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Tony was stretched on the parapet that bordered the stone-paved platform +of the fortress. Above him the crumbling tower rose many feet higher, +below him a marvelous view stretched invitingly; but Tony had eyes +neither for medieval architecture nor picturesque scenery. He lay with +his coat doubled under his head for a pillow, in a frowning contemplation +of the cracked stone pavement. + +The four other men, after an hour or so of easy lounging under the pines +at the base of the tower, had organized a fresh expedition to the summit +a mile farther up. Mr. Wilder, since morning, had developed into an +enthusiastic mountain-climber--regret might come with the morrow, but as +yet ambition still burned high. The remainder of the party were less +energetic. The three ladies were resting on rugs spread under the pines; +Beppo was sleeping in the sun, his hat over his face, and the donkeys, +securely tethered (Tony had attended to that) were innocently nibbling +mountain herbs. + +There was no obvious reason why, as he lighted a cigarette and stretched +himself on the parapet, Tony should not have been the most self-satisfied +guide in the world. He had not only completed the expedition in safety, +but had saved the heroine's life by the way; and even if the heroine did +not appear as thankful as she might, still, her father had shown due +gratitude, and, what was to the point, had promised a reward. That should +have been enough for any reasonable donkey-driver. + +But it was distinctly not enough for Tony. He was in a fine temper as he +lay on the parapet and scowled at the pavement. Nothing was turning out +as he had planned. He had not counted on the officers or her +predilection for Italian. He had not counted on chasing donkeys in person +while she stood and looked on--Beppo was to have attended to that. He had +not counted on anything quite so absurd as his heroic capture of +Fidilini. Since she must let the donkey run away with her, why, in the +name of all that was romantic--could it not have occurred by moonlight? +Why, when he caught the beast, could it not have been by the bridle +instead of the tail? And above all, why could she not have fallen into +his arms, instead of on top of him? + +The stage scenery was set for romance, but from the moment the curtain +rose the play had persisted in being farce. However, farce or romance, it +was all one to him so long as he could play leading-man; what he objected +to was the minor part. The fact was clear that sash and earrings could +never compete with uniform and sword and the Italian language. His mind +was made up; he would withdraw tonight before he was found out, and +leave Valedolmo tomorrow morning by the early boat. Miss Constance Wilder +should never have the satisfaction of knowing the truth. + +He was engaged in framing a dignified speech to Mr. Wilder--thanking him +for his generosity, but declining to accept a reward for what had been +merely a matter of duty--when his reflections were cut short by the sound +of footsteps on the stairs. They were by no means noiseless footsteps; +there were good strong nails all over the bottom of Constance's shoes. +The next moment she appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were centered on +the view; she looked entirely over Tony. It was not until he rose to his +feet that she realized his presence with a start. + +"Dear me, is that you, Tony? You frightened me! Don't get up; I know you +must be tired." This with a sweetly solicitous smile. + +Tony smiled too and resumed his seat; it was the first time since morning +that she had condescended to consider his feelings. She sauntered over +to the opposite side and stood with her back to him examining the view. +Tony turned his back and affected to be engaged with the view in the +other direction; he too could play at indifference. + +Constance finished with her view first, and crossing over, she seated +herself in the deep embrasure of a window close beside Tony's parapet. He +rose again at her approach, but there was no eagerness in the motion; it +was merely the necessary deference of a donkey-driver toward his +employer. + +"Oh, sit down," she insisted, "I want to talk to you." + +[Illustration: "She seated herself in the deep embrasure of a window +close beside Tony's parapet"] + +He opened his eyes with a show of surprise; his hurt feelings insisted +that all the advances should be on her part. Constance seemed in no hurry +to begin; she removed her hat, pushed back her hair, and sat playing with +the bunch of edelweiss which was stuck in among the roses--flattening the +petals, rearranging the flowers with careful fingers; a touch, it +seemed to Tony's suddenly clamoring senses, that was almost a caress. +Then she looked up quickly and caught his gaze. She leaned forward with a +laugh. + +"Tony," she said, "do you spik any language besides Angleesh?" + +He triumphantly concealed all sign of emotion. + +"_Si_, signorina, I spik my own language." + +"Would you mind my asking what that language is?" + +He indulged in a moment's deliberation. Italian was clearly out of the +question, and French she doubtless knew better than he--he deplored this +polyglot education girls were receiving nowadays. + +He had it! He would be Hungarian. His sole fellow guest in the hotel at +Verona the week before had been a Hungarian nobleman, who had informed +him that the Magyar language was one of the most difficult on the face of +the globe. There was at least little likelihood that she was acquainted +with that. + +"My own language, signorina, is Magyar." + +"Magyar?" She was clearly taken by surprise. + +"_Si_, signorina, I am Hungarian; I was born in Budapest." He met her +wide-opened eyes with a look of innocent candor. + +"Really!" She beamed upon him delightedly; he was playing up even better +than she had hoped. "But if you are Hungarian, what are you doing here in +Italy, and how does it happen that your name is Antonio?" + +"My movver was Italian. She name me Antonio after ze blessed Saint +Anthony of Padua. If you lose anysing, signorina, and you say a prayer to +Saint Anthony every day for nine days, on ze morning of ze tenth you will +find it again." + +"That is very interesting," she said politely. "How do you come to know +English so well, Tony?" + +"We go live in Amerik' when I li'l boy." + +"And you never learned Italian? I should think your mother would have +taught it to you." + +He imitated Beppo's gesture. + +"A word here, a word there. We spik Magyar at home." + +"Talk a little Magyar, Tony. I should like to hear it." + +"What shall I say, signorina?" + +"Oh, say anything you please." + +He affected to hesitate while he rehearsed the scraps of language at his +command. Latin--French--German--none of them any good--but, thank +goodness, he had elected Anglo-Saxon in college; and thank goodness again +the professor had made them learn passages by heart. He glanced up with +an air of flattered diffidence and rendered, in a conversational +inflection, an excerpt from the Anglo-Saxon Bible. + +"_Ealle gesceafta, heofonas and englas, sunnan and monan, steorran and +eorthan, hč gesceop and geworhte on six dagum._" + +"It is a very beautiful language. Say some more." + +He replied with glib promptness, with a passage from Beowulf. + +"_Hie dygel lond warigeath, wulfhleothu, windige naessas._" + +"What does that mean?" + +Tony looked embarrassed. + +"I don't believe you know!" + +"It means--_scusi_, signorina, I no like to say." + +"You don't know." + +"It means--you make me say, signorina,--'I sink you ver' beautiful like +ze angels in Paradise.'" + +"Indeed! A donkey-driver, Tony, should not say anything like that." + +"But it is true." + +"The more reason you should not say it." + +"You asked me, signorina; I could not tell you a lie." + +The signorina smiled slightly and looked away at the view; Tony seized +the opportunity to look sidewise at her. She turned back and caught him; +he dropped his eyes humbly to the floor. + +"Does Beppo speak Magyar?" she inquired. + +"Beppo?" There was wonder in his tone at the turn her questions were +taking. "I sink not, signorina." + +"That must be very inconvenient. Why don't you teach it to him?" + +"_Si_, signorina." He was plainly nonplussed. + +"Yes, he says that you are his father and I should think--" + +"His father?" Tony appeared momentarily startled; then he laughed. "He +did not mean his real father; he mean--how you say--his god-father. I +give to him his name when he get christened." + +"Oh, I see!" + +Her next question was also a surprise. + +"Tony," she inquired with startling suddenness, "why do you wear +earrings?" + +He reddened slightly. + +"Because--because--der's a girl I like ver' moch, signorina; she sink +earrings look nice. I wear zem for her." + +"Oh!--But why do you fasten them on with thread?" + +"Because I no wear zem always. In Italia, yes; in Amerik' no. When I +marry dis girl and go back home, zen I do as I please, now I haf to do as +she please." + +"H'm--" said Constance, ruminatingly. "Where does this girl live, Tony?" + +"In Valedolmo, signorina." + +"What does she look like?" + +"She look like--" His eyes searched the landscape and came back to her +face. "Oh, ver' beautiful, signorina. She have hair brown and gold, and +eyes--yes, eyes! Zay are sometimes black, signorina, and sometimes gray. +Her laugh, it sounds like the song of a nightingale." He clasped his +hands and rolled his eyes in a fine imitation of Gustavo. "She is +beautiful, signorina, beautiful as ze angels in Paradise!" + +"There seem to be a good many people beautiful as the angels in +Paradise." + +"She is most beautiful of all." + +"What is her name?" + +"Costantina." He said it softly, his eyes on her face. + +"Ah," Constance rose and turned away with a shrug. Her manner suggested +that he had gone too far. + +"She wash clothes at ze Hotel du Lac," he called after her. + +Constance paused and glanced over her shoulder with a laugh. + +"Tony," she said, "the quality which I admire most in a donkey-driver, +besides truthfulness and picturesqueness, is imagination." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +On the homeward journey Tony again trudged behind while the officers held +their post at Constance's side. But Tony's spirits were still singing +from the little encounter on the castle platform, and in spite of the +animated Italian which floated back, he was determined to look at the +sunny side of the adventure. It was Mr. Wilder who unconsciously supplied +him with a second opportunity for conversation. He and the Englishman, +being deep in a discussion involving statistics of the Italian army +budget, called on the two officers to set them straight. Tony, at their +order, took his place beside the saddle; Constance was not to be +abandoned again to Fidilini's caprice. Miss Hazel and the Englishwoman +were ambling on ahead in as matter-of-fact a fashion as if that were +their usual mode of travel. Their donkeys were of a sedater turn of mind +than Fidilini--a fact for which Tony offered thanks. + +They were by this time well over the worst part of the mountain and the +brief Italian twilight was already fading. Tony, with a sharp eye on the +path ahead and a ready hand for the bridle, was attending strictly to the +duties of a well-trained donkey-man. It was Constance again who opened +the conversation. + +"Ah, Tony?" + +"_Si_, signorina?" + +"Did you ever read any Angleesh books--or do you do most of your reading +in Magyar?" + +"I haf read one, two, Angleesh books." + +"Did you ever read--er--'The Lightning Conductor' for example?" + +"No, signorina; I haf never read heem." + +"I think it would interest you. It's about a man who pretends he's a +chauffeur in order to--to-- There are any number of books with the same +motive; 'She Stoops to Conquer,' 'Two Gentlemen of Verona,' 'Lalla +Rookh,' 'Monsieur Beaucaire'--Oh, dozens of them! It's an old plot; it +doesn't require the slightest originality to think of it." + +"_Si_, signorina? Sank you." Tony's tone was exactly like Gustavo's when +he has failed to get the point, but feels that a comment is necessary. + +Constance laughed and allowed a silence to follow, while Tony redirected +his attention to Fidilini's movements. His "Yip! Yip!" was an exact +imitation, though in a deeper guttural, of Beppo's cries before them. It +would have taken a close observer to suspect that he had not been bred to +the calling. + +"You have not always been a donkey-driver?" she inquired after an +interval of amused scrutiny. + +"Not always, signorina." + +"What did you do in New York?" + +"I play hand-organ, signorina." + +Tony removed his hand from the bridle and ground "Yankee Doodle" from an +imaginary instrument. + +"I make musica, signorina, wif--wif--how you say, monk, monka? His name +Vittorio Emanuele. Ver' nice monk--simpatica affezionata." + +"You've never been an actor?" + +"An actor? No, signorina." + +"You should try it; I fancy you might have some talent in that +direction." + +"_Si_, signorina. Sank you." + +She let the conversation drop, and Tony, after an interval of silence, +fell to humming Santa Lucia in a very presentable baritone. The tune, +Constance noted, was true enough, but the words were far astray. + +"That's a very pretty song, Tony, but you don't appear to know it." + +"I no understand Italian, signorina. I just learn ze tune because +Costantina like it." + +"You do everything that Costantina wishes?" + +"Everysing! But if you could see her you would not wonder. She has hair +brown and gold, and her eyes, signorina, are sometimes gray and sometimes +black, and her laugh sounds like--" + +"Oh, yes, I know; you told me all that before." + +"When she goes out to work in ze morning, signorina, wif the sunlight +shining on her hair, and a smile on her lips, and a basket of clothes on +her head--Ah, _zen_ she is beautiful!" + +"When are you going to be married?" + +"I do not know, signorina. I have not asked her yet." + +"Then how do you know she wishes to marry you?" + +"I do not know; I just hope." + +He rolled his eyes toward the moon which was rising above the mountains +on the other side of the lake, and with a deep sigh he fell back into +Santa Lucia. + +Constance leaned forward and scanned his face. + +"Tony! Tell me your name." There was an undertone of meaning, a note of +persuasion in her voice. + +"Antonio, signorina." + +She shook her head with a show of impatience. + +"Your real name--your last name." + +"Yamhankeesh." + +"Oh!" she laughed. "Antonio Yamhankeesh doesn't seem to me a very musical +combination; I don't think I ever heard anything like it before." + +"It suits me, signorina." His tone carried a suggestion of wounded +dignity. "Yamhankeesh has a ver' beautiful meaning in my language--'He +who dares not, wins not'." + +"And that is your motto?" + +"_Si_, signorina." + +"A very dangerous motto, Tony; it will some day get you into trouble." + +They had reached the base of the mountain and their path now broadened +into the semblance of a road which wound through the fields, between +fragrant hedgerows, under towering chestnut trees. All about them was the +fragrance of the dewy, flower-scented summer night, the flash of +fireflies, the chirp of crickets, occasionally the note of a +nightingale. Before them out of a cluster of cypresses, rose the square +graceful outline of the village campanile. + +Constance looked about with a pleased, contented sigh. + +"Isn't Italy beautiful, Tony?" + +"Yes, signorina, but I like America better." + +"We have no cypresses and ruins and nightingales in America, Tony. We +have a moon sometimes, but not that moon." + +They passed from the moonlight into the shade of some overhanging +chestnut trees. Fidilini stumbled suddenly over a break in the path and +Tony pulled him up sharply. His hand on the bridle rested for an instant +over hers. + +"Italy is beautiful--to make love in," he whispered. + +She drew her hand away abruptly, and they passed out into the moonlight +again. Ahead of them where the road branched into the highway, the others +were waiting for Constance to catch up, the two officers looking back +with an eager air of expectation. Tony glanced ahead and added with a +quick frown. + +"But perhaps I do not need to tell you that--you may know it already?" + +"You are impertinent, Tony." + +She pulled the donkey into a trot that left him behind. + +The highway was broad and they proceeded in a group, the conversation +general and in English, Tony quite naturally having no part in it. But at +the corners where the road to the village and the road to the villa +separated, Fidilini obligingly turned stubborn again. His mind bent upon +rest and supper, he insisted upon going to the village; the harder +Constance pulled on the left rein, the more fixed was his determination +to turn to the right. + +"Help! I'm being run away with again," she called over her shoulder as +the donkey's pace quickened into a trot. + +Tony, awakening to his duty, started in pursuit, while the others +laughingly shouted directions. He did not run as determinedly as he +might and they had covered considerable ground before he overtook them. +He turned Fidilini's head and they started back--at a walk. + +"Signorina," said Tony, "may I ask a question, a little impertinent?" + +"No, certainly not." + +Silence. + +"Ah, Tony?" she asked presently. + +"_Si_, signorina?" + +"What is it you want to ask?" + +"Are you going to marry that Italian lieutenant--or perhaps the captain?" + +"That _is_ impertinent." + +"Are you?" + +"You forget yourself, Tony. It is not your place to ask such a question." + +"_Si_, signorina; it is my place. If it is true I cannot be your +donkey-man any longer." + +"No, it is not true, but that is no concern of yours." + +"Are you going on another trip Friday--to Monte Maggiore?" + +"Yes." + +"May I come with you?" + +His tone implied more than his words. She hesitated a moment, then +shrugged indifferently. + +"Just as you please, Tony. If you don't wish to work for us any more I +dare say we can find another man." + +"It is as you please, signorina. If you wish it, I come, if you do not +wish it, I go." + +She made no answer. They joined the others and the party proceeded to the +villa gates. + +Lieutenant di Ferara helped Constance dismount, while Captain Coroloni, +with none too good a grace, held the donkey. A careful observer would +have fancied that the lieutenant was ahead, and that both he and the +captain knew it. Tony untied the bundles, dumped them on the kitchen +floor, and waited respectfully, hat in hand, while Mr. Wilder searched +his pockets for change. He counted out four lire and added a note. Tony +pocketed the lire and returned the note, while Mr. Wilder stared his +astonishment. + +"Good-bye, Tony," Constance smiled as he turned away. + +"Good-bye, signorina." There was a note of finality in his voice. + +"Well!" Mr. Wilder ejaculated. "That is the first--" "Italian" he started +to say, but he caught the word before it was out "--donkey-driver I ever +saw refuse money." + +Lieutenant di Ferara raised his shoulders. + +"_Machč_! The fellow is too honest; you do well to watch him." There was +a world of disgust in his tone. + +Constance glanced after the retreating figure and laughed. + +"Tony!" she called. + +He kept on; she raised her voice. + +"Mr. Yamhankeesh." + +He paused. + +"You call, signorina?" + +"Be sure and be here by half past six on Friday morning; we must start +early." + +"Sank you, signorina. Good-night." + +"Good-night, Tony." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The Hotel du Lac may be approached in two ways. The ordinary, obvious +way, which incoming tourists of necessity choose, is by the highroad and +the gate. But the romantic way is by water. One sees only the garden then +and the garden is the distinguished feature of the place; it was planned +long before the hotel was built to adorn a marquis's pleasure house. +There are grottos, arbors, fountains, a winding stream; and, stretching +the length of the water front, a deep cool grove of interlaced plane +trees. At the end of the grove, half a dozen broad stone steps dip down +to a tiny harbor which is carpeted on the surface with lily pads. The +steps are worn by the lapping waves of fifty years, and are grown over +with slippery, slimy water weeds. + +The world was just stirring from its afternoon siesta, when the +_Farfalla_ dropped her yellow sails and floated into the shady little +harbor. Giuseppe prodded and pushed along the fern-grown banks until the +keel jolted against the water steps. He sprang ashore and steadied the +boat while Constance alighted. She slipped on the mossy step--almost went +under--and righted herself with a laugh that rang gaily through the +grove. + +She came up the steps still smiling, shook out her fluffy pink skirts, +straightened her rose-trimmed hat, and glanced reconnoiteringly about the +grove. One might reasonably expect, attacking the hotel as it were from +the flank, to capture unawares any stray guest. But aside from a +chaffinch or so and a brown-and-white spotted calf tied to a tree, the +grove was empty--blatantly empty. There was a shade of disappointment in +Constance's glance. One naturally does not like to waste one's best +embroidered gown on a spotted calf. + +Then her eye suddenly brightened as it lighted on a vivid splash of +yellow under a tree. She crossed over and picked it up--a paper covered +French novel; the title was _Bijou_, the author was Gyp. She turned to +the first page. Any reasonably careful person might be expected to write +his name in the front of a book--particularly a French book--before +abandoning it to the mercies of a foreign hotel. But the several fly +leaves were immaculately innocent of all sign of ownership. + +So intent was she upon this examination, that she did not hear footsteps +approaching down the long arbor that led from the house; so intent was +the young man upon a frowning scrutiny of the path before him, that he +did not see Constance until he had passed from the arbor into the grove. +Then simultaneously they raised their heads and looked at each other. For +a startled second they stared--rather guiltily--both with the air of +having been caught. Constance recovered her poise first; she nodded--a +nod which contained not the slightest hint of recognition--and laughed. + +"Oh!" she said. "I suppose this is your book? And I am afraid you have +caught me red-handed. You must excuse me for looking at it, but usually +at this season only German Alpine-climbers stop at the Hotel du Lac, and +I was surprised you know to find that German Alpine-climbers did anything +so frivolous as reading Gyp." + +The man bowed with a gesture which made her free of the book, but he +continued his silence. Constance glanced at him again, and this time she +allowed a flash of recognition to appear in her face. + +"Oh!" she re-exclaimed with a note of interested politeness, "you are the +young man who stumbled into Villa Rosa last Monday looking for the garden +of the prince?" + +He bowed a second time, an answering flash appearing in his face. + +[Illustration: "The man bowed with a gesture which made her free of the +book"] + +"And you are the young woman who was sitting on the wall beside a row +of--of--" + +"Stockings?" She nodded. "I trust you found the prince's garden without +difficulty?" + +"Yes, thank you. Your directions were very explicit." + +A slight pause followed, the young man waiting deferentially for her to +take the lead. + +"You find Valedolmo interesting?" she inquired. + +"Interesting!" His tone was enthusiastic. "Aside from the prince's garden +which contains a cedar of Lebanon and an India rubber plant from South +America, there is the Luini in the chapel of San Bartolomeo, and the +statue of Garibaldi in the piazza. And then--" he waved his hand toward +the lake, "there is always the view." + +"Yes," she agreed, "one can always look at the view." + +Her eyes wandered to the lake, and across the lake to Monte Maggiore with +clouds drifting about its peak. And while she obligingly studied the +mountain, he studied the effect of the pink gown and the rose-bud hat. +She turned back suddenly and caught him; it was a disconcerting habit of +Constance's. He politely looked away and she--with frank +interest--studied him. He was bareheaded and dressed in white flannels; +they were very becoming, she noted critically, and yet--they needed just +a touch of color; a red sash, for example, and earrings. + +"The guests of the Hotel du Lac," she remarked, "have a beautiful garden +of their own. Just the mere pleasure of strolling about in it ought to +keep them contented with Valedolmo." + +"Not necessarily," he objected. "Think of the garden of Eden--the most +beautiful garden there has ever been if report speaks true--and yet the +mere pleasure of strolling about didn't keep Adam contented. One gets +lonely you know." + +"Are you the only guest?" + +"Oh, no, there are four of us, but we're not very companionable; there's +such a discrepancy in languages." + +"And you don't speak Italian?" + +He shook his head. + +"Only English and--" he glanced at the book in her hand--"French +indifferently well." + +"I saw someone the other day who spoke Magyar--that is a beautiful +language." + +"Yes?" he returned with polite indifference. "I don't remember ever to +have heard it." + +She laughed and glanced about. Her eyes lighted on the arbor hung with +grape-vines and wistaria, where, far at the other end, Gustavo's figure +was visible lounging in the yellow stucco doorway. The sight appeared to +recall an errand to her mind. She glanced down at a pink wicker-basket +which hung on her arm, and gathered up her skirts with a movement of +departure. + +The young man hastily picked up the conversation. + +"It _is_ a jolly old garden," he affirmed. "And there's something +pathetic about its appearing on souvenir post-cards as a mere adjunct to +a blue and yellow hotel." + +She nodded sympathetically. + +"Built for romance and abandoned to tourists--German tourists at that!" + +"Oh, not entirely--we've a Russian countess just now." + +"A Russian countess?" Constance turned toward him with an air of +reawakened interest. "Is she as young and beautiful and fascinating and +wicked as they always are in novels?" + +"Oh, dear no! Seventy, if she's a day. A nice grandmotherly old soul who +smokes cigarettes." + +"Ah!" Constance smiled; there was even a trace of relief in her manner as +she nodded to the young man and turned away. His face reflected his +disappointment; he plainly wished to detain her, but could think of no +expedient. The spotted calf came to his rescue. The calf had been +watching them from the first, very much interested in the visitor; and +now as she approached his tree, he stretched out his neck as far as the +tether permitted and sniffed insistently. She paused and patted him on +the head. The calf acknowledged the caress with a grateful _moo_; there +was a plaintive light in his liquid eyes. + +"Poor thing--he's lonely!" She turned to the young man and spoke with an +accent of reproach. "The four guests of the Hotel du Lac don't show him +enough attention." + +The young man shrugged. + +"We're tired of calves. It's only a matter of a day or so before he'll be +breaded and fried and served Milanese fashion with a sauce of tomato and +garlic." + +Constance shook her head sympathetically; though whether her sympathy was +for the calf or the partakers of _table d'hote_, was not quite clear. + +"I know," she agreed. "I've been a guest at the Hotel du Lac myself--it's +a tragedy to be born a calf in Italy!" + +She nodded and turned; it was evident this time that she was really +going. He took a hasty step forward. + +"Oh, I say, please don't go! Stay and talk to me--just a little while. +That calf isn't half so lonely as I am." + +"I should like to, but really I mustn't. Elizabetta is waiting for me to +bring her some eggs. We are planning a trip up the Maggiore tomorrow, and +we have to have a cake to take with us. Elizabetta made one this morning +but she forgot to put in the baking powder. Italian cooks are not used to +making cakes; they are much better at--" her eyes fell on the calf--"veal +and such things." + +He folded his arms with an air of desperation. + +"I'm an American--one of your own countrymen; if you had a grain of +charity in your nature you would let the cake go." + +She shook her head relentlessly. + +"Five days at Valedolmo! You would not believe the straits I've been +driven to in search of amusement." + +"Yes?" There was a touch of curiosity in her tone. "What for example?" + +"I am teaching Gustavo how to play tennis." + +"Oh!" she said. "How does he do?" + +"Broken three windows and a flower pot and lost four balls." + +She laughed and turned away; and then as an idea occurred to her, she +turned back and fixed her eyes sympathetically on his face. + +"I suppose Valedolmo _is_ stupid for a man; but why don't you try +mountain climbing? Everybody finds that diverting. There's a guide here +who speaks English--really comprehensible English. He's engaged for +tomorrow, but after that I dare say he'll be free. Gustavo can tell you +about him." + +She nodded and smiled and turned down the arbor. + +The young man stood where she left him, with folded arms, watching her +pink gown as it receded down the long sun-flecked alley hung with purple +and green. He waited until it had been swallowed up in the yellow +doorway; then he fetched a deep breath and strolled to the water-wall. +After a few moments' prophetic contemplation of the mountain across the +lake, he threw back his head with a quick amused laugh, and got out a +cigarette and lighted it. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +As Constance emerged at the other end of the arbor, Gustavo, who had been +nodding on the bench beside the door, sprang to his feet, consternation +in his attitude. + +"Signorina!" he stammered. "You come from ze garden?" + +She nodded in her usual off-hand manner and handed him the basket. + +"Eggs, Gustavo--two dozen if you can spare them. I am sorry always to be +wanting so many, but--" she sighed, "eggs are so breakable!" + +Gustavo rolled his eyes to heaven in silent thanksgiving. She had not, it +was evident, run across the American, and the cat was still safely in the +bag; but how much longer it could be kept there, the saints alone knew. +He was feeling--very properly--guilty in regard to this latest escapade; +but what can a defenceless waiter do in the hands of an impetuous young +American whose pockets are stuffed with silver lire and five-franc notes? + +"Two dozen? Certainly, signorina. _Subitissimo_!" He took the basket and +hurried to the kitchen. + +Constance occupied the interval with the polyglot parrot of the +courtyard. The parrot, since she had last conversed with him, had +acquired several new expressions in the English tongue. As Gustavo +reappeared with the eggs, she confronted him sternly. + +"Have you been teaching this bird English? I am surprised!" + +"No, signorina. It was--it was--" Gustavo mopped his brow. "He jus' pick +it up." + +"I'm sorry that the Hotel du Lac has _guests_ that use such language; +it's very shocking." + +"_Si_, signorina." + +"By the way, Gustavo, how does it happen that that young American man +who left last week is still here?" + +Gustavo nearly dropped the eggs. + +"I just saw him in the garden with a book--I am sure it was the same +young man. What is he doing all this time in Valedolmo?" + +Gustavo's eyes roved wildly until they lighted on the tennis court. + +"He--he stay, signorina, to play lawn tennis wif me, but he go tomorrow." + +"Oh, he is going tomorrow?--What's his name, Gustavo?" + +She put the question indifferently while she stooped to pet a +tortoise-shell cat that was curled asleep on the bench. + +"His name?" Gustavo's face cleared. "I get ze raygeester; you read heem +yourself." + +He darted into the bureau and returned with a black book. + +"_Ecco_, signorina!" spreading it on the table before her. + +His alacrity should have aroused her suspicions; but she was too intent +on the matter in hand. She turned the pages and paused at the week's +entries; Rudolph Ziegelmann und Frau, Berlin; and just beneath, in bold +black letters that stretched from margin to margin, Abraham Lincoln, U. +S. A. + +Gustavo hovered above anxiously watching her face; he had been told that +this would make everything right, that Abraham Lincoln was an exceedingly +respectable name. Constance's expression did not change. She looked at +the writing for fully three minutes, then she opened her purse and looked +inside. She laid the money for the eggs in a pile on the table, and took +out an extra lira which she held in her hand. + +"Gustavo," she asked, "do you think that you _could_ tell me the truth?" + +"Signorina!" he said reproachfully. + +"How did that name get there?" + +"He write it heemself!" + +[Illustration: "She turned the pages and paused at the week's entries."] + +"Yes, I dare say he did--but it doesn't happen to be his name. Oh, I'm +not blind; I can see plainly enough that he has scratched out his own +name underneath." + +Gustavo leaned forward and affected to examine the page. "It was a li'l' +blot, signorina; he scratch heem out." + +"Gustavo!" Her tone was despairing. "Are you incapable of telling the +truth? That young man's name is no more Abraham Lincoln than Victor +Emmanuel II. When did he write that and why?" + +Gustavo's eyes were on the lira; he broke down and told the truth. + +"Yesterday night, signorina. He say, 'ze next time zat Signorina +Americana who is beautiful as ze angels come to zis hotel she look in ze +raygeester, an' I haf it feex ready'." + +"Oh, he said that, did he?" + +"_Si_, signorina." + +"And his real name that comes on his letters?" + +"Jayreem Ailyar, signorina. + +"Say it again, Gustavo." She cocked her head. + +He gathered himself together for a supreme effort. He rolled his r's; he +shouted until the courtyard reverberated. + +"Meestair-r Jay-r-reem Ailyar-r!" + +Constance shook her head. + +"Sounds like Hungarian--at least the way you pronounce it. But anyway +it's of no consequence; I merely asked out of idle curiosity. And +Gustavo--" She still held the lira--"if he asks you if I looked in this +register, what are you going to say?" + +"I say, 'no, Meestair Ailyar, she stay all ze time in ze courtyard +talking wif ze parrot, and she was ver' moch shocked at his Angleesh'." + +"Ah!" Constance smiled and laid the lira on the table. "Gustavo," she +said, "I hope, for the sake of your immortal soul, that you go often to +confession." + +The eggs were not heavy, but Gustavo insisted upon carrying them; he was +determined to see her safely aboard the _Farfalla_, with no further +accidents possible. That she had not identified the young man of the +garden with the donkey-driver of yesterday was clear--though how such +blindness was possible, was not clear. Probably she had only caught a +glimpse of his back at a distance; in any case he thanked a merciful +Providence and decided to risk no further chance. As they neared the end +of the arbor, Gustavo was talking--shouting fairly; their approach was +heralded. + +They turned into the grove. To Gustavo's horror the most conspicuous +object in it was this same reckless young man, seated on the water-wall +nonchalantly smoking a cigarette. The young man rose and bowed; Constance +nodded carelessly, while Gustavo behind her back made frantic signs for +him to flee, to escape while still there was time. The young man +telegraphed back by the same sign language that there was no danger; she +didn't suspect the truth. And to Gustavo's amazement, he fell in beside +them and strolled over to the water steps. His recklessness was catching; +Gustavo suddenly determined upon a bold stroke himself. + +"Signorina," he asked, "zat man I send, zat donk' driver--you like +heem?" + +"Tony?" Her manner was indifferent. "Oh, he does well enough; he seems +honest and truthful, though a little stupid." + +Gustavo and the young man exchanged glances. + +"And Gustavo," she turned to him with a sweetly serious air that admitted +no manner of doubt but that she was in earnest. "I told this young man +that in case he cared to do any mountain climbing, you would find him the +same guide. It would be very useful for him to have one who speaks +English." + +Gustavo bowed in mute acquiescence. He could find no adequate words for +the situation. + +The boat drew alongside and Constance stepped in, but she did not sit +down. Her attention was attracted by two washer-women who had come +clattering on to the little rustic bridge that spanned the stream above +the water steps. The women, their baskets of linen on their heads, had +paused to watch the embarkation. + +"Ah, Gustavo," Constance asked over her shoulder, "is there a +washer-woman here at the Hotel du Lac named Costantina?" + +"_Si_, signorina, zat is Costantina standing on ze bridge wif ze yellow +handkerchief on her head." + +Constance looked at Costantina, and nodded and smiled. Then she laughed +out loud, a beautiful rippling, joyous laugh that rang through the grove +and silenced the chaffinches. + +Perhaps once upon a time Costantina was beautiful--beautiful as the +angels--but if so, it was long, long ago. Now she was old and fat with a +hawk nose and a double chin and one tooth left in the middle of the +front. But if she were not beautiful, she was at least a cheerful old +soul, and, though she could not possibly know the reason, she echoed the +signorina's laugh until she nearly shook the clean clothes into the +water. + +Constance settled herself among the cushions and glanced back toward the +terrace. + +"Good afternoon," she nodded politely to the young man. + +He bowed with his hand on his heart. + +"_Addio_, Gustavo." + +He bowed until his napkin swept the ground. + +"_Addio_, Costantina," she waved her hand toward her namesake. + +The washer-woman laughed again and her earrings flashed in the sunlight. + +Giuseppe raised the yellow sail; they caught the breeze, and the +_Farfalla_ floated away. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Half past six on Friday morning and Constance appeared on the terrace; +Constance in fluffy, billowy, lacy white with a spray of oleander in her +belt--the last costume in the world in which one would start on a +mountain climb. She cast a glance in passing toward the gateway and the +stretch of road visible beyond, but both were empty, and seating herself +on the parapet, she turned her attention to the lake. The breeze that +blew from the farther shore brought fresh Alpine odors of flowers and +pine trees. Constance sniffed it eagerly as she gazed across toward the +purple outline of Monte Maggiore. The serenity of her smile gradually +gave place to doubt; she turned and glanced back toward the house, +visibly changing her mind. + +But before the change was finished, the quiet of the morning was broken +by a clatter of tiny scrambling obstinate hoofs and a series of +ejaculations, both Latin and English. She glanced toward the gate where +Fidilini was visible, plainly determined not to come in. Constance +laughed expectantly and turned back to the water, her eyes intent on the +fishing-smacks that were putting out from the little _marino_. The sounds +of coercion increased; a command floated down the driveway in the English +tongue. It sounded like: + +"You twist his tail, Beppo, while I pull." + +Apparently it was understood in spite of Beppo's slight knowledge of the +language. An eloquent silence followed; then an outraged grunt on the +part of Fidilini, and the cavalcade advanced with a rush to the kitchen +door. Tony left Beppo and the donkeys, and crossed the terrace alone. His +bow swept the ground in the deferential manner of Gustavo, but his +glance was far bolder than a donkey-driver's should have been. She noted +the fact and tossed him a nod of marked condescension. A silence followed +during which Constance studied the lake; when she turned back, she found +Tony arranging a spray of oleander that had dropped from her belt in the +band of his hat. She viewed this performance in silent disfavor. Having +finished to his satisfaction, he tossed the hat aside and seated himself +on the balustrade. Her frown became visible. Tony sprang to his feet with +an air of anxiety. + +"_Scusi_, signorina. I have not meant to be presumptious. Perhaps it is +not fitting that anyone below the rank of lieutenant should sit in your +presence?" + +"It will not be very long, Tony, before you are discharged for +impertinence." + +"Ah, signorina, do not say that! If it is your wish I will kneel when I +address you. My family, signorina, are poor; they need the four francs +which you so munificently pay." + +"You told me that you were an orphan; that you had no family." + +"I mean the family which I hope to have. Costantina has extravagant +tastes and coral earrings cost two-fifty a pair." + +Constance laughed and assumed a more lenient air. She made a slight +gesture which might be interpreted as an invitation to sit down; and Tony +accepted it. + +"By the way, Tony, how do you talk to Costantina, since she speaks no +English and you no Italian?" + +"We have no need of either Italian or English; the language of love, +signorina, is universal." + +"Oh!" she laughed again. "I was at the Hotel du Lac yesterday; I saw +Costantina." + +"You saw Costantina!--Ah, signorina, is she not beautiful? Ze mos' +beautiful in all ze world? But ver' unkind signorina. Yes, she laugh at +me; she smile at ozzer men, at soldiers wif uniforms." He sighed +profoundly. "But I love her just ze same, always from ze first moment I +see her. It was washday, signorina, by ze lac. I climb over ze wall and +talk wif her, but she make fun of me--ver' unkind. I go away ver' sad. No +use, I say, she like dose soldiers best. But I see her again; I hear her +laugh--it sound like angels singing--I say, no, I can not go away; I stay +here and make her love me. Yes, I do everysing she ask--but everysing! I +wear earrings; I make myself into a fool just to please zat Costantina." + +He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. A slow red flush crept over +Constance's face and she turned her head away and looked across the +water. + +Mr. Wilder, in full Alpine regalia, stepped out upon the terrace and +viewed the beauty of the morning with a prophetic eye. Miss Hazel +followed in his wake; she wore a lavender dimity. And suddenly it +occurred to Tony's slow moving masculine perception that neither lavender +dimity nor white muslin were fabrics fit for mountain climbing. + +Constance slipped down from her parapet and hurried to meet them. + +"Good-morning, Aunt Hazel. Morning, Dad! You look beautiful! There's +nothing so becoming to a man as knickerbockers--especially if he's a +little stout.--You're late," she added with a touch of severity. +"Breakfast has been waiting half an hour and Tony fifteen minutes." + +She turned back toward the donkey-man who was standing, hat in hand, +respectfully waiting orders. "Oh, Tony, I forgot to tell you; we shall +not need Beppo and the donkeys to-day. You and my father are going +alone." + +"You no want to climb Monte Maggiore--ver' beautiful mountain." There was +disappointment, reproach, rebellion in his tone. + +"We have made inquiries and my aunt thinks it too long a trip. Without +the donkeys you can cross by boat, and that cuts off three miles." + +"As you please, signorina." He turned away. + +Constance looked after him with a shade of remorse. When this plan of +sending her father and Tony alone had occurred to her as she sailed +homeward yesterday from the Hotel du Lac, it had seemed a humorous and +fitting retribution. The young man had been just a trifle too sure of her +interest; the episode of the hotel register must not go unpunished. +But--it was a beautiful morning, a long empty day stretched before her, +and Monte Maggiore looked alluring; there was no pursuit, for the moment, +which she enjoyed as much as donkey-riding. Oh yes, she was spiting +herself as well as Tony; but considering the circumstances the sacrifice +seemed necessary. + +When the _Farfalla_ drifted up ready to take the mountain-climbers, Miss +Hazel suggested (Constance possessed to a large degree the diplomatic +faculty of making other people propose what she herself had decided on) +that she and her niece cross with them. Tony was sulky and Constance +could not forego the pleasure of baiting him further. + +They put in at the village, on their way, for the morning mail; Mr. +Wilder wished his paper, even at the risk of not beginning the ascent +before the sun was high. Giuseppe brought back from the post, among other +matters, a letter for Constance. The address was in a dashing, angular +hand that pretty thoroughly covered the envelope. Had she not been so +intent on the writing herself, she would have noted Tony's astonished +stare as he passed it to her. + +"Why!" she exclaimed, "here's a letter from Nannie Hilliard, postmarked +Lucerne." + +"Lucerne!" Miss Hazel echoed her surprise. "I thought they were to be in +England for the summer?" + +"They were--the last I heard." Constance ripped the letter open and read +it aloud. + +[Illustration: "Constance ripped the letter open and read it aloud."] + + "DEAR CONSTANCE: You'll doubtless be surprised to hear from us in + Switzerland instead of in England, and to learn further, that in + the course of a week, we shall arrive at Valedolmo en route for + the Dolomites. Jerry Junior at the last moment decided to come with + us, and you know what a _man_ is when it comes to European travel. + Instead of taking two months comfortably to England, as Aunt Kate + and I had planned, we did the whole of the British Isles in ten + days, and Holland and France at the same breathless rate. + + "Jerry says he holds the record for the Louvre; he struck a + six-mile pace at the entrance, and by looking neither to the right + nor the left he did the whole building in forty-three minutes. + + "You can imagine the exhausted state Aunt Kate and I are in after + travelling five weeks with him. We simply struck in Switzerland and + sent him on to Italy alone. I had hoped he would meet us in + Valedolmo, but we have been detained here longer than we expected, + and now he's rushed off again--where to, goodness only knows; we + don't. + + "Anyway, Aunt Kate and I shall land in Valedolmo about the end of + the week. I am dying to see you; I have some beautiful news that's + too complicated to write. We've engaged rooms at the Hotel du + Lac--I hope it's decent; it's the only place starred in Baedeker. + + "Aunt Kate wishes to be remembered to your father and Miss Hazel. + + "Yours ever, + NAN HILLIARD. + + "P. S. I'm awfully sorry not to bring Jerry; I know you'd adore + him." + +She returned the letter to its envelope and looked up. + +"Now isn't that abominable?" she demanded. + +"Abominable!" Miss Hazel was scandalized. "My dear, I think it's +delightful." + +"Oh, yes--I mean about Jerry Junior; I've been trying for six years to +get hold of that man." + +Tony behind them made a sudden movement that let out nearly a yard of +rope, and the _Farfalla_ listed heavily to starboard. + +"Tony!" Constance threw over her shoulder. "Don't you know enough to sit +still when you are holding the sheet?" + +"_Scusi_," he murmured. The sulky look had vanished from his face; he +wore an expression of alert attention. + +"Of course we shall have them at the villa," said Miss Hazel. "And we +shall have to get some new dishes. Elizabetta has already broken so many +plates that she has to stop and wash them between courses." + +Constance looked dreamily across the lake; she appeared to be thinking. +"I wonder," she inquired finally, "if Jerry Junior knew we were here in +Valedolmo?" + +Her father emerged from the columns of his paper. + +"Of course he knew it, and having heard what a dangerous young person you +were, he said to himself, 'I'd better keep out.'" + +"I wish I knew. It would make the score against him considerably +heavier." + +"So there is already a score? I hadn't supposed that the game had begun." + +She nodded. + +"Six years ago--but he doesn't know it. Yes, Dad," her tone was +melodramatic, "for six years I've been waiting for Jerry Junior and +planning my revenge. And now, when I have him almost in my grasp, he +eludes me again!" + +"Dear me!" Mr. Wilder ejaculated. "What did the young man do?" + +Had Constance turned she would have found Tony's face an interesting +study. But she knew well enough without looking at him that he was +listening to the conversation, and she determined to give him something +to listen to. It was a salutary thing for Tony to be kept in mind of the +fact that there were other men in the world. + +She sighed. + +"He was the first man I ever loved, Father, and he spurned me. Do you +remember that Christmas when I was in boarding-school and you were called +South on business? I wanted to visit Nancy Long, but you wouldn't let me +because you didn't like her father; and you got Mrs. Jerymn Hilliard whom +I had never set eyes on to invite me there? I didn't want to go, and you +said I must, and were perfectly horrid about it--you remember that?" + +Mr. Wilder grunted. + +"Yes, I see you do. And you remember how, with my usual sweetness, I +finally gave way? Well, Dad, you never knew the reason. The Yale Glee +Club came to Westfield that year just before the holidays began, and Miss +Jane let everybody go to the concert whose deportment had been above +eighty--that of course included me. + +"Well, we all went, and we all fell in love--in a body--with a sophomore +who played the banjo and sang negro songs. He had lovely dark +gazelle-like eyes and he sang funny songs without smiling. The whole +school raved about him all the way home; we cut his picture out of the +program and pasted in the front of our watches. His name, Father--" she +paused dramatically, "was Jerymn Hilliard Junior!" + +"I sat up half the night writing diplomatic letters to you and Mrs. +Hilliard; and the next day when it got around that I was actually going +to visit in his house--well, I was the most popular girl in school. I was +sixteen years old then; I wore sailor suits and my hair was braided down +my back. Probably I did look young; and then Nannie, whom I was +supposedly visiting, was only fifteen. There were a lot of cousins in the +house besides all the little Hilliards, and what do you think? They made +the children eat in the schoolroom! I never saw him until Christmas +night; then when we were introduced, he shook my hand in a listless sort +of way, said 'How d' y' do?' and forgot all about me. He went off with +the Glee Club the next day, and I only saw him once more. + +"We were playing blind man's buff in the school-room; I had just been +caught by the hair. It hurt and I was squealing. Everybody else was +clapping and laughing, when suddenly the door burst open and there stood +Jerry Junior! He looked straight at me and growled: + +"'What are you kids making such an infernal racket about?'" + +She shut her eyes. + +"Aunt Hazel, Dad, just think. He was my first love. His picture was at +that moment in a locket around my neck. And he called me a _kid_!" + +"And you've never seen him since?" Miss Hazel's smile expressed amused +indulgence. + +Constance shook her head. + +"He's always been away when I've visited Nan--and for six years I've been +waiting." She straightened up with an air of determination. "But now, if +he's on the continent of Europe, I'll get him!" + +"And what shall you do with him?" her father mildly inquired. + +"Do with him? I'll make him take it back; I'll make him eat that word +kid!" + +"H'm!" said her father. "I hope you'll get him; he might act as an +antidote to some of these officers." + +They had run in under the shadow of the mountain and the keel grated on +the shore. Constance raised her eyes and studied the towering crag above +their heads; when she lowered them again, her gaze for an instant met +Tony's. There was a new light in his eyes--amusement, triumph, something +entirely baffling. He gave her the intangible feeling of having at last +got the mastery of the situation. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +The sun was setting behind Monte Maggiore, the fishing smacks were coming +home, Luigi had long since carried the tea things into the house; but +still the two callers lingered on the terrace of Villa Rosa. It was +Lieutenant di Ferara's place to go first since he had come first, and +Captain Coroloni doggedly held his post until such time as his junior +officer should see fit to take himself off. The captain knew, as well as +everyone else at the officer's mess, that in the end the lieutenant would +be the favored man; for he was a son of Count Guido di Ferara of Turin, +and titles are at a premium in the American market. But still the +marriage contract was not signed yet, and the fact remained that the +captain had come last: accordingly he waited. + +They had been there fully two hours, and poor Miss Hazel was worn with +the strain. She sat nervously on the edge of her chair, and leaned +forward with clasped hands listening intently. It required very keen +attention to keep the run of either the captain's or the lieutenant's +English. A few days before she had laughed at what seemed to be a funny +story, and had later learned that it was an announcement of the death of +the lieutenant's grandmother. Today she confined her answers to +inarticulate murmurs which might be interpreted as either assents or +negations as the case required. + +Constance however was buoyantly at her ease; she loved nothing better +than the excitement of a difficult situation. As she bridged over pauses, +and unobtrusively translated from the officer's English into real +English, she at the same time kept a watchful eye on the water. She had +her own reasons for wishing to detain the callers until her father's +return. + +Presently she saw, across the lake, a yellow sailboat float out from the +shadow of Monte Maggiore and head in a long tack toward Villa Rosa. With +this she gave up the task of keeping the conversation general; and +abandoning Captain Coroloni to her aunt, she strolled over to the terrace +parapet with Lieutenant di Ferara at her side. The picture they made was +a charming color scheme. Constance wore white, the lieutenant pale blue; +an oleander tree beside them showed a cloud of pink blossoms, while +behind them for a background, appeared the rose of the villa wall and the +deep green of cypresses against a sunset sky. The picture was +particularly effective as seen from the point of view of an approaching +boat. + +Constance broke off a spray of oleander, and while she listened to the +lieutenant's recountal of a practice march, she picked up his hat from +the balustrade and idly arranged the flowers in the vizor. He bent toward +her and said something; she responded with a laugh. They were both too +occupied to notice that the boat had floated close in shore, until the +flap of the falling sail announced its presence. Constance glanced up +with a start. She caught her father's eye fixed anxiously upon her; +whatever Gustavo and the officer's mess of the tenth cavalry might think, +he had not the slightest wish in the world to see his daughter the +Contessa di Ferara. Tony's face also wore an expression; he was sober, +disgusted, disdainful; there was a glint of anger and determination in +his eye. Constance hurried to the water steps to greet her father. Of +Tony she took no manner of notice; if a man elects to be a donkey-driver, +he must swallow the insults that go with the part. + +The officers, observing that Luigi was hovering about the doorway waiting +to announce dinner, waived the question of precedence and made their +adieus. While Mr. Wilder and Miss Hazel were intent on the captain's +labored farewell speech, the lieutenant crossed to Constance who still +stood at the head of the water steps. He murmured something in Italian +as he bowed over her hand and raised it to his lips. Constance blushed +very becomingly as she drew her hand away; she was aware, if the officer +was not, that Tony was standing beside them looking on. But as he raised +his eyes, he too became aware of it; the man's expression was more than +impertinent. The lieutenant stepped to his side and said something low +and rapid, something which should have made a right-minded donkey-driver +touch his hat and slink off. But Tony held his ground with a laugh which +was more impertinent than the stare had been. The lieutenant's face +flushed angrily and his hand half instinctively went to his sword. +Constance stepped forward. + +"Tony! I shall have no further need of your services. You may go." + +Tony suddenly came to his senses. + +"I--beg your pardon, Miss Wilder," he stammered. + +"I shall not want you again; please go." She turned her back and joined +the others. + +The two officers with final salutes took themselves off. Miss Hazel +hurried indoors to make ready for dinner; Mr. Wilder followed in her +wake, muttering something about finding the change to pay Tony. Constance +stood where they left her, staring at the pavement with hotly burning +cheeks. + +"Miss Wilder!" Tony crossed to her side; his manner was humble--actually +humble--the usual mocking undertone in his voice was missing. "Really I'm +awfully sorry to have caused you annoyance; it was unpardonable." + +Constance turned toward him. + +"Yes, Tony, I think it was. Your position does not give you the right to +insult my guests." + +Tony stiffened slightly. + +"I acknowledge that I insulted him, and I'm sorry. But he insulted me, +for the matter of that. I didn't like the way he looked at me, any more +than he liked the way I looked at him." + +"There is a certain deference, Tony, which an officer in the Royal +Italian Army has a right to expect from a donkey-driver." + +Tony shrugged. + +"It is a difficult position to hold, Miss Wilder. A donkey-driver, I +find, plays the same accommodating rōle as the family watch-dog. You pat +him when you choose; you kick him when you choose; and he is supposed to +swallow both attentions with equal grace." + +"You should have chosen another profession." + +"Naturally, I was not flattered to find that your real reason for staying +at home today, was that you were expecting more entertaining callers." + +"Is there any use in discussing it further? I am not going to climb any +more mountains, and I shall not, as I told you, need a donkey-man again." + +"Then I'm discharged?" + +"If you wish to put it so. You must see for yourself that the play has +gone far enough. However, it has been amusing, and we will at least part +friends." + +She held out her hand; it was a mark of definite dismissal rather than a +token of friendly forgiveness. + +Tony bowed over her hand in perfect mimicry of the lieutenant's manner. +"Signorina, _addio_!" He gravely raised it to his lips. + +She snatched her hand away quickly and without glancing at him turned +toward the house. He let her cross half the terrace then he called +softly: + +"Signorina!" + +She kept on without pausing. He took a quick step after. + +"Signorina, a moment!" + +She half turned. + +"Well?" + +"I beg of you--one little favor. There are two American ladies expected +at the Hotel du Lac and I thought--perhaps--would you mind writing me a +letter of recommendation?" + +Constance turned back without a word and walked into the house. + +Mr. Wilder's conversation at dinner that night was of the day's +excursion and Tony. He was elated, enthusiastic, glowing. +Mountain-climbing was the most interesting pursuit in the world; he would +begin tomorrow and exhaust the Alps. And as for Tony--his intelligence, +his discretion, his cleverness--there never had been such a guide. +Constance listened silently, her eyes on her plate. At another time it +might have occurred to her that her father's enthusiasm was excessive, +but tonight she was occupied with her thoughts, and she had no reason in +the world to suspect him of guile. She decided, however, to postpone the +announcement of Tony's dismissal; tomorrow mountain-climbing might look +less alluring. + +Dinner over, Mr. Wilder with a tired if satisfied sigh, dropped into a +chair to finish his reading of the London _Times_. He no longer skimmed +his paper lightly as in the days when papers were to be had hot at any +hour. He read it carefully, painstakingly, from the first advertisement +to the last obituary; and he laid it down in the end with a disappointed +sigh that there were not more residential properties for hire, that the +day's death list was so meager. + +Miss Hazel settled herself to her knitting. She was making a rain-bow +shawl of seven colors and an intricate pattern, and she had to count her +stitches; conversation was impossible. Constance, vaguely restless, +picked up a book and laid it down, and finally sauntered out to the +terrace with no thought in the world but to see the moon rise over the +mountains. + +As she approached the parapet she became aware that someone was lounging +on the water-steps smoking a cigarette. The smoker rose politely but +ventured no remark. + +"Is that you, Giuseppe?" she asked in Italian. + +"No, signorina. It is I--Tony. I am waiting for orders." + +"For orders!" There was astonishment as well as indignation in her tone. +"I thought I made it clear--" + +"That I was discharged? Yes, signorina. But I have been so fortunate as +to find another place. The Signor Papa has engage me. I go wif him; we +climb all ze mountain around." He waved his hand largely to comprise the +whole landscape. "I sink perhaps it is better so--for the Signor Papa and +me to go alone. Mountain climbing is too hard; zere is too much fatigue, +signorina, for you." + +He bowed humbly and deferentially, and retired to the steps and his +cigarette. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Half past six on the following morning found Constance and her father +rising from the breakfast table and Tony turning in at the gate. +Constance's nod of greeting was barely perceptible, and her father's eye +contained a twinkle as he watched her. Tony studied her mountain-climbing +costume with an air of concern. + +"You go wif us, signorina?" His expression was blended of surprise and +disapproval, but in spite of himself his tone was triumphant. "You say to +me yesterday you no want to climb any more mountain." + +"I have changed my mind." + +"But zis mountain today too long, too high. You get tired, signorina. +Perhaps anozzer day we take li'l' baby mountain, zen you can go." + +"I am going today." + +"It is not possible, signorina. I have not brought ze donk'." + +"Oh, I'm going to walk." + +"As you please, signorina." + +He sighed patiently. Then he looked up and caught her eye. They both +laughed. + +"Signorina," he whispered, "I ver' happy today. Zat Costantina she more +kind. Yesterday ver' unkind; I go home ver' sad. But today I sink--" + +"Yes?" + +"I sink after all maybe she like me li'l' bit." + + * * * * * + +Giuseppe rowed the three climbers a mile or so down the lake and set them +ashore at the base of their mountain. They started up gaily and had +accomplished half their journey before they thought of being tired. Tony +surpassed himself; if he had been entertaining the day before he was +doubly so now. His spirits were bubbling over and contagious. He and +Constance acted like two children out of school. They ran races and +talked to the peasants in the wayside cottages. They drove a herd of +goats for half a mile while the goatherd strolled behind and smoked +Tony's cigarettes. Constance took a water jar from a little girl they met +coming from the fountain and endeavored to balance it on her own head, +with the result that she nearly drowned both herself and the child. + +They finally stopped for luncheon in a grove of chestnut trees with sheep +nibbling on the hillside below them and a shepherd boy somewhere out of +sight playing on a mouth organ. It should have been a flute, but they +were in a forgiving mood. Constance this time did her share of the work. +She and Tony together spread the cloth and made the coffee while her +father fanned himself and looked on. If Mr. Wilder had any unusual +thoughts in regard to the donkey-man, they were at least not reflected in +his face. + +When they had finished their meal Tony spread his coat under a tree. + +"Signorina," he said, "perhaps you li'l' tired? Look, I make nice place +to sleep. You lie down and rest while ze Signor Papa and me, we have +li'l' smoke. Zen after one, two hours I come call you." + +Constance very willingly accepted the suggestion. They had walked five +uphill miles since morning. It was two hours later that she opened her +eyes to find Tony bending over her. She sat up and regarded him sternly. +He had the grace to blush. + +"Tony, did you kiss my hand?" + +"_Scusi_, signorina. I ver' sorry to wake you, but it is tree o'clock and +ze Signor Papa he say we must start just now or we nevair get to ze top." + +"Answer my question." + +"Signorina, I cannot tell to you a lie. It is true, I forget I am just +poor donkey-man. I play li'l' game. You sleeping beauty; I am ze prince. +I come to wake you. Just _one_ kiss I drop on your hand--one ver' little +kiss, signorina." + +Constance assumed an air of indignant reproof but in the midst of it she +laughed. + +"I wish you wouldn't be so funny, Tony; I can't scold you as much as you +deserve. But I am angry just the same, and if anything like that ever +happens again I shall be very _very_ angry. + +"Signorina, I would not make you very _very_ angry for anysing. As long +as I live nosing like zat shall happen again. No, nevair, I promise." + +They plunged into a pine wood and climbed for another two hours, the +summit always vanishing before them like a mirage. At the end of that +time they were apparently no nearer their goal than when they had +started. They had followed first one path, then another, until they had +lost all sense of direction, and finally when they came to a place where +three paths diverged, they had to acknowledge themselves definitely lost. +Mr. Wilder elected one path, Tony another, and Constance sat down on a +rock. + +"I'm not going any farther," she observed. + +"You can't stay here all night," said her father. + +"Well, I can't walk over this mountain all night. We don't get anywhere; +we merely move in circles. I don't think much of the guide you engaged. +He doesn't know his way." + +"He wasn't engaged to know his way," Tony retorted. "He was engaged to +wear earrings and sing Santa Lucia." + +Constance continued to sit on her rock while Tony went forward on a +reconnoitering expedition. He returned in ten minutes with the +information that there was a shepherd's hut not very far off with a +shepherd inside who would like to be friendly. If the signorina would +deign to ask some questions in the Italian language which she spoke so +fluently, they could doubtless obtain directions as to the way home. + +They found the shepherd, the shepherdess and four little shepherds eating +their evening polenta in an earth-floored room, with half a dozen +chickens and the family pig gathered about them in an expectant group. +They rose politely and invited the travellers to enter. It was an event +in their simple lives when foreigners presented themselves at the door. + +Constance commenced amenities by announcing that she had been walking on +the mountain since sunrise and was starving. Did they by chance have any +fresh milk? + +"Starving! _Madonna mia_, how dreadful!" Madame held up her hands. But +yes, to be sure they had fresh milk. They kept four cows. That was their +business--turning milk into cheese and selling it on market day in the +village. Also they had some fresh mountain strawberries which Beppo had +gathered that morning--perhaps they too might be pleasing to the +signorina? + +Constance nodded affirmatively, and added, with her eyes on the pig, that +it might be pleasanter to eat outside where they could look at the view. +She became quite gay again over what she termed their afternoon +tea-party, and her father had to remind her most insistently that if they +wished to get down before darkness overtook them they must start at once. +An Italian twilight is short. They paid for the food and presented a +lira apiece to the children, leaving them silhouetted against the sky in +a bobbing row shouting musical farewells. + +Their host led them through the woods and out on to the brow of the +mountain in order to start them down by the right path. He regretted that +he could not go all the way but the sheep had still to be brought in for +the night. At the parting he was garrulous with directions. + +The easiest way to get home now would be straight down the mountain to +Grotta del Monte--he pointed out the brown-tiled roofs of a village far +below them--there they could find donkeys or an ox-cart to take them +back. It was nine kilometres to Valedolmo. They had come quite out of +their way; if they had taken the right path in the morning they would +have reached the top where the view was magnificant--truly magnificant. +It was a pity to miss it. Perhaps some other day they would like to come +again and he himself would be pleased to guide them. He shook hands and +wished them a pleasant journey. They would best hurry a trifle, he added, +for darkness came fast and when one got caught on the mountain at +night--he shrugged his shoulders and looked at Tony--one needed a guide +who knew his business. + +They had walked for ten minutes when they heard someone shouting behind +and found a young man calling to them to wait. He caught up with them and +breathlessly explained. + +Pasquale had told him that they were foreigners from America who were +climbing the mountain for diversion and who had lost their way. He was +going down to the village himself and would be pleased to guide them. + +He fell into step beside Constance and commenced asking questions, while +Tony, as the path was narrow, perforce fell behind. Occasionally +Constance translated, but usually she laughed without translating, and +Tony, for the twentieth time, found himself hating the Italian language. + +The young man's questions were refreshingly ingenuous. He was curious +about America, since he was thinking, he said, of becoming an American +himself some day. He knew a man once who had gone to America to live and +had made a fortune there--but yes a large fortune--ten thousand lire in +four years. Perhaps the signorina knew him--Giuseppe Motta; he lived in +Buenos Aires. And what did it look like--America? How was it different +from Italy? + +Constance described the skyscrapers in New York. + +His wonder was intense. A building twenty stories high! _Dio mio_! He +should hate to mount himself up all those stairs. Were the buildings like +that in the country too? Did the shepherds live in houses twenty stories +high? + +"Oh no," she laughed. "In the country the houses are just like these only +they are made of wood instead of stone." + +"Of wood?" He opened his eyes. "But signorina, do they never burn?" + +He had another question to ask. He had been told--though of course he did +not believe it--that the Indians in America had red skins. + +Constance nodded yes. His eyes opened wider. + +"Truly red like your coat?" with a glance at her scarlet golf jacket. + +"Not quite," she admitted. + +"But how it must be diverting," he sighed, "to travel the world over and +see different things." He fell silent and trudged on beside her, the +wanderlust in his eyes. + +It was almost dark when they reached the big arched gateway that led into +the village. Here their ways parted and they paused for farewell. + +"Signorina," the young man said suddenly, "take me with you back to +America. I will prune your olive trees, I will tend your vines. You can +leave me in charge when you go on your travels." + +She shook her head with a laugh. + +"But I have no vines; I have no olive trees. You would be homesick for +Italy." + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"Then good bye. You, signorina, will go around the world and see many +sights while I, for travel, shall ride on a donkey to Valedolmo." + +He shook hands all around and with the grace of a prince accepted two of +Tony's cigarettes. His parting speech showed him a fatalist. + +"What will be, will be. There is a girl--" he waved his hand vaguely in +the direction of the village. "If I go to America then I cannot stay +behind and marry Maria. So perhaps it is planned for the best. You will +find me, signorina, when next you come to Italy, still digging the ground +in Grotta del Monte." + +As he swung away Tony glanced after him with a suggestion of malice, then +he transferred his gaze to the empty gateway. + +"I see no one else with whom you can talk Italian. Perhaps for ten +minutes you will deign to speak English with me?" + +"I am too tired to talk," she threw over her shoulder as she followed her +father through the gate. + +They plunged into a tangle of tortuous paved streets, the houses pressing +each other as closely as if there were not all the outside world to +spread in. Grotta del Monte is built on a slope and its streets are in +reality long narrow flights of stairs all converging in the little +piazza. The moon was not yet up, and aside from an occasional flickering +light before a madonna's shrine, the way was black. + +"Signorina, take my arm. I'm afraid maybe you fall." + +Tony's voice was humbly persuasive. Constance laughed and laid her hand +lightly on his arm. Tony dropped his own hand over hers and held her +firmly. Neither spoke until they came to the piazza. + +"Signorina," he whispered, "you make me ver' happy tonight." + +She drew her hand away. + +"I'm tired, Tony. I'm not quite myself." + +"No, signorina, yesterday I sink maybe you not yourself, but to-day you +ver' good ver' kind--jus' your own self ze way you ought to be." + +The piazza, after the dark, narrow streets that led to it, seemed +bubbling with life. The day's work was finished and the evening's play +had begun. In the center, where a fountain splashed into a broad bowl, +groups of women and girls with copper water-jars were laughing and +gossiping as they waited their turns. One side of the square was flanked +by the imposing faēade of a church with the village saint on a pedestal +in front; the other side, by a cheerfully inviting osteria with tables +and chairs set into the street and a glimpse inside of a blazing hearth +and copper kettles. + +Mr. Wilder headed in a straight line for the nearest chair and dropped +into it with an expression of permanence. Constance followed and they +held a colloquy with a bowing host. He was vague as to the finding of +carriage or donkeys, but if they would accommodate themselves until after +supper there would be a diligence along which would take them back to +Valedolmo. + +"How soon will the diligence arrive?" asked Constance. + +The man spread out his hands. + +"It is due in three quarters of an hour, but it may be early and it may +be late. It arrives when God and the driver wills." + +"In that case," she laughed, "we will accommodate ourselves until after +supper--and we have appetites! Please bring everything you have." + +They supped on _minestra_ and _fritto misto_ washed down with the red +wine of Grotta del Monte, which, their host assured them, was famous +through all the country. He could not believe that they had never heard +of it in Valedolmo. People sent for it from far off; even from Verona. + +They finished their supper and the famous wine, but there was still no +diligence. The village also had finished its supper and was drifting in +family groups into the piazza. The moon was just showing above the +house-tops, and its light, combined with the blazing braziers before the +cook-shops made the square a patch work of brilliant high-lights and +black shadows from deep cut doorways. Constance sat up alertly and +watched the people crowding past. Across from the inn an itinerant show +had established itself on a rudely improvised stage, with two flaring +torches which threw their light half across the piazza, and turned the +spray of the fountain into an iridescent shower. The gaiety of the scene +was contagious. Constance rose insistently. + +"Come, Dad; let's go over and see what they're doing." + +"No, thank you, my dear. I prefer my chair." + +"Oh, Dad, you're so phlegmatic!" + +"But I thought you were tired." + +"I'm not any more; I want to see the play.--You come then, Tony." + +Tony rose with an elaborate sigh. + +"As you please, signorina," he murmured obediently. An onlooker would +have thought Constance cruel in dragging him away from his well-earned +rest. + +They made their way across the piazza and mounted the church steps behind +the crowd where they could look across obliquely to the little stage. A +clown was dancing to the music of a hurdy-gurdy while a woman in a tawdry +pink satin evening gown beat an accompaniment on a drum. It was a very +poor play with very poor players, and yet it represented to these people +of Grotta del Monte something of life, of the big outside world which +they in their little village would never see. Their upturned faces +touched by the moonlight and the flare of the torches contained a look of +wondering eagerness--the same look that had been in the eyes of the young +peasant when he had begged to be taken to America. + +The two stood back in the shadow of the doorway watching the people with +the same interest that the people were expending on the stage. A child +had been lifted to the base of the saint's pedestal in order to see, and +in the excitement of a duel between two clowns he suddenly lost his +balance and toppled off. His mother snatched him up quickly and commenced +covering the hurt arm with kisses to make it well. + +Constance laughed. + +"Isn't it queer," she asked, "to think how different these people are +from us and yet how exactly the same. Their way of living is absolutely +foreign but their feelings are just like yours and mine." + +He touched her arm and called her attention to a man and a girl on the +step below them. It was the young peasant again who had guided them down +the mountain, but who now had eyes for no one but Maria. She leaned +toward him to see the stage and his arm was around her. Their interest in +the play was purely a pretense and both of them knew it. + +Tony laughed softly and echoed her words. + +"Yes, their feelings are just like yours and mine." + +He slipped his arm around her. + +Constance drew back quickly. + +"I think," she remarked, "that the diligence has come." + +"Oh, hang the diligence!" Tony growled. "Why couldn't it have been five +minutes late?" + +They returned to the inn to find Mr. Wilder already on the front seat, +and obligingly holding the reins, while the driver occupied himself with +a glass of the famous wine. The diligence was a roomy affair of four +seats and three horses. Behind the driver were three Italians +gesticulating violently over local politics; a new _sindaco_ was +imminent. Behind these were three black-hooded nuns covertly interested +in the woman in the pink evening gown. And behind the three, occupying +the exact center of the rear seat, was a fourth nun with the portly +bearing of a Mother Superior. She was very comfortable as she was, and +did not propose to move. Constance climbed up on one side of her and +Tony on the other. + +"We are well chaperoned," he grumbled, as they jolted out of the piazza. +"I always did think that the Church interfered too much with the rights +of individuals." + +Constance, in a spirit of friendly expansiveness, proceeded to pick up an +acquaintance with the nuns, and the four black heads were presently +bobbing in unison, while Tony, in gloomy isolation at his end of the +seat, folded his arms and stared at the road. The driver had passed +through many villages that day and had drunk many glasses of famous wine; +he cracked his whip and sang as he drove. They rattled in and out of +stone-paved villages, along open stretches of moonlit road, past villas +and olive groves. Children screamed after them, dogs barked, Constance +and her four nuns were very vivacious, and Tony's gloom deepened with +every mile. + +They had covered three quarters of the distance when the diligence was +brought to a halt before a high stone wall and a solid barred gate. The +nuns came back to the present with an excited cackling. Who would believe +they had reached the convent so soon! They made their adieus and +ponderously descended, their departure accelerated by Tony who had become +of a sudden alertly helpful. As they started again he slid along into the +Mother Superior's empty seat. + +"What were we saying when the diligence interrupted?" he inquired. + +"I don't remember, Tony, but I don't want to talk any more; I'm tired." + +"You tired, signorina? Lay your head on my shoulder and go to sleep." + +"Tony, _please_ behave yourself. I'm simply too tired to make you do it." + +He reached over and took her hand. She did not try to withdraw it for +two--three minutes; then she shot him a sidewise glance. + +"Tony," she said, "don't you think you are forgetting your place?" + +"No, signorina, I am just learning it." + +"Let go my hand." + +He gazed pensively at the moon and hummed Santa Lucia under his breath. + +"Tony! I shall be angry with you." + +"I shall be ver' sorry for zat, signorina. I do not wish to make you +angry, but I sink--perhaps you get over it." + +"You are behaving abominably today, Tony. I shall never stay alone with +you again." + +"Signorina, look at zat moon up dere. Is it not ver' bright? When I look +at zat moon I have always beautiful toughts about how much I love +Costantina." + +An interval followed during which neither spoke. The driver's song was +growing louder and the horses were galloping. The diligence suddenly +rounded a curved cliff on two wheels. Constance lurched against him; he +caught her and held her. Her lips were very near his; he kissed her +softly. + +She moved to the far end of the seat and faced him with flushed cheeks. + +"I thought you were a gentleman!" + +"I used to be, signorina; now I am only poor donkey-man." + +"I shall never speak to you again. You can climb as many mountains as you +wish with my father, but you can't have anything more to do with me." + +"_Scusi_, signorina. I--I did not mean to. It was just an accident, +signorina." + +Constance turned her back and stared at the road. + +"It was not my fault. Truly it was not my fault. I did not wish to kiss +you--no nevair. But I could not help it. You put your head too close." + +She raised her eyes and studied the mountain-top. + +"Signorina, why you treat me so cruel?" + +Her back was inflexible. + +"I am desolate. If you forgive me zis once I will nevair again do a sing +so wicked. Nevair, nevair, nevair." + +Constance continued her inspection of the mountain-top. Tony leaned +forward until he could see her face. + +"Signorina," he whispered, "jus' give me one li'l' smile to show me you +are not angry forever." + +The stage had stopped and Mr. Wilder was climbing down but Constance's +gaze was still fixed on the sky, and Tony's eyes were on her. + +"What's the matter, Constance, have you gone to sleep? Aren't you going +to get out?" + +She came back with a start. + +"Are we here already?" + +There was a suspicion of regret in her tone which did not escape Tony. + +At the Villa Rosa gates he wished them a humbly deferential good-night +but with a smile hovering about the corners of his mouth. Constance made +no response. As he strode off, however, she turned her head and looked +after him. He turned too and caught her. He waved his hand with a laugh, +and took up his way, whistling Santa Lucia in double time. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Three days passed in which Mr. Wilder and Tony industriously climbed, and +in which nothing of consequence passed between Constance and Tony. If she +happened to be about when the expeditions either started or came to an +end (and for one reason or another she usually was) she ignored him +entirely; and he ignored her, except for an occasional mockingly +deferential bow. He appeared to extract as much pleasure from the +excursions as Mr. Wilder, and he asked for no extra compensation by the +way. + +It was Tuesday again, just a week and a day since the young American had +dropped over the wall of Villa Rosa asking for the garden of the prince. +Tony and Mr. Wilder were off on a trip; Miss Hazel and Constance on the +point of sitting down to afternoon tea--there were no guests today--when +the gardener from the Hotel du Lac appeared with a message from Nannie +Hilliard. She and her aunt had arrived half an hour before, which was a +good two days earlier than they were due. Constance read the note with a +clouded brow and silently passed it to Miss Hazel. The news was not so +entirely welcome as under other circumstances it would have been. Nannie +Hilliard was both perspicacious and fascinating, and Constance foresaw +that her presence would tangle further the already tangled plot of the +little comedy which was unfolding itself at Villa Rosa. But Miss Hazel, +divining nothing of comedies or plots, was thrown into a pleasant flutter +by the news. Guests were a luxury which occurred but seldom in the quiet +monotony of Valedolmo. + +"We must call on them at once and bring them back to the house." + +"I suppose we must." Constance agreed with an uncordial sigh. + +Fifteen minutes later they were on their way to the Hotel du Lac, while +Elizabetta, on her knees in the villa guest-room, was vigorously +scrubbing the mosaic floor. + +Gustavo hurried out to meet them. He was plainly in a flutter; something +had occurred to upset the usual suavity of his manners. + +"_Si_, signorina, in ze garden--ze two American ladies--having tea. And +you are acquaint wif ze family; all ze time you are acquaint wif zem, and +you never tell me!" There was mystification and reproach in his tone. + +Constance eyed him with a degree of mystification on her side. + +"I am acquainted with a number of families that I have never told you +about," she observed. + +"_Scusi_, signorina," he stammered; and immediately, "Tony, zat +donk'-man, what you do wif him?" + +"Oh, he and my father are climbing Monte Brione today." + +"What time zay come home?" + +"About seven o'clock, I fancy." + +"Ze signora and ze signorina--zay come two days before zay are expect." +He was clearly aggrieved by the fact. + +Constance's mystification increased; she saw not the slightest +connection. + +"I suppose, Gustavo, you can find them something to eat even if they did +come two days before they were expected?" + +The two turned toward the arbor, but Constance paused for a moment and +glanced back with a shade of mischief in her eye. + +"By the way, Gustavo, that young man who taught the parrot English has +gone?" + +Gustavo rolled his eyes to the sky and back to her face. She understood +nothing; was there ever a muddle like this? + +"_Si_, signorina," he murmured confusedly, "ze yong man is gone." + +Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and with a start which nearly +upset the tea table, came running forward to meet them; while her aunt, +Mrs. Eustace, followed more placidly. Nannie was a big wholesome outdoor +girl of a purely American type. She waited for no greetings; she had news +to impart. + +"Constance, Miss Hazel! I'm so glad to see you--what do you think? I'm +engaged!" + +Miss Hazel murmured incoherent congratulations, and tried not to look as +shocked as she felt. In her day, no lady would have made so delicate an +announcement in any such off-hand manner as this. Constance received it +in the spirit in which it was given. + +"Who's the man?" she inquired, as she shook hands with Mrs. Eustace. + +[Illustration: "Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and came +running forward to meet them"] + +"You don't know him--Harry Eastman, a friend of Jerry's. Jerry doesn't +know it yet, and I had to confide in someone. Oh, it's no secret; Harry +cabled home--he wanted to get it announced so I couldn't change my mind. +You see he only had a three weeks' vacation; he took a fast boat, landed +at Cherbourg, followed us the whole length of France, and caught us in +Lucerne just after Jerry had gone. I couldn't refuse him after he'd +taken such a lot of trouble. That's what detained us: we had expected to +come a week ago. And now--" by a rapid change of expression she became +tragic--"We've lost Jerry Junior!" + +"Lost Jerry Junior!" Constance's tone was interested. "What has become of +him?" + +"We haven't an idea. He's been spirited off--vanished from the earth and +left no trace. Really, we're beginning to be afraid he's been captured by +brigands. That head waiter, that Gustavo, knows where he is, but we can't +get a word out of him. He tells a different story every ten minutes. I +looked in the register to see if by chance he'd left an address there, +and what do you think I found?" + +"Oh!" said Constance; there was a world of illumination in her tone. +"What did you find?" she asked, hastily suppressing every emotion but +polite curiosity. + +"'Abraham Lincoln' in Jerry's hand-writing!" + +"Really!" Constance dimpled irrepressibly. "You are sure Jerry wrote +it?" + +"It was his writing; and I showed it to Gustavo, and what do you think he +said?" + +Constance shook her head. + +"He said that Jerry had forgotten to register, that that was written by a +Hungarian nobleman who was here last week--imagine a Hungarian nobleman +named Abraham Lincoln!" + +Constance dropped into one of the little iron chairs and bowed her head +on the back and laughed. + +"Perhaps you can explain?" There was a touch of sharpness in Nannie's +tone. + +"Don't ever ask me to explain anything Gustavo says; the man is not to be +believed under oath." + +"But what's become of Jerry?" + +"Oh, he'll turn up." Constance's tone was comforting. "Aunt Hazel," she +called. Miss Hazel and Mrs. Eustace, their heads together over the tea +table, were busily making up three months' dropped news. "Do you remember +the young man I told you about who popped into our garden last week? +That was Jerry Junior!" + +"Then you've seen him?" said Nannie. + +Constance related the episode of the broken wall--the sequel she omitted. +"I hadn't seen him for six years," she added apologetically, "and I +didn't recognize him. Of course if I'd dreamed--" + +Nannie groaned. + +"And I thought I'd planned it so beautifully!" + +"Planned what?" + +"I suppose I might as well tell you since it's come to nothing. We +hoped--that is, you see--I've been so worried for fear Jerry--" She took +a breath and began again. "You know, Constance, when it comes to getting +married, a man has no more sense than a two-year child. So I determined +to pick out a wife for Jerry, myself, one I would like to have for a +sister. I've done it three times and he simply wouldn't look at them; you +can't imagine how stubborn he is. But when I found we were coming to +Valedolmo, I said to myself, now this is my opportunity; I will have him +marry Connie Wilder." + +"You might have asked my permission." + +"Oh, well, Jerry's a dear; next to Harry you couldn't find anyone nicer. +But I knew the only way was not to let him suspect. I thought you see +that you were still staying at the hotel; I didn't know you'd taken a +villa, so I planned for him to come to meet us three days before we +really expected to get here. I thought in the meantime, being stranded +together in a little hotel you'd surely get acquainted--Jerry's very +resourceful that way--and with all this beautiful Italian scenery about, +and nothing to do--" + +"I see!" Constance's tone was somewhat dry. + +"But nothing happened as I had planned. You weren't here, he was bored to +death, and I was detained longer than I meant. We got the most pathetic +letter from him the second day, saying there was no one but the head +waiter to talk to, nothing but an india-rubber tree to look at, and if we +didn't come immediately, he'd do the Dolomites without us. Then finally, +just as we were on the point of leaving, he sent a telegram saying: +'Don't come. Am climbing mountains. Stay there till you hear from me.' +But being already packed, we came, and this is what we find--" She waved +her hand over the empty grove. + +"It serves you right; you shouldn't deceive people." + +"It was for Jerry's good--and yours too. But what shall we do? He doesn't +know we're here and he has left no address." + +"Come out to the villa and visit us till he comes to search for you." + +Constance could hear her aunt delivering the same invitation to Mrs. +Eustace, and she perforce repeated it, though with the inward hope that +it would be declined. She had no wish that Tony and her father should +return from their trip to find a family party assembled on the terrace. +The adventure was not to end with any such tame climax as that. To her +relief they did decline, at least for the night; they could make no +definite plans until they had heard from Jerry. Constance rose upon this +assurance and precipitated their leave-takings; she did not wish her aunt +to press them to change their minds. + +"Good-bye, Mrs. Eustace, good-bye, Nannie; we'll be around tonight to +take you sailing--provided there's any breeze." + +She nodded and dragged her aunt off; but as they were entering the arbor +a plan for further complicating matters popped into her head, and she +turned back to call: + +"You are coming to the villa tomorrow, remember, whether Jerry Junior +turns up or not. I'll write a note and invite him too--Gustavo can give +it to him when he comes, and you needn't bother any more about him." + +They found Gustavo hovering omnivorously in the courtyard, hungering for +news; Constance summoned him to her side. + +"Gustavo, I am going to send you a note tonight for Mr. Jerymn Hilliard. +You will see that it gets to him as soon as he arrives?" + +"Meestair Jayreem Ailyar?" Gustavo stared. + +"Yes, the brother of the signorina who came today. He is expected +tomorrow or perhaps the day after." + +"_Scusi_, signorina. You--you acquaint wif him?" + +"Yes, certainly. I have known him for six years. Don't forget to deliver +the note; it's important." + +They raised their parasols and departed, while Gustavo stood in the +gateway bowing. The motion was purely mechanical; his thoughts were +laboring elsewhere. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Constance occupied herself upon their return to Villa Rosa in writing the +letter to Jerry Junior. It had occurred to her that this was an excellent +chance to punish him, and it was the working philosophy of her life that +a man should always be punished when opportunity presented. Tony had been +entirely too unconcerned during the past few days; he needed a lesson. +She spent three quarters of an hour in composing her letter and tore up +two false starts before she was satisfied. It did not contain the +slightest hint that she knew the truth, and--considered in this light--it +was likely to have a chastening effect. The letter ran: + + "VILLA ROSA, VALEDOLMO, + "LAGO DI GARDA. + + "DEAR JERRY JUNIOR: I hope you don't mind being called "Jerry + Junior," but "Mr. Hilliard" sounds so absurdly formal, when I have + known your sister so long and so well. We are spending the summer + here in Valedolmo, and Mrs. Eustace and Nannie have promised to + stop with us for a few days, provided you can be persuaded to pause + in your mad rush through Europe. Now please take pity on us--guests + are such unusual luxuries, and as for _men_! Besides a passing + tourist or so, we have had nothing but Italian officers. You can + climb mountains with my father--Nan says you are a climber--and we + can supply mountains enough to keep you occupied for a month. + + "My father would write himself, only that he is climbing this + moment. + + "Yours most cordially, + "CONSTANCE WILDER." + + "P. S. I forgot to mention that we are acquainted already, you and + I. We met six years ago, and you insulted me--under your own roof. + You called me a _kid_. I shall accept nothing but a personal + apology." + +Having read it critically, she sealed and addressed it with malicious +delight; it was calculated to arouse just about the emotions she would +like to have Tony entertain. She gave the note to Giuseppe with +instructions to place it in Gustavo's hands, and then settled herself +gaily to await results. + +Giuseppe was barely out of sight when the two Alpine-climbers appeared at +the gate. Constance had been wondering how she could inform Tony that his +aunt and sister had arrived, without unbending from the dignified silence +of the past three days. The obvious method was to announce it to her +father in Tony's presence, but her father slipped into the house by the +back way without affording her an opportunity. It was Tony himself who +solved the difficulty. Of his own accord he crossed the terrace and +approached her side. He laid a bunch of edelweiss on the balustrade. + +"It's a peace offering," he observed. + +She looked at him a moment without speaking. There was a new expression +in her eyes that puzzled Tony, just as the expression in his eyes that +morning on the water had puzzled her. She was studying him in the light +of Jerry Junior. The likeness to the sophomore, who six years before sang +the funny songs without a smile, was so very striking, she wondered she +could ever have overlooked it. + +"Thank you, Tony; it is very nice of you." She picked up the flowers and +smiled--with the knowledge of the letter that was waiting for him she +could afford to be forgiving. + +"You discharged me, signorina; will you take me back into your service?" + +"I am not going to climb any more mountains; it is too fatiguing. I think +it is better for you and my father to go alone." + +"I will serve you in other ways." + +Constance studied the mountains a moment. Should she tell him she knew, +or should she keep up the pretense a little longer? Her insatiable love +of intrigue won. + +"Are you sure you wish to be taken back?" + +"_Si_, signorina, I am very sure." + +"Then perhaps you will do me a favor on your way home tonight?" + +"You have but to ask." + +"I wish to send a message to a young American man who is staying at the +Hotel du Lac--you may have seen him?" + +Tony nodded. + +"I have climb Monte Maggiore wif him. You recommend me; I sank you ver' +moch. Nice man, zat yong American; ver' good, ver' simpatico." He leaned +forward with a sudden air of anxiety. "Signorina, you--you like zat yong +man?" + +"I have only met him twice, but--yes, I like him." + +"You like him better zan me?" His anxiety deepened; he hung upon her +words. + +She shook her head reassuringly. + +"I like you both exactly the same." + +"Signorina, which you like better, zat yong American or ze Signor +Lieutenant?" + +"Your questions are getting too personal, Tony." + +He folded his arms and sighed. + +"Will you deliver my message?" + +"_Si_, signorina, wif pleasure." There was not a trace of curiosity in +his expression, nothing beyond a deferential desire to serve. + +"Tell him, Tony, that Miss Wilder will be at home tomorrow afternoon at +tea time; if he will come by the gate and present a card she will be most +pleased to see him. She wishes him to meet an American friend, a Miss +Hilliard, who has just arrived at the hotel this afternoon." + +She watched him sharply; his expression did not alter by a shade. He +repeated the message and then added as if by the merest chance: + +"Ze yong American man, signorina--you know his name?" + +"Yes, I know his name." This time for the fraction of a second she +surprised a look. "His name--" she hesitated tantalizingly--"is Signor +Abraham Lincoln." + +"Signor Ab-ra-ham Lin-coln." He repeated it after her as if committing it +to memory. They gazed at each other soberly a moment; then both laughed +and looked away. + +Luigi had appeared in the doorway. Seeing no one more important than Tony +about, he found no reason for delaying the announcement of dinner. + +"_Il pranzo č sulla tavola, signorina._" + +"_Bene_!" said Constance over her shoulder. She turned back to Tony; her +manner was kind. "If you go to the kitchen, Tony, Elizabetta will give +you some dinner." + +"Sank you, signorina." His manner was humble. "Elizabetta's dinners +consist of a plate of garlic and macaroni on the kitchen steps. I don't +like garlic and I'm tired of macaroni; if it's just the same to you, I +think I'll dine at home." He held out his hand. + +She read his purpose in his eye and put her own hands behind her. + +"You won't shake hands, signorina? We are not friends?" + +"I learned a lesson the last time." + +"You shake hands wif Lieutenant Count Carlo di Ferara." + +"It is the custom in Italy." + +"We are in Italy." + +"Behave yourself, Tony, and run along home!" + +She laughed and nodded and turned away. On the steps she paused to add: + +"Be sure not to forget the message for Signor Abraham Lincoln. I shall be +disappointed if he doesn't come." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Tony returned to the Hotel du Lac, modestly, by the back way. He assured +himself that his aunt and sister were well by means of an open window +in the rear of the dining-room. The window was shaded by a clump of +camellias, and he studied at his ease the back of Mrs. Eustace's +head and Nannie's vivacious profile as she talked in fluent and +execrable German to the two Alpinists who were, at the moment, the only +other guests. Brotherly affection--and a humorous desire to create a +sensation--prompted him to walk in and surprise them. But saner second +thoughts prevailed; he decided to postpone the reunion until he should +have changed from the picturesque costume of Tony, to the soberer garb of +Jerry Junior. + +He skirted the dining-room by a wide detour, and entered the court-yard +at the side. Gustavo, who for the last hour and a half had been alertly +watchful of four entrances at once, pounced upon him and drew him to a +corner. + +"Signore," in a conspiratorial whisper, "zay are come, ze aunt and ze +sister." + +"I know--the Signorina Costantina told me so." + +Gustavo blinked. + +"But, signore, she does not know it." + +"Yes, she does--she saw 'em herself." + +"I mean, signore, she does not know zat you are ze brover?" + +"Oh, no, she doesn't know that." + +"But she tell me zat she is acquaint wif ze brover for six years." He +shook his head hopelessly. + +"That's all right." Tony patted his shoulder reassuringly. "When she knew +me I used to have yellow hair, but I thought it made me look too girlish, +so I had it dyed black. She didn't recognize me." + +Gustavo accepted the explanation with a side glance at the hair. + +"Now, pay attention." Tony's tone was slow and distinct. + +"I am going upstairs to change my clothes. Then I will slip out the back +way with a suit case, and go down the road and meet the omnibus as it +comes back from the boat landing. You keep my aunt and sister in the +court-yard talking to the parrot or something until the omnibus arrives. +Then when I get out, you come forward with your politest bow and ask me +if I want a room. I'll attend to the rest--do you understand?" + +Gustavo nodded with glistening eyes. He had always felt stirring within +him powers for diplomacy, for finesse, and he rose to the occasion +magnificently. + +Tony turned away and went bounding upstairs two steps at a time, +chuckling as he went. He, too, was developing an undreamed of appetite +for intrigue, and his capacity in that direction was expanding to meet +it. He had covered the first flight, when Gustavo suddenly remembered +the letter and bounded after. + +"Signore! I beg of you to wait one moment. Here is a letter from ze +signorina; it is come while you are away." + +Tony read the address with a start of surprise. + +"Then she knows!" There was regret, disillusionment, in his tone. + +It was Gustavo's turn to furnish enlightenment. + +"But no, signore, she do not comprehend. She sink Meestair Jayreem Ailyar +is ze brover who is not arrive. She leave it for him when he come." + +"Ah!" Tony ripped it open and read it through with a chuckle. He read it +a second time and his face grew grave. He thrust it into his pocket and +strode away without a word for Gustavo. Gustavo looked after him +reproachfully. As a head waiter, he naturally did not expect to read the +letters of guests; but as a fellow conspirator, he felt that he was +entitled to at least a general knowledge of all matters bearing on the +conspiracy. He turned back down stairs with a disappointed droop to his +shoulders. + +Tony closed his door and walked to the window where he stood staring at +the roof of Villa Rosa. He drew the letter from his pocket and read it +for the third time slowly, thoughtfully, very, very soberly. The reason +was clear; she was tired of Tony and was looking ahead for fresh worlds +to conquer. Jerry Junior was to come next. + +He understood why she had been so complaisant today. She wished the +curtain to go down on the comedy note. Tomorrow, the nameless young +American, the "Abraham Lincoln" of the register, would call--by the +gate--would be received graciously, introduced in his proper person to +the guests; the story of the donkey-man would be recounted and laughed +over, and he would be politely asked when he was planning to resume his +travels. This would be the end of the episode. To Constance, it had been +merely an amusing farce about which she could boast when she returned to +America. In her vivacious style it would make a story, just as her first +meeting with Jerry Junior had made a story. But as for the play itself, +for _him_, she cared nothing. Tony the man had made no impression. He +must pass on and give place to Jerry Junior. + +A flush crept over Tony's face and his mouth took a straighter line as he +continued to gaze down on the roof of Villa Rosa. His reflections were +presently interrupted by a knock. He turned and threw the door open with +a fling. + +"Well?" he inquired. + +Gustavo took a step backward. + +"_Scusi_, signore, but zay are eating ze dessart and in five--ten minutes +ze omnibus will arrive." + +"The omnibus?" Tony stared. "Oh!" he laughed shortly. "I was just joking, +Gustavo." + +Gustavo bowed and turned down the corridor; there was a look on Tony's +face that did not encourage confidences. He had not gone half a dozen +steps, however, when the door opened again and Tony called him back. + +"I am going away tomorrow morning--by the first boat this time--and you +mustn't let my aunt and sister know. I will write two letters and you are +to take them down to the steward of the boat that leaves tonight. Ask him +to put on Austrian stamps and mail them at Riva, so they'll get back here +tomorrow. Do you understand?" + +Gustavo nodded and backed away. His disappointment this time was too keen +for words. He saw stretching before him a future like the past, +monotonously bereft of plots and masquerades. + +Tony, having hit on a plan, sat down and put it into instant execution. +Opening his Baedeker, he turned to Riva and picked out the first hotel +that was mentioned. Then he wrote two letters, both short and to the +point; he indulged in none of Constance's vacillations, and yet in their +way his letters also were masterpieces of illusion. The first was +addressed to Miss Constance Wilder at Villa Rosa. It ran: + + "HOTEL SOLE D'ORO, + "RIVA, AUSTRIA. + + "DEAR MISS WILDER: Nothing would give me greater pleasure than + spending a few days in Valedolmo, but unfortunately I am pressed + for time, and am engaged to start Thursday morning with some + friends on a trip through the Dolomites. + + "Trusting that I may have the pleasure of making your acquaintance + at some future date, + + "Yours truly, + "JERYMN HILLIARD, JR." + +The second letter was addressed to his sister, but he trusted to luck +that Constance would see it. It ran: + + "HOTEL SOLE D'ORO, + "RIVA, AUSTRIA. + + "DEAR NAN: Who in thunder is Constance Wilder? She wants us to stop + and make a visit in Valedolmo. I wouldn't step into that infernal + town, not if the king himself invited me--it's the deadest hole on + the face of the earth. You can stay if you like and I'll go on + through the Dolomites alone. There's an American family stopping + here who are also planning the trip--a stunning girl; I know you'd + like her. + + "Of course the travelling will be pretty rough. Perhaps you and + Aunt Kate would rather visit your friends and meet me later in + Munich. If you decide to take the trip, you will have to come on + down to Riva as soon as you get this letter, as we're planning to + pull out Thursday morning. + + "Sorry to hurry you, but you know my vacation doesn't last forever. + + "Love to Aunt Kate and yourself, + + "Yours ever, + "JERRY." + +He turned the letters over to Gustavo with a five-franc note, leaving +Gustavo to decide with his own conscience whether the money was intended +for himself or the steward of the Regina Margarita. This accomplished, he +slipped out unobtrusively and took the road toward Villa Rosa. + +He strode along with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the path +until he nearly bumped his nose against the villa gate-post. Then he +stopped and thought. He had no mind to be ushered to the terrace where he +would have to dissemble some excuse for his visit before Miss Hazel and +Mr. Wilder. His business tonight was with Constance, and Constance alone. +He turned and skirted the villa wall, determined on reconnoitering first. +There was a place in the wall--he knew well--where the stones were +missing, and a view was obtainable of the terrace and parapet. + +He reached the place to find Lieutenant Carlo di Ferara already there. +Now the Lieutenant's purpose was exactly as innocent as Tony's own; he +merely wished to assure himself that Captain Coroloni was not before him. +It was considered a joke at the tenth cavalry mess to detail one or the +other of the officers to call on the Americans at the same time that +Lieutenant di Ferara called. He was not spying on the family, merely on +his meddling brother officers. + +Tony of course could know nothing of this, and as his eyes fell upon the +lieutenant, there was apparent in their depths a large measure of +contempt. A lieutenant in the Royal Italian Cavalry can afford to be +generous in many things, but he cannot afford to swallow contempt from a +donkey-driver. The signorina was not present this time; there was no +reason why he should not punish the fellow. He dropped his hand on Tony's +shoulder--on his collar to be exact--and whirled him about. The action +was accompanied by some vigorous colloquial Italian--the gist of it being +that Tony was to mind his own business and mend his manners. The +lieutenant had a muscular arm, and Tony turned. But Tony had not played +quarterback four years for nothing; he tackled low, and the next moment +the lieutenant was rolling down the bank of a dried stream that stretched +at their feet. No one likes to roll down a dusty stony bank, much less +an officer in immaculate uniform on the eve of paying a formal call upon +ladies. He picked himself up and looked at Tony; he was quite beyond +speech. + +Tony looked back and smiled. He swept off his hat with a deferential bow. +"_Scusi_," he murmured, and jumped over the wall into the grounds of +Villa Rosa. + +The lieutenant gasped. If anything could have been more insultingly +inadequate to the situation than that one word _scusi_, it did not at the +moment occur to him. Jeering, blasphemy, vituperation, he might have +excused, but this! The shock jostled him back to a thinking state. + +Here was no ordinary donkey-driver. The hand that had rested for a moment +on his arm was the hand of a gentleman. The man's face was vaguely, +elusively familiar; if the lieutenant had not seen him before, he had at +least seen his picture. The man had pretended he could not talk Italian, +but--_scusi_--it came out very pat when it was needed. + +An idea suddenly assailed Lieutenant di Ferara. He scrambled up the bank +and skirted the wall, almost on a run, until he reached the place where +his horse was tied. Two minutes later he was off at a gallop, headed for +the house of the prefect of police of Valedolmo. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Tony jumped over the wall. He might have landed in the midst of a family +party; but in so much luck was with him. He found the _Farfalla_ bobbing +at the foot of the water steps with Mr. Wilder and Miss Hazel already +embarked. They were waiting for Constance, who had obligingly run back to +the house to fetch the rainbow shawl (finished that afternoon) as Miss +Hazel distrusted the Italian night breeze. + +Constance stepped out from the door as Tony emerged from the bushes. She +regarded him in startled surprise; he was still in some slight disarray +from his encounter with the lieutenant. + +"May I speak to you, Miss Wilder? I won't detain you but a moment." + +She nodded and kept on, her heart thumping absurdly. He had received the +letter of course; and there would be consequences. She paused at the top +of the water steps. + +"You go on," she called to the others, "and pick me up on your way back. +Tony wants to see me about something, and I don't like to keep Mrs. +Eustace and Nannie waiting." + +Giuseppe pushed off and Constance was left standing alone on the water +steps. She turned as Tony approached; there was a touch of defiance in +her manner. + +"Well?" + +He came to her side and leaned carelessly against the parapet, his eyes +on the _Farfalla_ as she tossed and dipped in the wash of the _Regina +Margarita_ which was just puffing out from the village landing. Constance +watched him, slightly taken aback; she had expected him to be angry, +sulky, reproachful--certainly not nonchalant. When he finally brought his +eyes from the water, his expression was mildly melancholy. + +"Signorina, I have come to say good bye. It is very sad, but tomorrow, I +too--" he waved his hand toward the steamer--"shall be a passenger." + +"You are going away from Valedolmo?" + +He nodded. + +"Unfortunately, yes. I should like to stay, but--" he shrugged--"life +isn't all play, Miss Wilder. Though one would like to be a donkey-man +forever, one only may be for a summer's holiday. I am your debtor for a +unique and pleasant experience." + +She studied his face without speaking. Did it mean that he had got the +letter and was hurt, or did it perhaps mean that he had got the letter +and did not care to appear as Jerry Junior? That he enjoyed the play so +long as he could remain incognito and stop it where he pleased, but that +he had no mind to let it drift into reality? Very possibly it meant--she +flushed at the thought--that he divined Nannie's plot, and refused also +to consider the fourth candidate. + +She laughed and dropped into their usual jargon. + +"And the young American man, Signor Abraham Lincoln, will he come +tomorrow for tea?" + +"Ah, signorina, he is desolated, but it is not possible. He has received +a letter and he must go; he has stopped too long in Valedolmo. Tomorrow +morning early, he and I togever, we sail away to Austria." His eyes went +back to the trail of smoke left by the little steamer. + +"And Costantina, Tony. You are leaving her behind?" It took some courage +to put this question, but she did not flinch; she put it with a laugh +which contained nothing but raillery. + +Tony sighed--a deep melodramatic sigh--and laid his hand on his heart. + +"Ah, signorina, zat Costantina, she has not any heart. She love one man +one day, anozzer ze next. I go away to forget." + +His eyes dropped to hers; for an instant the mocking light died out; a +questioning, wounded look took its place. + +She felt a quick impulse to hold out her hands, to say, "Jerry, don't +go!" If she only knew! Was he going because he thought that she wished to +dismiss him, or because he wished to dismiss himself? Was it pique that +bade him carry the play to the end, or was it merely the desire to get +out of an awkward situation gracefully? + +She stood hesitating, scanning the terrace pavement with troubled eyes; +when she raised them to his face the chance was gone. He straightened his +shoulders with an air of finality and picked up his hat from the +balustrade. + +"Some day, signorina, in New York, perhaps I play a little tune underneaf +your window." + +She nodded and smiled. + +"I will give the monkey a penny when he comes--good-bye." + +He bowed over her hand and touched it lightly to his lips. + +"Signorina, _addio_!" + +As he strode away into the dusky lane of cypresses, she heard him +whistling softly "Santa Lucia." It was the last stroke, she reflected, +angrily; he might at least have omitted that! She turned away and dropped +down on the water steps to wait for the _Farfalla_. The terrace, the +lake, the beautiful Italian night, suddenly seemed deserted and empty. +Before she knew it was coming, she had leaned her head against the +balustrade with a deep sob. She caught herself sharply. She to sit there +crying, while Tony went whistling on his way! + + * * * * * + +As the _Farfalla_ drifted idly over the water, Constance sat in the +stern, her chin in her hand, moodily gazing at the shimmering path of +moonlight. But no one appeared to notice her silence, since Nannie was +talking enough for both. And the only thing she talked about was Jerry +Junior, how funny and clever and charming he was, how phenomenally +good--for a man; when she showed signs of stopping, Mr. Wilder by a +question started her on. It seemed to Constance an interminable two +hours before they dropped their guests in the garden of the Hotel du Lac, +and headed again for Villa Rosa. + +As they approached their own water steps it became apparent that +someone--a man--was standing at the top in an attitude of expectancy. +Constance's heart gave a sudden bound and the next instant sank deep. A +babble of frenzied greetings floated out to meet them; there was no +mistaking Gustavo. Moreover, there was no mistaking the fact that he was +excited; his excitement was contagious even before they had learned the +reason. He stuttered in his impatience to share the news. + +"Signore! _Dio mio_! A calamity has happened. Zat Tony, zat donk'-man! he +has got hisself arrested. Zay say it is a lie, zat he is American +citizen; he is an officer who is dessert from ze Italian army. Zay say he +just pretend he cannot spik Italian--but it is not true. He know +ten--leven words." + +They came hurrying up the steps and surrounded him, Mr. Wilder no less +shocked than Gustavo himself. + +"Arrested--as a deserter? It's an outrage!" he thundered. + +Constance laid her hand on Gustavo's sleeve and whirled him about. + +"What do you mean? I don't understand. Where is Tony?" + +Gustavo groaned. + +"In jail, signorina. Four carabinieri are come to take him away. And he +fight--_Dio mio_! he fight like ze devil. But zay put--" he indicated +handcuffs--"and he go." + +Constance dropped down on the upper step and leaning her head against the +balustrade, she laughed until she was weak. + +Her father whirled upon her indignantly. + +"Constance! Haven't you any sympathy for the man? This isn't a laughing +matter." + +"I know, Dad, but it's so funny--Tony an Italian officer! He can't +pronounce the ten--leven words he does know right." + +"Of course he can't; he doesn't know as much Italian as I do. Can't +these fools tell an American citizen when they see one? I'll teach 'em to +go about chucking American citizens in jail. I'll telegraph the consul in +Milan; I'll make an international matter of it!" + +He fumed up and down the terrace, while Constance rose to her feet and +followed after with a pretense at pacification. + +"Hush, Dad! Don't be so excitable. It was a very natural mistake for them +to make. But if Tony is really what he says he is it will be very easily +proved. You must be sure of your ground though, before you act. I don't +like to say anything against poor Tony now that he is in trouble, but I +have always felt that there was a mystery connected with him. For all we +know he may be a murderer or a brigand or an escaped convict in disguise. +We only have his word you know that he is an American citizen." + +"His word!" Mr. Wilder fairly exploded. "Are you utterly blind? He's +exactly as much an American citizen as I am. He's--" He stopped and +fanned himself furiously. He had sworn never to betray Tony's secret, and +yet, the present situation was exceptionable. + +Constance patted him on the arm. + +"There, Dad. I haven't a doubt his story is true. He was born in +Budapest, and he's a naturalized American citizen. It's the duty of the +United States Government to protect him--but it won't be difficult; I +dare say he's got his naturalization papers with him. A word in the +morning will set everything straight." + +"Leave him in jail all night?" + +"But you can't do anything now; it's after ten o'clock; the authorities +have gone to bed." + +She turned to Gustavo; her tone was reassuring. + +"In the morning we'll get some American war-ships to bombard the jail." + +"Signorina, you joke!" His tone was reproachful. + +She suddenly looked anxious. + +"Gustavo, is the jail strong?" + +"Ver' strong, signorina." + +"He can't escape and get over into Austria? We are very near the +frontier, you know." + +"No, signorina, it is impossible." He shook his head hopelessly. + +Constance laughed and slipped her hand through her father's arm. + +"Come, Dad. The first thing in the morning we'll go down to the jail and +cheer him up. There's not the slightest use in worrying any more tonight. +It won't hurt Tony to be kept in--er--cold storage for a few hours--I +think on the whole it will do him good!" + +She nodded dismissal to Gustavo, and drew her father, still muttering, +toward the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Jerry Junior's letter of regret arrived from Riva on the early mail. In +the light of Constance's effusively cordial invitation, the terse +formality of his reply was little short of rude; but Constance read +between the lines and was appeased. The writer, plainly, was angry, and +anger was a much more becoming emotion than nonchalance. As she set out +with her father toward the village jail, she was again buoyantly in +command of the situation. She carried a bunch of oleanders, and the pink +and white egg basket swung from her arm. Their way led past the gate of +the Hotel du Lac, and Mr. Wilder, being under the impression that he was +enjoying a very good joke all by himself, could not forego the temptation +of stopping to inquire if Mrs. Eustace and Nannie had heard any news of +the prodigal. They found the two at breakfast in the courtyard, an open +letter spread before them. Nannie received them with lamentations. + +"We can't come to the villa! Here's a letter from Jerry wanting us to +start immediately for the Dolomites--did you ever know anything so +exasperating?" + +She passed the letter to Constance, and then as she remembered the first +sentence, made a hasty attempt to draw it back. It was too late; +Constance's eyes had already pounced upon it. She read it aloud with +gleeful malice. + +"'Who in thunder is Constance Wilder?'--If that's an example of the +famous Jerry Junior's politeness, I prefer not to meet him, thank +you.--It's worse than his last insult; I shall _never_ forgive this!" She +glanced down the page and handed it back with a laugh; from her point of +vantage it was naļvely transparent. From Mr. Wilder's point, however, the +contents were inscrutable; he looked from the letter to his daughter's +serene smile, and relapsed into a puzzled silence. + +"I should say on the contrary, that he _doesn't_ want you to start +immediately for the Dolomites," Constance observed. + +"It's a girl," Nannie groaned. "I suspected it from the moment we got the +telegram in Lucerne. Oh, why did I ever let that wretched boy get out of +my sight?" + +"I dare say she's horrid," Constance put in. "One meets such frightful +Americans traveling." + +"We will go up to Riva on the afternoon boat and investigate." It was +Mrs. Eustace who spoke. There was an undertone in her voice which +suggested that she was prepared to do her duty by her brother's son, +however unpleasant that duty might be. + +"American girls are so grasping," said Nannie plaintively. "It's scarcely +safe for an unattached man to go out alone." + +Mr. Wilder leaned forward and reexamined the letter. + +"By the way, Miss Nannie, how did Jerry learn that you were here? His +letter, I see, was mailed in Riva at ten o'clock last night." + +Nannie examined the post mark. + +"I hadn't thought of that! How could he have found out--unless that beast +of a head waiter telegraphed? What does it mean?" + +Mr. Wilder spread out his hands and raised his shoulders. "You've got +me!" A gleam of illumination suddenly flashed over his face; he turned to +his daughter with what was meant to be a carelessly off-hand manner. +"Er--Constance, while I think of it, you didn't discharge Tony again +yesterday, did you?" + +Constance opened her eyes. + +"Discharge Tony? Why should I do that? He isn't working for me." + +"You weren't rude to him?" + +"Father, am I ever rude to anyone?" + +Mr. Wilder looked at the envelope again and shook his head. "There's +something mighty fishy about this whole business. When you get hold of +that brother of yours again, my dear young woman, you make him tell what +he's been up to this week--and make him tell the truth." + +"Mr. Wilder!" Nannie was reproachful. "You don't know Jerry; he's +incapable of telling anything but the truth." + +Constance tittered. + +"What are you laughing at, Constance?" + +"Nothing--only it's so funny. Why don't you advertise for him? Lost--a +young man, age twenty-eight, height, five feet eleven, weight one hundred +and seventy pounds, dark hair, gray eyes, slight scar over left eye brow; +dressed when last seen in double breasted blue serge suit and brown +russet shoes. Finder please return to Hotel du Lac and receive liberal +reward." + +"He isn't lost," said Nannie. "We know where he is perfectly; he's at the +Hotel Sole d' Oro in Riva, and that's at the other end of the lake. We're +going up on the afternoon boat to join him." + +"Oh!" said Constance, meekly. + +"You take my advice," Mr. Wilder put in. "Go up to Riva if you +must--it's a pleasant trip--but leave your luggage here. See this young +man in person and bring him back with you; tell him we have just as good +mountains as he'll find in the Dolomites. If by any chance you shouldn't +find him--" + +"Of course, we'll find him!" said Nannie. + +Constance looked troubled. + +"Don't go, it's quite a long trip. Write instead and give the letter to +Gustavo; he'll give it to the boat steward who will deliver it +personally. Then if Jerry shouldn't be there--" + +Nannie was losing her patience. + +"Shouldn't be there? But he _says_ he's there." + +"Oh! yes, certainly, that ends it. Only, you know, Nannie, _I_ don't +believe there really is any such person as Jerry Junior! I think he's a +myth." + +Gustavo had been hanging about the gate looking anxiously up the road as +if he expected something to happen. His brow cleared suddenly as a boy +on a bicycle appeared in the distance. The boy whirled into the court and +dismounted; glancing dubiously from one to the other of the group, he +finally presented his telegram to Gustavo, who passed it on to Nannie. +She ripped it open and ran her eyes over the contents. + +"Can anyone tell me the meaning of this? It's Italian!" She spread it on +the table while the three bent over it in puzzled wonder. + +"Ceingide mai maind dunat comtu Riva stei in Valedolmo geri." + +Constance was the first to grasp the meaning; she read it twice and +laughed. + +"That's not Italian; it's English, only the operator has spelt it +phonetically--I begin to believe there is a Jerry," she added, "no one +could cause such a bother who didn't exist." She picked up the slip and +translated: + + "'Changed my mind. Do not come to Riva; stay in Valedolmo. JERRY.'" + +"I'm a clairvoyant you see. I told you he wouldn't be there!" + +"But where is he?" Nannie wailed. + +Constance and her father glanced tentatively at each other and were +silent. Gustavo who had been hanging officiously in the rear, approached +and begged their pardon. + +"_Scusi_, signora, but I sink I can explain. _Ecco_! Ze telegram is dated +from Limone--zat is a village close by here on ze ozzer side of ze lake. +He is gone on a walking trip, ze yong man, of two--tree days wif an +Englishman who is been in zis hotel. If he expect you so soon he would +not go. But patience, he will come back. Oh, yes, in a little while, +after one--two day he come back." + +"What is the man talking about?" Mrs. Eustace was both indignant and +bewildered. "Jerry was in Riva yesterday at the Hotel Sole d' Oro. How +can he be on a walking trip at the other end of the lake today?" + +"You don't suppose--" Nannie's voice was tragic--"that he has eloped +with that American girl?" + +"Good heavens, my dear!" Mrs. Eustace appealed to Mr. Wilder. "What are +the laws in this dreadful country? Don't banns or something have to be +published three weeks before the ceremony can take place?" + +Mr. Wilder rose hastily. + +"Yes, yes, dear lady. It's impossible; don't consider any such +catastrophe for a moment. Come, Constance, I really think we ought to be +going.--Er, you see, Mrs. Eustace, you can't believe--that is, don't let +anything Gustavo says trouble you. With all respect for his many fine +qualities, he has not Jerry's regard for truth. And don't bother any more +about the boy; he will turn up in a day or so. He may have written some +letters of explanation that you haven't got. These foreign mails--" He +edged toward the gate. + +Constance followed him and then turned back. + +"We're on our way to the jail," she said, "to visit our donkey-driver +who has managed to get himself arrested. While we're there we can make +inquiries if you like; it's barely possible that they might have got hold +of Jerry on some false charge or other. These foreign jails--" + +"Constance!" said Nannie reproachfully. + +"Oh, my dear, I was only joking; of course it's impossible. Good bye." +She nodded and laughed and ran after her father. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +If one must go to jail at all one could scarcely choose a more +entertaining jail than that of Valedolmo. It occupies a structure which +was once a palace; and its cells, planned for other purposes, are +spacious. But its most gratifying feature, to one forcibly removed from +social intercourse, is its outlook. The windows command the Piazza +Garibaldi, which is the social center of the town; it contains the +village post, the fountain, the tobacco shop, the washing-trough, and the +two rival cafčs, the "Independenza" and the "Libertą." The piazza is +always dirty and noisy--that goes without saying--but on Wednesday +morning at nine o'clock, it is peculiarly dirty and noisy. Wednesday is +Valedolmo's market day, and the square is so cluttered with booths and +huxters and anxious buyers, that the peaceable pedestrian can scarcely +wedge his way through. The noise moreover is deafening; above the cries +of vendors and buyers, rises a shriller chorus of bleating kids and +squealing pigs and braying donkeys. + +Mr. Wilder, red in the face and short of temper, pushed through the crowd +with little ceremony, prodding on the right with his umbrella, on the +left with his fan, and using his elbows vigorously. Constance, serenely +cool, followed in his wake, nodding here and there to a chance +acquaintance, smiling on everyone; the spectacle to her held always fresh +interest. An image vendor close at her elbow insisted that she should buy +a Madonna and Bambina for fifty centesimi, or at least a San Giuseppe for +twenty-five. To her father's disgust she bought them both, and presented +them to two wide-eyed children who in bashful fascination were dogging +their footsteps. + +The appearance of the foreigners in the piazza caused such a ripple of +interest, that for a moment the bargaining was suspended. When the two +mounted the steps of the jail and jerked the bell, as many of the +bystanders as the steps would accommodate mounted with them. Nobody +answered the first ring, and Constance pulled again with a force which +sent a jangle of bells echoing through the interior. After a second's +wait--snortingly impatient on Mr. Wilder's part; he was being pressed +close by the none too clean citizens of Valedolmo--the door was opened a +very small crack by a frowsy jailoress. Her eye fell first upon the +crowd, and she was disposed to close it again; but in the act she caught +sight of the Signorina Americana dressed in white, smiling above a +bouquet of oleanders. Her eyes widened with astonishment. It was long +since such an apparition had presented itself at that door. She dropped a +courtesy and the crack widened. + +"Your commands, signorina?" + +"We wish to come in." + +[Illustration: "The two mounted the steps of the jail and jerked the +bell"] + +"But it is against the orders. Friday is visiting-day at thirteen +o'clock. If the signorina had a _permesso_ from the _sindaco_, why +then--" + +The signorina shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. She had no +_permesso_ and it was too much trouble to get one. Besides, the +_sindaco's_ office didn't open till ten o'clock. She glanced down; there +was a shining two-franc piece in her hand. Perhaps the jailoress would +allow them to step inside away from the crowd and she would explain? + +This sounded reasonable; the door opened farther and they squeezed +through. It banged in the faces of the disappointed spectators, who +lingered hopefully a few moments longer, and then returned to their +bargaining. Inside the big damp stone-walled corridor Constance drew a +deep breath and smiled upon the jailoress; the jailoress smiled back. +Then as a preliminary skirmish, Constance presented the two-franc piece; +and the jailoress dropped a courtesy. + +"We have heard that Antonio, our donkey-driver, has been arrested for +deserting from the army and we have come to find out about it. My father, +the signore here--" she waved her hand toward Mr. Wilder--"likes Antonio +very much and is quite sure that it is a mistake." + +The woman's mouth hardened; she nodded with emphasis. + +"_Gią_. We have him, the man Antonio, if that is his name. He may not be +the deserter they search--I do not know--but if he is not the deserter he +is something else. You should have heard him last night, signorina, when +they brought him in. The things he said! They were in a foreign tongue; I +did not understand, but I _felt_. Also he kicked my husband--kicked him +quite hard so that he limps today. And the way he orders us about! You +would think he were a prince in his own palace and we were his servants. +Nothing is good enough for him. He objected to the room we gave him first +because it smelt of the cooking. He likes butter with his bread and hot +milk with his coffee. He cannot smoke the cigars which my husband bought +for him, and they cost three soldi apiece. And this morning--" her voice +rose shrilly as she approached the climax--"he called for a bath. It is +true, signorina, a _bath_. _Dio mio_, he wished me to carry the entire +village fountain to his room!" + +"Not really?" Constance opened her eyes in shocked surprise. "But surely, +signora, you did not do it?" + +The woman blinked. + +"It would be impossible, signorina," she contented herself with saying. + +Constance, with grave concern, translated the sum of Tony's enormities to +her father; and turned back to the jailoress apologetically. + +"My father is very much grieved that the man should have caused you so +much trouble. But he says, that if we could see him, we could persuade +him to be more reasonable. We talk his language, and can make him +understand." + +The woman winked meaningly. + +"Eh--he pretends he cannot talk Italian, but he understands enough to +ask for what he wishes. I think--and the Signor-Lieutenant who ordered +his arrest thinks--that he is shamming." + +"It was a lieutenant who ordered his arrest? Do you remember his +name--was it Carlo di Ferara?" + +"It might have been." Her face was vague. + +"Of the cavalry?" + +"_Si_, signorina, of the cavalry--and very handsome." + +Constance laughed. "Well, the plot thickens! Dad, you must come to Tony's +hearing this afternoon, and put it tactfully to our friend the lieutenant +that we don't like to have our donkey-man snatched away without our +permission." She turned back to the jailoress. "And now, where is the +man? We should like to speak with him." + +"It is against the orders, but perhaps--I have already permitted the head +waiter from the Hotel du Lac to carry him newspapers and cigarettes. He +says that the man Antonio is in reality an American nobleman from New +York who merely plays at being a donkey-driver for diversion, and that +unless he is set at liberty immediately a ship will come with cannon, +but--we all know Gustavo, signorina." + +Constance nodded and laughed. + +"You have reason! We all know Gustavo--may we go right up?" + +The jailoress called the jailor. They talked aside; the two-franc piece +was produced as evidence. The jailor with a great show of caution got out +a bunch of keys and motioned them to follow. Up two flights and down a +long corridor with peeling frescoes on the walls--nymphs and cupids and +garlands of roses; most incongruous decorations for a jail--at last they +paused before a heavy oak door. Their guide tried two wrong keys, swore +softly as each failed to turn, and finally with an exclamation of triumph +produced the right one. He swung the door wide and stepped back with a +bow. + +A large room was revealed, brick-floored and somewhat scanty as to +furniture, but with a view--an admirable view, if one did not mind its +being checked off into iron squares. The most conspicuous object in the +room, however, was its occupant, as he sat, in an essentially American +attitude, with his chair tipped back and his feet on the table. A cloud +of tobacco smoke and a wide spread copy of a New York paper concealed him +from too impertinent gaze. He did not raise his head at the sound of the +opening door but contented himself with growling: + +"Confound your impudence! You might at least knock before you come in." + +Constance laughed and advanced a hesitating step across the threshold. +Tony dropped his paper and sprang to his feet, his face assuming a shade +of pink only less vivid than the oleanders. She shook her head +sorrowfully. + +"I don't need to tell you, Tony, how shocked we are to find you in such a +place. Our trust has been rudely shaken; we had not supposed we were +harboring a deserter." + +Mr. Wilder stepped forward and held out his hand; there was a twinkle in +his eye which he struggled manfully to suppress. + +"Nonsense, Tony, we don't believe a word of it. You a deserter from the +Italian army? It's preposterous! Where are your naturalization papers?" + +"Thank you, Mr. Wilder, but I don't happen to have my papers with me--I +trust it won't be necessary to produce them. You see--" his glance rested +entirely on Mr. Wilder; he studiously overlooked Constance's +presence--"this Angelo Fresi, the fellow they are after, got into a +quarrel over a gambling debt and struck a superior officer. To avoid +being court-martialed he lit out; it happened a month ago in Milan and +they've been looking for him ever since. Now last night I had the +misfortune to tip Lieutenant Carlo di Ferara over into a ditch. The +matter was entirely accidental and I regretted it very much. I, of +course, apologized. But what did the lieutenant do but take it into his +head that I, being an assaulter of superior officers, was, by _a priori_ +reasoning, this Angelo Fresi in disguise. Accordingly--" he waved his +hand around the room--"you see me here." + +"It's an imposition! Depriving an American citizen of his liberty on any +such trumped-up charge as that! I'll telegraph the consul in Milan. +I'll--" + +"Oh, don't trouble. I'll get off this afternoon; they've sent for someone +to identify me, and if he doesn't succeed, I don't see how they can hold +me. In the meantime, I'm comfortable enough." + +Mr. Wilder's eye wandered about the room. "H'm, it isn't bad for a jail! +Got everything you need--tobacco, papers? What's this, New York _Sun_ +only ten days old?" He picked it up and plunged into the headlines. + +Constance turned from the window and glanced casually at Tony. + +"You didn't go to Austria after all?" + +"I was detained; I hope to get off tomorrow." + +"Oh, before I forget it." She removed the basket from her arm and set it +on the table. "Here is some lemon jelly, Tony. I couldn't remember +whether one takes lemon jelly to prisoners or invalids--I've never known +any prisoners before, you see. But anyway, I hope you'll like it; +Elizabetta made it." + +He bowed stiffly. "I beg of you to convey my thanks to Elizabetta." + +"Tony!" She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and glanced +apprehensively over her shoulder to see if the jailor were listening. "If +by any chance they _should_ identify you as that deserter, just get word +to me and I will have Elizabetta bake you a veal pasty with a rope ladder +and a file inside. I would have had her bake it this morning, only +Wednesday is ironing-day at the villa, and she was so awfully busy--" + +"This is your innings," Tony rejoined somewhat sulkily. "I hope you'll +get all the entertainment you can out of the situation." + +"Thank you, Tony, that's kind. Of course," she added with a plaintive +note in her voice, "this must be tiresome for you; but it is a pleasant +surprise for me. I was feeling very sad last night, Tony, at the thought +that you were going to Austria and that I should never, never see you any +more." + +"I wish I knew whether there's any truth in that statement or not!" + +"Any truth! I realize well, that I might search the whole world over and +never find another donkey-man who sings such beautiful tenor, who wears +such lovely sashes and such becoming earrings. Why, Tony--" she took a +step nearer and her face assumed a look of consternation. "You've lost +your earrings!" + +He turned his back and walked to the window where he stood moodily +staring at the market. Constance watched his squared shoulders dubiously +out of the corner of her eye; then she glanced momentarily into the hall +where the jailor was visible, his face flattened against the bars of an +open window; and from him to her father, still deep in the columns of his +paper, oblivious to both time and place. She crossed to Tony and stood at +his side peering down at the scene below. + +"I don't suppose it will interest you," she said in an off-hand tone, her +eyes still intent on the crowd, "but I got a letter this morning from a +young man who is stopping at the Sole d' Oro in Riva--a very rude letter +I thought." + +He whirled about. + +"You know!" + +"It struck me that the person who wrote it was in a temper and might +afterwards be sorry for having hurt my feelings, and so"--she raised her +eyes momentarily to his--"the invitation is still open." + +"Tell me," there was both entreaty and command in his tone, "did you know +the truth before you wrote that letter?" + +"You mean, did I know whom I was inviting? Assuredly! Do you think it +would have been dignified to write such an informal invitation to a +person I did not know?" + +She turned away quickly and laid her hand on her father's shoulder. + +"Come, Dad, don't you think we ought to be going? Poor Tony wants to read +the paper himself." + +Mr. Wilder came back to the jail and his companions with a start. + +"Oh, eh, yes, I think perhaps we ought. If they don't let you out this +afternoon, Tony, I'll make matters lively for 'em, and if there's +anything you need send word by Gustavo--I'll be back later." He fished in +his pockets and brought up a handful of cigars. "Here's something better +than lemon jelly, and they're not from the tobacco shop in Valedolmo +either." + +He dropped them on the table and turned toward the door; Constance +followed with a backward glance. + +"Good-bye, Tony; don't despair. Remember that it's always darkest before +the dawn, and that whatever others think, Costantina and I believe in +you. _We_ know that you are incapable of telling anything but the truth!" +She had almost reached the door when she became aware of the flowers in +her hand; she hurried back. "Oh, I forgot! Costantina sent these with +her--with--" She faltered; her audacity did not go quite that far. + +Tony reached for them. "With what?" he insisted. + +She laughed; and a second later the door closed behind her. He stood +staring at the door till he heard the key turn in the lock, then he +looked down at the flowers in his hand. A note was tied to the stems; his +fingers trembled as he worked with the knot. + +"_Caro Antonio mio_," it commenced; he could read that. "_La sua +Costantina_," it ended; he could read that. But between the two was an +elusive, tantalizing hiatus. He studied it and put it in his pocket and +took it out and studied it again. He was still puzzling over it half an +hour later when Gustavo came to inquire if the signore had need of +anything. + +Had he need of anything! He sent Gustavo flying to the stationer's in +search of an Italian-English dictionary. + + * * * * * + +It was four o'clock in the afternoon and all the world--except +Constance--was taking a siesta. The _Farfalla_, anchored at the foot of +the water steps in a blaze of sunshine, was dipping up and down in drowsy +harmony with the lapping waves; she was for the moment abandoned, +Giuseppe being engaged with a nap in the shade of the cypress trees at +the end of the drive. He was so very engaged that he did not hear the +sound of an approaching carriage, until the horse was pulled to a sudden +halt to avoid stepping on him. Giuseppe staggered sleepily to his feet +and rubbed his eyes. He saw a gentleman descend, a gentleman clothed as +for a wedding, in a frock coat and a white waistcoat, in shining hat and +pearl gray gloves and a boutonničre of oleander. Having paid the driver +and dismissed the carriage, the gentleman fumbled in his pocket for his +card-case. Giuseppe hurrying forward with a polite bow, stopped suddenly +and blinked. He fancied that he must still be dreaming; he rubbed his +eyes and stared again, but he found the second inspection more +confounding than the first. The gentleman looked back imperturbably, no +slightest shade of recognition in his glance, unless a gleam of amusement +far, far down in the depths of his eye might be termed recognition. He +extracted a card with grave deliberation and handed it to his companion. + +"_Voglio vedere la Signorina Costantina_," he remarked. + +The tone, the foreign accent, were both reminiscent of many a friendly +though halting conversation. Giuseppe stared again, appealingly, but the +gentleman did not help him out; on the contrary he repeated his request +in a slightly sharpened tone. + +"_Si, signore_," Giuseppe stammered. "_Prego di verire. La signorina č +nel giardino._" + +He started ahead toward the garden, looking behind at every third step to +make sure that the gentleman was still following, that he was not merely +a figment of his own sleepy senses. Their direction was straight toward +the parapet where, on a historic wash-day, the signorina had sat beside a +row of dangling stockings. She was sitting there now, dressed in white, +the oleander tree above her head enveloping her in a glowing and fragrant +shade. So occupied was she with a dreamy contemplation of the mountains +across the lake that she did not hear footsteps until Giuseppe paused +before her and presented the card. She glanced from this to the visitor +and extended a friendly hand. + +"Mr. Hilliard! Good afternoon." + +There was nothing of surprise in her greeting; evidently she did not find +the visit extraordinary. Giuseppe stared, his mouth and eyes at their +widest, until the signorina dismissed him; then he turned and walked +back--staggered back almost--never before, not even late at night on +Corpus Domini day, had he had such overwhelming reason to doubt his +senses. + +Constance turned to the visitor and swept him with an appreciative +glance, her eye lingering a second on the oleander in his buttonhole. + +"Perhaps you can tell me, is Tony out of jail? I am so anxious to know." + +He shook his head. + +"Found guilty and sentenced for life; you'll never see him again." + +"Ah; poor Tony! I shall miss him." + +"I shall miss him too; we've had very good times together." + +Constance suddenly became aware that her guest was still standing; she +moved along and made place on the wall. "Won't you sit down? Oh, excuse +me," she added with an anxious glance at his clothes, "I'm afraid you'll +get dusty; it would be better to bring a chair." She nodded toward the +terrace. + +He sat down beside her. + +"I am only too honored; the last time I came you did not invite me to sit +on the wall." + +"I am sorry if I appeared inhospitable, but you came so unexpectedly, Mr. +Hilliard." + +"Why 'Mr. Hilliard'? When you wrote you called me 'dear Jerry'." + +"That was a slip of the pen; I hope you will excuse it." + +"When I wrote I called you 'Miss Wilder'; that was a slip of the pen too. +What I meant to say was 'dear Constance'." + +She let this pass without comment. + +"I have an apology to make." + +"Yes?" + +"Once, a long time ago, I insulted you; I called you a kid. I take it +back; I swallow the word. You were never a kid." + +"Oh," she dimpled, and then, "I don't believe you remember a thing about +it!" + +[Illustration: "Never before had he had such overwhelming reason to doubt +his senses"] + +"Connie Wilder, a little girl in a blue sailor suit, and two nice fat +braids of yellow hair dangling down her back with red bows on the +ends--very convenient for pulling." + +"You are making that up. You don't remember." + +"Ah, but I do! And as for the racket you were making that afternoon, it +was, if you will permit the expression, _infernal_. I remember it +distinctly; I was trying to cram for a math. exam." + +"It wasn't I. It was your bad little sisters and brothers and cousins." + +"It was you, dear Constance. I saw you with my own eyes; I heard you with +my own ears." + +"Bobbie Hilliard was pulling my hair." + +"I apologize on his behalf, and with that we will close the incident. +There is something much more important which I wish to talk about." + +"Have you seen Nannie?" She offered this hastily not to allow a pause. + +"Yes, dear Constance, I have seen Nannie." + +"Call me 'Miss Wilder' please." + +"I'll be hanged if I will! You've been calling me Tony and Jerry and +anything else you chose ever since you knew me--and long before for the +matter of that." + +Constance waived the point. + +"Was she glad to see you?" + +"She's always glad to see me." + +"Oh, don't be so provoking! Give me the particulars. Was she surprised? +How did you explain the telegrams and letters and Gustavo's stories? I +should think the Hotel Sole d'Oro at Riva and the walking trip with the +Englishman must have been difficult." + +"Not in the least; I told the truth." + +"The truth! Not all of it?" + +"Every word." + +"How could you?" There was reproach in her accent. + +"It did come hard; I'm a little out of practice." + +"Did you tell her about--about me?" + +"I had to, Constance. When it came to the necessity of squaring all of +Gustavo's yarns, my imagination gave out. Anyway, I had to tell her out +of self-defence; she was so superior. She said it was just like a man to +muddle everything up. Here I'd been ten days in the same town with the +most charming girl in the world, and hadn't so much as discovered her +name; whereas if _she_ had been managing it--You see how it was; I had to +let her know that I was quite capable of taking care of myself without +any interference from her. I even--anticipated a trifle." + +"How?" + +"She said she was engaged. I told her I was too." + +"Indeed!" Constance's tone was remote. "To whom?" + +"The most charming girl in the world." + +"May I ask her name?" + +He laid his hand on his heart in a gesture reminiscent of Tony. +"Costantina." + +"Oh! I congratulate you." + +"Thank you--I hoped you would." + +She looked away, gravely, toward the Maggiore rising from the midst of +its clouds. His gaze followed hers, and for three minutes there was +silence. Then he leaned toward her. + +"Constance, will you marry me?" + +"No!" + +A pause of four minutes during which Constance stared steadily at the +mountain. At the end of that time her curiosity overcame her dignity; she +glanced at him sidewise. He was watching her with a smile, partly of +amusement, partly of something else. + +"Dear Constance, haven't you had enough of play, are you never going to +grow up? You are such a kid!" + +She turned back to the mountain. + +"I haven't known you long enough," she threw over her shoulder. + +"Six years!" + +"One week and two days." + +"Through three incarnations." + +She laughed a delicious rippling laugh of surrender, and slipped her hand +into his. + +"You don't deserve it, Jerry, after the fib you told your sister, but I +think--on the whole--I will." + +Neither noticed that Mr. Wilder had stepped out from the house and was +strolling down the cypress alley in their direction. He rounded the +corner in front of the parapet, and as his eye fell upon them, came to a +startled halt. The young man failed to let go of her hand, and Constance +glanced at her father with an apprehensive blush. + +"Here's--Tony, Dad. He's out of jail." + +"I see he is." + +She slipped down from the wall and brought Jerry with her. + +"We'd like your parental blessing, please. I'm going to marry him, but +don't look so worried. He isn't really a donkey-man nor a Magyar nor an +orphan nor an organ-grinder nor--any of the things he has said he was. He +is just a plain American man and an _awful liar_!" + +The young man held out his hand and Mr. Wilder shook it. + +"Jerry," he said, "I don't need to tell you how pleased--" + +"'Jerry!'" echoed Constance. "Father, you knew?" + +"Long before you did, my dear." There was a suggestion of triumph in Mr. +Wilder's tone. + +"Jerry, you told." There was reproach, scorn, indignation in hers. + +Jerry spread out his hands in a gesture of repudiation. + +"What could I do? He asked my name the day we climbed Monte Maggiore; +naturally, I couldn't tell him a lie." + +"Then we haven't fooled anybody. How unromantic!" + +"Oh, yes," said Jerry, "we've fooled lots of people. Gustavo doesn't +understand, and Giuseppe, you noticed, looked rather dazed. Then there's +Lieutenant Carlo di Ferara--" + +"Oh!" said Constance, her face suddenly blank. + +"You can explain to him now," said her father, peering through the trees. + +A commotion had suddenly arisen on the terrace--the rumble of wheels, the +confused mingling of voices. Constance and Jerry looked too. They found +the yellow omnibus of the Hotel du Lac, its roof laden with luggage, +drawn up at the end of the driveway, and Mrs. Eustace and Nannie on the +point of descending. The center of the terrace was already occupied by +Lieutenant di Ferara, who, with heels clicked together and white gloved +hands at salute, was in the act of achieving a military bow. Miss Hazel +fluttering from the door, in one breath welcomed the guests, presented +the lieutenant, and ordered Giuseppe to convey the luggage upstairs. Then +she glanced questioningly about the terrace. + +"I thought Constance and her father were here--Giuseppe!" + +Giuseppe dropped his end of a trunk and approached. Miss Hazel handed him +the lieutenant's card. "The signorina and the signore--in the garden, I +think." + +Giuseppe advanced upon the garden. Jerry's face, at the sight, became as +blank as Constance's. The two cast upon each other a glance of guilty +terror, and from this looked wildly behind for a means of escape. Their +eyes simultaneously lighted on the break in the garden wall. Jerry sprang +up and pulled Constance after him. On the top, she gathered her skirts +together preparatory to jumping, then turned back for a moment toward her +father. + +"Dad," she called in a stage whisper, "you go and meet him like a +gentleman. Tell him you are very sorry, but your daughter is not at home +today." + +The two conspirators scrambled down on the other side; and Mr. Wilder +with a sigh, dutifully stepped forward to greet the guests. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jerry Junior, by Jean Webster + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JERRY JUNIOR *** + +***** This file should be named 20358-8.txt or 20358-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/3/5/20358/ + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Louise Pryor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jerry Junior + +Author: Jean Webster + +Illustrator: Orson Lowell + +Release Date: January 14, 2007 [EBook #20358] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JERRY JUNIOR *** + + + + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Louise Pryor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 462px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="462" height="700" + alt="cover of book" + title="Cover" /> +</div> + + + +<h1>Jerry Junior</h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 370px;"> +<a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="370" height="650" + alt="Woman stands behind stone balustrade; good looking man in peasant dress gazes at her" + title="“Constance studied the mountains a moment”" /> +<span >“Constance studied the mountains +a moment”</span> +</div> + + + +<h1>Jerry Junior</h1> + +<p class="gap center big">By<br /> +<span class="bigger">Jean Webster</span><br /> +<span class="littlest">Author of “When Patty Went to College,” etc.</span></p> + +<p class="center gaplet bigger">With Illustrations<br /> +by Orson Lowell</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/tp_logo.jpg" width="100" height="100" + alt="logo" + title="Publisher's logo" /> +</div> + +<p class="center bigger">New York<br /> +The Century Co.<br /> +1907</p> + +<p class="biggap center littler">Copyright, 1907, by<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Century Co</span>.</p> +<hr class="squashed" /> +<p class="center littler">Copyright, 1906, 1907, by<br /> +<span class="smcap">The Crowell Publishing Company</span>. +</p> +<hr class="squashed" /> + + +<p class="center littler"><i>Published April</i>, 1907</p> + +<p class="center littlest gap">THE DE VINNE PRESS +</p> + + + +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="v"> </span><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v"></a> List of Illustrations</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table> + <tr> + <td></td> + <td class="pageno"><span class="littler">FACING PAGE</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“Constance studied the mountains a moment”</td> + <td class="pageno"><i><a href="#frontis" >Frontispiece</a></i></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“‘Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?’”</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown + hair, was sitting at ease on the balustrade”</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation”</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“He had also shifted his position so that he might + command the profile of the girl”</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>Beppo and the donkeys</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of + admiration”</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“Constance ahead on Fidilini, an officer marching + at each side of her saddle”</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“She seated herself in the deep embrasure of a + window close beside Tony’s parapet”</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“The man bowed with a gesture which made her + free of the book”</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="pagebreak" title="vi"> </span><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi"></a> + “She turned the pages and paused at the week’s + entries”</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“Constance ripped the letter open and read it + aloud”</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and + came running forward to meet them”</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“The two mounted the steps of the jail and + jerked the bell”</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td>“Never before had he had such overwhelming + reason to doubt his senses”</td> + <td class="pageno"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<h1> +<span class="pagebreak" title="3"> </span><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a> +Jerry Junior</h1> + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>he courtyard of the Hotel du Lac, furnished with half a dozen tables and +chairs, a red and green parrot chained to a perch, and a shady little +arbor covered with vines, is a pleasant enough place for morning coffee, +but decidedly too sunny for afternoon tea. It was close upon four of a +July day, when Gustavo, his inseparable napkin floating from his arm, +emerged from the cool dark doorway of the house and scanned the burning +vista of tables and chairs. He would never, under ordinary circumstances, +have interrupted his siesta for the mere delivery of a letter; but this +particular letter was addressed to the young American man, and young +American +<span class="pagebreak" title="4"> </span><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a> + men, as every head waiter knows, are an unreasonably impatient +lot. The court-yard was empty, as he might have foreseen, and he was +turning with a patient sigh towards the long arbor that led to the lake, +when the sound of a rustling paper in the summer house deflected his +course. He approached the doorway and looked inside.</p> + +<p>The young American man, in white flannels with a red guide-book +protruding from his pocket, was comfortably stretched in a lounging chair +engaged with a cigarette and a copy of the Paris <i>Herald</i>. He glanced up +with a yawn—excusable under the circumstances—but as his eye fell upon +the letter he sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="5"> </span><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a> +<img src="images/illo_005.jpg" width="650" height="404" alt="Waiter presents letter to young man" title="Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?" /> +<span>“‘Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?’”</span> +<span class="illopage" title="6"> </span><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a> +</div> + +<p>Gustavo bowed.</p> + +<p>“<i>Ecco</i>! She is at last arrive, ze lettair for which you haf so moch +weesh.” He bowed a second time and presented it. “Meestair Jayreen +Ailyar!”</p> + +<p>The young man laughed.</p> + +<p>“I don’t wish to hurt your feelings, +<span class="pagebreak" title="7"> </span><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a> + Gustavo, but I’m not sure I +should answer if my eyes were shut.”</p> + +<p>He picked up the letter, glanced at the address to make sure—the name +was Jerymn Hilliard Jr.—and ripped it open with an exaggerated sigh of +relief. Then he glanced up and caught Gustavo’s expression. Gustavo came +of a romantic race; there was a gleam of sympathetic interest in his eye.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you needn’t look so knowing! I suppose you think this is a love +letter? Well it’s not. It is, since you appear to be interested, a letter +from my sister informing me that they will arrive tonight, and that we +will pull out for Riva by the first boat tomorrow morning. Not that I +want to leave you, Gustavo, but—Oh, thunder!”</p> + +<p>He finished the reading in a frowning silence while the waiter stood at +polite attention, a shade of anxiety in his eye—there was usually +anxiety in his eye when it rested on Jerymn Hilliard Jr. One could never +foresee what the young man +<span class="pagebreak" title="8"> </span><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a> + would call for next. Yesterday he had rung +the bell and demanded a partner to play lawn tennis, as if the hotel kept +partners laid away in drawers like so many sheets.</p> + +<p>He crumpled up the letter and stuffed it in his pocket.</p> + +<p>“I say, Gustavo, what do you think of this? They’re going to stay in +Lucerne till the tenth—that’s next week—and they hope I don’t mind +waiting; it will be nice for me to have a rest. A <i>rest</i>, man, and I’ve +already spent three days in Valedolmo!”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signore, you will desire ze same room?” was as much as Gustavo +thought.</p> + +<p>“Ze same room? Oh, I suppose so.”</p> + +<p>He sank back into his chair and plunged his hands into his pockets with +an air of sombre resignation. The waiter hovered over him, divided +between a desire to return to his siesta, and a sympathetic interest in +the young man’s troubles. Never before in the history of his connection +with the Hotel du Lac had Gustavo +<span class="pagebreak" title="9"> </span><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a> + experienced such a munificent, +companionable, expansive, entertaining, thoroughly unique and +inexplicable guest. Even the fact that he was American scarcely accounted +for everything.</p> + +<p>The young man raised his head and eyed his companion gloomily.</p> + +<p>“Gustavo, have you a sister?”</p> + +<p>“A sister?” Gustavo’s manner was uncomprehending but patient. “<i>Si</i>, +signore, I have eight sister.”</p> + +<p>“Eight! Merciful saints. How do you manage to be so cheerful?”</p> + +<p>“Tree is married, signore, one uvver is betrofed, one is in a convent, +one is dead and two is babies.”</p> + +<p>“I see—they’re pretty well disposed of; but the babies will grow up, +Gustavo, and as for that betrothed one, I should still be a little +nervous if I were you; you can never be sure they are going to stay +betrothed. I hope she doesn’t spend her time chasing over the map of +Europe making appointments with you to meet her in unheard of little +mountain villages +<span class="pagebreak" title="10"> </span><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a> + where the only approach to Christian reading matter is +a Paris <i>Herald</i> four days old, and then doesn’t turn up to keep her +appointments?”</p> + +<p>Gustavo blinked. His supple back achieved another bow.</p> + +<p>“Sank you,” he murmured.</p> + +<p>“And you don’t happen to have an aunt?”</p> + +<p>“An aunt, signore?” There was vagueness in his tone.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Gustavo, an aunt. A female relative who reads you like an open +book, who sees your faults and skips your virtues, who remembers how dear +and good and obliging your father was at your age, who hoped great things +of you when you were a baby, who had intended to make you her heir but +has about decided to endow an orphan asylum—have you, Gustavo, by chance +an aunt?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signore.”</p> + +<p>“I do not think you grasp my question. An <i>aunt</i>—the sister of your +father, or perhaps your mother.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="11"> </span><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a> +A gleam of illumination swept over Gustavo’s troubled features.</p> + +<p>“<i>Ecco</i>! You would know if I haf a <i>zia</i>—a aunt—yes, zat is it. A aunt. +<i>Sicuramente</i>, signore, I haf ten—leven aunt.”</p> + +<p>“Eleven aunts! Before such a tragedy I am speechless; you need say no +more, Gustavo, from this moment we are friends.”</p> + +<p>He held out his hand. Gustavo regarded it dazedly; then, since it seemed +to be expected, he gingerly presented his own. The result was a shining +newly-minted two-lire piece. He pocketed it with a fresh succession of +bows.</p> + +<p>“<i>Grazie tanto</i>! Has ze signore need of anysing?”</p> + +<p>“Have I need of anysing?” There was reproach, indignation, disgust in the +young man’s tone. “How can you ask such a question, Gustavo? Here am I, +three days in Valedolmo, with seven more stretching before me. I have +plenty of towels and soap and soft-boiled eggs, if that is what you mean; +but a man’s spirit cannot be nourished on soap and +<span class="pagebreak" title="12"> </span><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a> + soft-boiled eggs. +What I need is food for the mind—diversion, distraction, amusement—no, +Gustavo, you needn’t offer me the Paris <i>Herald</i> again. I already know by +heart the list of guests in every hotel in Switzerland.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, it is diversion zat you wish? Have you seen zat ver’ beautiful Luini +in ze chapel of San Bartolomeo? It is four hundred years old.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Gustavo, I have seen the Luini in the chapel of San Bartolomeo. I +derived all the pleasure to be got out of it the first afternoon I came.”</p> + +<p>“Ze garden of Prince Sartonio-Crevelli? Has ze signore seen ze cedar of +Lebanon in ze garden of ze prince?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Gustavo, the signore has seen the cedar of Lebanon in the garden of +the prince, also the ilex tree two hundred years old and the india-rubber +plant from South America. They are extremely beautiful but they don’t +last a week.”</p> + +<p>“Have you swimmed in ze lake?”</p> + +<p>“It is lukewarm, Gustavo.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="13"> </span><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a> +The waiter’s eyes roved anxiously. They lighted on the lunette of +shimmering water and purple mountains visible at the farther end of the +arbor.</p> + +<p>“Zere is ze view,” he suggested humbly. “Ze view from ze water front is +consider ver’ beautiful, ver’ nice. Many foreigners come entirely for +him. You can see Lago di Garda, Monte Brione, Monte Baldo wif ze ruin +castle of ze Scaliger, Monte Maggiore, ze Altissimo di Nago, ze snow +cover peak of Monte—”</p> + +<p>Mr. Jerymn Hilliard Jr. stopped him with a gesture.</p> + +<p>“That will do; I read Baedeker myself, and I saw them all the first night +I came. You must know at your age, Gustavo, that a man can’t enjoy a view +by himself; it takes two for that sort of thing—Yes, the truth is that I +am lonely. You can see yourself to what straits I am pushed for +conversation. If I had your command of language, now, I would talk to the +German Alpine climbers.”</p> + +<p>An idea flashed over Gustavo’s features.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="14"> </span><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a> +“Ah, zat is it! Why does not ze signore climb mountains? Ver’ helful; +ver’ diverting. I find guide.”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t bother. Your guide would be Italian, and it’s too much of a +strain to talk to a man all day in dumb show.” He folded his arms with a +weary sigh. “A week of Valedolmo! An eternity!”</p> + +<p>Gustavo echoed the sigh. Though he did not entirely comprehend the +trouble, still he was of a generously sympathetic nature.</p> + +<p>“It is a pity,” he observed casually, “zat you are not acquaint wif ze +Signor Americano who lives in Villa Rosa. He also finds Valedolmo +undiverting. He comes—but often—to talk wif me. He has fear of +forgetting how to spik Angleesh, he says.”</p> + +<p>The young man opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>“What are you talking about—a Signor Americano here in Valedolmo?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Sicuramente</i>, in zat rose-color villa wif ze cypress trees and ze +<i>terrazzo</i> on ze +<span class="pagebreak" title="15"> </span><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a> + lake. His daughter, la Signorina Costantina, she live +wif him—ver’ yong, ver’ beautiful—” Gustavo rolled his eyes and clasped +his hands—“beautiful like ze angels in Paradise—and she spik Italia +like I spik Angleesh.”</p> + +<p>Jerymn Hilliard Jr. unfolded his arms and sat up alertly.</p> + +<p>“You mean to tell me that you had an American family up your sleeve all +this time and never said a word about it?” His tone was stern.</p> + +<p>“<i>Scusi</i>, signore, I have not known zat you have ze plaisir of zer +acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>“The pleasure of their acquaintance! Good heavens, Gustavo, when one +ship-wrecked man meets another ship-wrecked man on a desert island must +they be introduced before they can speak?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signore.”</p> + +<p>“And why, may I ask, should an intelligent American family be living in +Valedolmo?”</p> + +<p>“I do not know, signore. I have heard ze Signor Papa’s healf was no good, +and +<span class="pagebreak" title="16"> </span><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a> + ze doctors in Americk’ zay say to heem, ‘you need change, to breave +ze beautiful climate of Italia.’ And he say, ‘all right, I go to +Valedolmo.’ It is small, signore, but ver’ <i>famosa</i>. Oh, yes, <i>molto +famosa</i>. In ze autumn and ze spring foreigners come from all ze +world—Angleesh, French, German—<i>tutti</i>! Ze Hotel du Lac is full. Every +day we turn peoples away.”</p> + +<p>“So! I seem to have struck the wrong season.—But about this American +family, what’s their name?”</p> + +<p>“La familia Veeldair from Nuovo York.”</p> + +<p>“Veeldair.” He shook his head. “That’s not American, Gustavo, at least +when you say it. But never mind, if they come from New York it’s all +right. How many are there—just two?”</p> + +<p>“But no! Ze papa and ze signorina and ze—ze—” he rolled his eyes in +search of the word—“ze aunt!”</p> + +<p>“Another aunt! The sky appears to be raining aunts today. What does she +do for amusement—the signorina who is beautiful as the angels?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="17"> </span><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a> +Gustavo spread out his hands.</p> + +<p>“Valedolmo, signore, is on ze frontier. It is—what you say—garrison +<i>città</i>. Many soldiers, many officers—captains, lieutenants, wif +uniforms and swords. Zay take tea on ze <i>terrazzo</i> wif ze Signor Papa and +ze Signora Aunt, and most <i>specialmente</i> wif ze Signorina Costantina. Ze +Signor Papa say he come for his healf, but if you ask me, I sink maybe he +come to marry his daughter.”</p> + +<p>“I see! And yet, Gustavo, American papas are generally not so keen as you +might suppose about marrying their daughters to foreign captains and +lieutenants even if they have got uniforms and swords. I shouldn’t be +surprised if the Signor Papa were just a little nervous over the +situation. It seems to me there might be an opening for a likely young +fellow speaking the English language, even if he hasn’t a uniform and +sword. How does he strike you?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signore.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you agree with me. It is now five minutes past four; do you +think +<span class="pagebreak" title="18"> </span><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a> + the American family would be taking a siesta?”</p> + +<p>“I do not know, signore.” Gustavo’s tone was still patient.</p> + +<p>“And whereabouts is the rose-colored villa with the terrace on the lake?”</p> + +<p>“It is a quarter of a hour beyond ze Porta Sant’ Antonio. If ze gate is +shut you ring at ze bell and Giuseppe will open. But ze road is ver’ hot +and ver’ dusty. It is more cooler to take ze paf by ze lake. Straight to +ze left for ten minutes and step over ze wall; it is broken in zat place +and quite easy.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, that is a wise suggestion; I shall step over the wall by all +means.” He jumped to his feet and looked about for his hat. “You turn to +the left and straight ahead for ten minutes? Good-bye then till dinner. I +go in search of the Signorina Costantina who is beautiful as the angels +in Paradise, and who lives in a rose-colored villa set in a cypress grove +on the shores of Lake Garda—not a bad setting for romance, is it, +<span class="pagebreak" title="19"> </span><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a> +Gustavo?—Dinner, I believe, is at seven o’clock?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signore, at seven; and would you like veal cooked Milanese +fashion?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing would please me more. We have only had veal Milanese fashion +five times since I came.”</p> + +<p>He waved his hand jauntily and strolled whistling down the arbor that led +to the lake. Gustavo looked after him and shook his head. Then he took +out the two-lire piece and rang it on the table. The metal rang true. He +shrugged his shoulders and turned back indoors to order the veal.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="20"> </span><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>he terrace of Villa Rosa juts out into the lake, bordered on three sides +by a stone parapet, and shaded above by a yellow-ochre awning. Masses of +oleanders hang over the wall and drop pink petals into the blue waters +below. As a study in color the terrace is perfect, but, like the +court-yard of the Hotel du Lac, decidedly too hot for mid-afternoon. To +the right of the terrace, however, is a shady garden set in alleys of +cypress trees, and separated from the lake by a strip of beach and a low +balustrade. There could be no better resting place for a warm afternoon.</p> + +<p>It was close upon four—five minutes past to be accurate—and the usual +afternoon quiet that enveloped the garden had fled before the garrulous +advent of four +<span class="pagebreak" title="21"> </span><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a> + girls. Three of them, with black eyes and blacker hair, +were kneeling on the beach thumping and scrubbing a pile of linen. In +spite of their chatter they were working busily, and the grass beyond the +water-wall was already white with bleaching sheets, while a lace trimmed +petticoat fluttered from a near-by oleander, and a row of silk stockings +stretched the length of the parapet. The most undeductive observer would +have guessed by this time that the pink villa, visible through the trees, +contained no such modern conveniences as stationary tubs.</p> + +<p>The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown hair, was sitting at +ease on the balustrade, fanning herself with a wide brimmed hat and +dangling her feet, clad in white tennis shoes, over the edge. She wore a +suit of white linen cut sailor fashion, low at the throat and with +sleeves rolled to the elbows. She looked very cool and comfortable and +free as she talked, with the utmost friendliness, to the three girls +below. Her Italian, to an +<span class="pagebreak" title="22"> </span><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a> + unaccustomed ear, was exactly as glib as +theirs.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="23"> </span><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a> +<img src="images/illo_023.jpg" width="650" height="379" alt="Young woman sitting on stone balustrade, three peasant women washing clothes" title="The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown hair, was sitting at ease on the balustrade" /> +<span>“The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown hair, +was sitting at ease on the balustrade”</span> +<span class="illopage" title="24"> </span><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a> +</div> + +<p>The washer-girls were dressed in the gayest of peasant clothes—green and +scarlet petticoats, flowered kerchiefs, coral beads and flashing +earrings; you would have to go far into the hills in these degenerate +days before meeting their match on an Italian highway. But the girl on +the wall, who was actual if not titular ruler of the domain of Villa +Rosa, possessed a keen eye for effect; and—she plausibly argued—since +one must have washer-women about, why not, in the name of all that is +beautiful, have them in harmony with tradition and the landscape? +Accordingly, she designed and purchased their costumes herself.</p> + +<p>There drifted presently into sight from around the little promontory that +hid the village, a blue and white boat with yellow lateen sails. She was +propelled gondolier fashion, for the wind was a mere breath, by a +picturesque youth in a suit of dark blue with white sash and flaring +collar +<span class="pagebreak" title="25"> </span><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a> + —the hand of the girl on the wall was here visible also.</p> + +<p>The boat fluttering in toward shore, looked like a giant butterfly; and +her name, emblazoned in gold on her prow, was, appropriately, the +<i>Farfalla</i>. Earlier in the season, with a green hull and a dingy brown +sail, she had been prosaically enough, the <i>Maria</i>. But since the advent +of the girl all this had been changed. The <i>Farfalla</i> dropped her yellow +wings with the air of a salute, and lighted at the foot of the +water-steps under the terrace. The girl on the parapet leaned forward +eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Did you get any mail, Giuseppe?” she called.</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina.” He scrambled up the steps and presented a copy of the +London <i>Times</i>.</p> + +<p>She received it with a shrug. Clearly, she felt little interest in the +London <i>Times</i>. Giuseppe took himself back to his boat and commenced +fussing about its fittings, dusting the seats, plumping up the cushions, +<span class="pagebreak" title="26"> </span><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a> +with an air of absorption which deceived nobody. The signorina watched +him a moment with amused comprehension, then she called peremptorily:</p> + +<p>“Giuseppe, you know you must spade the garden border.”</p> + +<p>Poor Giuseppe, in spite of his nautical costume, was man of all work. He +glanced dismally toward the garden border which lay basking in the +sunshine under the wall that divided Villa Rosa from the rest of the +world. It contained every known flower which blossoms in July in the +kingdom of Italy from camellias and hydrangeas to heliotrope and wall +flowers. Its spading was a complicated business and it lay too far off to +permit of conversation. Giuseppe was not only a lazy, but also a social +soul.</p> + +<p>“Signorina,” he suggested, “would you not like a sail?”</p> + +<p>She shook her head. “There is not wind enough and it is too hot and too +sunny.”</p> + +<p>“But yes, there’s a wind, and cool—when you get out on the lake. I will +put +<span class="pagebreak" title="27"> </span><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a> + up the awning, signorina, the sun shall not touch you.”</p> + +<p>She continued to shake her head and her eyes wandered suggestively to the +hydrangeas, but Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation. Not being a +cruel mistress, she dropped the subject, and turned back to her +conversation with the washer-girls. They were discussing—a pleasant +topic for a sultry summer afternoon—the probable content of Paradise. +The three girls were of the opinion that it was made up of warm sunshine +and cool shade, of flowers and singing birds and sparkling waters, of +blue skies and cloud-capped mountains—not unlike, it will be observed, +the very scene which at the moment stretched before them. In so much they +were all agreed, but there were several debatable points. Whether the +stones were made of gold, and whether the houses were not gold too, and, +that being the case, whether it would not hurt your eyes to look at them. +Marietta declared, blasphemously, as the others thought, that she +<span class="pagebreak" title="28"> </span><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a> +preferred a simple gray stone villa or at most one of pink stucco, to +all the golden edifices that Paradise contained.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 445px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="29"> </span><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a> +<img src="images/illo_029.jpg" width="445" height="650" alt="Man in small sailing boat" title="Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation" /> +<span>“Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation”</span> +<span class="illopage" title="30"> </span><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a> +</div> + + +<p>It was by now fifteen minutes past four, and a spectator had arrived, +though none of the five were aware of his presence. The spectator was +standing on the wall above the garden border examining with appreciation +the idyllic scene below him, and with most particular appreciation, the +dainty white-clad person of the girl on the balustrade. He was +wondering—anxiously—how he might make his presence known. For no very +tangible reason he had suddenly become conscious that the matter would be +easier if he carried in his pocket a letter of introduction. The purlieus +of Villa Rosa in no wise resembled a desert island; and in the face of +that very fluent Italian, the suspicion was forcing itself upon him that +after all, the mere fact of a common country was not a sufficient bond of +union. He had definitely decided to withdraw, when the matter was taken +from his hands.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="31"> </span><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a> +The wall—as Gustavo had pointed out—was broken; it was owing to this +fact that he had been so easily able to climb it. Now, as he stealthily +turned, preparing to re-descend in the direction whence he had come, the +loose stone beneath his foot slipped and he slipped with it. Five +startled pairs of eyes were turned in his direction. What they saw, was a +young man in flannels suddenly throw up his arms, slide into an azalea +bush, from this to the balustrade, and finally land on all fours on the +narrow strip of beach, a shower of pink petals and crumbling masonry +falling about him. A momentary silence followed; then the washer-girls, +making sure that he was not injured, broke into a shrill chorus of +laughter, while the <i>Farfalla</i> rocked under impact of Giuseppe’s mirth. +The girl on the wall alone remained grave.</p> + +<p>The young man picked himself up, restored his guide book to his pocket, +and blushingly stepped forward, hat in hand, to make an apology. One knee +bore a +<span class="pagebreak" title="32"> </span><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a> + splash of mud, and his tumbled hair was sprinkled with azalea +blossoms.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon,” he stammered, “I didn’t mean to come so suddenly; +I’m afraid I broke your wall.”</p> + +<p>The girl dismissed the matter with a polite gesture.</p> + +<p>“It was already broken,” and then she waited with an air of grave +attention until he should state his errand.</p> + +<p>“I—I came—” He paused and glanced about vaguely; he could not at the +moment think of any adequate reason to account for his coming.</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p>Her eyes studied him with what appeared at once a cool and an amused +scrutiny. He felt himself growing red beneath it.</p> + +<p>“Can I do anything for you?” she prompted with the kind desire of putting +him at his ease.</p> + +<p>“Thank you—” He grasped at the first idea that presented itself. “I’m +stopping at the Hotel du Lac and Gustavo, you +<span class="pagebreak" title="33"> </span><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a> + know, told me there was a +villa somewhere around here that belongs to Prince Someone or Other. If +you ring at the gate and give the gardener two francs and a visiting +card, he will let you walk around and look at the trees.”</p> + +<p>“I see!” said the girl, “and so now you are looking for the gate?” Her +tone suggested that she suspected him of trying to avoid both it and the +two francs. “Prince Sartorio-Crevelli’s villa is about half a mile +farther on.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, thank you,” he bowed a second time, and then added out of the +desperate need of saying something, “There’s a cedar of Lebanon in it and +an India rubber plant from South America.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!”</p> + +<p>She continued to observe him with polite interest, though she made no +move to carry on the conversation.</p> + +<p>“You—are an American?” he asked at length.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” she agreed easily. “Gustavo knows that.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="34"> </span><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a> +He shifted his weight.</p> + +<p>“I am an American too,” he observed.</p> + +<p>“Really?” The girl leaned forward and examined him more closely, an +innocent, candid, wholly detached look in her eyes. “From your appearance +I should have said you were German—most of the foreigners who visit +Valedolmo are German.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m not,” he said shortly. “I’m American.”</p> + +<p>“It is a pity my father is not at home,” she returned, “<i>he</i> enjoys +meeting Americans.”</p> + +<p>A gleam of anger replaced the embarrassment in the young man’s eyes. He +glanced about for a dignified means of escape; they had him pretty well +penned in. Unless he wished to reclimb the wall—and he did not—he must +go by the terrace which retreat was cut off by the washer-women, or by +the parapet, already occupied by the girl in white and the washing. He +turned abruptly and his elbow brushed a stocking to the ground.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="35"> </span><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a> +He stooped to pick it up and then he blushed still a shade deeper.</p> + +<p>“This is washing day,” observed the girl with a note of apology. She rose +to her feet and stood on the top of the parapet while she beckoned to +Giuseppe, then she turned and looked down upon the young man with an +expression of frank amusement. “I hope you will enjoy the cedar of +Lebanon and the India rubber tree. Good afternoon.”</p> + +<p>She jumped to the ground and crossed to the water-steps where Giuseppe, +with a radiant smile, was steadying the boat against the landing. She +settled herself comfortably among the cushions and then for a moment +glanced back towards shore.</p> + +<p>“You would better go out by the gate,” she called. “The wall on the +farther side is harder to climb than the one you came in by; and besides, +it has broken glass on the top.”</p> + +<p>Giuseppe raised the yellow sail and the <i>Farfalla</i> with a graceful dip, +glided out to sea. The young man stood eyeing its +<span class="pagebreak" title="36"> </span><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a> + progress revengefully. +Now that the girl was out of hearing, a number of pointed things occurred +to him which he might have said. His thoughts were interrupted by a fresh +giggle from behind and he found that the three washer-girls were laughing +at him.</p> + +<p>“Your mistress’s manners are not the best in the world,” said he, +severely, “and I am obliged to add that yours are no better.”</p> + +<p>They giggled again, though there was no malice behind their humor; it was +merely that they found the lack of a language in common a mirth-provoking +circumstance. Marietta, with a flash of black eyes, murmured something +very kindly in Italian, as she shook out a linen sailor suit—the exact +twin of the one that had gone to sea—and spread it on the wall to dry.</p> + +<p>The young man did not linger for further words. Setting his hat firmly on +his head, he vaulted the parapet and strode off down the cypress alley +that stretched +<span class="pagebreak" title="37"> </span><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a> + before him; he passed the pink villa without a glance. At +the gate he stood aside to admit a horse and rider. The horse was +prancing in spite of the heat; the rider wore a uniform and a shining +sword. There was a clank of accoutrements as he passed, and the wayfarer +caught a gleam of piercing black eyes and a slight black moustache turned +up at the ends. The rider saluted politely and indifferently, and jangled +on. The young man scowled after him maliciously until the cypresses hid +him from view; then he turned and took up the dusty road back towards the +Hotel du Lac.</p> + +<p>It was close upon five, and Gustavo was in the court-yard feeding the +parrot, when his eye fell upon the American guest scuffling down the road +in a cloud of white dust. Gustavo hastened to the gate to welcome him +back, his very eyebrows expressive of his eagerness for news.</p> + +<p>“You are returned, signore?”</p> + +<p>The young man paused and regarded him unemotionally.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="38"> </span><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a> +“Yes, Gustavo, I am returned—with thanks.”</p> + +<p>“You have seen ze Signorina Costantina?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I saw her.”</p> + +<p>“And is it not as I have said, zat she is beautiful as ze holy angels?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Gustavo, she is—and just about equally remote. You may make out my +bill.”</p> + +<p>The waiter’s face clouded.</p> + +<p>“You do not wish to remain longer, signore?”</p> + +<p>“Can’t stand it, Gustavo; it’s too infernally restful.”</p> + +<p>Poor Gustavo saw a munificent shower of tips vanishing into nothing. His +face was rueful but his manner was undiminishingly polite.</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signore, sank you. When shall you wish ze omnibus?”</p> + +<p>“Tomorrow morning for the first boat.”</p> + +<p>Gustavo bowed to the inevitable; and the young man passed on. He paused +half way across the court-yard.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="39"> </span><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a> +“What time does the first boat leave?”</p> + +<p>“At half past five, signore.”</p> + +<p>“Er—no—I’ll take the second.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signore. At half-past ten.”</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="40"> </span><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapi"><span class="dropcap">I</span></span>t was close upon ten when Jerymn Hilliard Jr., equipped for travel in +proper blue serge, appeared in the doorway of the Hotel du Lac. He looked +at his watch and discovered that he still had twenty minutes before the +omnibus meeting the second boat was due. He strolled across the +court-yard, paused for a moment to tease the parrot, and sauntered on to +his favorite seat in the summer house. He had barely established himself +with a cigarette when who should appear in the gateway but Miss Constance +Wilder of Villa Rosa and a middle-aged man—at a glance the Signor Papa. +Jerymn Hilliard’s heart doubled its beat. Why, he asked himself +excitedly, <i>why</i> had they come?</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="41"> </span><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a> +The Signor Papa closed his green umbrella, and having dropped into a +chair—obligingly near the summer house—took off his hat and fanned +himself. He had a tendency toward being stout and felt the heat. The +girl, meanwhile, crossed the court and jangled the bell; she waited +two—three—minutes, then she pulled the rope again.</p> + +<p>“Gustavo! Oh, Gustavo!”</p> + +<p>The bell might have been rung by any-one—the fisherman, the +omnibus-driver, Suor Celestina from the convent asking her everlasting +alms—and Gustavo took his time. But the voice was unmistakable; he +waited only to throw a clean napkin over his arm before hurrying to +answer.</p> + +<p>“<i>Buon giorno</i>, signorina! Good morning, signore. It is beautiful +wea-thir, but warm. <i>Già</i>, it is warm.”</p> + +<p>He bowed and smiled and rubbed his hands together. His moustaches, fairly +bristling with good will, turned up in a half circle until they caressed +his nose on either side. He bustled about placing +<span class="pagebreak" title="42"> </span><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a> + table and chairs, and +recklessly dusting them with the clean napkin. The signorina laid her +fluffy white parasol on one chair and seated herself on another, her +profile turned to the summer house. Gustavo hovered over them, awaiting +their pleasure, the genius itself of respectful devotion. It was +Constance who gave the order—she, it might be noticed, gave most of the +orders that were given in her vicinity. She framed it in English out of +deference to Gustavo’s pride in his knowledge of the language.</p> + +<p>“A glass of <i>vino santo</i> for the Signore and <i>limonata</i> for me. I wish to +put the sugar in myself, the last time you mixed it, Gustavo, it was all +sugar and no lemon. And bring a bowl of cracked ice—<i>fino</i>—<i>fino</i>—and +some pine nut cakes if you are sure they are fresh.”</p> + +<p>“Sank you, signorina. <i>Subitissimo</i>!”</p> + +<p>He was off across the court, his black coat-tails, his white napkin +streaming behind, proclaiming to all the world that he was engaged on the +Signorina +<span class="pagebreak" title="43"> </span><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a> + Americana’s bidding; for persons of lesser note he still +preserved a measure of dignity.</p> + +<p>The young man in the summer house had meanwhile dropped his cigarette +upon the floor and noiselessly stepped on it. He had also—with the +utmost caution lest the chair creak—shifted his position so that he +might command the profile of the girl. The entrance to the summer house +was fortunately on the other side, and in all likelihood they would not +have occasion to look within. It was eavesdropping of course, but he had +already been convicted of that yesterday, and in any case it was not such +very bad eavesdropping. The court-yard of the Hotel du Lac was public +property; he had been there first, he was there by rights as a guest of +the house; if anything, they were the interlopers. Besides, nobody talked +secrets with a head waiter. His own long conversations with Gustavo were +as open and innocent as the day; the signorina was perfectly welcome to +listen to them as much as she chose.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="45"> </span><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a> +<img src="images/illo_045.jpg" width="650" height="316" alt="Waiter talking to couple seated at table. Young man peeks at the scene through a fence" title="He had also shifted his position so that he might command the profile of the girl" /> +<span>“He had also shifted his position so that he might +command the profile of the girl”</span> +<span class="illopage" title="46"> </span><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a> +</div> + +<p>She was sitting with her chin in her +<span class="pagebreak" title="44"> </span><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a> + hand, eyeing the flying coat-tails +of Gustavo, a touch of amusement in her face. Her father was eyeing her +severely.</p> + +<p>“Constance, it is disgraceful!”</p> + +<p>She laughed. Apparently she already knew or divined what it was that was +disgraceful, but the accusation did not appear to bother her much. Mr. +Wilder proceeded grumblingly.</p> + +<p>“It’s bad enough with those five deluded officers, but they walked into +the trap with their eyes open and it’s their own affair. But look at +Gustavo; he can scarcely carry a dish without breaking it when you are +watching him. And Giuseppe—that confounded <i>Farfalla</i> with its yellow +sails floats back and forth in front of the terrace till I am on the +point of having it scuttled as a public nuisance; and those three +washer-women and the post-office clerk and the boy who brings milk, and +Luigi and—every man, woman and child in the village of Valedolmo!”</p> + +<p>“And my own dad as well?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder shook his head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="47"> </span><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a> +“I came here at your instigation for rest and relaxation—to get rid of +nervous worries, and here I find a big new worry waiting for me that I’d +never thought of having before. What if my only daughter should take it +in her head to marry one of these infernally good-looking Italian +officers?”</p> + +<p>Constance reached over and patted his arm.</p> + +<p>“Don’t let it bother you, Dad; I assure you I won’t do anything of the +sort. I should think it my duty to learn the subjunctive mood, and that +is impossible.”</p> + +<p>Gustavo came hurrying back with a tray. He arranged the glasses, the ice, +the sugar, the cakes, with loving, elaborate obsequiousness. The +signorina examined the ice doubtfully, then with approval.</p> + +<p>“It’s exactly right to-day, Gustavo! You got it too large the last time, +you remember.”</p> + +<p>She stirred in some sugar and tasted it tentatively, her head on one +side. Gustavo hung upon her expression in an agony +<span class="pagebreak" title="48"> </span><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a> + of apprehension; one +would have thought it a matter for public mourning if the lemonade were +not mixed exactly right. But apparently it was right—she nodded and +smiled—and Gustavo’s expression assumed relief. Constance broke open a +pine nut cake and settled herself for conversation.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t you any guests, Gustavo?” Her eyes glanced over the empty +court-yard. “I am afraid the hotel is not having a very prosperous +season.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Grazie</i>, signorina. Zer never are many in summer; it is ze dead time, +but still zay come and zay go. Seven arrive last night.”</p> + +<p>“Seven! That’s nice. What are they like?”</p> + +<p>“German mountain-climbers wif nails in zer shoes. Zey have gone to Riva +on ze first boat.”</p> + +<p>“That’s too bad—then the hotel is empty?”</p> + +<p>“But no! Zer is an Italian Signora wif two babies and a governess, and +two +<span class="pagebreak" title="49"> </span><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a> + English ladies and an American gentleman—”</p> + +<p>“An American gentleman?” Her tone was languidly interested. “How long has +he been here?”</p> + +<p>“Tree—four day.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed—what is he like?”</p> + +<p>“Nice—ver’ nice.” (Gustavo might well say that; his pockets were lined +with the American gentleman’s silver lire.) “He talk to me always. +‘Gustavo,’ he say, ‘I am all alone; I wish to be ’mused. Come and talk +Angleesh.’ Yes, it is true; I have no time to finish my work; I spend +whole day talking wif dis yong American gentleman. He is just a little—” +He touched his head significantly.</p> + +<p>“Really?” She raised her eyes with an air of awakened interest. “And how +did he happen to come to Valedolmo?”</p> + +<p>“He come to meet his family, his sister and his—his aunt, who are going +wif him to ze Tyrollo. But zay have not arrive. Zey are in Lucerne, he +says, where zer is a lion dying, and zey wish to wait until he is +<span class="pagebreak" title="50"> </span><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a> + dead; +zen zey come.—Yes, it is true; he tell me zat.” Gustavo tapped his head +a second time.</p> + +<p>The signorina glanced about apprehensively.</p> + +<p>“Is he safe, Gustavo—to be about?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina, <i>sicuramente</i>! He is just a little simple.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder chuckled.</p> + +<p>“Where is he, Gustavo? I think I’d like to make that young man’s +acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>“I sink, signore, he is packing his trunk. He go away today.”</p> + +<p>“Today, Gustavo?” There was audible regret in Constance’s tone. “Why is +he going?”</p> + +<p>“It is not possible for him to stand it, signorina. Valedolmo too dam +slow.”</p> + +<p>“Gustavo! You mustn’t say that; it is very, very bad. Nice men don’t say +it.”</p> + +<p>Gustavo held his ground.</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina, zat yong American gentleman say it—dam slow, no +<i>divertimento</i>.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="51"> </span><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a> +“He’s just about right, Gustavo,” Mr. Wilder broke in. “The next time a +young American gentleman blunders into the Hotel du Lac you send him +around to me.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signore.”</p> + +<p>Gustavo rolled his eyes toward the signorina; she continued to sip her +lemonade.</p> + +<p>“I have told him yesterday an American family live at Villa Rosa; he say +‘All right, I go call,’ but—but I sink maybe you were not at home.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” The signorina raised her head in apparent enlightenment. “So that +was the young man? Yes, to be sure, he came, but he said he was looking +for Prince Sartorio’s villa. I am sorry you were away, Father, you would +have enjoyed him; his English was excellent.—Did he tell you he saw me, +Gustavo?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina, he tell me.”</p> + +<p>“What did he say? Did he think I was nice?”</p> + +<p>Gustavo looked embarrassed.</p> + +<p>“I—I no remember, signorina.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="52"> </span><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a> +She laughed and to his relief changed the subject.</p> + +<p>“Those English ladies who are staying here—what do they look like? Are +they young?”</p> + +<p>Gustavo delivered himself of an inimitable gesture which suggested that +the English ladies had entered the bounds of that indefinite period when +the subject of age must be politely waived.</p> + +<p>“They are tall, signorina, and of a thinness—you would not believe it +possible.”</p> + +<p>“I see! And so the poor young man was bored?”</p> + +<p>Gustavo bowed vaguely. He saw no connection.</p> + +<p>“He was awfully good-looking,” she added with a sigh. “I’m afraid I made +a mistake. It would be rather fun, don’t you think, Dad, to have an +entertaining young American gentleman about?”</p> + +<p>“Ump!” he grunted. “I thought you were so immensely satisfied with the +officers.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I am,” she agreed with a shrug <span class="pagebreak" title="53"> </span><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>which dismissed forever the young +American gentleman.</p> + +<p>“Well, Gustavo,” she added in a business-like tone, “I will tell you why +we called. The doctor says the Signor Papa is getting too fat—I don’t +think he’s too fat, do you? He seems to me just comfortably chubby; but +anyway, the doctor says he needs exercise, so we’re going to begin +climbing mountains with nails in our shoes like the Germans. And we’re +going to begin to-morrow because we’ve got two English people at the +villa who adore mountains. Do you think you can find us a guide and some +donkeys? We want a nice, gentle, lady-like donkey for my aunt, and +another for the English lady and a third to carry the things—and maybe +me, if I get tired. Then we want a man who will twist their tails and +make them go; and I am very particular about the man. I want him to be +picturesque—there’s no use being in Italy if you can’t have things +picturesque, is there, Gustavo?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="54"> </span><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a> +“<i>Si</i>, signorina,” he bowed and resumed his attitude of strained +attention.</p> + +<p>“He must have curly hair and black eyes and white teeth and a nice smile; +I should like him to wear a red sash and earrings. He must be obliging +and cheerful and deferential and speak good Italian—I won’t have a man +who speaks only dialect. He must play the mandolin and sing Santa +Lucia—I believe that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“And I suppose since he is to act as guide he must know the region?” her +father mildly suggested.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, that’s immaterial; we can always ask our way.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder grunted, but offered no further suggestion.</p> + +<p>“We pay four lire a day and furnish his meals,” she added munificently. +“And we shall begin with the castle on Monte Baldo; then when we get very +proficient we’ll climb Monte Maggiore. Do you understand?”</p> + +<p>“Ze signorina desires tree donkeys and +<span class="pagebreak" title="55"> </span><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a> + a driver at seven o’clock +to-morrow morning to climb Monte Baldo?”</p> + +<p>“In brief, yes, but <i>please</i> remember the earrings.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Meanwhile a commotion was going on behind them. The hotel omnibus had +rumbled into the court yard. A <i>fachino</i> had dragged out a leather trunk, +an English hat box and a couple of valises and dumped them on the ground +while he ran back for the paste pot and a pile of labels. The two +under-waiters, the chamber-maid and the boy who cleaned boots had drifted +into the court. It was evident that the American gentleman’s departure +was imminent.</p> + +<p>The luggage was labelled and hoisted to the roof of the omnibus; they all +drew up in a line with their eyes on the door; but still the young man +did not come. Gustavo, over his shoulder, dispatched a waiter to hunt him +up. The waiter returned breathless. The gentleman was nowhere. He had +searched the entire house; +<span class="pagebreak" title="56"> </span><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a> + there was not a trace. Gustavo sent the +boot-boy flying down the arbor to search the garden; he was beginning to +feel anxious. What if the gentleman in a sudden fit of melancholia had +thrown himself into the lake? That would indeed be an unfortunate affair!</p> + +<p>Constance reassured him, and at the same time she arose. It occurred to +her suddenly that, since the young man was going, there was nothing to be +gained by waiting, and he might think—She picked up her parasol and +started for the gate, but Mr. Wilder hung back; he wanted to see the +matter out.</p> + +<p>“Father,” said she reproachfully, “it’s embarrassing enough for him to +fee all those people without our staying and watching him do it.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it is,” he acknowledged regretfully, as he resumed his hat and +umbrella and palm leaf fan.</p> + +<p>She paused for a second in the gateway.</p> + +<p>“<i>Addio</i>, Gustavo,” she called over her shoulder. “<i>Don’t</i> forget the +earrings.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="57"> </span><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a> +Gustavo bowed twice and turned back with a dazed air to direct the +business in hand. The boot-boy, reappearing, shook his head. No, the +gentleman was not to be found in the garden. The omnibus driver leaned +from his seat and swore.</p> + +<p><i>Corpo di Bacco</i>! Did he think the boat would wait all day for the sake +of one passenger? As it was, they were ten minutes late and would have to +gallop every step of the way.</p> + +<p>The turmoil of ejaculation and gesture was approaching a climax; when +suddenly, who should come sauntering into the midst of it, but the young +American man himself! He paused to light a cigarette, then waved his hand +aloft toward his leather belongings.</p> + +<p>“Take ’em down, Gustavo. Changed my mind; not going to-day—it’s too +hot.”</p> + +<p>Gustavo gasped.</p> + +<p>“But, signore, you have paid for your ticket.”</p> + +<p>“True, Gustavo, but there is no law compelling me to use it. To tell the +truth I +<span class="pagebreak" title="58"> </span><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a> + find that I am fonder of Valedolmo than I had supposed. There is +something satisfying about the peace and tranquility of the place—one +doesn’t realize it till the moment of parting comes. Do you think I can +obtain a room for a—well, an indefinite period?”</p> + +<p>Gustavo saw a dazzling vista of silver lire stretching into the future. +With an all-inclusive gesture he placed the house, the lake, the +surrounding mountains, at the disposal of the American.</p> + +<p>“You shall have what you wish, signore. At dis season ze Hotel du Lac—”</p> + +<p>“Is not crowded, and there are half a hundred rooms at my disposal? Very +well, I will keep the one I have which commands a very attractive view of +a rose-colored villa set in a grove of cypress trees.”</p> + +<p>The others had waited in a state of suspension, dumbfounded at what was +going on. But as soon as the young man dipped into his pocket and fished +out a handful of silver, they broke into smiles; this at least was +intelligible. The silver was distributed, the luggage was hoisted down, +the +<span class="pagebreak" title="59"> </span><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a> + omnibus was dismissed. The courtyard resumed its former quiet; just +the American gentleman, Gustavo and the parrot were left.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly a frightful suspicion dawned upon Gustavo—it was more than +a suspicion; it was an absolute certainty which in his excitement he had +overlooked. From where had the American gentleman dropped? Not the sky, +assuredly, and there was no place else possible, unless the door of the +summer house. Yes, he had been in the summer house, and not sleeping +either. An indefinable something about his manner informed Gustavo that +he was privy to the entire conversation. Gustavo, a picture of guilty +remorse, searched his memory for the words he had used. Why, oh why, had +he not piled up adjectives? It was the opportunity of a lifetime and he +had wantonly thrown it away.</p> + +<p>But—to his astonished relief—the young man appeared to be bearing no +malice. He appeared, on the contrary, quite unusually cheerful as he +sauntered whistling, +<span class="pagebreak" title="60"> </span><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a> + across the court and seated himself in the exact +chair the signorina had occupied. He plunged his hand into his pocket +suggestively—Gustavo had been the only one omitted in the distribution +of silver—and drew forth a roll of bills. Having selected five crisp +five-lire notes, he placed them under the sugar bowl, and watched his +companion while he blew three meditative rings of smoke.</p> + +<p>“Gustavo,” he inquired, “do you suppose you could find me some nice, +gentle, lady-like donkeys and a red sash and a pair of earrings?”</p> + +<p>Gustavo’s fascinated gaze had been fixed upon the sugar bowl and he had +only half caught the words.</p> + +<p>“<i>Scusi</i>, signore, I no understand.”</p> + +<p>“Just sit down, Gustavo, it makes me nervous to see you standing all the +time. I can’t be comfortable, you know, unless everybody else is +comfortable. Now pay strict attention and see if you can grasp my +meaning.”</p> + +<p>Gustavo dubiously accepted the edge of +<span class="pagebreak" title="61"> </span><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a> + the indicated chair; he wished to +humor the signore’s mood, however incomprehensible that mood might be. +For half an hour he listened with strained attention while the gentleman +talked and toyed with the sugar bowl. Amazement, misgiving, amusement, +daring, flashed in succession across his face; in the end he leaned +forward with shining eyes.</p> + +<p>“<i>Si, si</i>,” he whispered after a conspiratorial glance over his shoulder, +“I will do it all; you may trust to me.”</p> + +<p>The young man rose, removed the sugar bowl, and sauntered on toward the +road. Gustavo pocketed the notes and gazed after him.</p> + +<p>“<i>Dio mio</i>,” he murmured as he set about gathering up the glasses, “zese +Americans!”</p> + +<p>At the gate the young man paused to light another cigarette.</p> + +<p>“<i>Addio</i>, Gustavo,” he called over his shoulder, “<i>don’t</i> forget the +earrings!”</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="62"> </span><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>he table was set on the terrace; breakfast was served and the company +was gathered. Breakfast consisted of the usual caffè-latte, rolls and +strained honey, and—since a journey was to the fore and something +sustaining needed—a soft-boiled egg apiece. There were four persons +present, though there should have been five. The two guests were an +Englishman and his wife, whom the chances of travel had brought over +night to Valedolmo.</p> + +<p>Between them, presiding over the coffee machine, was Mr. Wilder’s sister, +“Miss Hazel”—never “Miss Wilder” except to the butcher and baker. It was +the cross of her life, she had always affirmed, that her name was not +Mary or Jane or Rebecca. “Hazel” does well enough +<span class="pagebreak" title="63"> </span><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a> + when one is eighteen +and beautiful, but when one is fifty and no longer beautiful, it is +little short of absurd. But if anyone at fifty could carry such a name +gracefully, it was Miss Hazel Wilder; her fifty years sat as jauntily as +Constance’s twenty-two. This morning she was very business-like in her +short skirt, belted jacket, and green felt Alpine hat with a feather in +the side. No one would mistake her for a cyclist or a golfer or a +motorist or anything in the world but an Alpine climber; whatever Miss +Hazel was or was not, she was always <i>game</i>.</p> + +<p>Across from Miss Hazel sat her brother in knickerbockers, his Alpine +stock at his elbow and also his fan. Since his domicile in Italy, Mr. +Wilder’s fan had assumed the nature of a symbol; he could no more be +separated from it than St. Sebastian from his arrows or St. Laurence from +his gridiron. At Mr. Wilder’s elbow was the empty chair where Constance +should have been—she who had insisted on six as a proper breakfast hour, +<span class="pagebreak" title="64"> </span><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a> +and had grudgingly consented to postpone it till half-past out of +deference to her sleepy-headed elders. Her father had finished his egg +and hers too, before she appeared, as nonchalant and smiling as if she +were out the earliest of all.</p> + +<p>“I think you might have waited!” was her greeting from the doorway.</p> + +<p>She advanced to the table, saluted in military fashion, dropped a kiss on +her father’s bald spot, and possessed herself of the empty chair. She too +was clad in mountain-climbing costume, in so far as blouse and skirt and +leather leggings went, but above her face there fluttered the fluffy +white brim of a ruffled sun hat with a bunch of pink rosebuds set over +one ear.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry not to wear my own Alpine hat, Aunt Hazel; I look so +deliciously German in it, but I simply can’t afford to burn all the skin +off my nose.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t make us believe that,” said her father. “The reason is, that +Lieutenant di Ferara and Captain Coroloni +<span class="pagebreak" title="65"> </span><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a> + are going with us today, and +that this hat is more becoming than the other.”</p> + +<p>“It’s one reason,” Constance agreed imperturbably, “but, as I say, I +don’t wish to burn the skin off my nose, because that is unbecoming too. +You are ungrateful, Dad,” she added as she helped herself to honey with a +liberal hand, “I invited them solely on your account because you like to +hear them talk English. Have the donkeys come?”</p> + +<p>“The donkeys are at the back door nibbling the buds off the rose-bushes.”</p> + +<p>“And the driver?”</p> + +<p>“Is sitting on the kitchen doorstep drinking coffee and smiling over the +top of his cup at Elizabetta. There are two of him.”</p> + +<p>“Two! I only ordered one.”</p> + +<p>“One is the official driver and the other is a boy whom he has brought +along to do the work.”</p> + +<p>Constance eyed her father sharply. There was something at once guilty and +triumphant about his expression.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="66"> </span><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a> +“What is it, Dad?” she inquired sternly. “I suppose he has not got a +sash and earrings.”</p> + +<p>“On the contrary, he has.”</p> + +<p>“Really? How clever of Gustavo! I hope,” she added anxiously, “that he +talks good Italian?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know about his Italian, but he talks uncommonly good English.”</p> + +<p>“English!” There was reproach, disgust, disillusionment, in her tone. +“Not really, father?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, really and truly—almost as well as I do. He has lived in New York +and he speaks English like a dream—real English—not the +Gustavo—Lieutenant di Ferara kind. I can understand what he says.”</p> + +<p>“How simply horrible!”</p> + +<p>“Very convenient, I should say.”</p> + +<p>“If there’s anything I detest, it’s an Americanized Italian—and here in +Valedolmo of all places, where you have a right to demand something +unique and romantic and picturesque and real. It’s +<span class="pagebreak" title="69"> </span><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a> + too bad of Gustavo! +I shall never place any faith in his judgment again. You may talk English +to the man if you like; I shall address him in nothing but Italian.”</p> + +<p>As they rose from the table she suggested pessimistically, “Let’s go and +look at the donkeys—I suppose they’ll be horrid, scraggly, knock-kneed +little beasts.”</p> + +<p>They turned out however to be unusually attractive, as donkeys go, and +they were innocently engaged in nibbling, not rose-leaves but grass, +under the tutelage of a barefoot boy. Constance patted their shaggy +mouse-colored noses, made the acquaintance of the boy, whose name was +Beppo, and looked about for the driver proper. He rose and bowed as she +approached. His appearance was even more violently spectacular than she +had ordered; Gustavo had given good measure.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="67"> </span><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a> +<img src="images/illo_067.jpg" width="350" height="345" alt="A peasant boy with donkeys" title="Beppo and the donkeys" /> +<span>Beppo and the donkeys</span> +<span class="illopage" title="68"> </span><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a> +</div> + + +<p>He wore a loose white shirt—immaculately white—with a red silk +handkerchief knotted about his throat, brown corduroy knee-breeches, and +a red cotton sash with +<span class="pagebreak" title="70"> </span><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a> + the hilt of a knife conspicuously protruding. His +corduroy jacket was slung carelessly across his shoulders, his hat was +cocked jauntily, with a red heron feather stuck in the band; last, +perfect touch of all, in his ears—at his ears rather (a close +examination revealed the thread)—two golden hoops flashed in the +sunlight. His skin was dark—not too dark—just a good healthy out-door +tan: his brows level and heavy, his gaze candor itself. He wore a tiny +suggestion of a moustache which turned up at the corners (a suspicious +examination of this, might have revealed the fact that it was touched up +with burnt cork); there was no doubt but that he was a handsome fellow, +and his attire suggested that he knew it.</p> + +<p>Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of admiration.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="71"> </span><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a> +<img src="images/illo_071.jpg" width="650" height="376" alt="Girl, accompanied by two men holding alpenstocks, looks at young man in peasant dress" title="Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of admiration" /> +<span>“Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of +admiration”</span> +<span class="illopage" title="72"> </span><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a> +</div> + +<p>“He’s perfect!” she cried. “Where on earth did Gustavo find him? Did you +ever see anything so beautiful?” she appealed to the others. “He looks +like a brigand in opera bouffe.”</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="73"> </span><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a> +The donkey-man reddened visibly and fumbled with his hat.</p> + +<p>“My dear,” her father warned, “he understands English.”</p> + +<p>She continued to gaze with the open admiration one would bestow upon a +picture or a view or a blue-ribbon horse. The man flashed her a momentary +glance from a pair of searching gray eyes, then dropped his gaze humbly +to the ground.</p> + +<p>“<i>Buon giorno</i>,” he said in glib Italian.</p> + +<p>Constance studied him more intently. There was something elusively +familiar about his expression; she was sure she had seen him before.</p> + +<p>“<i>Buon giorno</i>,” she replied in Italian. “You have lived in the United +States?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina.”</p> + +<p>“What is your name?”</p> + +<p>“I spik Angleesh,” he observed.</p> + +<p>“I don’t care if you do speak English; I prefer Italian—what is your +name?” She repeated the question in Italian.</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina,” he ventured again. An anxious look had crept to his +face and <span class="pagebreak" title="74"> </span><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a> + he hastily turned away and commenced carrying parcels from the +kitchen. Constance looked after him, puzzled and suspicious. The one +insult which she could not brook was for an Italian to fail to understand +her when she talked Italian. As he returned and knelt to tighten the +strap of a hamper, she caught sight of the thread that held his earring. +She looked a second longer, and a sudden smile of illumination flashed to +her face. She suppressed it quickly and turned away.</p> + +<p>“He seems rather slow about understanding,” she remarked to the others, +“but I dare say he’ll do.”</p> + +<p>“The poor fellow is embarrassed,” apologized her father. “His name is +Tony,” he added—even he had understood that much Italian.</p> + +<p>“Was there ever an Italian who had been in America whose name was not +Tony? Why couldn’t he have been Angelico or Felice or Pasquale or +something decently picturesque?”</p> + +<p>“My dear,” Miss Hazel objected, “I +<span class="pagebreak" title="75"> </span><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a> + think you are hypercritical. The man +is scarcely to blame for his name.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose not,” she agreed, “though I should have included that in my +order.”</p> + +<p>Further discussion was precluded by the appearance of a station-carriage +which turned in at the gate and stopped before them. Two officers +descended and saluted. In summer uniforms of white linen with gold +shoulder-straps, and shining top-boots, they rivalled the donkey-man in +decorativeness. Constance received them with flattering acclaim, while +she noted from the corner of her eye the effect upon Tony. He had not +counted upon this addition to the party, and was as scowling as she could +have wished. While the officers were engaged in making their bow to the +others, Constance casually reapproached the donkeys. Tony feigned +immersion in the business of strapping hampers; he had no wish to be +drawn into any Italian tête-à-tête. But to his relief she addressed him +this time in English.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="76"> </span><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a> +“Are these donkeys used to mountain-climbing?”</p> + +<p>“But yes, signorina! <i>Sicuramente</i>. Zay are ver’ strong, ver’ good. Zat +donk’, signorina, he go all day and never one little stumble.”</p> + +<p>His English, she noted with amused appreciation, was an exact copy of +Gustavo’s; he had learned his lesson well. But she allowed not the +slightest recognition of the fact to appear in her face.</p> + +<p>“And what are their names?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“Dis is Fidilini, signorina, and zat one wif ze white nose is Macaroni, +and zat ovver is Cristoforo Colombo.”</p> + +<p>Elizabetta appeared in the doorway with two rush-covered flasks, and Tony +hurried forward to receive them. There was a complaisant set to his +shoulders as he strode off, Constance noted delightedly; he was +felicitating himself upon the ease with which he had fooled her. Well! +She would give him cause before the day was over for other than +felicitations. +<span class="pagebreak" title="77"> </span><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a> + She stifled a laugh of prophetic triumph and sauntered +over to Beppo.</p> + +<p>“When Tony is engaged as a guide do you always go with him?”</p> + +<p>“Not always, signorina, but Carlo has wished me to go to-day to look +after the donkeys.”</p> + +<p>“And who is Carlo?”</p> + +<p>“He is the guide who owns them.”</p> + +<p>Beppo looked momentarily guilty; the answer had slipped out before he +thought.</p> + +<p>“Oh, indeed! But if Tony is a guide why doesn’t he have donkeys of his +own?”</p> + +<p>“He used to, but one unfortunately fell into the lake and got drowned and +the other died of a sickness.”</p> + +<p>He put forth this preposterous statement with a glance as grave and +innocent as that of a little cherub.</p> + +<p>“Is Tony a good guide?”</p> + +<p>“But yes, of the best!”</p> + +<p>There was growing anxiety in Beppo’s tone. He divined suspicion behind +these persistent inquiries, and he knew that in +<span class="pagebreak" title="78"> </span><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a> + case Tony were +dismissed, his own munificent pay would stop.</p> + +<p>“Do you understand any English?” she suddenly asked.</p> + +<p>He modestly repudiated any great knowledge. “A word here, a word there; I +learn it in school.”</p> + +<p>“I see!” She paused for a moment and then inquired casually, “Have you +known Tony long?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina.”</p> + +<p>“How long?”</p> + +<p>Beppo considered. Someone, clearly, must vouch for the man’s +respectability. This was not in the lesson that had been taught him, but +he determined to branch out for himself.</p> + +<p>“He is my father, signorina.”</p> + +<p>“Really! He looks young to be your father—have you any brothers and +sisters, Beppo?”</p> + +<p>“I have four brothers, signorina, and five sisters.” He fell back upon +the truth with relief.</p> + +<p>“<i>Davvero</i>!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="79"> </span><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a> +The signorina smiled upon him, a smile of such heavenly sweetness that +he instantly joined the already crowded ranks of her admirers. She drew +from her pocket a handful of coppers and dropped them into his grimy +little palm.</p> + +<p>“Here, Beppo, are some soldi for the brothers and sisters. I hope that +you will be good and obedient and <i>always</i> tell me the truth.”</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="80"> </span><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapa"><span class="dropcap">A</span></span>fter some delay—owing to Tony’s inability to balance the chafing-dish +on Cristoforo Colombo’s back—they filed from the gateway, an imposing +cavalcade. The ladies were on foot, loftily oblivious to the fact that +three empty saddles awaited their pleasure. Constance, a gesticulating +officer at either hand, was vivaciously talking Italian, while Tony, +trudging behind, listened with a somber light in his eye. She now and +then cast a casual glance over her shoulder, and as she caught sight of +his gloomy face the animation of her Italian redoubled. The situation +held for her mischief-loving soul undreamed-of possibilities; and though +she ostensibly occupied herself with the officers, she by no means +neglected the donkey-man.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="81"> </span><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a> +During the first few miles of the journey he earned his four francs. +Twice he reshifted the pack because Constance thought it insecure (it was +a disgracefully unprofessional pack; most guides would have blushed at +the making of it); once he retraced their path some two hundred yards in +search of a veil she thought she had dropped—it turned out that she had +had it in her pocket all of the time. He chased Fidilini over half the +mountainside while the others were resting, and he carried the +chafing-dish for a couple of miles because it refused to adjust itself +nicely to the pack. The morning ended by his being left behind with a +balking donkey, while the others completed the last ascent that led to +their halting-place for lunch.</p> + +<p>It was a small plateau shaded by oak trees with a broad view below them, +and a mountain stream foaming down from the rocks above. It was owing to +Beppo’s knowledge of the mountain paths rather than Tony’s which had +guided them to +<span class="pagebreak" title="82"> </span><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a> + this agreeable spot; though no one in the party except +Constance appeared to have noted the fact. Tony arrived some ten minutes +after the others, hot but victorious, driving Cristoforo Colombo before +him. Constance welcomed his return with an off-hand nod and set him about +preparing lunch. He and Beppo served it and repacked the hampers, +entirely ignored by the others of the party. Poor Tony was beginning to +realize that a donkey-man lives on a desert island in so far as any +companionship goes. But his moment was coming. As they were about to +start on, Constance spied high above their heads where the stream burst +from the rocks, a clump of starry white blossoms.</p> + +<p>“Edelweiss!” she cried. “Oh, I must have it—it’s the first I ever saw +growing; I hadn’t supposed we were high enough.” She glanced at the +officers.</p> + +<p>The ascent was not dangerous, but it was undeniably muddy, and they both +wore white; with very good cause they +<span class="pagebreak" title="83"> </span><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a> + hesitated. And while they +hesitated, the opportunity was lost. Tony sprang forward, scrambled up +the precipice hand over hand, swung out across the stream by the aid of +an overhanging branch and secured the flowers. It was very gracefully and +easily done, and a burst of applause greeted his descent. He divided his +flowers into two equal parts, and sweeping off his hat, presented them +with a bow, not to Constance, but to the officers, who somewhat sulkily +passed them on. She received them with a smile; for an instant her eyes +met Tony’s, and he fell back, rewarded.</p> + +<p>The captain and lieutenant for the first time regarded the donkey-man, +and they regarded him narrowly, red sash, earrings, stiletto and all. +Constance caught the look and laughed.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t he picturesque?” she inquired in Italian. “The head-waiter at the +Hotel du Lac found him for me. He has been in the United States and +speaks English, which is a great convenience.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="84"> </span><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a> +The two said nothing, but they looked at each other and shrugged.</p> + +<p>The donkeys were requisitioned for the rest of the journey; while Tony +led Miss Hazel’s mount, he could watch Constance ahead on Fidilini, an +officer marching at each side of her saddle. She appeared to divide her +favors with nice discrimination; it was not her fault if the two were +jealous of one another. Tony could draw from that obvious fact what +consolation there was in it.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 486px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="85"> </span><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a> +<img src="images/illo_085.jpg" width="486" height="650" alt="Woman on donkey, with a man in uniform on either side" title="Constance ahead on Fidilini, an officer marching at each side of her saddle." /> +<span>“Constance ahead on Fidilini, an officer marching at each +side of her saddle.”</span> +<span class="illopage" title="86"> </span><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a> +</div> + + +<p>The ruined fortress, their destination, was now exactly above their +heads. The last ascent boldly skirted the shoulder of the mountain, and +then doubled upward in a series of serpentine coils. Below them the whole +of Lake Garda was spread like a map. Mr. Wilder and the Englishman, +having paused at the edge of the declivity, were endeavoring to trace the +boundary line of Austria, and they called upon the officers for help. The +two relinquished their post at Constance’s side, while the donkeys kept +on past them up the hill. +<span class="pagebreak" title="87"> </span><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a> + The winding path was both stony and steep, +and, from a donkey’s standpoint, thoroughly objectionable. Fidilini was +well in the lead, trotting sedately, when suddenly without the slightest +warning, he chose to revolt. Whether Constance pulled the wrong rein, or +whether, as she affirmed, it was merely his natural badness, in any case, +he suddenly veered from the path and took a cross cut down the rocky +slope below them. Donkeys are fortunately sure-footed beasts; otherwise +the two would have plunged together down the sheer face of the mountain. +As it was it looked ghastly enough to the four men below; they shouted to +Constance to stick on, and commenced scrambling up the slope with +absolutely no hope of reaching her.</p> + +<p>It was Tony’s chance a second time to show his agility—and this time to +some purpose. He was a dozen yards behind and much lower down, which gave +him a start. Leaping forward, he dropped over the precipice, a fall of +ten feet, to a narrow +<span class="pagebreak" title="88"> </span><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a> + ledge below. Running toward them at an angle, he +succeeded in cutting off their flight. Before the frightened donkey could +swerve, Tony had seized him—by the tail—and had braced himself against +a boulder. It was not a dignified rescue, but at least it was effective; +Fidilini came to a halt. Constance, not expecting the sudden jolt, +toppled over sidewise, and Tony, being equally unprepared to receive her, +the two went down together rolling over and over on the grassy slope.</p> + +<p>“My dear, are you hurt?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder, quite pale with anxiety, came scrambling to her side. +Constance sat up and laughed hysterically, while she examined a bleeding +elbow.</p> + +<p>“N—no, not dangerously—but I think perhaps Tony is.”</p> + +<p>Tony however was at least able to run, as he was again on his feet and +after the donkey. Captain Coroloni and her father helped Constance to her +feet while Lieutenant di Ferara recovered a side-comb and the white sun +hat. They all climbed +<span class="pagebreak" title="89"> </span><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a> + down together to the path below, none the worse +for the averted tragedy. Tony rejoined them somewhat short of breath, but +leading a humbled Fidilini. Constance, beyond a brief glance, said +nothing; but her father, to the poor man’s intense embarrassment, shook +him warmly by the hand with the repeated assurance that his bravery +should not go unrewarded.</p> + +<p>They completed their journey on foot; Tony following behind, quite +conscious that, if he had played the part of hero, he had done it with a +lamentable lack of grace.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="90"> </span><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>ony was stretched on the parapet that bordered the stone-paved platform +of the fortress. Above him the crumbling tower rose many feet higher, +below him a marvelous view stretched invitingly; but Tony had eyes +neither for medieval architecture nor picturesque scenery. He lay with +his coat doubled under his head for a pillow, in a frowning contemplation +of the cracked stone pavement.</p> + +<p>The four other men, after an hour or so of easy lounging under the pines +at the base of the tower, had organized a fresh expedition to the summit +a mile farther up. Mr. Wilder, since morning, had developed into an +enthusiastic mountain-climber—regret might come with the morrow, but as +yet ambition still burned +<span class="pagebreak" title="91"> </span><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a> + high. The remainder of the party were less +energetic. The three ladies were resting on rugs spread under the pines; +Beppo was sleeping in the sun, his hat over his face, and the donkeys, +securely tethered (Tony had attended to that) were innocently nibbling +mountain herbs.</p> + +<p>There was no obvious reason why, as he lighted a cigarette and stretched +himself on the parapet, Tony should not have been the most self-satisfied +guide in the world. He had not only completed the expedition in safety, +but had saved the heroine’s life by the way; and even if the heroine did +not appear as thankful as she might, still, her father had shown due +gratitude, and, what was to the point, had promised a reward. That should +have been enough for any reasonable donkey-driver.</p> + +<p>But it was distinctly not enough for Tony. He was in a fine temper as he +lay on the parapet and scowled at the pavement. Nothing was turning out +as he had planned. He had not counted on the +<span class="pagebreak" title="92"> </span><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a> + officers or her +predilection for Italian. He had not counted on chasing donkeys in person +while she stood and looked on—Beppo was to have attended to that. He had +not counted on anything quite so absurd as his heroic capture of +Fidilini. Since she must let the donkey run away with her, why, in the +name of all that was romantic—could it not have occurred by moonlight? +Why, when he caught the beast, could it not have been by the bridle +instead of the tail? And above all, why could she not have fallen into +his arms, instead of on top of him?</p> + +<p>The stage scenery was set for romance, but from the moment the curtain +rose the play had persisted in being farce. However, farce or romance, it +was all one to him so long as he could play leading-man; what he objected +to was the minor part. The fact was clear that sash and earrings could +never compete with uniform and sword and the Italian language. His mind +was made up; he would withdraw tonight before he was found out, +<span class="pagebreak" title="93"> </span><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a> + and +leave Valedolmo tomorrow morning by the early boat. Miss Constance Wilder +should never have the satisfaction of knowing the truth.</p> + +<p>He was engaged in framing a dignified speech to Mr. Wilder—thanking him +for his generosity, but declining to accept a reward for what had been +merely a matter of duty—when his reflections were cut short by the sound +of footsteps on the stairs. They were by no means noiseless footsteps; +there were good strong nails all over the bottom of Constance’s shoes. +The next moment she appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were centered on +the view; she looked entirely over Tony. It was not until he rose to his +feet that she realized his presence with a start.</p> + +<p>“Dear me, is that you, Tony? You frightened me! Don’t get up; I know you +must be tired.” This with a sweetly solicitous smile.</p> + +<p>Tony smiled too and resumed his seat; it was the first time since morning +that she had condescended to consider his +<span class="pagebreak" title="94"> </span><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a> + feelings. She sauntered over +to the opposite side and stood with her back to him examining the view. +Tony turned his back and affected to be engaged with the view in the +other direction; he too could play at indifference.</p> + +<p>Constance finished with her view first, and crossing over, she seated +herself in the deep embrasure of a window close beside Tony’s parapet. He +rose again at her approach, but there was no eagerness in the motion; it +was merely the necessary deference of a donkey-driver toward his +employer.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="95"> </span><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a> +<img src="images/illo_095.jpg" width="450" height="420" alt="Man in peasant dress leans against wall, looking at woman sitting in niche" title="She seated herself in the deep embrasure of a window close beside Tony's parapet" /> +<span>“She seated herself in the deep embrasure of a window +close beside Tony’s parapet”</span> +<span class="illopage" title="96"> </span><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a> +</div> + + +<p>“Oh, sit down,” she insisted, “I want to talk to you.”</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes with a show of surprise; his hurt feelings insisted +that all the advances should be on her part. Constance seemed in no hurry +to begin; she removed her hat, pushed back her hair, and sat playing with +the bunch of edelweiss which was stuck in among the roses—flattening the +petals, rearranging the flowers with careful fingers; a touch, it +<span class="pagebreak" title="97"> </span><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a> +seemed to Tony’s suddenly clamoring senses, that was almost a caress. +Then she looked up quickly and caught his gaze. She leaned forward with a +laugh.</p> + +<p>“Tony,” she said, “do you spik any language besides Angleesh?”</p> + +<p>He triumphantly concealed all sign of emotion.</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina, I spik my own language.”</p> + +<p>“Would you mind my asking what that language is?”</p> + +<p>He indulged in a moment’s deliberation. Italian was clearly out of the +question, and French she doubtless knew better than he—he deplored this +polyglot education girls were receiving nowadays.</p> + +<p>He had it! He would be Hungarian. His sole fellow guest in the hotel at +Verona the week before had been a Hungarian nobleman, who had informed +him that the Magyar language was one of the most difficult on the face of +the globe. There was at least little likelihood that she was acquainted +with that.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="98"> </span><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a> +“My own language, signorina, is Magyar.”</p> + +<p>“Magyar?” She was clearly taken by surprise.</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina, I am Hungarian; I was born in Budapest.” He met her +wide-opened eyes with a look of innocent candor.</p> + +<p>“Really!” She beamed upon him delightedly; he was playing up even better +than she had hoped. “But if you are Hungarian, what are you doing here in +Italy, and how does it happen that your name is Antonio?”</p> + +<p>“My movver was Italian. She name me Antonio after ze blessed Saint +Anthony of Padua. If you lose anysing, signorina, and you say a prayer to +Saint Anthony every day for nine days, on ze morning of ze tenth you will +find it again.”</p> + +<p>“That is very interesting,” she said politely. “How do you come to know +English so well, Tony?”</p> + +<p>“We go live in Amerik’ when I li’l boy.”</p> + +<p>“And you never learned Italian? I +<span class="pagebreak" title="99"> </span><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a> + should think your mother would have +taught it to you.”</p> + +<p>He imitated Beppo’s gesture.</p> + +<p>“A word here, a word there. We spik Magyar at home.”</p> + +<p>“Talk a little Magyar, Tony. I should like to hear it.”</p> + +<p>“What shall I say, signorina?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, say anything you please.”</p> + +<p>He affected to hesitate while he rehearsed the scraps of language at his +command. Latin—French—German—none of them any good—but, thank +goodness, he had elected Anglo-Saxon in college; and thank goodness again +the professor had made them learn passages by heart. He glanced up with +an air of flattered diffidence and rendered, in a conversational +inflection, an excerpt from the Anglo-Saxon Bible.</p> + +<p>“<i>Ealle gesceafta, heofonas and englas, sunnan and monan, steorran and +eorthan, hè gesceop and geworhte on six dagum.</i>”</p> + +<p>“It is a very beautiful language. Say some more.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="100"> </span><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a> +He replied with glib promptness, with a passage from Beowulf.</p> + +<p>“<i>Hie dygel lond warigeath, wulfhleothu, windige naessas.</i>”</p> + +<p>“What does that mean?”</p> + +<p>Tony looked embarrassed.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe you know!”</p> + +<p>“It means—<i>scusi</i>, signorina, I no like to say.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“It means—you make me say, signorina,—‘I sink you ver’ beautiful like +ze angels in Paradise.’”</p> + +<p>“Indeed! A donkey-driver, Tony, should not say anything like that.”</p> + +<p>“But it is true.”</p> + +<p>“The more reason you should not say it.”</p> + +<p>“You asked me, signorina; I could not tell you a lie.”</p> + +<p>The signorina smiled slightly and looked away at the view; Tony seized +the opportunity to look sidewise at her. She turned back and caught him; +he dropped his eyes humbly to the floor.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="101"> </span><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a> +“Does Beppo speak Magyar?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“Beppo?” There was wonder in his tone at the turn her questions were +taking. “I sink not, signorina.”</p> + +<p>“That must be very inconvenient. Why don’t you teach it to him?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina.” He was plainly nonplussed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, he says that you are his father and I should think—”</p> + +<p>“His father?” Tony appeared momentarily startled; then he laughed. “He +did not mean his real father; he mean—how you say—his god-father. I +give to him his name when he get christened.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I see!”</p> + +<p>Her next question was also a surprise.</p> + +<p>“Tony,” she inquired with startling suddenness, “why do you wear +earrings?”</p> + +<p>He reddened slightly.</p> + +<p>“Because—because—der’s a girl I like ver’ moch, signorina; she sink +earrings look nice. I wear zem for her.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="102"> </span><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a> +“Oh!—But why do you fasten them on with thread?”</p> + +<p>“Because I no wear zem always. In Italia, yes; in Amerik’ no. When I +marry dis girl and go back home, zen I do as I please, now I haf to do as +she please.”</p> + +<p>“H’m—” said Constance, ruminatingly. “Where does this girl live, Tony?”</p> + +<p>“In Valedolmo, signorina.”</p> + +<p>“What does she look like?”</p> + +<p>“She look like—” His eyes searched the landscape and came back to her +face. “Oh, ver’ beautiful, signorina. She have hair brown and gold, and +eyes—yes, eyes! Zay are sometimes black, signorina, and sometimes gray. +Her laugh, it sounds like the song of a nightingale.” He clasped his +hands and rolled his eyes in a fine imitation of Gustavo. “She is +beautiful, signorina, beautiful as ze angels in Paradise!”</p> + +<p>“There seem to be a good many people beautiful as the angels in +Paradise.”</p> + +<p>“She is most beautiful of all.”</p> + +<p>“What is her name?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="103"> </span><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a> +“Costantina.” He said it softly, his eyes on her face.</p> + +<p>“Ah,” Constance rose and turned away with a shrug. Her manner suggested +that he had gone too far.</p> + +<p>“She wash clothes at ze Hotel du Lac,” he called after her.</p> + +<p>Constance paused and glanced over her shoulder with a laugh.</p> + +<p>“Tony,” she said, “the quality which I admire most in a donkey-driver, +besides truthfulness and picturesqueness, is imagination.”</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="104"> </span><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapo"><span class="dropcap">O</span></span>n the homeward journey Tony again trudged behind while the officers held +their post at Constance’s side. But Tony’s spirits were still singing +from the little encounter on the castle platform, and in spite of the +animated Italian which floated back, he was determined to look at the +sunny side of the adventure. It was Mr. Wilder who unconsciously supplied +him with a second opportunity for conversation. He and the Englishman, +being deep in a discussion involving statistics of the Italian army +budget, called on the two officers to set them straight. Tony, at their +order, took his place beside the saddle; Constance was not to be +abandoned again to Fidilini’s caprice. Miss Hazel and the Englishwoman +were +<span class="pagebreak" title="105"> </span><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a> + ambling on ahead in as matter-of-fact a fashion as if that were +their usual mode of travel. Their donkeys were of a sedater turn of mind +than Fidilini—a fact for which Tony offered thanks.</p> + +<p>They were by this time well over the worst part of the mountain and the +brief Italian twilight was already fading. Tony, with a sharp eye on the +path ahead and a ready hand for the bridle, was attending strictly to the +duties of a well-trained donkey-man. It was Constance again who opened +the conversation.</p> + +<p>“Ah, Tony?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina?”</p> + +<p>“Did you ever read any Angleesh books—or do you do most of your reading +in Magyar?”</p> + +<p>“I haf read one, two, Angleesh books.”</p> + +<p>“Did you ever read—er—‘The Lightning Conductor’ for example?”</p> + +<p>“No, signorina; I haf never read heem.”</p> + +<p>“I think it would interest you. It’s about a man who pretends he’s a +chauffeur in order to—to— There are any +<span class="pagebreak" title="106"> </span><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a> + number of books with the same +motive; ‘She Stoops to Conquer,’ ‘Two Gentlemen of Verona,’ ‘Lalla +Rookh,’ ‘Monsieur Beaucaire’—Oh, dozens of them! It’s an old plot; it +doesn’t require the slightest originality to think of it.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina? Sank you.” Tony’s tone was exactly like Gustavo’s when +he has failed to get the point, but feels that a comment is necessary.</p> + +<p>Constance laughed and allowed a silence to follow, while Tony redirected +his attention to Fidilini’s movements. His “Yip! Yip!” was an exact +imitation, though in a deeper guttural, of Beppo’s cries before them. It +would have taken a close observer to suspect that he had not been bred to +the calling.</p> + +<p>“You have not always been a donkey-driver?” she inquired after an +interval of amused scrutiny.</p> + +<p>“Not always, signorina.”</p> + +<p>“What did you do in New York?”</p> + +<p>“I play hand-organ, signorina.”</p> + +<p>Tony removed his hand from the bridle +<span class="pagebreak" title="107"> </span><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a> + and ground “Yankee Doodle” from an +imaginary instrument.</p> + +<p>“I make musica, signorina, wif—wif—how you say, monk, monka? His name +Vittorio Emanuele. Ver’ nice monk—simpatica affezionata.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve never been an actor?”</p> + +<p>“An actor? No, signorina.”</p> + +<p>“You should try it; I fancy you might have some talent in that +direction.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina. Sank you.”</p> + +<p>She let the conversation drop, and Tony, after an interval of silence, +fell to humming Santa Lucia in a very presentable baritone. The tune, +Constance noted, was true enough, but the words were far astray.</p> + +<p>“That’s a very pretty song, Tony, but you don’t appear to know it.”</p> + +<p>“I no understand Italian, signorina. I just learn ze tune because +Costantina like it.”</p> + +<p>“You do everything that Costantina wishes?”</p> + +<p>“Everysing! But if you could see her +<span class="pagebreak" title="108"> </span><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a> + you would not wonder. She has hair +brown and gold, and her eyes, signorina, are sometimes gray and sometimes +black, and her laugh sounds like—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I know; you told me all that before.”</p> + +<p>“When she goes out to work in ze morning, signorina, wif the sunlight +shining on her hair, and a smile on her lips, and a basket of clothes on +her head—Ah, <i>zen</i> she is beautiful!”</p> + +<p>“When are you going to be married?”</p> + +<p>“I do not know, signorina. I have not asked her yet.”</p> + +<p>“Then how do you know she wishes to marry you?”</p> + +<p>“I do not know; I just hope.”</p> + +<p>He rolled his eyes toward the moon which was rising above the mountains +on the other side of the lake, and with a deep sigh he fell back into +Santa Lucia.</p> + +<p>Constance leaned forward and scanned his face.</p> + +<p>“Tony! Tell me your name.” There was an undertone of meaning, a note of +persuasion in her voice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="109"> </span><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a> +“Antonio, signorina.”</p> + +<p>She shook her head with a show of impatience.</p> + +<p>“Your real name—your last name.”</p> + +<p>“Yamhankeesh.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” she laughed. “Antonio Yamhankeesh doesn’t seem to me a very musical +combination; I don’t think I ever heard anything like it before.”</p> + +<p>“It suits me, signorina.” His tone carried a suggestion of wounded +dignity. “Yamhankeesh has a ver’ beautiful meaning in my language—‘He +who dares not, wins not’.”</p> + +<p>“And that is your motto?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina.”</p> + +<p>“A very dangerous motto, Tony; it will some day get you into trouble.”</p> + +<p>They had reached the base of the mountain and their path now broadened +into the semblance of a road which wound through the fields, between +fragrant hedgerows, under towering chestnut trees. All about them was the +fragrance of the dewy, flower-scented summer night, the flash of +fireflies, the chirp of crickets, +<span class="pagebreak" title="110"> </span><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a> + occasionally the note of a +nightingale. Before them out of a cluster of cypresses, rose the square +graceful outline of the village campanile.</p> + +<p>Constance looked about with a pleased, contented sigh.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t Italy beautiful, Tony?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, signorina, but I like America better.”</p> + +<p>“We have no cypresses and ruins and nightingales in America, Tony. We +have a moon sometimes, but not that moon.”</p> + +<p>They passed from the moonlight into the shade of some overhanging +chestnut trees. Fidilini stumbled suddenly over a break in the path and +Tony pulled him up sharply. His hand on the bridle rested for an instant +over hers.</p> + +<p>“Italy is beautiful—to make love in,” he whispered.</p> + +<p>She drew her hand away abruptly, and they passed out into the moonlight +again. Ahead of them where the road branched into the highway, the others +were waiting for Constance to catch up, the two +<span class="pagebreak" title="111"> </span><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a> + officers looking back +with an eager air of expectation. Tony glanced ahead and added with a +quick frown.</p> + +<p>“But perhaps I do not need to tell you that—you may know it already?”</p> + +<p>“You are impertinent, Tony.”</p> + +<p>She pulled the donkey into a trot that left him behind.</p> + +<p>The highway was broad and they proceeded in a group, the conversation +general and in English, Tony quite naturally having no part in it. But at +the corners where the road to the village and the road to the villa +separated, Fidilini obligingly turned stubborn again. His mind bent upon +rest and supper, he insisted upon going to the village; the harder +Constance pulled on the left rein, the more fixed was his determination +to turn to the right.</p> + +<p>“Help! I’m being run away with again,” she called over her shoulder as +the donkey’s pace quickened into a trot.</p> + +<p>Tony, awakening to his duty, started in pursuit, while the others +laughingly +<span class="pagebreak" title="112"> </span><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a> + shouted directions. He did not run as determinedly as he +might and they had covered considerable ground before he overtook them. +He turned Fidilini’s head and they started back—at a walk.</p> + +<p>“Signorina,” said Tony, “may I ask a question, a little impertinent?”</p> + +<p>“No, certainly not.”</p> + +<p>Silence.</p> + +<p>“Ah, Tony?” she asked presently.</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina?”</p> + +<p>“What is it you want to ask?”</p> + +<p>“Are you going to marry that Italian lieutenant—or perhaps the captain?”</p> + +<p>“That <i>is</i> impertinent.”</p> + +<p>“Are you?”</p> + +<p>“You forget yourself, Tony. It is not your place to ask such a question.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina; it is my place. If it is true I cannot be your +donkey-man any longer.”</p> + +<p>“No, it is not true, but that is no concern of yours.”</p> + +<p>“Are you going on another trip Friday—to Monte Maggiore?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="113"> </span><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a> +“May I come with you?”</p> + +<p>His tone implied more than his words. She hesitated a moment, then +shrugged indifferently.</p> + +<p>“Just as you please, Tony. If you don’t wish to work for us any more I +dare say we can find another man.”</p> + +<p>“It is as you please, signorina. If you wish it, I come, if you do not +wish it, I go.”</p> + +<p>She made no answer. They joined the others and the party proceeded to the +villa gates.</p> + +<p>Lieutenant di Ferara helped Constance dismount, while Captain Coroloni, +with none too good a grace, held the donkey. A careful observer would +have fancied that the lieutenant was ahead, and that both he and the +captain knew it. Tony untied the bundles, dumped them on the kitchen +floor, and waited respectfully, hat in hand, while Mr. Wilder searched +his pockets for change. He counted out four lire and added a note. Tony +pocketed the lire and returned the note, while Mr. Wilder stared his +astonishment.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="114"> </span><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a> +“Good-bye, Tony,” Constance smiled as he turned away.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye, signorina.” There was a note of finality in his voice.</p> + +<p>“Well!” Mr. Wilder ejaculated. “That is the first—” “Italian” he started +to say, but he caught the word before it was out “—donkey-driver I ever +saw refuse money.”</p> + +<p>Lieutenant di Ferara raised his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“<i>Machè</i>! The fellow is too honest; you do well to watch him.” There was +a world of disgust in his tone.</p> + +<p>Constance glanced after the retreating figure and laughed.</p> + +<p>“Tony!” she called.</p> + +<p>He kept on; she raised her voice.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Yamhankeesh.”</p> + +<p>He paused.</p> + +<p>“You call, signorina?”</p> + +<p>“Be sure and be here by half past six on Friday morning; we must start +early.”</p> + +<p>“Sank you, signorina. Good-night.”</p> + +<p>“Good-night, Tony.”</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="115"> </span><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>he Hotel du Lac may be approached in two ways. The ordinary, obvious +way, which incoming tourists of necessity choose, is by the highroad and +the gate. But the romantic way is by water. One sees only the garden then +and the garden is the distinguished feature of the place; it was planned +long before the hotel was built to adorn a marquis’s pleasure house. +There are grottos, arbors, fountains, a winding stream; and, stretching +the length of the water front, a deep cool grove of interlaced plane +trees. At the end of the grove, half a dozen broad stone steps dip down +to a tiny harbor which is carpeted on the surface with lily pads. The +steps are worn by the lapping waves of fifty years, and are grown over +with slippery, slimy water weeds.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="116"> </span><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a> +The world was just stirring from its afternoon siesta, when the +<i>Farfalla</i> dropped her yellow sails and floated into the shady little +harbor. Giuseppe prodded and pushed along the fern-grown banks until the +keel jolted against the water steps. He sprang ashore and steadied the +boat while Constance alighted. She slipped on the mossy step—almost went +under—and righted herself with a laugh that rang gaily through the +grove.</p> + +<p>She came up the steps still smiling, shook out her fluffy pink skirts, +straightened her rose-trimmed hat, and glanced reconnoiteringly about the +grove. One might reasonably expect, attacking the hotel as it were from +the flank, to capture unawares any stray guest. But aside from a +chaffinch or so and a brown-and-white spotted calf tied to a tree, the +grove was empty—blatantly empty. There was a shade of disappointment in +Constance’s glance. One naturally does not like to waste one’s best +embroidered gown on a spotted calf.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="117"> </span><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a> +Then her eye suddenly brightened as it lighted on a vivid splash of +yellow under a tree. She crossed over and picked it up—a paper covered +French novel; the title was <i>Bijou</i>, the author was Gyp. She turned to +the first page. Any reasonably careful person might be expected to write +his name in the front of a book—particularly a French book—before +abandoning it to the mercies of a foreign hotel. But the several fly +leaves were immaculately innocent of all sign of ownership.</p> + +<p>So intent was she upon this examination, that she did not hear footsteps +approaching down the long arbor that led from the house; so intent was +the young man upon a frowning scrutiny of the path before him, that he +did not see Constance until he had passed from the arbor into the grove. +Then simultaneously they raised their heads and looked at each other. For +a startled second they stared—rather guiltily—both with the air of +having been caught. Constance recovered her poise first; she nodded—a +nod which contained +<span class="pagebreak" title="118"> </span><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a> + not the slightest hint of recognition—and laughed.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” she said. “I suppose this is your book? And I am afraid you have +caught me red-handed. You must excuse me for looking at it, but usually +at this season only German Alpine-climbers stop at the Hotel du Lac, and +I was surprised you know to find that German Alpine-climbers did anything +so frivolous as reading Gyp.”</p> + +<p>The man bowed with a gesture which made her free of the book, but he +continued his silence. Constance glanced at him again, and this time she +allowed a flash of recognition to appear in her face.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="119"> </span><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a> +<img src="images/illo_119.jpg" width="650" height="362" alt="Young man and woman in wooded scene, with calf" title="The man bowed with a gesture which made her free of the book" /> +<span>“The man bowed with a gesture which made her free of the +book”</span> +<span class="illopage" title="120"> </span><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a> +</div> + + +<p>“Oh!” she re-exclaimed with a note of interested politeness, “you are the +young man who stumbled into Villa Rosa last Monday looking for the garden +of the prince?”</p> + +<p>He bowed a second time, an answering flash appearing in his face.</p> + + + +<p>“And you are the young woman who was sitting on the wall beside a row +of—of—“ +</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="121"> </span><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a> +“Stockings?” She nodded. “I trust you found the prince’s garden without +difficulty?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, thank you. Your directions were very explicit.”</p> + +<p>A slight pause followed, the young man waiting deferentially for her to +take the lead.</p> + +<p>“You find Valedolmo interesting?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“Interesting!” His tone was enthusiastic. “Aside from the prince’s garden +which contains a cedar of Lebanon and an India rubber plant from South +America, there is the Luini in the chapel of San Bartolomeo, and the +statue of Garibaldi in the piazza. And then—” he waved his hand toward +the lake, “there is always the view.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she agreed, “one can always look at the view.”</p> + +<p>Her eyes wandered to the lake, and across the lake to Monte Maggiore with +clouds drifting about its peak. And while she obligingly studied the +mountain, he +<span class="pagebreak" title="122"> </span><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a> + studied the effect of the pink gown and the rose-bud hat. +She turned back suddenly and caught him; it was a disconcerting habit of +Constance’s. He politely looked away and she—with frank +interest—studied him. He was bareheaded and dressed in white flannels; +they were very becoming, she noted critically, and yet—they needed just +a touch of color; a red sash, for example, and earrings.</p> + +<p>“The guests of the Hotel du Lac,” she remarked, “have a beautiful garden +of their own. Just the mere pleasure of strolling about in it ought to +keep them contented with Valedolmo.”</p> + +<p>“Not necessarily,” he objected. “Think of the garden of Eden—the most +beautiful garden there has ever been if report speaks true—and yet the +mere pleasure of strolling about didn’t keep Adam contented. One gets +lonely you know.”</p> + +<p>“Are you the only guest?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, there are four of us, but we’re not very companionable; there’s +such a discrepancy in languages.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="123"> </span><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a> +“And you don’t speak Italian?”</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Only English and—” he glanced at the book in her hand—“French +indifferently well.”</p> + +<p>“I saw someone the other day who spoke Magyar—that is a beautiful +language.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” he returned with polite indifference. “I don’t remember ever to +have heard it.”</p> + +<p>She laughed and glanced about. Her eyes lighted on the arbor hung with +grape-vines and wistaria, where, far at the other end, Gustavo’s figure +was visible lounging in the yellow stucco doorway. The sight appeared to +recall an errand to her mind. She glanced down at a pink wicker-basket +which hung on her arm, and gathered up her skirts with a movement of +departure.</p> + +<p>The young man hastily picked up the conversation.</p> + +<p>“It <i>is</i> a jolly old garden,” he affirmed. “And there’s something +pathetic about its +<span class="pagebreak" title="124"> </span><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a> + appearing on souvenir post-cards as a mere adjunct to +a blue and yellow hotel.”</p> + +<p>She nodded sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“Built for romance and abandoned to tourists—German tourists at that!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, not entirely—we’ve a Russian countess just now.”</p> + +<p>“A Russian countess?” Constance turned toward him with an air of +reawakened interest. “Is she as young and beautiful and fascinating and +wicked as they always are in novels?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear no! Seventy, if she’s a day. A nice grandmotherly old soul who +smokes cigarettes.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” Constance smiled; there was even a trace of relief in her manner as +she nodded to the young man and turned away. His face reflected his +disappointment; he plainly wished to detain her, but could think of no +expedient. The spotted calf came to his rescue. The calf had been +watching them from the first, very much interested in the visitor; and +now as she approached his tree, he stretched out his +<span class="pagebreak" title="125"> </span><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a> + neck as far as the +tether permitted and sniffed insistently. She paused and patted him on +the head. The calf acknowledged the caress with a grateful <i>moo</i>; there +was a plaintive light in his liquid eyes.</p> + +<p>“Poor thing—he’s lonely!” She turned to the young man and spoke with an +accent of reproach. “The four guests of the Hotel du Lac don’t show him +enough attention.”</p> + +<p>The young man shrugged.</p> + +<p>“We’re tired of calves. It’s only a matter of a day or so before he’ll be +breaded and fried and served Milanese fashion with a sauce of tomato and +garlic.”</p> + +<p>Constance shook her head sympathetically; though whether her sympathy was +for the calf or the partakers of <i>table d’hote</i>, was not quite clear.</p> + +<p>“I know,” she agreed. “I’ve been a guest at the Hotel du Lac myself—it’s +a tragedy to be born a calf in Italy!”</p> + +<p>She nodded and turned; it was evident +<span class="pagebreak" title="126"> </span><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a> + this time that she was really +going. He took a hasty step forward.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I say, please don’t go! Stay and talk to me—just a little while. +That calf isn’t half so lonely as I am.”</p> + +<p>“I should like to, but really I mustn’t. Elizabetta is waiting for me to +bring her some eggs. We are planning a trip up the Maggiore tomorrow, and +we have to have a cake to take with us. Elizabetta made one this morning +but she forgot to put in the baking powder. Italian cooks are not used to +making cakes; they are much better at—” her eyes fell on the calf—“veal +and such things.”</p> + +<p>He folded his arms with an air of desperation.</p> + +<p>“I’m an American—one of your own countrymen; if you had a grain of +charity in your nature you would let the cake go.”</p> + +<p>She shook her head relentlessly.</p> + +<p>“Five days at Valedolmo! You would not believe the straits I’ve been +driven to in search of amusement.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="127"> </span><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a> +“Yes?” There was a touch of curiosity in her tone. “What for example?”</p> + +<p>“I am teaching Gustavo how to play tennis.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” she said. “How does he do?”</p> + +<p>“Broken three windows and a flower pot and lost four balls.”</p> + +<p>She laughed and turned away; and then as an idea occurred to her, she +turned back and fixed her eyes sympathetically on his face.</p> + +<p>“I suppose Valedolmo <i>is</i> stupid for a man; but why don’t you try +mountain climbing? Everybody finds that diverting. There’s a guide here +who speaks English—really comprehensible English. He’s engaged for +tomorrow, but after that I dare say he’ll be free. Gustavo can tell you +about him.”</p> + +<p>She nodded and smiled and turned down the arbor.</p> + +<p>The young man stood where she left him, with folded arms, watching her +pink gown as it receded down the long sun-flecked alley hung with purple +and green. +<span class="pagebreak" title="128"> </span><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a> + He waited until it had been swallowed up in the yellow +doorway; then he fetched a deep breath and strolled to the water-wall. +After a few moments’ prophetic contemplation of the mountain across the +lake, he threw back his head with a quick amused laugh, and got out a +cigarette and lighted it.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="129"> </span><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapa"><span class="dropcap">A</span></span>s Constance emerged at the other end of the arbor, Gustavo, who had been +nodding on the bench beside the door, sprang to his feet, consternation +in his attitude.</p> + +<p>“Signorina!” he stammered. “You come from ze garden?”</p> + +<p>She nodded in her usual off-hand manner and handed him the basket.</p> + +<p>“Eggs, Gustavo—two dozen if you can spare them. I am sorry always to be +wanting so many, but—” she sighed, “eggs are so breakable!”</p> + +<p>Gustavo rolled his eyes to heaven in silent thanksgiving. She had not, it +was evident, run across the American, and the cat was still safely in the +bag; but how much longer it could be kept there, the saints alone knew. +He was feeling—very +<span class="pagebreak" title="130"> </span><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a> + properly—guilty in regard to this latest escapade; +but what can a defenceless waiter do in the hands of an impetuous young +American whose pockets are stuffed with silver lire and five-franc notes?</p> + +<p>“Two dozen? Certainly, signorina. <i>Subitissimo</i>!” He took the basket and +hurried to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Constance occupied the interval with the polyglot parrot of the +courtyard. The parrot, since she had last conversed with him, had +acquired several new expressions in the English tongue. As Gustavo +reappeared with the eggs, she confronted him sternly.</p> + +<p>“Have you been teaching this bird English? I am surprised!”</p> + +<p>“No, signorina. It was—it was—” Gustavo mopped his brow. “He jus’ pick +it up.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry that the Hotel du Lac has <i>guests</i> that use such language; +it’s very shocking.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="131"> </span><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a> +“By the way, Gustavo, how does it happen that that young American man +who left last week is still here?”</p> + +<p>Gustavo nearly dropped the eggs.</p> + +<p>“I just saw him in the garden with a book—I am sure it was the same +young man. What is he doing all this time in Valedolmo?”</p> + +<p>Gustavo’s eyes roved wildly until they lighted on the tennis court.</p> + +<p>“He—he stay, signorina, to play lawn tennis wif me, but he go tomorrow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he is going tomorrow?—What’s his name, Gustavo?”</p> + +<p>She put the question indifferently while she stooped to pet a +tortoise-shell cat that was curled asleep on the bench.</p> + +<p>“His name?” Gustavo’s face cleared. “I get ze raygeester; you read heem +yourself.”</p> + +<p>He darted into the bureau and returned with a black book.</p> + +<p>“<i>Ecco</i>, signorina!” spreading it on the table before her.</p> + +<p>His alacrity should have aroused her +<span class="pagebreak" title="132"> </span><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a> + suspicions; but she was too intent +on the matter in hand. She turned the pages and paused at the week’s +entries; Rudolph Ziegelmann und Frau, Berlin; and just beneath, in bold +black letters that stretched from margin to margin, Abraham Lincoln, U. +S. A.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="133"> </span><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a> +<img src="images/illo_133.jpg" width="500" height="394" alt="Woman studies book, watched by waiter and parrot" title="She turned the pages and paused at the week's entries." /> +<span>“She turned the pages and paused at the week’s entries.”</span> +<span class="illopage" title="134"> </span><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a> +</div> + +<p>Gustavo hovered above anxiously watching her face; he had been told that +this would make everything right, that Abraham Lincoln was an exceedingly +respectable name. Constance’s expression did not change. She looked at +the writing for fully three minutes, then she opened her purse and looked +inside. She laid the money for the eggs in a pile on the table, and took +out an extra lira which she held in her hand.</p> + +<p>“Gustavo,” she asked, “do you think that you <i>could</i> tell me the truth?”</p> + +<p>“Signorina!” he said reproachfully.</p> + +<p>“How did that name get there?”</p> + +<p>“He write it heemself!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I dare say he did—but it doesn’t happen to be his name. Oh, I’m +not +<span class="pagebreak" title="135"> </span><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a> + blind; I can see plainly enough that he has scratched out his own +name underneath.”</p> + +<p>Gustavo leaned forward and affected to examine the page. “It was a li’l’ +blot, signorina; he scratch heem out.”</p> + +<p>“Gustavo!” Her tone was despairing. “Are you incapable of telling the +truth? That young man’s name is no more Abraham Lincoln than Victor +Emmanuel II. When did he write that and why?”</p> + +<p>Gustavo’s eyes were on the lira; he broke down and told the truth.</p> + +<p>“Yesterday night, signorina. He say, ‘ze next time zat Signorina +Americana who is beautiful as ze angels come to zis hotel she look in ze +raygeester, an’ I haf it feex ready’.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he said that, did he?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina.”</p> + +<p>“And his real name that comes on his letters?”</p> + +<p>“Jayreem Ailyar, signorina.</p> + +<p>“Say it again, Gustavo.” She cocked her head.</p> + +<p>He gathered himself together for a +<span class="pagebreak" title="136"> </span><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a> + supreme effort. He rolled his r’s; he +shouted until the courtyard reverberated.</p> + +<p>“Meestair-r Jay-r-reem Ailyar-r!”</p> + +<p>Constance shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Sounds like Hungarian—at least the way you pronounce it. But anyway +it’s of no consequence; I merely asked out of idle curiosity. And +Gustavo—” She still held the lira—“if he asks you if I looked in this +register, what are you going to say?”</p> + +<p>“I say, ‘no, Meestair Ailyar, she stay all ze time in ze courtyard +talking wif ze parrot, and she was ver’ moch shocked at his Angleesh’.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” Constance smiled and laid the lira on the table. “Gustavo,” she +said, “I hope, for the sake of your immortal soul, that you go often to +confession.”</p> + +<p>The eggs were not heavy, but Gustavo insisted upon carrying them; he was +determined to see her safely aboard the <i>Farfalla</i>, with no further +accidents possible. That she had not identified the young man of the +garden with the donkey-driver of +<span class="pagebreak" title="137"> </span><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a> + yesterday was clear—though how such +blindness was possible, was not clear. Probably she had only caught a +glimpse of his back at a distance; in any case he thanked a merciful +Providence and decided to risk no further chance. As they neared the end +of the arbor, Gustavo was talking—shouting fairly; their approach was +heralded.</p> + +<p>They turned into the grove. To Gustavo’s horror the most conspicuous +object in it was this same reckless young man, seated on the water-wall +nonchalantly smoking a cigarette. The young man rose and bowed; Constance +nodded carelessly, while Gustavo behind her back made frantic signs for +him to flee, to escape while still there was time. The young man +telegraphed back by the same sign language that there was no danger; she +didn’t suspect the truth. And to Gustavo’s amazement, he fell in beside +them and strolled over to the water steps. His recklessness was catching; +Gustavo suddenly determined upon a bold stroke himself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="138"> </span><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a> +“Signorina,” he asked, “zat man I send, zat donk’ driver—you like +heem?”</p> + +<p>“Tony?” Her manner was indifferent. “Oh, he does well enough; he seems +honest and truthful, though a little stupid.”</p> + +<p>Gustavo and the young man exchanged glances.</p> + +<p>“And Gustavo,” she turned to him with a sweetly serious air that admitted +no manner of doubt but that she was in earnest. “I told this young man +that in case he cared to do any mountain climbing, you would find him the +same guide. It would be very useful for him to have one who speaks +English.”</p> + +<p>Gustavo bowed in mute acquiescence. He could find no adequate words for +the situation.</p> + +<p>The boat drew alongside and Constance stepped in, but she did not sit +down. Her attention was attracted by two washer-women who had come +clattering on to the little rustic bridge that spanned the stream above +the water steps. The women, their baskets of linen on their heads, had +paused to watch the embarkation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="139"> </span><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a> +“Ah, Gustavo,” Constance asked over her shoulder, “is there a +washer-woman here at the Hotel du Lac named Costantina?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina, zat is Costantina standing on ze bridge wif ze yellow +handkerchief on her head.”</p> + +<p>Constance looked at Costantina, and nodded and smiled. Then she laughed +out loud, a beautiful rippling, joyous laugh that rang through the grove +and silenced the chaffinches.</p> + +<p>Perhaps once upon a time Costantina was beautiful—beautiful as the +angels—but if so, it was long, long ago. Now she was old and fat with a +hawk nose and a double chin and one tooth left in the middle of the +front. But if she were not beautiful, she was at least a cheerful old +soul, and, though she could not possibly know the reason, she echoed the +signorina’s laugh until she nearly shook the clean clothes into the +water.</p> + +<p>Constance settled herself among the cushions and glanced back toward the +terrace.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="140"> </span><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a> +“Good afternoon,” she nodded politely to the young man.</p> + +<p>He bowed with his hand on his heart.</p> + +<p>“<i>Addio</i>, Gustavo.”</p> + +<p>He bowed until his napkin swept the ground.</p> + +<p>“<i>Addio</i>, Costantina,” she waved her hand toward her namesake.</p> + +<p>The washer-woman laughed again and her earrings flashed in the sunlight.</p> + +<p>Giuseppe raised the yellow sail; they caught the breeze, and the +<i>Farfalla</i> floated away.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="141"> </span><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcaph"><span class="dropcap">H</span></span>alf past six on Friday morning and Constance appeared on the terrace; +Constance in fluffy, billowy, lacy white with a spray of oleander in her +belt—the last costume in the world in which one would start on a +mountain climb. She cast a glance in passing toward the gateway and the +stretch of road visible beyond, but both were empty, and seating herself +on the parapet, she turned her attention to the lake. The breeze that +blew from the farther shore brought fresh Alpine odors of flowers and +pine trees. Constance sniffed it eagerly as she gazed across toward the +purple outline of Monte Maggiore. The serenity of her smile gradually +gave place to doubt; she turned and glanced back toward the house, +visibly changing her mind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="142"> </span><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a> +But before the change was finished, the quiet of the morning was broken +by a clatter of tiny scrambling obstinate hoofs and a series of +ejaculations, both Latin and English. She glanced toward the gate where +Fidilini was visible, plainly determined not to come in. Constance +laughed expectantly and turned back to the water, her eyes intent on the +fishing-smacks that were putting out from the little <i>marino</i>. The sounds +of coercion increased; a command floated down the driveway in the English +tongue. It sounded like:</p> + +<p>“You twist his tail, Beppo, while I pull.”</p> + +<p>Apparently it was understood in spite of Beppo’s slight knowledge of the +language. An eloquent silence followed; then an outraged grunt on the +part of Fidilini, and the cavalcade advanced with a rush to the kitchen +door. Tony left Beppo and the donkeys, and crossed the terrace alone. His +bow swept the ground in the deferential manner of Gustavo, but +<span class="pagebreak" title="143"> </span><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a> + his +glance was far bolder than a donkey-driver’s should have been. She noted +the fact and tossed him a nod of marked condescension. A silence followed +during which Constance studied the lake; when she turned back, she found +Tony arranging a spray of oleander that had dropped from her belt in the +band of his hat. She viewed this performance in silent disfavor. Having +finished to his satisfaction, he tossed the hat aside and seated himself +on the balustrade. Her frown became visible. Tony sprang to his feet with +an air of anxiety.</p> + +<p>“<i>Scusi</i>, signorina. I have not meant to be presumptious. Perhaps it is +not fitting that anyone below the rank of lieutenant should sit in your +presence?”</p> + +<p>“It will not be very long, Tony, before you are discharged for +impertinence.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, signorina, do not say that! If it is your wish I will kneel when I +address you. My family, signorina, are poor; they need the four francs +which you so munificently pay.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="144"> </span><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a> +“You told me that you were an orphan; that you had no family.”</p> + +<p>“I mean the family which I hope to have. Costantina has extravagant +tastes and coral earrings cost two-fifty a pair.”</p> + +<p>Constance laughed and assumed a more lenient air. She made a slight +gesture which might be interpreted as an invitation to sit down; and Tony +accepted it.</p> + +<p>“By the way, Tony, how do you talk to Costantina, since she speaks no +English and you no Italian?”</p> + +<p>“We have no need of either Italian or English; the language of love, +signorina, is universal.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” she laughed again. “I was at the Hotel du Lac yesterday; I saw +Costantina.”</p> + +<p>“You saw Costantina!—Ah, signorina, is she not beautiful? Ze mos’ +beautiful in all ze world? But ver’ unkind signorina. Yes, she laugh at +me; she smile at ozzer men, at soldiers wif uniforms.” He sighed +profoundly. “But I love her just +<span class="pagebreak" title="145"> </span><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a> + ze same, always from ze first moment I +see her. It was washday, signorina, by ze lac. I climb over ze wall and +talk wif her, but she make fun of me—ver’ unkind. I go away ver’ sad. No +use, I say, she like dose soldiers best. But I see her again; I hear her +laugh—it sound like angels singing—I say, no, I can not go away; I stay +here and make her love me. Yes, I do everysing she ask—but everysing! I +wear earrings; I make myself into a fool just to please zat Costantina.”</p> + +<p>He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. A slow red flush crept over +Constance’s face and she turned her head away and looked across the +water.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder, in full Alpine regalia, stepped out upon the terrace and +viewed the beauty of the morning with a prophetic eye. Miss Hazel +followed in his wake; she wore a lavender dimity. And suddenly it +occurred to Tony’s slow moving masculine perception that neither lavender +dimity nor white muslin were fabrics fit for mountain climbing.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="146"> </span><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a> +Constance slipped down from her parapet and hurried to meet them.</p> + +<p>“Good-morning, Aunt Hazel. Morning, Dad! You look beautiful! There’s +nothing so becoming to a man as knickerbockers—especially if he’s a +little stout.—You’re late,” she added with a touch of severity. +“Breakfast has been waiting half an hour and Tony fifteen minutes.”</p> + +<p>She turned back toward the donkey-man who was standing, hat in hand, +respectfully waiting orders. “Oh, Tony, I forgot to tell you; we shall +not need Beppo and the donkeys to-day. You and my father are going +alone.”</p> + +<p>“You no want to climb Monte Maggiore—ver’ beautiful mountain.” There was +disappointment, reproach, rebellion in his tone.</p> + +<p>“We have made inquiries and my aunt thinks it too long a trip. Without +the donkeys you can cross by boat, and that cuts off three miles.”</p> + +<p>“As you please, signorina.” He turned away.</p> + +<p>Constance looked after him with a +<span class="pagebreak" title="147"> </span><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a> + shade of remorse. When this plan of +sending her father and Tony alone had occurred to her as she sailed +homeward yesterday from the Hotel du Lac, it had seemed a humorous and +fitting retribution. The young man had been just a trifle too sure of her +interest; the episode of the hotel register must not go unpunished. +But—it was a beautiful morning, a long empty day stretched before her, +and Monte Maggiore looked alluring; there was no pursuit, for the moment, +which she enjoyed as much as donkey-riding. Oh yes, she was spiting +herself as well as Tony; but considering the circumstances the sacrifice +seemed necessary.</p> + +<p>When the <i>Farfalla</i> drifted up ready to take the mountain-climbers, Miss +Hazel suggested (Constance possessed to a large degree the diplomatic +faculty of making other people propose what she herself had decided on) +that she and her niece cross with them. Tony was sulky and Constance +could not forego the pleasure of baiting him further.</p> + +<p>They put in at the village, on their way, +<span class="pagebreak" title="148"> </span><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a> + for the morning mail; Mr. +Wilder wished his paper, even at the risk of not beginning the ascent +before the sun was high. Giuseppe brought back from the post, among other +matters, a letter for Constance. The address was in a dashing, angular +hand that pretty thoroughly covered the envelope. Had she not been so +intent on the writing herself, she would have noted Tony’s astonished +stare as he passed it to her.</p> + +<p>“Why!” she exclaimed, “here’s a letter from Nannie Hilliard, postmarked +Lucerne.”</p> + +<p>“Lucerne!” Miss Hazel echoed her surprise. “I thought they were to be in +England for the summer?”</p> + +<p>“They were—the last I heard.” Constance ripped the letter open and read +it aloud.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="149"> </span><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a> +<img src="images/illo_149.jpg" width="500" height="572" alt="Ladies and gentleman in gondola-like boat, with man in peasant dress standing in stern" title="Constance ripped the letter open and read it aloud." /> +<span>“Constance ripped the letter open and read it aloud.”</span> +<span class="illopage" title="150"> </span><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Constance</span>: You’ll doubtless be surprised to hear from us in +Switzerland instead of in England, and to learn further, that in +the course of a week, we shall arrive at Valedolmo +<span class="pagebreak" title="151"> </span><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a> + en route for +the Dolomites. Jerry Junior at the last moment decided to come with +us, and you know what a <i>man</i> is when it comes to European travel. +Instead of taking two months comfortably to England, as Aunt Kate +and I had planned, we did the whole of the British Isles in ten +days, and Holland and France at the same breathless rate.</p> + +<p>“Jerry says he holds the record for the Louvre; he struck a +six-mile pace at the entrance, and by looking neither to the right +nor the left he did the whole building in forty-three minutes.</p> + +<p>“You can imagine the exhausted state Aunt Kate and I are in after +travelling five weeks with him. We simply struck in Switzerland and +sent him on to Italy alone. I had hoped he would meet us in +Valedolmo, but we have been detained here longer than we expected, +and now he’s rushed off again—where to, goodness only knows; we +don’t.</p> + +<p>“Anyway, Aunt Kate and I shall land in Valedolmo about the end of +the week. I am dying to see you; I have some beautiful news that’s +too complicated to write. We’ve engaged rooms at the Hotel du +Lac—I hope it’s decent; it’s the only place starred in Baedeker.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="152"> </span><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a> +“Aunt Kate wishes to be remembered to your father and Miss Hazel.</p> + +<p class="yours">“Yours ever,</p> + +<p class="signature">Nan Hilliard.</p> + +<p>“P. S. I’m awfully sorry not to bring Jerry; I know you’d adore +him.”</p></div> + +<p>She returned the letter to its envelope and looked up.</p> + +<p>“Now isn’t that abominable?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>“Abominable!” Miss Hazel was scandalized. “My dear, I think it’s +delightful.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes—I mean about Jerry Junior; I’ve been trying for six years to +get hold of that man.”</p> + +<p>Tony behind them made a sudden movement that let out nearly a yard of +rope, and the <i>Farfalla</i> listed heavily to starboard.</p> + +<p>“Tony!” Constance threw over her shoulder. “Don’t you know enough to sit +still when you are holding the sheet?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Scusi</i>,” he murmured. The sulky +<span class="pagebreak" title="153"> </span><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a> + look had vanished from his face; he +wore an expression of alert attention.</p> + +<p>“Of course we shall have them at the villa,” said Miss Hazel. “And we +shall have to get some new dishes. Elizabetta has already broken so many +plates that she has to stop and wash them between courses.”</p> + +<p>Constance looked dreamily across the lake; she appeared to be thinking. +“I wonder,” she inquired finally, “if Jerry Junior knew we were here in +Valedolmo?”</p> + +<p>Her father emerged from the columns of his paper.</p> + +<p>“Of course he knew it, and having heard what a dangerous young person you +were, he said to himself, ‘I’d better keep out.’”</p> + +<p>“I wish I knew. It would make the score against him considerably +heavier.”</p> + +<p>“So there is already a score? I hadn’t supposed that the game had begun.”</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>“Six years ago—but he doesn’t know it. Yes, Dad,” her tone was +melodramatic, +<span class="pagebreak" title="154"> </span><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a> + “for six years I’ve been waiting for Jerry Junior and +planning my revenge. And now, when I have him almost in my grasp, he +eludes me again!”</p> + +<p>“Dear me!” Mr. Wilder ejaculated. “What did the young man do?”</p> + +<p>Had Constance turned she would have found Tony’s face an interesting +study. But she knew well enough without looking at him that he was +listening to the conversation, and she determined to give him something +to listen to. It was a salutary thing for Tony to be kept in mind of the +fact that there were other men in the world.</p> + +<p>She sighed.</p> + +<p>“He was the first man I ever loved, Father, and he spurned me. Do you +remember that Christmas when I was in boarding-school and you were called +South on business? I wanted to visit Nancy Long, but you wouldn’t let me +because you didn’t like her father; and you got Mrs. Jerymn Hilliard whom +I had never set eyes on to invite me there? I +<span class="pagebreak" title="155"> </span><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a> + didn’t want to go, and you +said I must, and were perfectly horrid about it—you remember that?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder grunted.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I see you do. And you remember how, with my usual sweetness, I +finally gave way? Well, Dad, you never knew the reason. The Yale Glee +Club came to Westfield that year just before the holidays began, and Miss +Jane let everybody go to the concert whose deportment had been above +eighty—that of course included me.</p> + +<p>“Well, we all went, and we all fell in love—in a body—with a sophomore +who played the banjo and sang negro songs. He had lovely dark +gazelle-like eyes and he sang funny songs without smiling. The whole +school raved about him all the way home; we cut his picture out of the +program and pasted in the front of our watches. His name, Father—” she +paused dramatically, “was Jerymn Hilliard Junior!”</p> + +<p>“I sat up half the night writing +<span class="pagebreak" title="156"> </span><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a> + diplomatic letters to you and Mrs. +Hilliard; and the next day when it got around that I was actually going +to visit in his house—well, I was the most popular girl in school. I was +sixteen years old then; I wore sailor suits and my hair was braided down +my back. Probably I did look young; and then Nannie, whom I was +supposedly visiting, was only fifteen. There were a lot of cousins in the +house besides all the little Hilliards, and what do you think? They made +the children eat in the schoolroom! I never saw him until Christmas +night; then when we were introduced, he shook my hand in a listless sort +of way, said ‘How d’ y’ do?’ and forgot all about me. He went off with +the Glee Club the next day, and I only saw him once more.</p> + +<p>“We were playing blind man’s buff in the school-room; I had just been +caught by the hair. It hurt and I was squealing. Everybody else was +clapping and laughing, when suddenly the door burst open and there stood +Jerry Junior! He looked straight at me and growled:</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="157"> </span><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a> +“‘What are you kids making such an infernal racket about?’”</p> + +<p>She shut her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Aunt Hazel, Dad, just think. He was my first love. His picture was at +that moment in a locket around my neck. And he called me a <i>kid</i>!”</p> + +<p>“And you’ve never seen him since?” Miss Hazel’s smile expressed amused +indulgence.</p> + +<p>Constance shook her head.</p> + +<p>“He’s always been away when I’ve visited Nan—and for six years I’ve been +waiting.” She straightened up with an air of determination. “But now, if +he’s on the continent of Europe, I’ll get him!”</p> + +<p>“And what shall you do with him?” her father mildly inquired.</p> + +<p>“Do with him? I’ll make him take it back; I’ll make him eat that word +kid!”</p> + +<p>“H’m!” said her father. “I hope you’ll get him; he might act as an +antidote to some of these officers.”</p> + +<p>They had run in under the shadow of the mountain and the keel grated on +the +<span class="pagebreak" title="158"> </span><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a> + shore. Constance raised her eyes and studied the towering crag above +their heads; when she lowered them again, her gaze for an instant met +Tony’s. There was a new light in his eyes—amusement, triumph, something +entirely baffling. He gave her the intangible feeling of having at last +got the mastery of the situation.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="159"> </span><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>he sun was setting behind Monte Maggiore, the fishing smacks were coming +home, Luigi had long since carried the tea things into the house; but +still the two callers lingered on the terrace of Villa Rosa. It was +Lieutenant di Ferara’s place to go first since he had come first, and +Captain Coroloni doggedly held his post until such time as his junior +officer should see fit to take himself off. The captain knew, as well as +everyone else at the officer’s mess, that in the end the lieutenant would +be the favored man; for he was a son of Count Guido di Ferara of Turin, +and titles are at a premium in the American market. But still the +marriage contract was not signed yet, and the fact remained that the +captain had come last: accordingly he waited.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="160"> </span><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a> +They had been there fully two hours, and poor Miss Hazel was worn with +the strain. She sat nervously on the edge of her chair, and leaned +forward with clasped hands listening intently. It required very keen +attention to keep the run of either the captain’s or the lieutenant’s +English. A few days before she had laughed at what seemed to be a funny +story, and had later learned that it was an announcement of the death of +the lieutenant’s grandmother. Today she confined her answers to +inarticulate murmurs which might be interpreted as either assents or +negations as the case required.</p> + +<p>Constance however was buoyantly at her ease; she loved nothing better +than the excitement of a difficult situation. As she bridged over pauses, +and unobtrusively translated from the officer’s English into real +English, she at the same time kept a watchful eye on the water. She had +her own reasons for wishing to detain the callers until her father’s +return.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="161"> </span><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a> +Presently she saw, across the lake, a yellow sailboat float out from the +shadow of Monte Maggiore and head in a long tack toward Villa Rosa. With +this she gave up the task of keeping the conversation general; and +abandoning Captain Coroloni to her aunt, she strolled over to the terrace +parapet with Lieutenant di Ferara at her side. The picture they made was +a charming color scheme. Constance wore white, the lieutenant pale blue; +an oleander tree beside them showed a cloud of pink blossoms, while +behind them for a background, appeared the rose of the villa wall and the +deep green of cypresses against a sunset sky. The picture was +particularly effective as seen from the point of view of an approaching +boat.</p> + +<p>Constance broke off a spray of oleander, and while she listened to the +lieutenant’s recountal of a practice march, she picked up his hat from +the balustrade and idly arranged the flowers in the vizor. He bent toward +her and said something; she responded with a laugh. They were both +<span class="pagebreak" title="162"> </span><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a> + too +occupied to notice that the boat had floated close in shore, until the +flap of the falling sail announced its presence. Constance glanced up +with a start. She caught her father’s eye fixed anxiously upon her; +whatever Gustavo and the officer’s mess of the tenth cavalry might think, +he had not the slightest wish in the world to see his daughter the +Contessa di Ferara. Tony’s face also wore an expression; he was sober, +disgusted, disdainful; there was a glint of anger and determination in +his eye. Constance hurried to the water steps to greet her father. Of +Tony she took no manner of notice; if a man elects to be a donkey-driver, +he must swallow the insults that go with the part.</p> + +<p>The officers, observing that Luigi was hovering about the doorway waiting +to announce dinner, waived the question of precedence and made their +adieus. While Mr. Wilder and Miss Hazel were intent on the captain’s +labored farewell speech, the lieutenant crossed to Constance who still +stood at the head of the water steps. +<span class="pagebreak" title="163"> </span><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a> + He murmured something in Italian +as he bowed over her hand and raised it to his lips. Constance blushed +very becomingly as she drew her hand away; she was aware, if the officer +was not, that Tony was standing beside them looking on. But as he raised +his eyes, he too became aware of it; the man’s expression was more than +impertinent. The lieutenant stepped to his side and said something low +and rapid, something which should have made a right-minded donkey-driver +touch his hat and slink off. But Tony held his ground with a laugh which +was more impertinent than the stare had been. The lieutenant’s face +flushed angrily and his hand half instinctively went to his sword. +Constance stepped forward.</p> + +<p>“Tony! I shall have no further need of your services. You may go.”</p> + +<p>Tony suddenly came to his senses.</p> + +<p>“I—beg your pardon, Miss Wilder,” he stammered.</p> + +<p>“I shall not want you again; please go.” She turned her back and joined +the others.</p> + +<p>The two officers with final salutes took +<span class="pagebreak" title="164"> </span><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a> + themselves off. Miss Hazel +hurried indoors to make ready for dinner; Mr. Wilder followed in her +wake, muttering something about finding the change to pay Tony. Constance +stood where they left her, staring at the pavement with hotly burning +cheeks.</p> + +<p>“Miss Wilder!” Tony crossed to her side; his manner was humble—actually +humble—the usual mocking undertone in his voice was missing. “Really I’m +awfully sorry to have caused you annoyance; it was unpardonable.”</p> + +<p>Constance turned toward him.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Tony, I think it was. Your position does not give you the right to +insult my guests.”</p> + +<p>Tony stiffened slightly.</p> + +<p>“I acknowledge that I insulted him, and I’m sorry. But he insulted me, +for the matter of that. I didn’t like the way he looked at me, any more +than he liked the way I looked at him.”</p> + +<p>“There is a certain deference, Tony, which an officer in the Royal +Italian Army +<span class="pagebreak" title="165"> </span><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a> + has a right to expect from a donkey-driver.”</p> + +<p>Tony shrugged.</p> + +<p>“It is a difficult position to hold, Miss Wilder. A donkey-driver, I +find, plays the same accommodating rôle as the family watch-dog. You pat +him when you choose; you kick him when you choose; and he is supposed to +swallow both attentions with equal grace.”</p> + +<p>“You should have chosen another profession.”</p> + +<p>“Naturally, I was not flattered to find that your real reason for staying +at home today, was that you were expecting more entertaining callers.”</p> + +<p>“Is there any use in discussing it further? I am not going to climb any +more mountains, and I shall not, as I told you, need a donkey-man again.”</p> + +<p>“Then I’m discharged?”</p> + +<p>“If you wish to put it so. You must see for yourself that the play has +gone far enough. However, it has been amusing, and we will at least part +friends.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="166"> </span><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a> +She held out her hand; it was a mark of definite dismissal rather than a +token of friendly forgiveness.</p> + +<p>Tony bowed over her hand in perfect mimicry of the lieutenant’s manner. +“Signorina, <i>addio</i>!” He gravely raised it to his lips.</p> + +<p>She snatched her hand away quickly and without glancing at him turned +toward the house. He let her cross half the terrace then he called +softly:</p> + +<p>“Signorina!”</p> + +<p>She kept on without pausing. He took a quick step after.</p> + +<p>“Signorina, a moment!”</p> + +<p>She half turned.</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“I beg of you—one little favor. There are two American ladies expected +at the Hotel du Lac and I thought—perhaps—would you mind writing me a +letter of recommendation?”</p> + +<p>Constance turned back without a word and walked into the house.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder’s conversation at dinner +<span class="pagebreak" title="167"> </span><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a> + that night was of the day’s +excursion and Tony. He was elated, enthusiastic, glowing. +Mountain-climbing was the most interesting pursuit in the world; he would +begin tomorrow and exhaust the Alps. And as for Tony—his intelligence, +his discretion, his cleverness—there never had been such a guide. +Constance listened silently, her eyes on her plate. At another time it +might have occurred to her that her father’s enthusiasm was excessive, +but tonight she was occupied with her thoughts, and she had no reason in +the world to suspect him of guile. She decided, however, to postpone the +announcement of Tony’s dismissal; tomorrow mountain-climbing might look +less alluring.</p> + +<p>Dinner over, Mr. Wilder with a tired if satisfied sigh, dropped into a +chair to finish his reading of the London <i>Times</i>. He no longer skimmed +his paper lightly as in the days when papers were to be had hot at any +hour. He read it carefully, painstakingly, from the first advertisement +<span class="pagebreak" title="168"> </span><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a> +to the last obituary; and he laid it down in the end with a disappointed +sigh that there were not more residential properties for hire, that the +day’s death list was so meager.</p> + +<p>Miss Hazel settled herself to her knitting. She was making a rain-bow +shawl of seven colors and an intricate pattern, and she had to count her +stitches; conversation was impossible. Constance, vaguely restless, +picked up a book and laid it down, and finally sauntered out to the +terrace with no thought in the world but to see the moon rise over the +mountains.</p> + +<p>As she approached the parapet she became aware that someone was lounging +on the water-steps smoking a cigarette. The smoker rose politely but +ventured no remark.</p> + +<p>“Is that you, Giuseppe?” she asked in Italian.</p> + +<p>“No, signorina. It is I—Tony. I am waiting for orders.”</p> + +<p>“For orders!” There was astonishment as well as indignation in her tone. +“I thought I made it clear—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="169"> </span><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a> +“That I was discharged? Yes, signorina. But I have been so fortunate as +to find another place. The Signor Papa has engage me. I go wif him; we +climb all ze mountain around.” He waved his hand largely to comprise the +whole landscape. “I sink perhaps it is better so—for the Signor Papa and +me to go alone. Mountain climbing is too hard; zere is too much fatigue, +signorina, for you.”</p> + +<p>He bowed humbly and deferentially, and retired to the steps and his +cigarette.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="170"> </span><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcaph"><span class="dropcap">H</span></span>alf past six on the following morning found Constance and her father +rising from the breakfast table and Tony turning in at the gate. +Constance’s nod of greeting was barely perceptible, and her father’s eye +contained a twinkle as he watched her. Tony studied her mountain-climbing +costume with an air of concern.</p> + +<p>“You go wif us, signorina?” His expression was blended of surprise and +disapproval, but in spite of himself his tone was triumphant. “You say to +me yesterday you no want to climb any more mountain.”</p> + +<p>“I have changed my mind.”</p> + +<p>“But zis mountain today too long, too high. You get tired, signorina. +Perhaps anozzer day we take li’l’ baby mountain, zen you can go.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="171"> </span><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a> +“I am going today.”</p> + +<p>“It is not possible, signorina. I have not brought ze donk’.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m going to walk.”</p> + +<p>“As you please, signorina.”</p> + +<p>He sighed patiently. Then he looked up and caught her eye. They both +laughed.</p> + +<p>“Signorina,” he whispered, “I ver’ happy today. Zat Costantina she more +kind. Yesterday ver’ unkind; I go home ver’ sad. But today I sink—”</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p>“I sink after all maybe she like me li’l’ bit.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Giuseppe rowed the three climbers a mile or so down the lake and set them +ashore at the base of their mountain. They started up gaily and had +accomplished half their journey before they thought of being tired. Tony +surpassed himself; if he had been entertaining the day before he was +doubly so now. His spirits were bubbling over and contagious. He and +Constance acted like two children out of school. They ran +<span class="pagebreak" title="172"> </span><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a> + races and +talked to the peasants in the wayside cottages. They drove a herd of +goats for half a mile while the goatherd strolled behind and smoked +Tony’s cigarettes. Constance took a water jar from a little girl they met +coming from the fountain and endeavored to balance it on her own head, +with the result that she nearly drowned both herself and the child.</p> + +<p>They finally stopped for luncheon in a grove of chestnut trees with sheep +nibbling on the hillside below them and a shepherd boy somewhere out of +sight playing on a mouth organ. It should have been a flute, but they +were in a forgiving mood. Constance this time did her share of the work. +She and Tony together spread the cloth and made the coffee while her +father fanned himself and looked on. If Mr. Wilder had any unusual +thoughts in regard to the donkey-man, they were at least not reflected in +his face.</p> + +<p>When they had finished their meal Tony spread his coat under a tree.</p> + +<p>“Signorina,” he said, “perhaps you li’l’ +<span class="pagebreak" title="173"> </span><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a> + tired? Look, I make nice place +to sleep. You lie down and rest while ze Signor Papa and me, we have +li’l’ smoke. Zen after one, two hours I come call you.”</p> + +<p>Constance very willingly accepted the suggestion. They had walked five +uphill miles since morning. It was two hours later that she opened her +eyes to find Tony bending over her. She sat up and regarded him sternly. +He had the grace to blush.</p> + +<p>“Tony, did you kiss my hand?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Scusi</i>, signorina. I ver’ sorry to wake you, but it is tree o’clock and +ze Signor Papa he say we must start just now or we nevair get to ze top.”</p> + +<p>“Answer my question.”</p> + +<p>“Signorina, I cannot tell to you a lie. It is true, I forget I am just +poor donkey-man. I play li’l’ game. You sleeping beauty; I am ze prince. +I come to wake you. Just <i>one</i> kiss I drop on your hand—one ver’ little +kiss, signorina.”</p> + +<p>Constance assumed an air of indignant reproof but in the midst of it she +laughed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="174"> </span><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a> +“I wish you wouldn’t be so funny, Tony; I can’t scold you as much as you +deserve. But I am angry just the same, and if anything like that ever +happens again I shall be very <i>very</i> angry.</p> + +<p>“Signorina, I would not make you very <i>very</i> angry for anysing. As long +as I live nosing like zat shall happen again. No, nevair, I promise.”</p> + +<p>They plunged into a pine wood and climbed for another two hours, the +summit always vanishing before them like a mirage. At the end of that +time they were apparently no nearer their goal than when they had +started. They had followed first one path, then another, until they had +lost all sense of direction, and finally when they came to a place where +three paths diverged, they had to acknowledge themselves definitely lost. +Mr. Wilder elected one path, Tony another, and Constance sat down on a +rock.</p> + +<p>“I’m not going any farther,” she observed.</p> + +<p>“You can’t stay here all night,” said her father.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="175"> </span><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a> +“Well, I can’t walk over this mountain all night. We don’t get anywhere; +we merely move in circles. I don’t think much of the guide you engaged. +He doesn’t know his way.”</p> + +<p>“He wasn’t engaged to know his way,” Tony retorted. “He was engaged to +wear earrings and sing Santa Lucia.”</p> + +<p>Constance continued to sit on her rock while Tony went forward on a +reconnoitering expedition. He returned in ten minutes with the +information that there was a shepherd’s hut not very far off with a +shepherd inside who would like to be friendly. If the signorina would +deign to ask some questions in the Italian language which she spoke so +fluently, they could doubtless obtain directions as to the way home.</p> + +<p>They found the shepherd, the shepherdess and four little shepherds eating +their evening polenta in an earth-floored room, with half a dozen +chickens and the family pig gathered about them in an expectant group. +They rose politely and invited the travellers to enter. It was an +<span class="pagebreak" title="176"> </span><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a> + event +in their simple lives when foreigners presented themselves at the door.</p> + +<p>Constance commenced amenities by announcing that she had been walking on +the mountain since sunrise and was starving. Did they by chance have any +fresh milk?</p> + +<p>“Starving! <i>Madonna mia</i>, how dreadful!” Madame held up her hands. But +yes, to be sure they had fresh milk. They kept four cows. That was their +business—turning milk into cheese and selling it on market day in the +village. Also they had some fresh mountain strawberries which Beppo had +gathered that morning—perhaps they too might be pleasing to the +signorina?</p> + +<p>Constance nodded affirmatively, and added, with her eyes on the pig, that +it might be pleasanter to eat outside where they could look at the view. +She became quite gay again over what she termed their afternoon +tea-party, and her father had to remind her most insistently that if they +wished to get down before darkness overtook them they must start at once. +<span class="pagebreak" title="177"> </span><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a> +An Italian twilight is short. They paid for the food and presented a +lira apiece to the children, leaving them silhouetted against the sky in +a bobbing row shouting musical farewells.</p> + +<p>Their host led them through the woods and out on to the brow of the +mountain in order to start them down by the right path. He regretted that +he could not go all the way but the sheep had still to be brought in for +the night. At the parting he was garrulous with directions.</p> + +<p>The easiest way to get home now would be straight down the mountain to +Grotta del Monte—he pointed out the brown-tiled roofs of a village far +below them—there they could find donkeys or an ox-cart to take them +back. It was nine kilometres to Valedolmo. They had come quite out of +their way; if they had taken the right path in the morning they would +have reached the top where the view was magnificant—truly magnificant. +It was a pity to miss it. Perhaps some other day they would like to come +again and he himself would be +<span class="pagebreak" title="178"> </span><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a> + pleased to guide them. He shook hands and +wished them a pleasant journey. They would best hurry a trifle, he added, +for darkness came fast and when one got caught on the mountain at +night—he shrugged his shoulders and looked at Tony—one needed a guide +who knew his business.</p> + +<p>They had walked for ten minutes when they heard someone shouting behind +and found a young man calling to them to wait. He caught up with them and +breathlessly explained.</p> + +<p>Pasquale had told him that they were foreigners from America who were +climbing the mountain for diversion and who had lost their way. He was +going down to the village himself and would be pleased to guide them.</p> + +<p>He fell into step beside Constance and commenced asking questions, while +Tony, as the path was narrow, perforce fell behind. Occasionally +Constance translated, but usually she laughed without translating, and +Tony, for the twentieth time, +<span class="pagebreak" title="179"> </span><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a> + found himself hating the Italian language.</p> + +<p>The young man’s questions were refreshingly ingenuous. He was curious +about America, since he was thinking, he said, of becoming an American +himself some day. He knew a man once who had gone to America to live and +had made a fortune there—but yes a large fortune—ten thousand lire in +four years. Perhaps the signorina knew him—Giuseppe Motta; he lived in +Buenos Aires. And what did it look like—America? How was it different +from Italy?</p> + +<p>Constance described the skyscrapers in New York.</p> + +<p>His wonder was intense. A building twenty stories high! <i>Dio mio</i>! He +should hate to mount himself up all those stairs. Were the buildings like +that in the country too? Did the shepherds live in houses twenty stories +high?</p> + +<p>“Oh no,” she laughed. “In the country the houses are just like these only +they are made of wood instead of stone.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="180"> </span><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a> +“Of wood?” He opened his eyes. “But signorina, do they never burn?”</p> + +<p>He had another question to ask. He had been told—though of course he did +not believe it—that the Indians in America had red skins.</p> + +<p>Constance nodded yes. His eyes opened wider.</p> + +<p>“Truly red like your coat?” with a glance at her scarlet golf jacket.</p> + +<p>“Not quite,” she admitted.</p> + +<p>“But how it must be diverting,” he sighed, “to travel the world over and +see different things.” He fell silent and trudged on beside her, the +wanderlust in his eyes.</p> + +<p>It was almost dark when they reached the big arched gateway that led into +the village. Here their ways parted and they paused for farewell.</p> + +<p>“Signorina,” the young man said suddenly, “take me with you back to +America. I will prune your olive trees, I will tend your vines. You can +leave me in charge when you go on your travels.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="181"> </span><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a> +She shook her head with a laugh.</p> + +<p>“But I have no vines; I have no olive trees. You would be homesick for +Italy.”</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Then good bye. You, signorina, will go around the world and see many +sights while I, for travel, shall ride on a donkey to Valedolmo.”</p> + +<p>He shook hands all around and with the grace of a prince accepted two of +Tony’s cigarettes. His parting speech showed him a fatalist.</p> + +<p>“What will be, will be. There is a girl—” he waved his hand vaguely in +the direction of the village. “If I go to America then I cannot stay +behind and marry Maria. So perhaps it is planned for the best. You will +find me, signorina, when next you come to Italy, still digging the ground +in Grotta del Monte.”</p> + +<p>As he swung away Tony glanced after him with a suggestion of malice, then +he transferred his gaze to the empty gateway.</p> + +<p>“I see no one else with whom you can +<span class="pagebreak" title="182"> </span><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a> + talk Italian. Perhaps for ten +minutes you will deign to speak English with me?”</p> + +<p>“I am too tired to talk,” she threw over her shoulder as she followed her +father through the gate.</p> + +<p>They plunged into a tangle of tortuous paved streets, the houses pressing +each other as closely as if there were not all the outside world to +spread in. Grotta del Monte is built on a slope and its streets are in +reality long narrow flights of stairs all converging in the little +piazza. The moon was not yet up, and aside from an occasional flickering +light before a madonna’s shrine, the way was black.</p> + +<p>“Signorina, take my arm. I’m afraid maybe you fall.”</p> + +<p>Tony’s voice was humbly persuasive. Constance laughed and laid her hand +lightly on his arm. Tony dropped his own hand over hers and held her +firmly. Neither spoke until they came to the piazza.</p> + +<p>“Signorina,” he whispered, “you make me ver’ happy tonight.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="183"> </span><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a> +She drew her hand away.</p> + +<p>“I’m tired, Tony. I’m not quite myself.”</p> + +<p>“No, signorina, yesterday I sink maybe you not yourself, but to-day you +ver’ good ver’ kind—jus’ your own self ze way you ought to be.”</p> + +<p>The piazza, after the dark, narrow streets that led to it, seemed +bubbling with life. The day’s work was finished and the evening’s play +had begun. In the center, where a fountain splashed into a broad bowl, +groups of women and girls with copper water-jars were laughing and +gossiping as they waited their turns. One side of the square was flanked +by the imposing façade of a church with the village saint on a pedestal +in front; the other side, by a cheerfully inviting osteria with tables +and chairs set into the street and a glimpse inside of a blazing hearth +and copper kettles.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder headed in a straight line for the nearest chair and dropped +into it with an expression of permanence. Constance followed and they +held a colloquy with a +<span class="pagebreak" title="184"> </span><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a> + bowing host. He was vague as to the finding of +carriage or donkeys, but if they would accommodate themselves until after +supper there would be a diligence along which would take them back to +Valedolmo.</p> + +<p>“How soon will the diligence arrive?” asked Constance.</p> + +<p>The man spread out his hands.</p> + +<p>“It is due in three quarters of an hour, but it may be early and it may +be late. It arrives when God and the driver wills.”</p> + +<p>“In that case,” she laughed, “we will accommodate ourselves until after +supper—and we have appetites! Please bring everything you have.”</p> + +<p>They supped on <i>minestra</i> and <i>fritto misto</i> washed down with the red +wine of Grotta del Monte, which, their host assured them, was famous +through all the country. He could not believe that they had never heard +of it in Valedolmo. People sent for it from far off; even from Verona.</p> + +<p>They finished their supper and the famous wine, but there was still no +diligence. +<span class="pagebreak" title="185"> </span><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a> + The village also had finished its supper and was drifting in +family groups into the piazza. The moon was just showing above the +house-tops, and its light, combined with the blazing braziers before the +cook-shops made the square a patch work of brilliant high-lights and +black shadows from deep cut doorways. Constance sat up alertly and +watched the people crowding past. Across from the inn an itinerant show +had established itself on a rudely improvised stage, with two flaring +torches which threw their light half across the piazza, and turned the +spray of the fountain into an iridescent shower. The gaiety of the scene +was contagious. Constance rose insistently.</p> + +<p>“Come, Dad; let’s go over and see what they’re doing.”</p> + +<p>“No, thank you, my dear. I prefer my chair.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dad, you’re so phlegmatic!”</p> + +<p>“But I thought you were tired.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not any more; I want to see the play.—You come then, Tony.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="186"> </span><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a> +Tony rose with an elaborate sigh.</p> + +<p>“As you please, signorina,” he murmured obediently. An onlooker would +have thought Constance cruel in dragging him away from his well-earned +rest.</p> + +<p>They made their way across the piazza and mounted the church steps behind +the crowd where they could look across obliquely to the little stage. A +clown was dancing to the music of a hurdy-gurdy while a woman in a tawdry +pink satin evening gown beat an accompaniment on a drum. It was a very +poor play with very poor players, and yet it represented to these people +of Grotta del Monte something of life, of the big outside world which +they in their little village would never see. Their upturned faces +touched by the moonlight and the flare of the torches contained a look of +wondering eagerness—the same look that had been in the eyes of the young +peasant when he had begged to be taken to America.</p> + +<p>The two stood back in the shadow of the doorway watching the people with +the +<span class="pagebreak" title="187"> </span><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a> + same interest that the people were expending on the stage. A child +had been lifted to the base of the saint’s pedestal in order to see, and +in the excitement of a duel between two clowns he suddenly lost his +balance and toppled off. His mother snatched him up quickly and commenced +covering the hurt arm with kisses to make it well.</p> + +<p>Constance laughed.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it queer,” she asked, “to think how different these people are +from us and yet how exactly the same. Their way of living is absolutely +foreign but their feelings are just like yours and mine.”</p> + +<p>He touched her arm and called her attention to a man and a girl on the +step below them. It was the young peasant again who had guided them down +the mountain, but who now had eyes for no one but Maria. She leaned +toward him to see the stage and his arm was around her. Their interest in +the play was purely a pretense and both of them knew it.</p> + +<p>Tony laughed softly and echoed her words.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="188"> </span><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a> +“Yes, their feelings are just like yours and mine.”</p> + +<p>He slipped his arm around her.</p> + +<p>Constance drew back quickly.</p> + +<p>“I think,” she remarked, “that the diligence has come.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, hang the diligence!” Tony growled. “Why couldn’t it have been five +minutes late?”</p> + +<p>They returned to the inn to find Mr. Wilder already on the front seat, +and obligingly holding the reins, while the driver occupied himself with +a glass of the famous wine. The diligence was a roomy affair of four +seats and three horses. Behind the driver were three Italians +gesticulating violently over local politics; a new <i>sindaco</i> was +imminent. Behind these were three black-hooded nuns covertly interested +in the woman in the pink evening gown. And behind the three, occupying +the exact center of the rear seat, was a fourth nun with the portly +bearing of a Mother Superior. She was very comfortable as she was, and +did not propose +<span class="pagebreak" title="189"> </span><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a> + to move. Constance climbed up on one side of her and +Tony on the other.</p> + +<p>“We are well chaperoned,” he grumbled, as they jolted out of the piazza. +“I always did think that the Church interfered too much with the rights +of individuals.”</p> + +<p>Constance, in a spirit of friendly expansiveness, proceeded to pick up an +acquaintance with the nuns, and the four black heads were presently +bobbing in unison, while Tony, in gloomy isolation at his end of the +seat, folded his arms and stared at the road. The driver had passed +through many villages that day and had drunk many glasses of famous wine; +he cracked his whip and sang as he drove. They rattled in and out of +stone-paved villages, along open stretches of moonlit road, past villas +and olive groves. Children screamed after them, dogs barked, Constance +and her four nuns were very vivacious, and Tony’s gloom deepened with +every mile.</p> + +<p>They had covered three quarters of the +<span class="pagebreak" title="190"> </span><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a> + distance when the diligence was +brought to a halt before a high stone wall and a solid barred gate. The +nuns came back to the present with an excited cackling. Who would believe +they had reached the convent so soon! They made their adieus and +ponderously descended, their departure accelerated by Tony who had become +of a sudden alertly helpful. As they started again he slid along into the +Mother Superior’s empty seat.</p> + +<p>“What were we saying when the diligence interrupted?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“I don’t remember, Tony, but I don’t want to talk any more; I’m tired.”</p> + +<p>“You tired, signorina? Lay your head on my shoulder and go to sleep.”</p> + +<p>“Tony, <i>please</i> behave yourself. I’m simply too tired to make you do it.”</p> + +<p>He reached over and took her hand. She did not try to withdraw it for +two—three minutes; then she shot him a sidewise glance.</p> + +<p>“Tony,” she said, “don’t you think you are forgetting your place?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="191"> </span><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a> +“No, signorina, I am just learning it.”</p> + +<p>“Let go my hand.”</p> + +<p>He gazed pensively at the moon and hummed Santa Lucia under his breath.</p> + +<p>“Tony! I shall be angry with you.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be ver’ sorry for zat, signorina. I do not wish to make you +angry, but I sink—perhaps you get over it.”</p> + +<p>“You are behaving abominably today, Tony. I shall never stay alone with +you again.”</p> + +<p>“Signorina, look at zat moon up dere. Is it not ver’ bright? When I look +at zat moon I have always beautiful toughts about how much I love +Costantina.”</p> + +<p>An interval followed during which neither spoke. The driver’s song was +growing louder and the horses were galloping. The diligence suddenly +rounded a curved cliff on two wheels. Constance lurched against him; he +caught her and held her. Her lips were very near his; he kissed her +softly.</p> + +<p>She moved to the far end of the seat and faced him with flushed cheeks.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="192"> </span><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a> +“I thought you were a gentleman!”</p> + +<p>“I used to be, signorina; now I am only poor donkey-man.”</p> + +<p>“I shall never speak to you again. You can climb as many mountains as you +wish with my father, but you can’t have anything more to do with me.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Scusi</i>, signorina. I—I did not mean to. It was just an accident, +signorina.”</p> + +<p>Constance turned her back and stared at the road.</p> + +<p>“It was not my fault. Truly it was not my fault. I did not wish to kiss +you—no nevair. But I could not help it. You put your head too close.”</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes and studied the mountain-top.</p> + +<p>“Signorina, why you treat me so cruel?”</p> + +<p>Her back was inflexible.</p> + +<p>“I am desolate. If you forgive me zis once I will nevair again do a sing +so wicked. Nevair, nevair, nevair.”</p> + +<p>Constance continued her inspection of the mountain-top. Tony leaned +forward until he could see her face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="193"> </span><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a> +“Signorina,” he whispered, “jus’ give me one li’l’ smile to show me you +are not angry forever.”</p> + +<p>The stage had stopped and Mr. Wilder was climbing down but Constance’s +gaze was still fixed on the sky, and Tony’s eyes were on her.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter, Constance, have you gone to sleep? Aren’t you going +to get out?”</p> + +<p>She came back with a start.</p> + +<p>“Are we here already?”</p> + +<p>There was a suspicion of regret in her tone which did not escape Tony.</p> + +<p>At the Villa Rosa gates he wished them a humbly deferential good-night +but with a smile hovering about the corners of his mouth. Constance made +no response. As he strode off, however, she turned her head and looked +after him. He turned too and caught her. He waved his hand with a laugh, +and took up his way, whistling Santa Lucia in double time.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="194"> </span><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>hree days passed in which Mr. Wilder and Tony industriously climbed, and +in which nothing of consequence passed between Constance and Tony. If she +happened to be about when the expeditions either started or came to an +end (and for one reason or another she usually was) she ignored him +entirely; and he ignored her, except for an occasional mockingly +deferential bow. He appeared to extract as much pleasure from the +excursions as Mr. Wilder, and he asked for no extra compensation by the +way.</p> + +<p>It was Tuesday again, just a week and a day since the young American had +dropped over the wall of Villa Rosa asking for the garden of the prince. +Tony +<span class="pagebreak" title="195"> </span><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a> + and Mr. Wilder were off on a trip; Miss Hazel and Constance on the +point of sitting down to afternoon tea—there were no guests today—when +the gardener from the Hotel du Lac appeared with a message from Nannie +Hilliard. She and her aunt had arrived half an hour before, which was a +good two days earlier than they were due. Constance read the note with a +clouded brow and silently passed it to Miss Hazel. The news was not so +entirely welcome as under other circumstances it would have been. Nannie +Hilliard was both perspicacious and fascinating, and Constance foresaw +that her presence would tangle further the already tangled plot of the +little comedy which was unfolding itself at Villa Rosa. But Miss Hazel, +divining nothing of comedies or plots, was thrown into a pleasant flutter +by the news. Guests were a luxury which occurred but seldom in the quiet +monotony of Valedolmo.</p> + +<p>“We must call on them at once and bring them back to the house.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="196"> </span><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a> +“I suppose we must.” Constance agreed with an uncordial sigh.</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes later they were on their way to the Hotel du Lac, while +Elizabetta, on her knees in the villa guest-room, was vigorously +scrubbing the mosaic floor.</p> + +<p>Gustavo hurried out to meet them. He was plainly in a flutter; something +had occurred to upset the usual suavity of his manners.</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina, in ze garden—ze two American ladies—having tea. And +you are acquaint wif ze family; all ze time you are acquaint wif zem, and +you never tell me!” There was mystification and reproach in his tone.</p> + +<p>Constance eyed him with a degree of mystification on her side.</p> + +<p>“I am acquainted with a number of families that I have never told you +about,” she observed.</p> + +<p>“<i>Scusi</i>, signorina,” he stammered; and immediately, “Tony, zat +donk’-man, what you do wif him?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he and my father are climbing Monte Brione today.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="197"> </span><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a> +“What time zay come home?”</p> + +<p>“About seven o’clock, I fancy.”</p> + +<p>“Ze signora and ze signorina—zay come two days before zay are expect.” +He was clearly aggrieved by the fact.</p> + +<p>Constance’s mystification increased; she saw not the slightest +connection.</p> + +<p>“I suppose, Gustavo, you can find them something to eat even if they did +come two days before they were expected?”</p> + +<p>The two turned toward the arbor, but Constance paused for a moment and +glanced back with a shade of mischief in her eye.</p> + +<p>“By the way, Gustavo, that young man who taught the parrot English has +gone?”</p> + +<p>Gustavo rolled his eyes to the sky and back to her face. She understood +nothing; was there ever a muddle like this?</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina,” he murmured confusedly, “ze yong man is gone.”</p> + +<p>Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and with a start which nearly +upset the tea table, came running forward to meet them; while her aunt, +Mrs. Eustace, followed more placidly. Nannie was a big +<span class="pagebreak" title="198"> </span><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a> + wholesome outdoor +girl of a purely American type. She waited for no greetings; she had news +to impart.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="199"> </span><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a> +<img src="images/illo_199.jpg" width="650" height="372" alt="Group of women talking, with waiter and parrot in background" title="Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and came running forward to meet them" /> +<span>“Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and came +running forward to meet them”</span> +<span class="illopage" title="200"> </span><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a> +</div> + +<p>“Constance, Miss Hazel! I’m so glad to see you—what do you think? I’m +engaged!”</p> + +<p>Miss Hazel murmured incoherent congratulations, and tried not to look as +shocked as she felt. In her day, no lady would have made so delicate an +announcement in any such off-hand manner as this. Constance received it +in the spirit in which it was given.</p> + +<p>“Who’s the man?” she inquired, as she shook hands with Mrs. Eustace.</p> + +<p>“You don’t know him—Harry Eastman, a friend of Jerry’s. Jerry doesn’t +know it yet, and I had to confide in someone. Oh, it’s no secret; Harry +cabled home—he wanted to get it announced so I couldn’t change my mind. +You see he only had a three weeks’ vacation; he took a fast boat, landed +at Cherbourg, followed us the whole length of France, and caught us in +Lucerne just after Jerry had gone. +<span class="pagebreak" title="201"> </span><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a> + I couldn’t refuse him after he’d +taken such a lot of trouble. That’s what detained us: we had expected to +come a week ago. And now—” by a rapid change of expression she became +tragic—“We’ve lost Jerry Junior!”</p> + +<p>“Lost Jerry Junior!” Constance’s tone was interested. “What has become of +him?”</p> + +<p>“We haven’t an idea. He’s been spirited off—vanished from the earth and +left no trace. Really, we’re beginning to be afraid he’s been captured by +brigands. That head waiter, that Gustavo, knows where he is, but we can’t +get a word out of him. He tells a different story every ten minutes. I +looked in the register to see if by chance he’d left an address there, +and what do you think I found?”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Constance; there was a world of illumination in her tone. +“What did you find?” she asked, hastily suppressing every emotion but +polite curiosity.</p> + +<p>“‘Abraham Lincoln’ in Jerry’s hand-writing!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="202"> </span><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a> +“Really!” Constance dimpled irrepressibly. “You are sure Jerry wrote +it?”</p> + +<p>“It was his writing; and I showed it to Gustavo, and what do you think he +said?”</p> + +<p>Constance shook her head.</p> + +<p>“He said that Jerry had forgotten to register, that that was written by a +Hungarian nobleman who was here last week—imagine a Hungarian nobleman +named Abraham Lincoln!”</p> + +<p>Constance dropped into one of the little iron chairs and bowed her head +on the back and laughed.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you can explain?” There was a touch of sharpness in Nannie’s +tone.</p> + +<p>“Don’t ever ask me to explain anything Gustavo says; the man is not to be +believed under oath.”</p> + +<p>“But what’s become of Jerry?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’ll turn up.” Constance’s tone was comforting. “Aunt Hazel,” she +called. Miss Hazel and Mrs. Eustace, their heads together over the tea +table, were busily making up three months’ dropped news. “Do you remember +the +<span class="pagebreak" title="203"> </span><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a> + young man I told you about who popped into our garden last week? +That was Jerry Junior!”</p> + +<p>“Then you’ve seen him?” said Nannie.</p> + +<p>Constance related the episode of the broken wall—the sequel she omitted. +“I hadn’t seen him for six years,” she added apologetically, “and I +didn’t recognize him. Of course if I’d dreamed—”</p> + +<p>Nannie groaned.</p> + +<p>“And I thought I’d planned it so beautifully!”</p> + +<p>“Planned what?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose I might as well tell you since it’s come to nothing. We +hoped—that is, you see—I’ve been so worried for fear Jerry—” She took +a breath and began again. “You know, Constance, when it comes to getting +married, a man has no more sense than a two-year child. So I determined +to pick out a wife for Jerry, myself, one I would like to have for a +sister. I’ve done it three times and he simply wouldn’t look at them; you +can’t imagine how stubborn he is. But when +<span class="pagebreak" title="204"> </span><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a> + I found we were coming to +Valedolmo, I said to myself, now this is my opportunity; I will have him +marry Connie Wilder.”</p> + +<p>“You might have asked my permission.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, Jerry’s a dear; next to Harry you couldn’t find anyone nicer. +But I knew the only way was not to let him suspect. I thought you see +that you were still staying at the hotel; I didn’t know you’d taken a +villa, so I planned for him to come to meet us three days before we +really expected to get here. I thought in the meantime, being stranded +together in a little hotel you’d surely get acquainted—Jerry’s very +resourceful that way—and with all this beautiful Italian scenery about, +and nothing to do—”</p> + +<p>“I see!” Constance’s tone was somewhat dry.</p> + +<p>“But nothing happened as I had planned. You weren’t here, he was bored to +death, and I was detained longer than I meant. We got the most pathetic +letter from him the second day, saying there +<span class="pagebreak" title="205"> </span><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a> + was no one but the head +waiter to talk to, nothing but an india-rubber tree to look at, and if we +didn’t come immediately, he’d do the Dolomites without us. Then finally, +just as we were on the point of leaving, he sent a telegram saying: +‘Don’t come. Am climbing mountains. Stay there till you hear from me.’ +But being already packed, we came, and this is what we find—” She waved +her hand over the empty grove.</p> + +<p>“It serves you right; you shouldn’t deceive people.”</p> + +<p>“It was for Jerry’s good—and yours too. But what shall we do? He doesn’t +know we’re here and he has left no address.”</p> + +<p>“Come out to the villa and visit us till he comes to search for you.”</p> + +<p>Constance could hear her aunt delivering the same invitation to Mrs. +Eustace, and she perforce repeated it, though with the inward hope that +it would be declined. She had no wish that Tony and her father should +return from their trip to find a +<span class="pagebreak" title="206"> </span><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a> + family party assembled on the terrace. +The adventure was not to end with any such tame climax as that. To her +relief they did decline, at least for the night; they could make no +definite plans until they had heard from Jerry. Constance rose upon this +assurance and precipitated their leave-takings; she did not wish her aunt +to press them to change their minds.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye, Mrs. Eustace, good-bye, Nannie; we’ll be around tonight to +take you sailing—provided there’s any breeze.”</p> + +<p>She nodded and dragged her aunt off; but as they were entering the arbor +a plan for further complicating matters popped into her head, and she +turned back to call:</p> + +<p>“You are coming to the villa tomorrow, remember, whether Jerry Junior +turns up or not. I’ll write a note and invite him too—Gustavo can give +it to him when he comes, and you needn’t bother any more about him.”</p> + +<p>They found Gustavo hovering +<span class="pagebreak" title="207"> </span><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a> + omnivorously in the courtyard, hungering for +news; Constance summoned him to her side.</p> + +<p>“Gustavo, I am going to send you a note tonight for Mr. Jerymn Hilliard. +You will see that it gets to him as soon as he arrives?”</p> + +<p>“Meestair Jayreem Ailyar?” Gustavo stared.</p> + +<p>“Yes, the brother of the signorina who came today. He is expected +tomorrow or perhaps the day after.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Scusi</i>, signorina. You—you acquaint wif him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, certainly. I have known him for six years. Don’t forget to deliver +the note; it’s important.”</p> + +<p>They raised their parasols and departed, while Gustavo stood in the +gateway bowing. The motion was purely mechanical; his thoughts were +laboring elsewhere.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagebreak" title="208"> </span><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapc"><span class="dropcap">C</span></span>onstance occupied herself upon their return to Villa Rosa in writing the +letter to Jerry Junior. It had occurred to her that this was an excellent +chance to punish him, and it was the working philosophy of her life that +a man should always be punished when opportunity presented. Tony had been +entirely too unconcerned during the past few days; he needed a lesson. +She spent three quarters of an hour in composing her letter and tore up +two false starts before she was satisfied. It did not contain the +slightest hint that she knew the truth, and—considered in this light—it +was likely to have a chastening effect. The letter ran:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +<span class="pagebreak" title="209"> </span><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a> +“Villa Rosa, Valedolmo,<br /> +“Lago di Garda. +</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Jerry Junior</span>: I hope you don’t mind being called “Jerry +Junior,” but “Mr. Hilliard” sounds so absurdly formal, when I have +known your sister so long and so well. We are spending the summer +here in Valedolmo, and Mrs. Eustace and Nannie have promised to +stop with us for a few days, provided you can be persuaded to pause +in your mad rush through Europe. Now please take pity on us—guests +are such unusual luxuries, and as for <i>men</i>! Besides a passing +tourist or so, we have had nothing but Italian officers. You can +climb mountains with my father—Nan says you are a climber—and we +can supply mountains enough to keep you occupied for a month.</p> + +<p>“My father would write himself, only that he is climbing this +moment.</p> + +<p class="yours"> +“Yours most cordially,</p> + +<p class="signature"> +“Constance Wilder.” +</p> + +<p>“P. S. I forgot to mention that we are acquainted already, you and +I. We met six years ago, and you insulted me—under your own roof. +You called me a <i>kid</i>. I shall accept nothing but a personal +apology.”</p></div> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="210"> </span><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a> +Having read it critically, she sealed and addressed it with malicious +delight; it was calculated to arouse just about the emotions she would +like to have Tony entertain. She gave the note to Giuseppe with +instructions to place it in Gustavo’s hands, and then settled herself +gaily to await results.</p> + +<p>Giuseppe was barely out of sight when the two Alpine-climbers appeared at +the gate. Constance had been wondering how she could inform Tony that his +aunt and sister had arrived, without unbending from the dignified silence +of the past three days. The obvious method was to announce it to her +father in Tony’s presence, but her father slipped into the house by the +back way without affording her an opportunity. It was Tony himself who +solved the difficulty. Of his own accord he crossed the terrace and +approached her side. He laid a bunch of edelweiss on the balustrade.</p> + +<p>“It’s a peace offering,” he observed.</p> + +<p>She looked at him a moment without speaking. There was a new expression +<span class="pagebreak" title="211"> </span><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a> +in her eyes that puzzled Tony, just as the expression in his eyes that +morning on the water had puzzled her. She was studying him in the light +of Jerry Junior. The likeness to the sophomore, who six years before sang +the funny songs without a smile, was so very striking, she wondered she +could ever have overlooked it.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Tony; it is very nice of you.” She picked up the flowers and +smiled—with the knowledge of the letter that was waiting for him she +could afford to be forgiving.</p> + +<p>“You discharged me, signorina; will you take me back into your service?”</p> + +<p>“I am not going to climb any more mountains; it is too fatiguing. I think +it is better for you and my father to go alone.”</p> + +<p>“I will serve you in other ways.”</p> + +<p>Constance studied the mountains a moment. Should she tell him she knew, +or should she keep up the pretense a little longer? Her insatiable love +of intrigue won.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="212"> </span><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a> +“Are you sure you wish to be taken back?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina, I am very sure.”</p> + +<p>“Then perhaps you will do me a favor on your way home tonight?”</p> + +<p>“You have but to ask.”</p> + +<p>“I wish to send a message to a young American man who is staying at the +Hotel du Lac—you may have seen him?”</p> + +<p>Tony nodded.</p> + +<p>“I have climb Monte Maggiore wif him. You recommend me; I sank you ver’ +moch. Nice man, zat yong American; ver’ good, ver’ simpatico.” He leaned +forward with a sudden air of anxiety. “Signorina, you—you like zat yong +man?”</p> + +<p>“I have only met him twice, but—yes, I like him.”</p> + +<p>“You like him better zan me?” His anxiety deepened; he hung upon her +words.</p> + +<p>She shook her head reassuringly.</p> + +<p>“I like you both exactly the same.”</p> + +<p>“Signorina, which you like better, zat yong American or ze Signor +Lieutenant?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="213"> </span><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a> +“Your questions are getting too personal, Tony.”</p> + +<p>He folded his arms and sighed.</p> + +<p>“Will you deliver my message?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina, wif pleasure.” There was not a trace of curiosity in +his expression, nothing beyond a deferential desire to serve.</p> + +<p>“Tell him, Tony, that Miss Wilder will be at home tomorrow afternoon at +tea time; if he will come by the gate and present a card she will be most +pleased to see him. She wishes him to meet an American friend, a Miss +Hilliard, who has just arrived at the hotel this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>She watched him sharply; his expression did not alter by a shade. He +repeated the message and then added as if by the merest chance:</p> + +<p>“Ze yong American man, signorina—you know his name?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know his name.” This time for the fraction of a second she +surprised a look. “His name—” she hesitated +<span class="pagebreak" title="214"> </span><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a> + tantalizingly—“is Signor +Abraham Lincoln.”</p> + +<p>“Signor Ab-ra-ham Lin-coln.” He repeated it after her as if committing it +to memory. They gazed at each other soberly a moment; then both laughed +and looked away.</p> + +<p>Luigi had appeared in the doorway. Seeing no one more important than Tony +about, he found no reason for delaying the announcement of dinner.</p> + +<p>“<i>Il pranzo è sulla tavola, signorina.</i>”</p> + +<p>“<i>Bene</i>!” said Constance over her shoulder. She turned back to Tony; her +manner was kind. “If you go to the kitchen, Tony, Elizabetta will give +you some dinner.”</p> + +<p>“Sank you, signorina.” His manner was humble. “Elizabetta’s dinners +consist of a plate of garlic and macaroni on the kitchen steps. I don’t +like garlic and I’m tired of macaroni; if it’s just the same to you, I +think I’ll dine at home.” He held out his hand.</p> + +<p>She read his purpose in his eye and put her own hands behind her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="215"> </span><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a> +“You won’t shake hands, signorina? We are not friends?”</p> + +<p>“I learned a lesson the last time.”</p> + +<p>“You shake hands wif Lieutenant Count Carlo di Ferara.”</p> + +<p>“It is the custom in Italy.”</p> + +<p>“We are in Italy.”</p> + +<p>“Behave yourself, Tony, and run along home!”</p> + +<p>She laughed and nodded and turned away. On the steps she paused to add:</p> + +<p>“Be sure not to forget the message for Signor Abraham Lincoln. I shall be +disappointed if he doesn’t come.”</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2> +<span class="pagebreak" title="216"> </span><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>ony returned to the Hotel du Lac, modestly, by the back way. He assured +himself that his aunt and sister were well by means of an open window +in the rear of the dining-room. The window was shaded by a clump of +camellias, and he studied at his ease the back of Mrs. Eustace’s +head and Nannie’s vivacious profile as she talked in fluent and +execrable German to the two Alpinists who were, at the moment, the only +other guests. Brotherly affection—and a humorous desire to create a +sensation—prompted him to walk in and surprise them. But saner second +thoughts prevailed; he decided to postpone the reunion until he should +have changed from the picturesque costume of Tony, to the soberer garb of +Jerry Junior.</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="217"> </span><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a> +He skirted the dining-room by a wide detour, and entered the court-yard +at the side. Gustavo, who for the last hour and a half had been alertly +watchful of four entrances at once, pounced upon him and drew him to a +corner.</p> + +<p>“Signore,” in a conspiratorial whisper, “zay are come, ze aunt and ze +sister.”</p> + +<p>“I know—the Signorina Costantina told me so.”</p> + +<p>Gustavo blinked.</p> + +<p>“But, signore, she does not know it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she does—she saw ’em herself.”</p> + +<p>“I mean, signore, she does not know zat you are ze brover?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, she doesn’t know that.”</p> + +<p>“But she tell me zat she is acquaint wif ze brover for six years.” He +shook his head hopelessly.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right.” Tony patted his shoulder reassuringly. “When she knew +me I used to have yellow hair, but I thought it made me look too girlish, +so I had it dyed black. She didn’t recognize me.”</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="218"> </span><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a> +Gustavo accepted the explanation with a side glance at the hair.</p> + +<p>“Now, pay attention.” Tony’s tone was slow and distinct.</p> + +<p>“I am going upstairs to change my clothes. Then I will slip out the back +way with a suit case, and go down the road and meet the omnibus as it +comes back from the boat landing. You keep my aunt and sister in the +court-yard talking to the parrot or something until the omnibus arrives. +Then when I get out, you come forward with your politest bow and ask me +if I want a room. I’ll attend to the rest—do you understand?”</p> + +<p>Gustavo nodded with glistening eyes. He had always felt stirring within +him powers for diplomacy, for finesse, and he rose to the occasion +magnificently.</p> + +<p>Tony turned away and went bounding upstairs two steps at a time, +chuckling as he went. He, too, was developing an undreamed of appetite +for intrigue, and his capacity in that direction was expanding to meet +it. He had covered the first flight, +<span class="pagebreak" title="219"> </span><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a> + when Gustavo suddenly remembered +the letter and bounded after.</p> + +<p>“Signore! I beg of you to wait one moment. Here is a letter from ze +signorina; it is come while you are away.”</p> + +<p>Tony read the address with a start of surprise.</p> + +<p>“Then she knows!” There was regret, disillusionment, in his tone.</p> + +<p>It was Gustavo’s turn to furnish enlightenment.</p> + +<p>“But no, signore, she do not comprehend. She sink Meestair Jayreem Ailyar +is ze brover who is not arrive. She leave it for him when he come.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” Tony ripped it open and read it through with a chuckle. He read it +a second time and his face grew grave. He thrust it into his pocket and +strode away without a word for Gustavo. Gustavo looked after him +reproachfully. As a head waiter, he naturally did not expect to read the +letters of guests; but as a fellow conspirator, he felt that he was +entitled to at least a general knowledge of all matters +<span class="pagebreak" title="220"> </span><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a> + bearing on the +conspiracy. He turned back down stairs with a disappointed droop to his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>Tony closed his door and walked to the window where he stood staring at +the roof of Villa Rosa. He drew the letter from his pocket and read it +for the third time slowly, thoughtfully, very, very soberly. The reason +was clear; she was tired of Tony and was looking ahead for fresh worlds +to conquer. Jerry Junior was to come next.</p> + +<p>He understood why she had been so complaisant today. She wished the +curtain to go down on the comedy note. Tomorrow, the nameless young +American, the “Abraham Lincoln” of the register, would call—by the +gate—would be received graciously, introduced in his proper person to +the guests; the story of the donkey-man would be recounted and laughed +over, and he would be politely asked when he was planning to resume his +travels. This would be the end of the episode. To Constance, it had been +merely +<span class="pagebreak" title="221"> </span><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a> + an amusing farce about which she could boast when she returned to +America. In her vivacious style it would make a story, just as her first +meeting with Jerry Junior had made a story. But as for the play itself, +for <i>him</i>, she cared nothing. Tony the man had made no impression. He +must pass on and give place to Jerry Junior.</p> + +<p>A flush crept over Tony’s face and his mouth took a straighter line as he +continued to gaze down on the roof of Villa Rosa. His reflections were +presently interrupted by a knock. He turned and threw the door open with +a fling.</p> + +<p>“Well?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>Gustavo took a step backward.</p> + +<p>“<i>Scusi</i>, signore, but zay are eating ze dessart and in five—ten minutes +ze omnibus will arrive.”</p> + +<p>“The omnibus?” Tony stared. “Oh!” he laughed shortly. “I was just joking, +Gustavo.”</p> + +<p>Gustavo bowed and turned down the corridor; there was a look on Tony’s +face +<span class="pagebreak" title="222"> </span><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a> + that did not encourage confidences. He had not gone half a dozen +steps, however, when the door opened again and Tony called him back.</p> + +<p>“I am going away tomorrow morning—by the first boat this time—and you +mustn’t let my aunt and sister know. I will write two letters and you are +to take them down to the steward of the boat that leaves tonight. Ask him +to put on Austrian stamps and mail them at Riva, so they’ll get back here +tomorrow. Do you understand?”</p> + +<p>Gustavo nodded and backed away. His disappointment this time was too keen +for words. He saw stretching before him a future like the past, +monotonously bereft of plots and masquerades.</p> + +<p>Tony, having hit on a plan, sat down and put it into instant execution. +Opening his Baedeker, he turned to Riva and picked out the first hotel +that was mentioned. Then he wrote two letters, both short and to the +point; he indulged in none of Constance’s vacillations, and yet in +<span class="pagebreak" title="223"> </span><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a> + their +way his letters also were masterpieces of illusion. The first was +addressed to Miss Constance Wilder at Villa Rosa. It ran:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +“Hotel Sole d’Oro,<br /> +“Riva, Austria. +</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Wilder</span>: Nothing would give me greater pleasure than +spending a few days in Valedolmo, but unfortunately I am pressed +for time, and am engaged to start Thursday morning with some +friends on a trip through the Dolomites.</p> + +<p>“Trusting that I may have the pleasure of making your acquaintance +at some future date,</p></div> + +<p class="yours"> +“Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="signature"> +“Jerymn Hilliard, Jr.” +</p> + +<p>The second letter was addressed to his sister, but he trusted to luck +that Constance would see it. It ran:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="dateline"> +“Hotel Sole d’Oro,<br /> +“Riva, Austria. +</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Nan</span>: Who in thunder is Constance Wilder? She wants us to stop +and make a +<span class="pagebreak" title="224"> </span><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a> + visit in Valedolmo. I wouldn’t step into that infernal +town, not if the king himself invited me—it’s the deadest hole on +the face of the earth. You can stay if you like and I’ll go on +through the Dolomites alone. There’s an American family stopping +here who are also planning the trip—a stunning girl; I know you’d +like her.</p> + +<p>“Of course the travelling will be pretty rough. Perhaps you and +Aunt Kate would rather visit your friends and meet me later in +Munich. If you decide to take the trip, you will have to come on +down to Riva as soon as you get this letter, as we’re planning to +pull out Thursday morning.</p> + +<p>“Sorry to hurry you, but you know my vacation doesn’t last forever.</p> + +<p>“Love to Aunt Kate and yourself,</p> + +<p class="yours"> +“Yours ever,</p> + +<p class="signature"> +“Jerry.” +</p></div> + +<p>He turned the letters over to Gustavo with a five-franc note, leaving +Gustavo to decide with his own conscience whether the money was intended +for himself or the steward of the Regina Margarita. This accomplished, he +slipped out +<span class="pagebreak" title="225"> </span><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a> + unobtrusively and took the road toward Villa Rosa.</p> + +<p>He strode along with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the path +until he nearly bumped his nose against the villa gate-post. Then he +stopped and thought. He had no mind to be ushered to the terrace where he +would have to dissemble some excuse for his visit before Miss Hazel and +Mr. Wilder. His business tonight was with Constance, and Constance alone. +He turned and skirted the villa wall, determined on reconnoitering first. +There was a place in the wall—he knew well—where the stones were +missing, and a view was obtainable of the terrace and parapet.</p> + +<p>He reached the place to find Lieutenant Carlo di Ferara already there. +Now the Lieutenant’s purpose was exactly as innocent as Tony’s own; he +merely wished to assure himself that Captain Coroloni was not before him. +It was considered a joke at the tenth cavalry mess to detail one or the +other of the officers to call on the +<span class="pagebreak" title="226"> </span><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a> + Americans at the same time that +Lieutenant di Ferara called. He was not spying on the family, merely on +his meddling brother officers.</p> + +<p>Tony of course could know nothing of this, and as his eyes fell upon the +lieutenant, there was apparent in their depths a large measure of +contempt. A lieutenant in the Royal Italian Cavalry can afford to be +generous in many things, but he cannot afford to swallow contempt from a +donkey-driver. The signorina was not present this time; there was no +reason why he should not punish the fellow. He dropped his hand on Tony’s +shoulder—on his collar to be exact—and whirled him about. The action +was accompanied by some vigorous colloquial Italian—the gist of it being +that Tony was to mind his own business and mend his manners. The +lieutenant had a muscular arm, and Tony turned. But Tony had not played +quarterback four years for nothing; he tackled low, and the next moment +the lieutenant was rolling down the bank of a dried stream that stretched +at their feet. No +<span class="pagebreak" title="227"> </span><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a> + one likes to roll down a dusty stony bank, much less +an officer in immaculate uniform on the eve of paying a formal call upon +ladies. He picked himself up and looked at Tony; he was quite beyond +speech.</p> + +<p>Tony looked back and smiled. He swept off his hat with a deferential bow. +“<i>Scusi</i>,” he murmured, and jumped over the wall into the grounds of +Villa Rosa.</p> + +<p>The lieutenant gasped. If anything could have been more insultingly +inadequate to the situation than that one word <i>scusi</i>, it did not at the +moment occur to him. Jeering, blasphemy, vituperation, he might have +excused, but this! The shock jostled him back to a thinking state.</p> + +<p>Here was no ordinary donkey-driver. The hand that had rested for a moment +on his arm was the hand of a gentleman. The man’s face was vaguely, +elusively familiar; if the lieutenant had not seen him before, he had at +least seen his picture. The man had pretended he could not talk Italian, +but—<i>scusi</i>—it came out very pat when it was needed.</p> + +<p>An idea suddenly assailed Lieutenant di +<span class="pagebreak" title="228"> </span><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a> + Ferara. He scrambled up the bank +and skirted the wall, almost on a run, until he reached the place where +his horse was tied. Two minutes later he was off at a gallop, headed for +the house of the prefect of police of Valedolmo.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2> +<span class="pagebreak" title="229"> </span><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>ony jumped over the wall. He might have landed in the midst of a family +party; but in so much luck was with him. He found the <i>Farfalla</i> bobbing +at the foot of the water steps with Mr. Wilder and Miss Hazel already +embarked. They were waiting for Constance, who had obligingly run back to +the house to fetch the rainbow shawl (finished that afternoon) as Miss +Hazel distrusted the Italian night breeze.</p> + +<p>Constance stepped out from the door as Tony emerged from the bushes. She +regarded him in startled surprise; he was still in some slight disarray +from his encounter with the lieutenant.</p> + +<p>“May I speak to you, Miss Wilder? I won’t detain you but a moment.”</p> + +<p>She nodded and kept on, her heart thumping absurdly. He had received the +<span class="pagebreak" title="230"> </span><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a> +letter of course; and there would be consequences. She paused at the top +of the water steps.</p> + +<p>“You go on,” she called to the others, “and pick me up on your way back. +Tony wants to see me about something, and I don’t like to keep Mrs. +Eustace and Nannie waiting.”</p> + +<p>Giuseppe pushed off and Constance was left standing alone on the water +steps. She turned as Tony approached; there was a touch of defiance in +her manner.</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>He came to her side and leaned carelessly against the parapet, his eyes +on the <i>Farfalla</i> as she tossed and dipped in the wash of the <i>Regina +Margarita</i> which was just puffing out from the village landing. Constance +watched him, slightly taken aback; she had expected him to be angry, +sulky, reproachful—certainly not nonchalant. When he finally brought his +eyes from the water, his expression was mildly melancholy.</p> + +<p>“Signorina, I have come to say good +<span class="pagebreak" title="231"> </span><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a> + bye. It is very sad, but tomorrow, I +too—” he waved his hand toward the steamer—“shall be a passenger.”</p> + +<p>“You are going away from Valedolmo?”</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>“Unfortunately, yes. I should like to stay, but—” he shrugged—“life +isn’t all play, Miss Wilder. Though one would like to be a donkey-man +forever, one only may be for a summer’s holiday. I am your debtor for a +unique and pleasant experience.”</p> + +<p>She studied his face without speaking. Did it mean that he had got the +letter and was hurt, or did it perhaps mean that he had got the letter +and did not care to appear as Jerry Junior? That he enjoyed the play so +long as he could remain incognito and stop it where he pleased, but that +he had no mind to let it drift into reality? Very possibly it meant—she +flushed at the thought—that he divined Nannie’s plot, and refused also +to consider the fourth candidate.</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="232"> </span><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a> +She laughed and dropped into their usual jargon.</p> + +<p>“And the young American man, Signor Abraham Lincoln, will he come +tomorrow for tea?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, signorina, he is desolated, but it is not possible. He has received +a letter and he must go; he has stopped too long in Valedolmo. Tomorrow +morning early, he and I togever, we sail away to Austria.” His eyes went +back to the trail of smoke left by the little steamer.</p> + +<p>“And Costantina, Tony. You are leaving her behind?” It took some courage +to put this question, but she did not flinch; she put it with a laugh +which contained nothing but raillery.</p> + +<p>Tony sighed—a deep melodramatic sigh—and laid his hand on his heart.</p> + +<p>“Ah, signorina, zat Costantina, she has not any heart. She love one man +one day, anozzer ze next. I go away to forget.”</p> + +<p>His eyes dropped to hers; for an instant the mocking light died out; a +questioning, wounded look took its place.</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="233"> </span><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233"></a> +She felt a quick impulse to hold out her hands, to say, “Jerry, don’t +go!” If she only knew! Was he going because he thought that she wished to +dismiss him, or because he wished to dismiss himself? Was it pique that +bade him carry the play to the end, or was it merely the desire to get +out of an awkward situation gracefully?</p> + +<p>She stood hesitating, scanning the terrace pavement with troubled eyes; +when she raised them to his face the chance was gone. He straightened his +shoulders with an air of finality and picked up his hat from the +balustrade.</p> + +<p>“Some day, signorina, in New York, perhaps I play a little tune underneaf +your window.”</p> + +<p>She nodded and smiled.</p> + +<p>“I will give the monkey a penny when he comes—good-bye.”</p> + +<p>He bowed over her hand and touched it lightly to his lips.</p> + +<p>“Signorina, <i>addio</i>!”</p> + +<p>As he strode away into the dusky lane +<span class="pagebreak" title="234"> </span><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a> + of cypresses, she heard him +whistling softly “Santa Lucia.” It was the last stroke, she reflected, +angrily; he might at least have omitted that! She turned away and dropped +down on the water steps to wait for the <i>Farfalla</i>. The terrace, the +lake, the beautiful Italian night, suddenly seemed deserted and empty. +Before she knew it was coming, she had leaned her head against the +balustrade with a deep sob. She caught herself sharply. She to sit there +crying, while Tony went whistling on his way!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>As the <i>Farfalla</i> drifted idly over the water, Constance sat in the +stern, her chin in her hand, moodily gazing at the shimmering path of +moonlight. But no one appeared to notice her silence, since Nannie was +talking enough for both. And the only thing she talked about was Jerry +Junior, how funny and clever and charming he was, how phenomenally +good—for a man; when she showed signs of stopping, Mr. Wilder by a +question started her +<span class="pagebreak" title="235"> </span><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a> + on. It seemed to Constance an interminable two +hours before they dropped their guests in the garden of the Hotel du Lac, +and headed again for Villa Rosa.</p> + +<p>As they approached their own water steps it became apparent that +someone—a man—was standing at the top in an attitude of expectancy. +Constance’s heart gave a sudden bound and the next instant sank deep. A +babble of frenzied greetings floated out to meet them; there was no +mistaking Gustavo. Moreover, there was no mistaking the fact that he was +excited; his excitement was contagious even before they had learned the +reason. He stuttered in his impatience to share the news.</p> + +<p>“Signore! <i>Dio mio</i>! A calamity has happened. Zat Tony, zat donk’-man! he +has got hisself arrested. Zay say it is a lie, zat he is American +citizen; he is an officer who is dessert from ze Italian army. Zay say he +just pretend he cannot spik Italian—but it is not true. He know +ten—leven words.”</p> + +<p>They came hurrying up the steps and +<span class="pagebreak" title="236"> </span><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a> + surrounded him, Mr. Wilder no less +shocked than Gustavo himself.</p> + +<p>“Arrested—as a deserter? It’s an outrage!” he thundered.</p> + +<p>Constance laid her hand on Gustavo’s sleeve and whirled him about.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean? I don’t understand. Where is Tony?”</p> + +<p>Gustavo groaned.</p> + +<p>“In jail, signorina. Four carabinieri are come to take him away. And he +fight—<i>Dio mio</i>! he fight like ze devil. But zay put—” he indicated +handcuffs—“and he go.”</p> + +<p>Constance dropped down on the upper step and leaning her head against the +balustrade, she laughed until she was weak.</p> + +<p>Her father whirled upon her indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Constance! Haven’t you any sympathy for the man? This isn’t a laughing +matter.”</p> + +<p>“I know, Dad, but it’s so funny—Tony an Italian officer! He can’t +pronounce the ten—leven words he does know right.”</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="237"> </span><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a> +“Of course he can’t; he doesn’t know as much Italian as I do. Can’t +these fools tell an American citizen when they see one? I’ll teach ’em to +go about chucking American citizens in jail. I’ll telegraph the consul in +Milan; I’ll make an international matter of it!”</p> + +<p>He fumed up and down the terrace, while Constance rose to her feet and +followed after with a pretense at pacification.</p> + +<p>“Hush, Dad! Don’t be so excitable. It was a very natural mistake for them +to make. But if Tony is really what he says he is it will be very easily +proved. You must be sure of your ground though, before you act. I don’t +like to say anything against poor Tony now that he is in trouble, but I +have always felt that there was a mystery connected with him. For all we +know he may be a murderer or a brigand or an escaped convict in disguise. +We only have his word you know that he is an American citizen.”</p> + +<p>“His word!” Mr. Wilder fairly exploded. “Are you utterly blind? He’s +<span class="pagebreak" title="238"> </span><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a> +exactly as much an American citizen as I am. He’s—” He stopped and +fanned himself furiously. He had sworn never to betray Tony’s secret, and +yet, the present situation was exceptionable.</p> + +<p>Constance patted him on the arm.</p> + +<p>“There, Dad. I haven’t a doubt his story is true. He was born in +Budapest, and he’s a naturalized American citizen. It’s the duty of the +United States Government to protect him—but it won’t be difficult; I +dare say he’s got his naturalization papers with him. A word in the +morning will set everything straight.”</p> + +<p>“Leave him in jail all night?”</p> + +<p>“But you can’t do anything now; it’s after ten o’clock; the authorities +have gone to bed.”</p> + +<p>She turned to Gustavo; her tone was reassuring.</p> + +<p>“In the morning we’ll get some American war-ships to bombard the jail.”</p> + +<p>“Signorina, you joke!” His tone was reproachful.</p> + +<p>She suddenly looked anxious.</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="239"> </span><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a> +“Gustavo, is the jail strong?”</p> + +<p>“Ver’ strong, signorina.”</p> + +<p>“He can’t escape and get over into Austria? We are very near the +frontier, you know.”</p> + +<p>“No, signorina, it is impossible.” He shook his head hopelessly.</p> + +<p>Constance laughed and slipped her hand through her father’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Come, Dad. The first thing in the morning we’ll go down to the jail and +cheer him up. There’s not the slightest use in worrying any more tonight. +It won’t hurt Tony to be kept in—er—cold storage for a few hours—I +think on the whole it will do him good!”</p> + +<p>She nodded dismissal to Gustavo, and drew her father, still muttering, +toward the house.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2> +<span class="pagebreak" title="240"> </span><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapj"><span class="dropcap">J</span></span>erry Junior’s letter of regret arrived from Riva on the early mail. In +the light of Constance’s effusively cordial invitation, the terse +formality of his reply was little short of rude; but Constance read +between the lines and was appeased. The writer, plainly, was angry, and +anger was a much more becoming emotion than nonchalance. As she set out +with her father toward the village jail, she was again buoyantly in +command of the situation. She carried a bunch of oleanders, and the pink +and white egg basket swung from her arm. Their way led past the gate of +the Hotel du Lac, and Mr. Wilder, being under the impression that he was +enjoying a very good joke all by himself, could not forego the temptation +of stopping to inquire if Mrs. Eustace and +<span class="pagebreak" title="241"> </span><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a> + Nannie had heard any news of +the prodigal. They found the two at breakfast in the courtyard, an open +letter spread before them. Nannie received them with lamentations.</p> + +<p>“We can’t come to the villa! Here’s a letter from Jerry wanting us to +start immediately for the Dolomites—did you ever know anything so +exasperating?”</p> + +<p>She passed the letter to Constance, and then as she remembered the first +sentence, made a hasty attempt to draw it back. It was too late; +Constance’s eyes had already pounced upon it. She read it aloud with +gleeful malice.</p> + +<p>“‘Who in thunder is Constance Wilder?’—If that’s an example of the +famous Jerry Junior’s politeness, I prefer not to meet him, thank +you.—It’s worse than his last insult; I shall <i>never</i> forgive this!” She +glanced down the page and handed it back with a laugh; from her point of +vantage it was naïvely transparent. From Mr. Wilder’s point, however, the +contents were inscrutable; he looked from the letter +<span class="pagebreak" title="242"> </span><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242"></a> + to his daughter’s +serene smile, and relapsed into a puzzled silence.</p> + +<p>“I should say on the contrary, that he <i>doesn’t</i> want you to start +immediately for the Dolomites,” Constance observed.</p> + +<p>“It’s a girl,” Nannie groaned. “I suspected it from the moment we got the +telegram in Lucerne. Oh, why did I ever let that wretched boy get out of +my sight?”</p> + +<p>“I dare say she’s horrid,” Constance put in. “One meets such frightful +Americans traveling.”</p> + +<p>“We will go up to Riva on the afternoon boat and investigate.” It was +Mrs. Eustace who spoke. There was an undertone in her voice which +suggested that she was prepared to do her duty by her brother’s son, +however unpleasant that duty might be.</p> + +<p>“American girls are so grasping,” said Nannie plaintively. “It’s scarcely +safe for an unattached man to go out alone.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder leaned forward and reexamined the letter.</p> + +<p>“By the way, Miss Nannie, how did +<span class="pagebreak" title="243"> </span><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a> + Jerry learn that you were here? His +letter, I see, was mailed in Riva at ten o’clock last night.”</p> + +<p>Nannie examined the post mark.</p> + +<p>“I hadn’t thought of that! How could he have found out—unless that beast +of a head waiter telegraphed? What does it mean?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder spread out his hands and raised his shoulders. “You’ve got +me!” A gleam of illumination suddenly flashed over his face; he turned to +his daughter with what was meant to be a carelessly off-hand manner. +“Er—Constance, while I think of it, you didn’t discharge Tony again +yesterday, did you?”</p> + +<p>Constance opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Discharge Tony? Why should I do that? He isn’t working for me.”</p> + +<p>“You weren’t rude to him?”</p> + +<p>“Father, am I ever rude to anyone?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder looked at the envelope again and shook his head. “There’s +something mighty fishy about this whole business. When you get hold of +that brother of +<span class="pagebreak" title="244"> </span><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a> + yours again, my dear young woman, you make him tell what +he’s been up to this week—and make him tell the truth.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wilder!” Nannie was reproachful. “You don’t know Jerry; he’s +incapable of telling anything but the truth.”</p> + +<p>Constance tittered.</p> + +<p>“What are you laughing at, Constance?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing—only it’s so funny. Why don’t you advertise for him? Lost—a +young man, age twenty-eight, height, five feet eleven, weight one hundred +and seventy pounds, dark hair, gray eyes, slight scar over left eye brow; +dressed when last seen in double breasted blue serge suit and brown +russet shoes. Finder please return to Hotel du Lac and receive liberal +reward.”</p> + +<p>“He isn’t lost,” said Nannie. “We know where he is perfectly; he’s at the +Hotel Sole d’ Oro in Riva, and that’s at the other end of the lake. We’re +going up on the afternoon boat to join him.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Constance, meekly.</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="245"> </span><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a> +“You take my advice,” Mr. Wilder put in. “Go up to Riva if you +must—it’s a pleasant trip—but leave your luggage here. See this young +man in person and bring him back with you; tell him we have just as good +mountains as he’ll find in the Dolomites. If by any chance you shouldn’t +find him—”</p> + +<p>“Of course, we’ll find him!” said Nannie.</p> + +<p>Constance looked troubled.</p> + +<p>“Don’t go, it’s quite a long trip. Write instead and give the letter to +Gustavo; he’ll give it to the boat steward who will deliver it +personally. Then if Jerry shouldn’t be there—”</p> + +<p>Nannie was losing her patience.</p> + +<p>“Shouldn’t be there? But he <i>says</i> he’s there.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! yes, certainly, that ends it. Only, you know, Nannie, <i>I</i> don’t +believe there really is any such person as Jerry Junior! I think he’s a +myth.”</p> + +<p>Gustavo had been hanging about the gate looking anxiously up the road as +if +<span class="pagebreak" title="246"> </span><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a> + he expected something to happen. His brow cleared suddenly as a boy +on a bicycle appeared in the distance. The boy whirled into the court and +dismounted; glancing dubiously from one to the other of the group, he +finally presented his telegram to Gustavo, who passed it on to Nannie. +She ripped it open and ran her eyes over the contents.</p> + +<p>“Can anyone tell me the meaning of this? It’s Italian!” She spread it on +the table while the three bent over it in puzzled wonder.</p> + +<p>“Ceingide mai maind dunat comtu Riva stei in Valedolmo geri.”</p> + +<p>Constance was the first to grasp the meaning; she read it twice and +laughed.</p> + +<p>“That’s not Italian; it’s English, only the operator has spelt it +phonetically—I begin to believe there is a Jerry,” she added, “no one +could cause such a bother who didn’t exist.” She picked up the slip and +translated:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>“‘Changed my mind. Do not come to Riva; stay in Valedolmo. <span class="smcap">Jerry</span>.’”</p> +</div> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="247"> </span><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a> +“I’m a clairvoyant you see. I told you he wouldn’t be there!”</p> + +<p>“But where is he?” Nannie wailed.</p> + +<p>Constance and her father glanced tentatively at each other and were +silent. Gustavo who had been hanging officiously in the rear, approached +and begged their pardon.</p> + +<p>“<i>Scusi</i>, signora, but I sink I can explain. <i>Ecco</i>! Ze telegram is dated +from Limone—zat is a village close by here on ze ozzer side of ze lake. +He is gone on a walking trip, ze yong man, of two—tree days wif an +Englishman who is been in zis hotel. If he expect you so soon he would +not go. But patience, he will come back. Oh, yes, in a little while, +after one—two day he come back.”</p> + +<p>“What is the man talking about?” Mrs. Eustace was both indignant and +bewildered. “Jerry was in Riva yesterday at the Hotel Sole d’ Oro. How +can he be on a walking trip at the other end of the lake today?”</p> + +<p>“You don’t suppose—” Nannie’s voice +<span class="pagebreak" title="248"> </span><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a> + was tragic—“that he has eloped +with that American girl?”</p> + +<p>“Good heavens, my dear!” Mrs. Eustace appealed to Mr. Wilder. “What are +the laws in this dreadful country? Don’t banns or something have to be +published three weeks before the ceremony can take place?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder rose hastily.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, dear lady. It’s impossible; don’t consider any such +catastrophe for a moment. Come, Constance, I really think we ought to be +going.—Er, you see, Mrs. Eustace, you can’t believe—that is, don’t let +anything Gustavo says trouble you. With all respect for his many fine +qualities, he has not Jerry’s regard for truth. And don’t bother any more +about the boy; he will turn up in a day or so. He may have written some +letters of explanation that you haven’t got. These foreign mails—” He +edged toward the gate.</p> + +<p>Constance followed him and then turned back.</p> + +<p>“We’re on our way to the jail,” she +<span class="pagebreak" title="249"> </span><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a> + said, “to visit our donkey-driver +who has managed to get himself arrested. While we’re there we can make +inquiries if you like; it’s barely possible that they might have got hold +of Jerry on some false charge or other. These foreign jails—”</p> + +<p>“Constance!” said Nannie reproachfully.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my dear, I was only joking; of course it’s impossible. Good bye.” +She nodded and laughed and ran after her father.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2> +<span class="pagebreak" title="250"> </span><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + + +<p><span class="dropcapi"><span class="dropcap">I</span></span>f one must go to jail at all one could scarcely choose a more +entertaining jail than that of Valedolmo. It occupies a structure which +was once a palace; and its cells, planned for other purposes, are +spacious. But its most gratifying feature, to one forcibly removed from +social intercourse, is its outlook. The windows command the Piazza +Garibaldi, which is the social center of the town; it contains the +village post, the fountain, the tobacco shop, the washing-trough, and the +two rival cafès, the “Independenza” and the “Libertà.” The piazza is +always dirty and noisy—that goes without saying—but on Wednesday +morning at nine o’clock, it is peculiarly dirty and noisy. Wednesday is +Valedolmo’s market day, and the square is so cluttered with booths and +huxters and +<span class="pagebreak" title="251"> </span><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a> + anxious buyers, that the peaceable pedestrian can scarcely +wedge his way through. The noise moreover is deafening; above the cries +of vendors and buyers, rises a shriller chorus of bleating kids and +squealing pigs and braying donkeys.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder, red in the face and short of temper, pushed through the crowd +with little ceremony, prodding on the right with his umbrella, on the +left with his fan, and using his elbows vigorously. Constance, serenely +cool, followed in his wake, nodding here and there to a chance +acquaintance, smiling on everyone; the spectacle to her held always fresh +interest. An image vendor close at her elbow insisted that she should buy +a Madonna and Bambina for fifty centesimi, or at least a San Giuseppe for +twenty-five. To her father’s disgust she bought them both, and presented +them to two wide-eyed children who in bashful fascination were dogging +their footsteps.</p> + +<p>The appearance of the foreigners in the piazza caused such a ripple of +interest, +<span class="pagebreak" title="252"> </span><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a> + that for a moment the bargaining was suspended. When the two +mounted the steps of the jail and jerked the bell, as many of the +bystanders as the steps would accommodate mounted with them. Nobody +answered the first ring, and Constance pulled again with a force which +sent a jangle of bells echoing through the interior. After a second’s +wait—snortingly impatient on Mr. Wilder’s part; he was being pressed +close by the none too clean citizens of Valedolmo—the door was opened a +very small crack by a frowsy jailoress. Her eye fell first upon the +crowd, and she was disposed to close it again; but in the act she caught +sight of the Signorina Americana dressed in white, smiling above a +bouquet of oleanders. Her eyes widened with astonishment. It was long +since such an apparition had presented itself at that door. She dropped a +courtesy and the crack widened.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 492px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="253"> </span><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a> +<img src="images/illo_253.jpg" width="492" height="700" alt="Italian street scene with American couple in background, at imposing arched door" title="The two mounted the steps of the jail and jerked the bell" /> +<span>“The two mounted the steps of the jail and jerked the +bell”</span> +<span class="illopage" title="254"> </span><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a> +</div> + +<p>“Your commands, signorina?”</p> + +<p>“We wish to come in.”</p> + +<p>“But it is against the orders. Friday is +<span class="pagebreak" title="255"> </span><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a> + visiting-day at thirteen +o’clock. If the signorina had a <i>permesso</i> from the <i>sindaco</i>, why +then—”</p> + +<p>The signorina shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. She had no +<i>permesso</i> and it was too much trouble to get one. Besides, the +<i>sindaco’s</i> office didn’t open till ten o’clock. She glanced down; there +was a shining two-franc piece in her hand. Perhaps the jailoress would +allow them to step inside away from the crowd and she would explain?</p> + +<p>This sounded reasonable; the door opened farther and they squeezed +through. It banged in the faces of the disappointed spectators, who +lingered hopefully a few moments longer, and then returned to their +bargaining. Inside the big damp stone-walled corridor Constance drew a +deep breath and smiled upon the jailoress; the jailoress smiled back. +Then as a preliminary skirmish, Constance presented the two-franc piece; +and the jailoress dropped a courtesy.</p> + +<p>“We have heard that Antonio, our +<span class="pagebreak" title="256"> </span><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a> + donkey-driver, has been arrested for +deserting from the army and we have come to find out about it. My father, +the signore here—” she waved her hand toward Mr. Wilder—“likes Antonio +very much and is quite sure that it is a mistake.”</p> + +<p>The woman’s mouth hardened; she nodded with emphasis.</p> + +<p>“<i>Già</i>. We have him, the man Antonio, if that is his name. He may not be +the deserter they search—I do not know—but if he is not the deserter he +is something else. You should have heard him last night, signorina, when +they brought him in. The things he said! They were in a foreign tongue; I +did not understand, but I <i>felt</i>. Also he kicked my husband—kicked him +quite hard so that he limps today. And the way he orders us about! You +would think he were a prince in his own palace and we were his servants. +Nothing is good enough for him. He objected to the room we gave him first +because it smelt of the cooking. He likes butter with his bread and hot +milk with his coffee. He +<span class="pagebreak" title="257"> </span><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a> + cannot smoke the cigars which my husband bought +for him, and they cost three soldi apiece. And this morning—” her voice +rose shrilly as she approached the climax—“he called for a bath. It is +true, signorina, a <i>bath</i>. <i>Dio mio</i>, he wished me to carry the entire +village fountain to his room!”</p> + +<p>“Not really?” Constance opened her eyes in shocked surprise. “But surely, +signora, you did not do it?”</p> + +<p>The woman blinked.</p> + +<p>“It would be impossible, signorina,” she contented herself with saying.</p> + +<p>Constance, with grave concern, translated the sum of Tony’s enormities to +her father; and turned back to the jailoress apologetically.</p> + +<p>“My father is very much grieved that the man should have caused you so +much trouble. But he says, that if we could see him, we could persuade +him to be more reasonable. We talk his language, and can make him +understand.”</p> + +<p>The woman winked meaningly.</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="258"> </span><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a> +“Eh—he pretends he cannot talk Italian, but he understands enough to +ask for what he wishes. I think—and the Signor-Lieutenant who ordered +his arrest thinks—that he is shamming.”</p> + +<p>“It was a lieutenant who ordered his arrest? Do you remember his +name—was it Carlo di Ferara?”</p> + +<p>“It might have been.” Her face was vague.</p> + +<p>“Of the cavalry?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Si</i>, signorina, of the cavalry—and very handsome.”</p> + +<p>Constance laughed. “Well, the plot thickens! Dad, you must come to Tony’s +hearing this afternoon, and put it tactfully to our friend the lieutenant +that we don’t like to have our donkey-man snatched away without our +permission.” She turned back to the jailoress. “And now, where is the +man? We should like to speak with him.”</p> + +<p>“It is against the orders, but perhaps—I have already permitted the head +waiter from the Hotel du Lac to carry him newspapers and cigarettes. He +says that the +<span class="pagebreak" title="259"> </span><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a> + man Antonio is in reality an American nobleman from New +York who merely plays at being a donkey-driver for diversion, and that +unless he is set at liberty immediately a ship will come with cannon, +but—we all know Gustavo, signorina.”</p> + +<p>Constance nodded and laughed.</p> + +<p>“You have reason! We all know Gustavo—may we go right up?”</p> + +<p>The jailoress called the jailor. They talked aside; the two-franc piece +was produced as evidence. The jailor with a great show of caution got out +a bunch of keys and motioned them to follow. Up two flights and down a +long corridor with peeling frescoes on the walls—nymphs and cupids and +garlands of roses; most incongruous decorations for a jail—at last they +paused before a heavy oak door. Their guide tried two wrong keys, swore +softly as each failed to turn, and finally with an exclamation of triumph +produced the right one. He swung the door wide and stepped back with a +bow.</p> + +<p>A large room was revealed, +<span class="pagebreak" title="260"> </span><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a> + brick-floored and somewhat scanty as to +furniture, but with a view—an admirable view, if one did not mind its +being checked off into iron squares. The most conspicuous object in the +room, however, was its occupant, as he sat, in an essentially American +attitude, with his chair tipped back and his feet on the table. A cloud +of tobacco smoke and a wide spread copy of a New York paper concealed him +from too impertinent gaze. He did not raise his head at the sound of the +opening door but contented himself with growling:</p> + +<p>“Confound your impudence! You might at least knock before you come in.”</p> + +<p>Constance laughed and advanced a hesitating step across the threshold. +Tony dropped his paper and sprang to his feet, his face assuming a shade +of pink only less vivid than the oleanders. She shook her head +sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>“I don’t need to tell you, Tony, how shocked we are to find you in such a +place. Our trust has been rudely shaken; we had +<span class="pagebreak" title="261"> </span><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a> + not supposed we were +harboring a deserter.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder stepped forward and held out his hand; there was a twinkle in +his eye which he struggled manfully to suppress.</p> + +<p>“Nonsense, Tony, we don’t believe a word of it. You a deserter from the +Italian army? It’s preposterous! Where are your naturalization papers?”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Mr. Wilder, but I don’t happen to have my papers with me—I +trust it won’t be necessary to produce them. You see—” his glance rested +entirely on Mr. Wilder; he studiously overlooked Constance’s +presence—“this Angelo Fresi, the fellow they are after, got into a +quarrel over a gambling debt and struck a superior officer. To avoid +being court-martialed he lit out; it happened a month ago in Milan and +they’ve been looking for him ever since. Now last night I had the +misfortune to tip Lieutenant Carlo di Ferara over into a ditch. The +matter was entirely accidental and I +<span class="pagebreak" title="262"> </span><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a> + regretted it very much. I, of +course, apologized. But what did the lieutenant do but take it into his +head that I, being an assaulter of superior officers, was, by <i>a priori</i> +reasoning, this Angelo Fresi in disguise. Accordingly—” he waved his +hand around the room—“you see me here.”</p> + +<p>“It’s an imposition! Depriving an American citizen of his liberty on any +such trumped-up charge as that! I’ll telegraph the consul in Milan. +I’ll—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t trouble. I’ll get off this afternoon; they’ve sent for someone +to identify me, and if he doesn’t succeed, I don’t see how they can hold +me. In the meantime, I’m comfortable enough.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder’s eye wandered about the room. “H’m, it isn’t bad for a jail! +Got everything you need—tobacco, papers? What’s this, New York <i>Sun</i> +only ten days old?” He picked it up and plunged into the headlines.</p> + +<p>Constance turned from the window and glanced casually at Tony.</p> + +<p>“You didn’t go to Austria after all?”</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="263"> </span><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a> +“I was detained; I hope to get off tomorrow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, before I forget it.” She removed the basket from her arm and set it +on the table. “Here is some lemon jelly, Tony. I couldn’t remember +whether one takes lemon jelly to prisoners or invalids—I’ve never known +any prisoners before, you see. But anyway, I hope you’ll like it; +Elizabetta made it.”</p> + +<p>He bowed stiffly. “I beg of you to convey my thanks to Elizabetta.”</p> + +<p>“Tony!” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and glanced +apprehensively over her shoulder to see if the jailor were listening. “If +by any chance they <i>should</i> identify you as that deserter, just get word +to me and I will have Elizabetta bake you a veal pasty with a rope ladder +and a file inside. I would have had her bake it this morning, only +Wednesday is ironing-day at the villa, and she was so awfully busy—”</p> + +<p>“This is your innings,” Tony rejoined somewhat sulkily. “I hope you’ll +get all +<span class="pagebreak" title="264"> </span><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a> + the entertainment you can out of the situation.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Tony, that’s kind. Of course,” she added with a plaintive +note in her voice, “this must be tiresome for you; but it is a pleasant +surprise for me. I was feeling very sad last night, Tony, at the thought +that you were going to Austria and that I should never, never see you any +more.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I knew whether there’s any truth in that statement or not!”</p> + +<p>“Any truth! I realize well, that I might search the whole world over and +never find another donkey-man who sings such beautiful tenor, who wears +such lovely sashes and such becoming earrings. Why, Tony—” she took a +step nearer and her face assumed a look of consternation. “You’ve lost +your earrings!”</p> + +<p>He turned his back and walked to the window where he stood moodily +staring at the market. Constance watched his squared shoulders dubiously +out of the corner of her eye; then she glanced +<span class="pagebreak" title="265"> </span><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a> + momentarily into the hall +where the jailor was visible, his face flattened against the bars of an +open window; and from him to her father, still deep in the columns of his +paper, oblivious to both time and place. She crossed to Tony and stood at +his side peering down at the scene below.</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose it will interest you,” she said in an off-hand tone, her +eyes still intent on the crowd, “but I got a letter this morning from a +young man who is stopping at the Sole d’ Oro in Riva—a very rude letter +I thought.”</p> + +<p>He whirled about.</p> + +<p>“You know!”</p> + +<p>“It struck me that the person who wrote it was in a temper and might +afterwards be sorry for having hurt my feelings, and so”—she raised her +eyes momentarily to his—“the invitation is still open.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” there was both entreaty and command in his tone, “did you know +the truth before you wrote that letter?”</p> + +<p>“You mean, did I know whom I was inviting? Assuredly! Do you think it +<span class="pagebreak" title="266"> </span><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266"></a> +would have been dignified to write such an informal invitation to a +person I did not know?”</p> + +<p>She turned away quickly and laid her hand on her father’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Come, Dad, don’t you think we ought to be going? Poor Tony wants to read +the paper himself.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder came back to the jail and his companions with a start.</p> + +<p>“Oh, eh, yes, I think perhaps we ought. If they don’t let you out this +afternoon, Tony, I’ll make matters lively for ’em, and if there’s +anything you need send word by Gustavo—I’ll be back later.” He fished in +his pockets and brought up a handful of cigars. “Here’s something better +than lemon jelly, and they’re not from the tobacco shop in Valedolmo +either.”</p> + +<p>He dropped them on the table and turned toward the door; Constance +followed with a backward glance.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye, Tony; don’t despair. Remember that it’s always darkest before +<span class="pagebreak" title="267"> </span><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a> +the dawn, and that whatever others think, Costantina and I believe in +you. <i>We</i> know that you are incapable of telling anything but the truth!” +She had almost reached the door when she became aware of the flowers in +her hand; she hurried back. “Oh, I forgot! Costantina sent these with +her—with—” She faltered; her audacity did not go quite that far.</p> + +<p>Tony reached for them. “With what?” he insisted.</p> + +<p>She laughed; and a second later the door closed behind her. He stood +staring at the door till he heard the key turn in the lock, then he +looked down at the flowers in his hand. A note was tied to the stems; his +fingers trembled as he worked with the knot.</p> + +<p>“<i>Caro Antonio mio</i>,” it commenced; he could read that. “<i>La sua +Costantina</i>,” it ended; he could read that. But between the two was an +elusive, tantalizing hiatus. He studied it and put it in his pocket and +took it out and studied it again. He was still puzzling over it half an +hour later +<span class="pagebreak" title="268"> </span><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a> + when Gustavo came to inquire if the signore had need of +anything.</p> + +<p>Had he need of anything! He sent Gustavo flying to the stationer’s in +search of an Italian-English dictionary.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It was four o’clock in the afternoon and all the world—except +Constance—was taking a siesta. The <i>Farfalla</i>, anchored at the foot of +the water steps in a blaze of sunshine, was dipping up and down in drowsy +harmony with the lapping waves; she was for the moment abandoned, +Giuseppe being engaged with a nap in the shade of the cypress trees at +the end of the drive. He was so very engaged that he did not hear the +sound of an approaching carriage, until the horse was pulled to a sudden +halt to avoid stepping on him. Giuseppe staggered sleepily to his feet +and rubbed his eyes. He saw a gentleman descend, a gentleman clothed as +for a wedding, in a frock coat and a white waistcoat, in shining hat and +pearl gray gloves and a boutonnière of oleander. +<span class="pagebreak" title="269"> </span><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></a> + Having paid the driver +and dismissed the carriage, the gentleman fumbled in his pocket for his +card-case. Giuseppe hurrying forward with a polite bow, stopped suddenly +and blinked. He fancied that he must still be dreaming; he rubbed his +eyes and stared again, but he found the second inspection more +confounding than the first. The gentleman looked back imperturbably, no +slightest shade of recognition in his glance, unless a gleam of amusement +far, far down in the depths of his eye might be termed recognition. He +extracted a card with grave deliberation and handed it to his companion.</p> + +<p>“<i>Voglio vedere la Signorina Costantina</i>,” he remarked.</p> + +<p>The tone, the foreign accent, were both reminiscent of many a friendly +though halting conversation. Giuseppe stared again, appealingly, but the +gentleman did not help him out; on the contrary he repeated his request +in a slightly sharpened tone.</p> + +<p>“<i>Si, signore</i>,” Giuseppe stammered. +<span class="pagebreak" title="270"> </span><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a> + “<i>Prego di verire. La signorina è +nel giardino.</i>”</p> + +<p>He started ahead toward the garden, looking behind at every third step to +make sure that the gentleman was still following, that he was not merely +a figment of his own sleepy senses. Their direction was straight toward +the parapet where, on a historic wash-day, the signorina had sat beside a +row of dangling stockings. She was sitting there now, dressed in white, +the oleander tree above her head enveloping her in a glowing and fragrant +shade. So occupied was she with a dreamy contemplation of the mountains +across the lake that she did not hear footsteps until Giuseppe paused +before her and presented the card. She glanced from this to the visitor +and extended a friendly hand.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Hilliard! Good afternoon.”</p> + +<p>There was nothing of surprise in her greeting; evidently she did not find +the visit extraordinary. Giuseppe stared, his mouth and eyes at their +widest, until the +<span class="pagebreak" title="271"> </span><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a> + signorina dismissed him; then he turned and walked +back—staggered back almost—never before, not even late at night on +Corpus Domini day, had he had such overwhelming reason to doubt his +senses.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px;"> +<span class="illopage" title="273"> </span><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a> +<img src="images/illo_273.jpg" width="650" height="398" alt="Man and woman greet each other, with man in peasant dress watching from behind big stone urn" title="Never before had he had such overwhelming reason to doubt his senses" /> +<span>“Never before had he had such overwhelming reason to doubt +his senses”</span> +<span class="illopage" title="274"> </span><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a> +</div> + +<p>Constance turned to the visitor and swept him with an appreciative +glance, her eye lingering a second on the oleander in his buttonhole.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you can tell me, is Tony out of jail? I am so anxious to know.”</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Found guilty and sentenced for life; you’ll never see him again.”</p> + +<p>“Ah; poor Tony! I shall miss him.”</p> + +<p>“I shall miss him too; we’ve had very good times together.”</p> + +<p>Constance suddenly became aware that her guest was still standing; she +moved along and made place on the wall. “Won’t you sit down? Oh, excuse +me,” she added with an anxious glance at his clothes, “I’m afraid you’ll +get dusty; it would be better to bring a chair.” She nodded toward the +terrace.</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="272"> </span><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></a> +He sat down beside her.</p> + +<p>“I am only too honored; the last time I came you did not invite me to sit +on the wall.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry if I appeared inhospitable, but you came so unexpectedly, Mr. +Hilliard.”</p> + +<p>“Why ‘Mr. Hilliard’? When you wrote you called me ‘dear Jerry’.”</p> + +<p>“That was a slip of the pen; I hope you will excuse it.”</p> + +<p>“When I wrote I called you ‘Miss Wilder’; that was a slip of the pen too. +What I meant to say was ‘dear Constance’.”</p> + +<p>She let this pass without comment.</p> + +<p>“I have an apology to make.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p>“Once, a long time ago, I insulted you; I called you a kid. I take it +back; I swallow the word. You were never a kid.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” she dimpled, and then, “I don’t believe you remember a thing about +it!”</p> + +<p>“Connie Wilder, a little girl in a blue sailor suit, and two nice fat +braids of yellow hair dangling down her back with +<span class="pagebreak" title="275"> </span><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a> + red bows on the +ends—very convenient for pulling.”</p> + +<p>“You are making that up. You don’t remember.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, but I do! And as for the racket you were making that afternoon, it +was, if you will permit the expression, <i>infernal</i>. I remember it +distinctly; I was trying to cram for a math. exam.”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t I. It was your bad little sisters and brothers and cousins.”</p> + +<p>“It was you, dear Constance. I saw you with my own eyes; I heard you with +my own ears.”</p> + +<p>“Bobbie Hilliard was pulling my hair.”</p> + +<p>“I apologize on his behalf, and with that we will close the incident. +There is something much more important which I wish to talk about.”</p> + +<p>“Have you seen Nannie?” She offered this hastily not to allow a pause.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear Constance, I have seen Nannie.”</p> + +<p>“Call me ‘Miss Wilder’ please.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be hanged if I will! You’ve been +<span class="pagebreak" title="276"> </span><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a> + calling me Tony and Jerry and +anything else you chose ever since you knew me—and long before for the +matter of that.”</p> + +<p>Constance waived the point.</p> + +<p>“Was she glad to see you?”</p> + +<p>“She’s always glad to see me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t be so provoking! Give me the particulars. Was she surprised? +How did you explain the telegrams and letters and Gustavo’s stories? I +should think the Hotel Sole d’Oro at Riva and the walking trip with the +Englishman must have been difficult.”</p> + +<p>“Not in the least; I told the truth.”</p> + +<p>“The truth! Not all of it?”</p> + +<p>“Every word.”</p> + +<p>“How could you?” There was reproach in her accent.</p> + +<p>“It did come hard; I’m a little out of practice.”</p> + +<p>“Did you tell her about—about me?”</p> + +<p>“I had to, Constance. When it came to the necessity of squaring all of +Gustavo’s yarns, my imagination gave out. +<span class="pagebreak" title="277"> </span><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></a> + Anyway, I had to tell her out +of self-defence; she was so superior. She said it was just like a man to +muddle everything up. Here I’d been ten days in the same town with the +most charming girl in the world, and hadn’t so much as discovered her +name; whereas if <i>she</i> had been managing it—You see how it was; I had to +let her know that I was quite capable of taking care of myself without +any interference from her. I even—anticipated a trifle.”</p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p>“She said she was engaged. I told her I was too.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” Constance’s tone was remote. “To whom?”</p> + +<p>“The most charming girl in the world.”</p> + +<p>“May I ask her name?”</p> + +<p>He laid his hand on his heart in a gesture reminiscent of Tony. +“Costantina.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! I congratulate you.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you—I hoped you would.”</p> + +<p>She looked away, gravely, toward the Maggiore rising from the midst of +its clouds. His gaze followed hers, and for +<span class="pagebreak" title="278"> </span><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></a> + three minutes there was +silence. Then he leaned toward her.</p> + +<p>“Constance, will you marry me?”</p> + +<p>“No!”</p> + +<p>A pause of four minutes during which Constance stared steadily at the +mountain. At the end of that time her curiosity overcame her dignity; she +glanced at him sidewise. He was watching her with a smile, partly of +amusement, partly of something else.</p> + +<p>“Dear Constance, haven’t you had enough of play, are you never going to +grow up? You are such a kid!”</p> + +<p>She turned back to the mountain.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t known you long enough,” she threw over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Six years!”</p> + +<p>“One week and two days.”</p> + +<p>“Through three incarnations.”</p> + +<p>She laughed a delicious rippling laugh of surrender, and slipped her hand +into his.</p> + +<p>“You don’t deserve it, Jerry, after the fib you told your sister, but I +think—on the whole—I will.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagebreak" title="279"> </span><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a> +Neither noticed that Mr. Wilder had stepped out from the house and was +strolling down the cypress alley in their direction. He rounded the +corner in front of the parapet, and as his eye fell upon them, came to a +startled halt. The young man failed to let go of her hand, and Constance +glanced at her father with an apprehensive blush.</p> + +<p>“Here’s—Tony, Dad. He’s out of jail.”</p> + +<p>“I see he is.”</p> + +<p>She slipped down from the wall and brought Jerry with her.</p> + +<p>“We’d like your parental blessing, please. I’m going to marry him, but +don’t look so worried. He isn’t really a donkey-man nor a Magyar nor an +orphan nor an organ-grinder nor—any of the things he has said he was. He +is just a plain American man and an <i>awful liar</i>!”</p> + +<p>The young man held out his hand and Mr. Wilder shook it.</p> + +<p>“Jerry,” he said, “I don’t need to tell you how pleased—”</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagebreak" title="280"> </span><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a> +“‘Jerry!’” echoed Constance. “Father, you knew?”</p> + +<p>“Long before you did, my dear.” There was a suggestion of triumph in Mr. +Wilder’s tone.</p> + +<p>“Jerry, you told.” There was reproach, scorn, indignation in hers.</p> + +<p>Jerry spread out his hands in a gesture of repudiation.</p> + +<p>“What could I do? He asked my name the day we climbed Monte Maggiore; +naturally, I couldn’t tell him a lie.”</p> + +<p>“Then we haven’t fooled anybody. How unromantic!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” said Jerry, “we’ve fooled lots of people. Gustavo doesn’t +understand, and Giuseppe, you noticed, looked rather dazed. Then there’s +Lieutenant Carlo di Ferara—”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Constance, her face suddenly blank.</p> + +<p>“You can explain to him now,” said her father, peering through the trees.</p> + +<p>A commotion had suddenly arisen on the terrace—the rumble of wheels, the +<span class="pagebreak" title="281"> </span><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a> +confused mingling of voices. Constance and Jerry looked too. They found +the yellow omnibus of the Hotel du Lac, its roof laden with luggage, +drawn up at the end of the driveway, and Mrs. Eustace and Nannie on the +point of descending. The center of the terrace was already occupied by +Lieutenant di Ferara, who, with heels clicked together and white gloved +hands at salute, was in the act of achieving a military bow. Miss Hazel +fluttering from the door, in one breath welcomed the guests, presented +the lieutenant, and ordered Giuseppe to convey the luggage upstairs. Then +she glanced questioningly about the terrace.</p> + +<p>“I thought Constance and her father were here—Giuseppe!”</p> + +<p>Giuseppe dropped his end of a trunk and approached. Miss Hazel handed him +the lieutenant’s card. “The signorina and the signore—in the garden, I +think.”</p> + +<p>Giuseppe advanced upon the garden. Jerry’s face, at the sight, became as +blank as Constance’s. The two cast upon each +<span class="pagebreak" title="282"> </span><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></a> + other a glance of guilty +terror, and from this looked wildly behind for a means of escape. Their +eyes simultaneously lighted on the break in the garden wall. Jerry sprang +up and pulled Constance after him. On the top, she gathered her skirts +together preparatory to jumping, then turned back for a moment toward her +father.</p> + +<p>“Dad,” she called in a stage whisper, “you go and meet him like a +gentleman. Tell him you are very sorry, but your daughter is not at home +today.”</p> + +<p>The two conspirators scrambled down on the other side; and Mr. Wilder +with a sigh, dutifully stepped forward to greet the guests.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jerry Junior, by Jean Webster + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JERRY JUNIOR *** + +***** This file should be named 20358-h.htm or 20358-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/3/5/20358/ + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Louise Pryor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Project Gutenberg EBook of Jerry Junior, by Jean Webster + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Jerry Junior + +Author: Jean Webster + +Illustrator: Orson Lowell + +Release Date: January 14, 2007 [EBook #20358] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JERRY JUNIOR *** + + + + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Louise Pryor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + + Jerry Junior + + + + + [Illustration: "Constance studied the mountains a moment"] + + + + + Jerry Junior + + By + Jean Webster + Author of "When Patty Went to College," etc. + + With Illustrations + by Orson Lowell + + New York + The Century Co. + 1907 + + + + + Copyright, 1907, by + THE CENTURY CO. + + * * * * * + + Copyright, 1906, 1907, by + THE CROWELL PUBLISHING COMPANY + + * * * * * + + _Published April_, 1907 + + + THE DE VINNE PRESS + + + + +List of Illustrations + + FACING PAGE + + "Constance studied the mountains a moment" _Frontispiece_ + + "'Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?'" 5 + + "The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown hair, was + sitting at ease on the balustrade" 23 + + "Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation" 29 + + "He had also shifted his position so that he might command the + profile of the girl" 45 + + Beppo and the donkeys 67 + + "Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of admiration" 71 + + "Constance ahead on Fidilini, an officer marching at each side + of her saddle" 85 + + "She seated herself in the deep embrasure of a window close + beside Tony's parapet" 95 + + "The man bowed with a gesture which made her free of the book" 119 + + "She turned the pages and paused at the week's entries" 133 + + "Constance ripped the letter open and read it aloud" 149 + + "Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and came running + forward to meet them" 199 + + "The two mounted the steps of the jail and jerked the bell" 253 + + "Never before had he had such overwhelming reason to doubt his + senses" 273 + + + + +Jerry Junior + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The courtyard of the Hotel du Lac, furnished with half a dozen tables and +chairs, a red and green parrot chained to a perch, and a shady little +arbor covered with vines, is a pleasant enough place for morning coffee, +but decidedly too sunny for afternoon tea. It was close upon four of a +July day, when Gustavo, his inseparable napkin floating from his arm, +emerged from the cool dark doorway of the house and scanned the burning +vista of tables and chairs. He would never, under ordinary circumstances, +have interrupted his siesta for the mere delivery of a letter; but this +particular letter was addressed to the young American man, and young +American men, as every head waiter knows, are an unreasonably impatient +lot. The court-yard was empty, as he might have foreseen, and he was +turning with a patient sigh towards the long arbor that led to the lake, +when the sound of a rustling paper in the summer house deflected his +course. He approached the doorway and looked inside. + +The young American man, in white flannels with a red guide-book +protruding from his pocket, was comfortably stretched in a lounging chair +engaged with a cigarette and a copy of the Paris _Herald_. He glanced up +with a yawn--excusable under the circumstances--but as his eye fell upon +the letter he sprang to his feet. + +"Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?" + +[Illustration: "'Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?'"] + +Gustavo bowed. + +"_Ecco_! She is at last arrive, ze lettair for which you haf so moch +weesh." He bowed a second time and presented it. "Meestair Jayreen +Ailyar!" + +The young man laughed. + +"I don't wish to hurt your feelings, Gustavo, but I'm not sure I +should answer if my eyes were shut." + +He picked up the letter, glanced at the address to make sure--the name +was Jerymn Hilliard Jr.--and ripped it open with an exaggerated sigh of +relief. Then he glanced up and caught Gustavo's expression. Gustavo came +of a romantic race; there was a gleam of sympathetic interest in his eye. + +"Oh, you needn't look so knowing! I suppose you think this is a love +letter? Well it's not. It is, since you appear to be interested, a letter +from my sister informing me that they will arrive tonight, and that we +will pull out for Riva by the first boat tomorrow morning. Not that I +want to leave you, Gustavo, but--Oh, thunder!" + +He finished the reading in a frowning silence while the waiter stood at +polite attention, a shade of anxiety in his eye--there was usually +anxiety in his eye when it rested on Jerymn Hilliard Jr. One could never +foresee what the young man would call for next. Yesterday he had rung +the bell and demanded a partner to play lawn tennis, as if the hotel kept +partners laid away in drawers like so many sheets. + +He crumpled up the letter and stuffed it in his pocket. + +"I say, Gustavo, what do you think of this? They're going to stay in +Lucerne till the tenth--that's next week--and they hope I don't mind +waiting; it will be nice for me to have a rest. A _rest_, man, and I've +already spent three days in Valedolmo!" + +"_Si_, signore, you will desire ze same room?" was as much as Gustavo +thought. + +"Ze same room? Oh, I suppose so." + +He sank back into his chair and plunged his hands into his pockets with +an air of sombre resignation. The waiter hovered over him, divided +between a desire to return to his siesta, and a sympathetic interest in +the young man's troubles. Never before in the history of his connection +with the Hotel du Lac had Gustavo experienced such a munificent, +companionable, expansive, entertaining, thoroughly unique and +inexplicable guest. Even the fact that he was American scarcely accounted +for everything. + +The young man raised his head and eyed his companion gloomily. + +"Gustavo, have you a sister?" + +"A sister?" Gustavo's manner was uncomprehending but patient. "_Si_, +signore, I have eight sister." + +"Eight! Merciful saints. How do you manage to be so cheerful?" + +"Tree is married, signore, one uvver is betrofed, one is in a convent, +one is dead and two is babies." + +"I see--they're pretty well disposed of; but the babies will grow up, +Gustavo, and as for that betrothed one, I should still be a little +nervous if I were you; you can never be sure they are going to stay +betrothed. I hope she doesn't spend her time chasing over the map of +Europe making appointments with you to meet her in unheard of little +mountain villages where the only approach to Christian reading matter is +a Paris _Herald_ four days old, and then doesn't turn up to keep her +appointments?" + +Gustavo blinked. His supple back achieved another bow. + +"Sank you," he murmured. + +"And you don't happen to have an aunt?" + +"An aunt, signore?" There was vagueness in his tone. + +"Yes, Gustavo, an aunt. A female relative who reads you like an open +book, who sees your faults and skips your virtues, who remembers how dear +and good and obliging your father was at your age, who hoped great things +of you when you were a baby, who had intended to make you her heir but +has about decided to endow an orphan asylum--have you, Gustavo, by chance +an aunt?" + +"_Si_, signore." + +"I do not think you grasp my question. An _aunt_--the sister of your +father, or perhaps your mother." + +A gleam of illumination swept over Gustavo's troubled features. + +"_Ecco_! You would know if I haf a _zia_--a aunt--yes, zat is it. A aunt. +_Sicuramente_, signore, I haf ten--leven aunt." + +"Eleven aunts! Before such a tragedy I am speechless; you need say no +more, Gustavo, from this moment we are friends." + +He held out his hand. Gustavo regarded it dazedly; then, since it seemed +to be expected, he gingerly presented his own. The result was a shining +newly-minted two-lire piece. He pocketed it with a fresh succession of +bows. + +"_Grazie tanto_! Has ze signore need of anysing?" + +"Have I need of anysing?" There was reproach, indignation, disgust in the +young man's tone. "How can you ask such a question, Gustavo? Here am I, +three days in Valedolmo, with seven more stretching before me. I have +plenty of towels and soap and soft-boiled eggs, if that is what you mean; +but a man's spirit cannot be nourished on soap and soft-boiled eggs. +What I need is food for the mind--diversion, distraction, amusement--no, +Gustavo, you needn't offer me the Paris _Herald_ again. I already know by +heart the list of guests in every hotel in Switzerland." + +"Ah, it is diversion zat you wish? Have you seen zat ver' beautiful Luini +in ze chapel of San Bartolomeo? It is four hundred years old." + +"Yes, Gustavo, I have seen the Luini in the chapel of San Bartolomeo. I +derived all the pleasure to be got out of it the first afternoon I came." + +"Ze garden of Prince Sartonio-Crevelli? Has ze signore seen ze cedar of +Lebanon in ze garden of ze prince?" + +"Yes, Gustavo, the signore has seen the cedar of Lebanon in the garden of +the prince, also the ilex tree two hundred years old and the india-rubber +plant from South America. They are extremely beautiful but they don't +last a week." + +"Have you swimmed in ze lake?" + +"It is lukewarm, Gustavo." + +The waiter's eyes roved anxiously. They lighted on the lunette of +shimmering water and purple mountains visible at the farther end of the +arbor. + +"Zere is ze view," he suggested humbly. "Ze view from ze water front is +consider ver' beautiful, ver' nice. Many foreigners come entirely for +him. You can see Lago di Garda, Monte Brione, Monte Baldo wif ze ruin +castle of ze Scaliger, Monte Maggiore, ze Altissimo di Nago, ze snow +cover peak of Monte--" + +Mr. Jerymn Hilliard Jr. stopped him with a gesture. + +"That will do; I read Baedeker myself, and I saw them all the first night +I came. You must know at your age, Gustavo, that a man can't enjoy a view +by himself; it takes two for that sort of thing--Yes, the truth is that I +am lonely. You can see yourself to what straits I am pushed for +conversation. If I had your command of language, now, I would talk to the +German Alpine climbers." + +An idea flashed over Gustavo's features. + +"Ah, zat is it! Why does not ze signore climb mountains? Ver' helful; +ver' diverting. I find guide." + +"You needn't bother. Your guide would be Italian, and it's too much of a +strain to talk to a man all day in dumb show." He folded his arms with a +weary sigh. "A week of Valedolmo! An eternity!" + +Gustavo echoed the sigh. Though he did not entirely comprehend the +trouble, still he was of a generously sympathetic nature. + +"It is a pity," he observed casually, "zat you are not acquaint wif ze +Signor Americano who lives in Villa Rosa. He also finds Valedolmo +undiverting. He comes--but often--to talk wif me. He has fear of +forgetting how to spik Angleesh, he says." + +The young man opened his eyes. + +"What are you talking about--a Signor Americano here in Valedolmo?" + +"_Sicuramente_, in zat rose-color villa wif ze cypress trees and ze +_terrazzo_ on ze lake. His daughter, la Signorina Costantina, she live +wif him--ver' yong, ver' beautiful--" Gustavo rolled his eyes and clasped +his hands--"beautiful like ze angels in Paradise--and she spik Italia +like I spik Angleesh." + +Jerymn Hilliard Jr. unfolded his arms and sat up alertly. + +"You mean to tell me that you had an American family up your sleeve all +this time and never said a word about it?" His tone was stern. + +"_Scusi_, signore, I have not known zat you have ze plaisir of zer +acquaintance." + +"The pleasure of their acquaintance! Good heavens, Gustavo, when one +ship-wrecked man meets another ship-wrecked man on a desert island must +they be introduced before they can speak?" + +"_Si_, signore." + +"And why, may I ask, should an intelligent American family be living in +Valedolmo?" + +"I do not know, signore. I have heard ze Signor Papa's healf was no good, +and ze doctors in Americk' zay say to heem, 'you need change, to breave +ze beautiful climate of Italia.' And he say, 'all right, I go to +Valedolmo.' It is small, signore, but ver' _famosa_. Oh, yes, _molto +famosa_. In ze autumn and ze spring foreigners come from all ze +world--Angleesh, French, German--_tutti_! Ze Hotel du Lac is full. Every +day we turn peoples away." + +"So! I seem to have struck the wrong season.--But about this American +family, what's their name?" + +"La familia Veeldair from Nuovo York." + +"Veeldair." He shook his head. "That's not American, Gustavo, at least +when you say it. But never mind, if they come from New York it's all +right. How many are there--just two?" + +"But no! Ze papa and ze signorina and ze--ze--" he rolled his eyes in +search of the word--"ze aunt!" + +"Another aunt! The sky appears to be raining aunts today. What does she +do for amusement--the signorina who is beautiful as the angels?" + +Gustavo spread out his hands. + +"Valedolmo, signore, is on ze frontier. It is--what you say--garrison +_citta_. Many soldiers, many officers--captains, lieutenants, wif +uniforms and swords. Zay take tea on ze _terrazzo_ wif ze Signor Papa and +ze Signora Aunt, and most _specialmente_ wif ze Signorina Costantina. Ze +Signor Papa say he come for his healf, but if you ask me, I sink maybe he +come to marry his daughter." + +"I see! And yet, Gustavo, American papas are generally not so keen as you +might suppose about marrying their daughters to foreign captains and +lieutenants even if they have got uniforms and swords. I shouldn't be +surprised if the Signor Papa were just a little nervous over the +situation. It seems to me there might be an opening for a likely young +fellow speaking the English language, even if he hasn't a uniform and +sword. How does he strike you?" + +"_Si_, signore." + +"I'm glad you agree with me. It is now five minutes past four; do you +think the American family would be taking a siesta?" + +"I do not know, signore." Gustavo's tone was still patient. + +"And whereabouts is the rose-colored villa with the terrace on the lake?" + +"It is a quarter of a hour beyond ze Porta Sant' Antonio. If ze gate is +shut you ring at ze bell and Giuseppe will open. But ze road is ver' hot +and ver' dusty. It is more cooler to take ze paf by ze lake. Straight to +ze left for ten minutes and step over ze wall; it is broken in zat place +and quite easy." + +"Thank you, that is a wise suggestion; I shall step over the wall by all +means." He jumped to his feet and looked about for his hat. "You turn to +the left and straight ahead for ten minutes? Good-bye then till dinner. I +go in search of the Signorina Costantina who is beautiful as the angels +in Paradise, and who lives in a rose-colored villa set in a cypress grove +on the shores of Lake Garda--not a bad setting for romance, is it, +Gustavo?--Dinner, I believe, is at seven o'clock?" + +"_Si_, signore, at seven; and would you like veal cooked Milanese +fashion?" + +"Nothing would please me more. We have only had veal Milanese fashion +five times since I came." + +He waved his hand jauntily and strolled whistling down the arbor that led +to the lake. Gustavo looked after him and shook his head. Then he took +out the two-lire piece and rang it on the table. The metal rang true. He +shrugged his shoulders and turned back indoors to order the veal. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The terrace of Villa Rosa juts out into the lake, bordered on three sides +by a stone parapet, and shaded above by a yellow-ochre awning. Masses of +oleanders hang over the wall and drop pink petals into the blue waters +below. As a study in color the terrace is perfect, but, like the +court-yard of the Hotel du Lac, decidedly too hot for mid-afternoon. To +the right of the terrace, however, is a shady garden set in alleys of +cypress trees, and separated from the lake by a strip of beach and a low +balustrade. There could be no better resting place for a warm afternoon. + +It was close upon four--five minutes past to be accurate--and the usual +afternoon quiet that enveloped the garden had fled before the garrulous +advent of four girls. Three of them, with black eyes and blacker hair, +were kneeling on the beach thumping and scrubbing a pile of linen. In +spite of their chatter they were working busily, and the grass beyond the +water-wall was already white with bleaching sheets, while a lace trimmed +petticoat fluttered from a near-by oleander, and a row of silk stockings +stretched the length of the parapet. The most undeductive observer would +have guessed by this time that the pink villa, visible through the trees, +contained no such modern conveniences as stationary tubs. + +The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown hair, was sitting at +ease on the balustrade, fanning herself with a wide brimmed hat and +dangling her feet, clad in white tennis shoes, over the edge. She wore a +suit of white linen cut sailor fashion, low at the throat and with +sleeves rolled to the elbows. She looked very cool and comfortable and +free as she talked, with the utmost friendliness, to the three girls +below. Her Italian, to an unaccustomed ear, was exactly as glib as +theirs. + +The washer-girls were dressed in the gayest of peasant clothes--green and +scarlet petticoats, flowered kerchiefs, coral beads and flashing +earrings; you would have to go far into the hills in these degenerate +days before meeting their match on an Italian highway. But the girl on +the wall, who was actual if not titular ruler of the domain of Villa +Rosa, possessed a keen eye for effect; and--she plausibly argued--since +one must have washer-women about, why not, in the name of all that is +beautiful, have them in harmony with tradition and the landscape? +Accordingly, she designed and purchased their costumes herself. + +There drifted presently into sight from around the little promontory that +hid the village, a blue and white boat with yellow lateen sails. She was +propelled gondolier fashion, for the wind was a mere breath, by a +picturesque youth in a suit of dark blue with white sash and flaring +collar--the hand of the girl on the wall was here visible also. + +[Illustration: "The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown hair, +was sitting at ease on the balustrade"] + +The boat fluttering in toward shore, looked like a giant butterfly; and +her name, emblazoned in gold on her prow, was, appropriately, the +_Farfalla_. Earlier in the season, with a green hull and a dingy brown +sail, she had been prosaically enough, the _Maria_. But since the advent +of the girl all this had been changed. The _Farfalla_ dropped her yellow +wings with the air of a salute, and lighted at the foot of the +water-steps under the terrace. The girl on the parapet leaned forward +eagerly. + +"Did you get any mail, Giuseppe?" she called. + +"_Si_, signorina." He scrambled up the steps and presented a copy of the +London _Times_. + +She received it with a shrug. Clearly, she felt little interest in the +London _Times_. Giuseppe took himself back to his boat and commenced +fussing about its fittings, dusting the seats, plumping up the cushions, +with an air of absorption which deceived nobody. The signorina watched +him a moment with amused comprehension, then she called peremptorily: + +"Giuseppe, you know you must spade the garden border." + +Poor Giuseppe, in spite of his nautical costume, was man of all work. He +glanced dismally toward the garden border which lay basking in the +sunshine under the wall that divided Villa Rosa from the rest of the +world. It contained every known flower which blossoms in July in the +kingdom of Italy from camellias and hydrangeas to heliotrope and wall +flowers. Its spading was a complicated business and it lay too far off to +permit of conversation. Giuseppe was not only a lazy, but also a social +soul. + +"Signorina," he suggested, "would you not like a sail?" + +She shook her head. "There is not wind enough and it is too hot and too +sunny." + +"But yes, there's a wind, and cool--when you get out on the lake. I will +put up the awning, signorina, the sun shall not touch you." + +She continued to shake her head and her eyes wandered suggestively to the +hydrangeas, but Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation. Not being a +cruel mistress, she dropped the subject, and turned back to her +conversation with the washer-girls. They were discussing--a pleasant +topic for a sultry summer afternoon--the probable content of Paradise. +The three girls were of the opinion that it was made up of warm sunshine +and cool shade, of flowers and singing birds and sparkling waters, of +blue skies and cloud-capped mountains--not unlike, it will be observed, +the very scene which at the moment stretched before them. In so much they +were all agreed, but there were several debatable points. Whether the +stones were made of gold, and whether the houses were not gold too, and, +that being the case, whether it would not hurt your eyes to look at them. +Marietta declared, blasphemously, as the others thought, that she +preferred a simple gray stone villa or at most one of pink stucco, to +all the golden edifices that Paradise contained. + +It was by now fifteen minutes past four, and a spectator had arrived, +though none of the five were aware of his presence. The spectator was +standing on the wall above the garden border examining with appreciation +the idyllic scene below him, and with most particular appreciation, the +dainty white-clad person of the girl on the balustrade. He was +wondering--anxiously--how he might make his presence known. For no very +tangible reason he had suddenly become conscious that the matter would be +easier if he carried in his pocket a letter of introduction. The purlieus +of Villa Rosa in no wise resembled a desert island; and in the face of +that very fluent Italian, the suspicion was forcing itself upon him that +after all, the mere fact of a common country was not a sufficient bond of +union. He had definitely decided to withdraw, when the matter was taken +from his hands. + +[Illustration: "Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation"] + +The wall--as Gustavo had pointed out--was broken; it was owing to this +fact that he had been so easily able to climb it. Now, as he stealthily +turned, preparing to re-descend in the direction whence he had come, the +loose stone beneath his foot slipped and he slipped with it. Five +startled pairs of eyes were turned in his direction. What they saw, was a +young man in flannels suddenly throw up his arms, slide into an azalea +bush, from this to the balustrade, and finally land on all fours on the +narrow strip of beach, a shower of pink petals and crumbling masonry +falling about him. A momentary silence followed; then the washer-girls, +making sure that he was not injured, broke into a shrill chorus of +laughter, while the _Farfalla_ rocked under impact of Giuseppe's mirth. +The girl on the wall alone remained grave. + +The young man picked himself up, restored his guide book to his pocket, +and blushingly stepped forward, hat in hand, to make an apology. One knee +bore a splash of mud, and his tumbled hair was sprinkled with azalea +blossoms. + +"I beg your pardon," he stammered, "I didn't mean to come so suddenly; +I'm afraid I broke your wall." + +The girl dismissed the matter with a polite gesture. + +"It was already broken," and then she waited with an air of grave +attention until he should state his errand. + +"I--I came--" He paused and glanced about vaguely; he could not at the +moment think of any adequate reason to account for his coming. + +"Yes?" + +Her eyes studied him with what appeared at once a cool and an amused +scrutiny. He felt himself growing red beneath it. + +"Can I do anything for you?" she prompted with the kind desire of putting +him at his ease. + +"Thank you--" He grasped at the first idea that presented itself. "I'm +stopping at the Hotel du Lac and Gustavo, you know, told me there was a +villa somewhere around here that belongs to Prince Someone or Other. If +you ring at the gate and give the gardener two francs and a visiting +card, he will let you walk around and look at the trees." + +"I see!" said the girl, "and so now you are looking for the gate?" Her +tone suggested that she suspected him of trying to avoid both it and the +two francs. "Prince Sartorio-Crevelli's villa is about half a mile +farther on." + +"Ah, thank you," he bowed a second time, and then added out of the +desperate need of saying something, "There's a cedar of Lebanon in it and +an India rubber plant from South America." + +"Indeed!" + +She continued to observe him with polite interest, though she made no +move to carry on the conversation. + +"You--are an American?" he asked at length. + +"Oh, yes," she agreed easily. "Gustavo knows that." + +He shifted his weight. + +"I am an American too," he observed. + +"Really?" The girl leaned forward and examined him more closely, an +innocent, candid, wholly detached look in her eyes. "From your appearance +I should have said you were German--most of the foreigners who visit +Valedolmo are German." + +"Well, I'm not," he said shortly. "I'm American." + +"It is a pity my father is not at home," she returned, "_he_ enjoys +meeting Americans." + +A gleam of anger replaced the embarrassment in the young man's eyes. He +glanced about for a dignified means of escape; they had him pretty well +penned in. Unless he wished to reclimb the wall--and he did not--he must +go by the terrace which retreat was cut off by the washer-women, or by +the parapet, already occupied by the girl in white and the washing. He +turned abruptly and his elbow brushed a stocking to the ground. + +He stooped to pick it up and then he blushed still a shade deeper. + +"This is washing day," observed the girl with a note of apology. She rose +to her feet and stood on the top of the parapet while she beckoned to +Giuseppe, then she turned and looked down upon the young man with an +expression of frank amusement. "I hope you will enjoy the cedar of +Lebanon and the India rubber tree. Good afternoon." + +She jumped to the ground and crossed to the water-steps where Giuseppe, +with a radiant smile, was steadying the boat against the landing. She +settled herself comfortably among the cushions and then for a moment +glanced back towards shore. + +"You would better go out by the gate," she called. "The wall on the +farther side is harder to climb than the one you came in by; and besides, +it has broken glass on the top." + +Giuseppe raised the yellow sail and the _Farfalla_ with a graceful dip, +glided out to sea. The young man stood eyeing its progress revengefully. +Now that the girl was out of hearing, a number of pointed things occurred +to him which he might have said. His thoughts were interrupted by a fresh +giggle from behind and he found that the three washer-girls were laughing +at him. + +"Your mistress's manners are not the best in the world," said he, +severely, "and I am obliged to add that yours are no better." + +They giggled again, though there was no malice behind their humor; it was +merely that they found the lack of a language in common a mirth-provoking +circumstance. Marietta, with a flash of black eyes, murmured something +very kindly in Italian, as she shook out a linen sailor suit--the exact +twin of the one that had gone to sea--and spread it on the wall to dry. + +The young man did not linger for further words. Setting his hat firmly on +his head, he vaulted the parapet and strode off down the cypress alley +that stretched before him; he passed the pink villa without a glance. At +the gate he stood aside to admit a horse and rider. The horse was +prancing in spite of the heat; the rider wore a uniform and a shining +sword. There was a clank of accoutrements as he passed, and the wayfarer +caught a gleam of piercing black eyes and a slight black moustache turned +up at the ends. The rider saluted politely and indifferently, and jangled +on. The young man scowled after him maliciously until the cypresses hid +him from view; then he turned and took up the dusty road back towards the +Hotel du Lac. + +It was close upon five, and Gustavo was in the court-yard feeding the +parrot, when his eye fell upon the American guest scuffling down the road +in a cloud of white dust. Gustavo hastened to the gate to welcome him +back, his very eyebrows expressive of his eagerness for news. + +"You are returned, signore?" + +The young man paused and regarded him unemotionally. + +"Yes, Gustavo, I am returned--with thanks." + +"You have seen ze Signorina Costantina?" + +"Yes, I saw her." + +"And is it not as I have said, zat she is beautiful as ze holy angels?" + +"Yes, Gustavo, she is--and just about equally remote. You may make out my +bill." + +The waiter's face clouded. + +"You do not wish to remain longer, signore?" + +"Can't stand it, Gustavo; it's too infernally restful." + +Poor Gustavo saw a munificent shower of tips vanishing into nothing. His +face was rueful but his manner was undiminishingly polite. + +"_Si_, signore, sank you. When shall you wish ze omnibus?" + +"Tomorrow morning for the first boat." + +Gustavo bowed to the inevitable; and the young man passed on. He paused +half way across the court-yard. + +"What time does the first boat leave?" + +"At half past five, signore." + +"Er--no--I'll take the second." + +"_Si_, signore. At half-past ten." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +It was close upon ten when Jerymn Hilliard Jr., equipped for travel in +proper blue serge, appeared in the doorway of the Hotel du Lac. He looked +at his watch and discovered that he still had twenty minutes before the +omnibus meeting the second boat was due. He strolled across the +court-yard, paused for a moment to tease the parrot, and sauntered on to +his favorite seat in the summer house. He had barely established himself +with a cigarette when who should appear in the gateway but Miss Constance +Wilder of Villa Rosa and a middle-aged man--at a glance the Signor Papa. +Jerymn Hilliard's heart doubled its beat. Why, he asked himself +excitedly, _why_ had they come? + +The Signor Papa closed his green umbrella, and having dropped into a +chair--obligingly near the summer house--took off his hat and fanned +himself. He had a tendency toward being stout and felt the heat. The +girl, meanwhile, crossed the court and jangled the bell; she waited +two--three--minutes, then she pulled the rope again. + +"Gustavo! Oh, Gustavo!" + +The bell might have been rung by any-one--the fisherman, the +omnibus-driver, Suor Celestina from the convent asking her everlasting +alms--and Gustavo took his time. But the voice was unmistakable; he +waited only to throw a clean napkin over his arm before hurrying to +answer. + +"_Buon giorno_, signorina! Good morning, signore. It is beautiful +wea-thir, but warm. _Gia_, it is warm." + +He bowed and smiled and rubbed his hands together. His moustaches, fairly +bristling with good will, turned up in a half circle until they caressed +his nose on either side. He bustled about placing table and chairs, and +recklessly dusting them with the clean napkin. The signorina laid her +fluffy white parasol on one chair and seated herself on another, her +profile turned to the summer house. Gustavo hovered over them, awaiting +their pleasure, the genius itself of respectful devotion. It was +Constance who gave the order--she, it might be noticed, gave most of the +orders that were given in her vicinity. She framed it in English out of +deference to Gustavo's pride in his knowledge of the language. + +"A glass of _vino santo_ for the Signore and _limonata_ for me. I wish to +put the sugar in myself, the last time you mixed it, Gustavo, it was all +sugar and no lemon. And bring a bowl of cracked ice--_fino_--_fino_--and +some pine nut cakes if you are sure they are fresh." + +"Sank you, signorina. _Subitissimo_!" + +He was off across the court, his black coat-tails, his white napkin +streaming behind, proclaiming to all the world that he was engaged on the +Signorina Americana's bidding; for persons of lesser note he still +preserved a measure of dignity. + +The young man in the summer house had meanwhile dropped his cigarette +upon the floor and noiselessly stepped on it. He had also--with the +utmost caution lest the chair creak--shifted his position so that he +might command the profile of the girl. The entrance to the summer house +was fortunately on the other side, and in all likelihood they would not +have occasion to look within. It was eavesdropping of course, but he had +already been convicted of that yesterday, and in any case it was not such +very bad eavesdropping. The court-yard of the Hotel du Lac was public +property; he had been there first, he was there by rights as a guest of +the house; if anything, they were the interlopers. Besides, nobody talked +secrets with a head waiter. His own long conversations with Gustavo were +as open and innocent as the day; the signorina was perfectly welcome to +listen to them as much as she chose. + +She was sitting with her chin in her hand, eyeing the flying coat-tails +of Gustavo, a touch of amusement in her face. Her father was eyeing her +severely. + +"Constance, it is disgraceful!" + +She laughed. Apparently she already knew or divined what it was that was +disgraceful, but the accusation did not appear to bother her much. Mr. +Wilder proceeded grumblingly. + +"It's bad enough with those five deluded officers, but they walked into +the trap with their eyes open and it's their own affair. But look at +Gustavo; he can scarcely carry a dish without breaking it when you are +watching him. And Giuseppe--that confounded _Farfalla_ with its yellow +sails floats back and forth in front of the terrace till I am on the +point of having it scuttled as a public nuisance; and those three +washer-women and the post-office clerk and the boy who brings milk, and +Luigi and--every man, woman and child in the village of Valedolmo!" + +"And my own dad as well?" + +Mr. Wilder shook his head. + +[Illustration: "He had also shifted his position so that he might +command the profile of the girl"] + +"I came here at your instigation for rest and relaxation--to get rid of +nervous worries, and here I find a big new worry waiting for me that I'd +never thought of having before. What if my only daughter should take it +in her head to marry one of these infernally good-looking Italian +officers?" + +Constance reached over and patted his arm. + +"Don't let it bother you, Dad; I assure you I won't do anything of the +sort. I should think it my duty to learn the subjunctive mood, and that +is impossible." + +Gustavo came hurrying back with a tray. He arranged the glasses, the ice, +the sugar, the cakes, with loving, elaborate obsequiousness. The +signorina examined the ice doubtfully, then with approval. + +"It's exactly right to-day, Gustavo! You got it too large the last time, +you remember." + +She stirred in some sugar and tasted it tentatively, her head on one +side. Gustavo hung upon her expression in an agony of apprehension; one +would have thought it a matter for public mourning if the lemonade were +not mixed exactly right. But apparently it was right--she nodded and +smiled--and Gustavo's expression assumed relief. Constance broke open a +pine nut cake and settled herself for conversation. + +"Haven't you any guests, Gustavo?" Her eyes glanced over the empty +court-yard. "I am afraid the hotel is not having a very prosperous +season." + +"_Grazie_, signorina. Zer never are many in summer; it is ze dead time, +but still zay come and zay go. Seven arrive last night." + +"Seven! That's nice. What are they like?" + +"German mountain-climbers wif nails in zer shoes. Zey have gone to Riva +on ze first boat." + +"That's too bad--then the hotel is empty?" + +"But no! Zer is an Italian Signora wif two babies and a governess, and +two English ladies and an American gentleman--" + +"An American gentleman?" Her tone was languidly interested. "How long has +he been here?" + +"Tree--four day." + +"Indeed--what is he like?" + +"Nice--ver' nice." (Gustavo might well say that; his pockets were lined +with the American gentleman's silver lire.) "He talk to me always. +'Gustavo,' he say, 'I am all alone; I wish to be 'mused. Come and talk +Angleesh.' Yes, it is true; I have no time to finish my work; I spend +whole day talking wif dis yong American gentleman. He is just a little--" +He touched his head significantly. + +"Really?" She raised her eyes with an air of awakened interest. "And how +did he happen to come to Valedolmo?" + +"He come to meet his family, his sister and his--his aunt, who are going +wif him to ze Tyrollo. But zay have not arrive. Zey are in Lucerne, he +says, where zer is a lion dying, and zey wish to wait until he is dead; +zen zey come.--Yes, it is true; he tell me zat." Gustavo tapped his head +a second time. + +The signorina glanced about apprehensively. + +"Is he safe, Gustavo--to be about?" + +"_Si_, signorina, _sicuramente_! He is just a little simple." + +Mr. Wilder chuckled. + +"Where is he, Gustavo? I think I'd like to make that young man's +acquaintance." + +"I sink, signore, he is packing his trunk. He go away today." + +"Today, Gustavo?" There was audible regret in Constance's tone. "Why is +he going?" + +"It is not possible for him to stand it, signorina. Valedolmo too dam +slow." + +"Gustavo! You mustn't say that; it is very, very bad. Nice men don't say +it." + +Gustavo held his ground. + +"_Si_, signorina, zat yong American gentleman say it--dam slow, no +_divertimento_." + +"He's just about right, Gustavo," Mr. Wilder broke in. "The next time a +young American gentleman blunders into the Hotel du Lac you send him +around to me." + +"_Si_, signore." + +Gustavo rolled his eyes toward the signorina; she continued to sip her +lemonade. + +"I have told him yesterday an American family live at Villa Rosa; he say +'All right, I go call,' but--but I sink maybe you were not at home." + +"Oh!" The signorina raised her head in apparent enlightenment. "So that +was the young man? Yes, to be sure, he came, but he said he was looking +for Prince Sartorio's villa. I am sorry you were away, Father, you would +have enjoyed him; his English was excellent.--Did he tell you he saw me, +Gustavo?" + +"_Si_, signorina, he tell me." + +"What did he say? Did he think I was nice?" + +Gustavo looked embarrassed. + +"I--I no remember, signorina." + +She laughed and to his relief changed the subject. + +"Those English ladies who are staying here--what do they look like? Are +they young?" + +Gustavo delivered himself of an inimitable gesture which suggested that +the English ladies had entered the bounds of that indefinite period when +the subject of age must be politely waived. + +"They are tall, signorina, and of a thinness--you would not believe it +possible." + +"I see! And so the poor young man was bored?" + +Gustavo bowed vaguely. He saw no connection. + +"He was awfully good-looking," she added with a sigh. "I'm afraid I made +a mistake. It would be rather fun, don't you think, Dad, to have an +entertaining young American gentleman about?" + +"Ump!" he grunted. "I thought you were so immensely satisfied with the +officers." + +"Oh, I am," she agreed with a shrug which dismissed forever the young +American gentleman. + +"Well, Gustavo," she added in a business-like tone, "I will tell you why +we called. The doctor says the Signor Papa is getting too fat--I don't +think he's too fat, do you? He seems to me just comfortably chubby; but +anyway, the doctor says he needs exercise, so we're going to begin +climbing mountains with nails in our shoes like the Germans. And we're +going to begin to-morrow because we've got two English people at the +villa who adore mountains. Do you think you can find us a guide and some +donkeys? We want a nice, gentle, lady-like donkey for my aunt, and +another for the English lady and a third to carry the things--and maybe +me, if I get tired. Then we want a man who will twist their tails and +make them go; and I am very particular about the man. I want him to be +picturesque--there's no use being in Italy if you can't have things +picturesque, is there, Gustavo?" + +"_Si_, signorina," he bowed and resumed his attitude of strained +attention. + +"He must have curly hair and black eyes and white teeth and a nice smile; +I should like him to wear a red sash and earrings. He must be obliging +and cheerful and deferential and speak good Italian--I won't have a man +who speaks only dialect. He must play the mandolin and sing Santa +Lucia--I believe that's all." + +"And I suppose since he is to act as guide he must know the region?" her +father mildly suggested. + +"Oh, no, that's immaterial; we can always ask our way." + +Mr. Wilder grunted, but offered no further suggestion. + +"We pay four lire a day and furnish his meals," she added munificently. +"And we shall begin with the castle on Monte Baldo; then when we get very +proficient we'll climb Monte Maggiore. Do you understand?" + +"Ze signorina desires tree donkeys and a driver at seven o'clock +to-morrow morning to climb Monte Baldo?" + +"In brief, yes, but _please_ remember the earrings." + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile a commotion was going on behind them. The hotel omnibus had +rumbled into the court yard. A _fachino_ had dragged out a leather trunk, +an English hat box and a couple of valises and dumped them on the ground +while he ran back for the paste pot and a pile of labels. The two +under-waiters, the chamber-maid and the boy who cleaned boots had drifted +into the court. It was evident that the American gentleman's departure +was imminent. + +The luggage was labelled and hoisted to the roof of the omnibus; they all +drew up in a line with their eyes on the door; but still the young man +did not come. Gustavo, over his shoulder, dispatched a waiter to hunt him +up. The waiter returned breathless. The gentleman was nowhere. He had +searched the entire house; there was not a trace. Gustavo sent the +boot-boy flying down the arbor to search the garden; he was beginning to +feel anxious. What if the gentleman in a sudden fit of melancholia had +thrown himself into the lake? That would indeed be an unfortunate affair! + +Constance reassured him, and at the same time she arose. It occurred to +her suddenly that, since the young man was going, there was nothing to be +gained by waiting, and he might think--She picked up her parasol and +started for the gate, but Mr. Wilder hung back; he wanted to see the +matter out. + +"Father," said she reproachfully, "it's embarrassing enough for him to +fee all those people without our staying and watching him do it." + +"I suppose it is," he acknowledged regretfully, as he resumed his hat and +umbrella and palm leaf fan. + +She paused for a second in the gateway. + +"_Addio_, Gustavo," she called over her shoulder. "_Don't_ forget the +earrings." + +Gustavo bowed twice and turned back with a dazed air to direct the +business in hand. The boot-boy, reappearing, shook his head. No, the +gentleman was not to be found in the garden. The omnibus driver leaned +from his seat and swore. + +_Corpo di Bacco_! Did he think the boat would wait all day for the sake +of one passenger? As it was, they were ten minutes late and would have to +gallop every step of the way. + +The turmoil of ejaculation and gesture was approaching a climax; when +suddenly, who should come sauntering into the midst of it, but the young +American man himself! He paused to light a cigarette, then waved his hand +aloft toward his leather belongings. + +"Take 'em down, Gustavo. Changed my mind; not going to-day--it's too +hot." + +Gustavo gasped. + +"But, signore, you have paid for your ticket." + +"True, Gustavo, but there is no law compelling me to use it. To tell the +truth I find that I am fonder of Valedolmo than I had supposed. There is +something satisfying about the peace and tranquility of the place--one +doesn't realize it till the moment of parting comes. Do you think I can +obtain a room for a--well, an indefinite period?" + +Gustavo saw a dazzling vista of silver lire stretching into the future. +With an all-inclusive gesture he placed the house, the lake, the +surrounding mountains, at the disposal of the American. + +"You shall have what you wish, signore. At dis season ze Hotel du Lac--" + +"Is not crowded, and there are half a hundred rooms at my disposal? Very +well, I will keep the one I have which commands a very attractive view of +a rose-colored villa set in a grove of cypress trees." + +The others had waited in a state of suspension, dumbfounded at what was +going on. But as soon as the young man dipped into his pocket and fished +out a handful of silver, they broke into smiles; this at least was +intelligible. The silver was distributed, the luggage was hoisted down, +the omnibus was dismissed. The courtyard resumed its former quiet; just +the American gentleman, Gustavo and the parrot were left. + +Then suddenly a frightful suspicion dawned upon Gustavo--it was more than +a suspicion; it was an absolute certainty which in his excitement he had +overlooked. From where had the American gentleman dropped? Not the sky, +assuredly, and there was no place else possible, unless the door of the +summer house. Yes, he had been in the summer house, and not sleeping +either. An indefinable something about his manner informed Gustavo that +he was privy to the entire conversation. Gustavo, a picture of guilty +remorse, searched his memory for the words he had used. Why, oh why, had +he not piled up adjectives? It was the opportunity of a lifetime and he +had wantonly thrown it away. + +But--to his astonished relief--the young man appeared to be bearing no +malice. He appeared, on the contrary, quite unusually cheerful as he +sauntered whistling, across the court and seated himself in the exact +chair the signorina had occupied. He plunged his hand into his pocket +suggestively--Gustavo had been the only one omitted in the distribution +of silver--and drew forth a roll of bills. Having selected five crisp +five-lire notes, he placed them under the sugar bowl, and watched his +companion while he blew three meditative rings of smoke. + +"Gustavo," he inquired, "do you suppose you could find me some nice, +gentle, lady-like donkeys and a red sash and a pair of earrings?" + +Gustavo's fascinated gaze had been fixed upon the sugar bowl and he had +only half caught the words. + +"_Scusi_, signore, I no understand." + +"Just sit down, Gustavo, it makes me nervous to see you standing all the +time. I can't be comfortable, you know, unless everybody else is +comfortable. Now pay strict attention and see if you can grasp my +meaning." + +Gustavo dubiously accepted the edge of the indicated chair; he wished to +humor the signore's mood, however incomprehensible that mood might be. +For half an hour he listened with strained attention while the gentleman +talked and toyed with the sugar bowl. Amazement, misgiving, amusement, +daring, flashed in succession across his face; in the end he leaned +forward with shining eyes. + +"_Si, si_," he whispered after a conspiratorial glance over his shoulder, +"I will do it all; you may trust to me." + +The young man rose, removed the sugar bowl, and sauntered on toward the +road. Gustavo pocketed the notes and gazed after him. + +"_Dio mio_," he murmured as he set about gathering up the glasses, "zese +Americans!" + +At the gate the young man paused to light another cigarette. + +"_Addio_, Gustavo," he called over his shoulder, "_don't_ forget the +earrings!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The table was set on the terrace; breakfast was served and the company +was gathered. Breakfast consisted of the usual caffe-latte, rolls and +strained honey, and--since a journey was to the fore and something +sustaining needed--a soft-boiled egg apiece. There were four persons +present, though there should have been five. The two guests were an +Englishman and his wife, whom the chances of travel had brought over +night to Valedolmo. + +Between them, presiding over the coffee machine, was Mr. Wilder's sister, +"Miss Hazel"--never "Miss Wilder" except to the butcher and baker. It was +the cross of her life, she had always affirmed, that her name was not +Mary or Jane or Rebecca. "Hazel" does well enough when one is eighteen +and beautiful, but when one is fifty and no longer beautiful, it is +little short of absurd. But if anyone at fifty could carry such a name +gracefully, it was Miss Hazel Wilder; her fifty years sat as jauntily as +Constance's twenty-two. This morning she was very business-like in her +short skirt, belted jacket, and green felt Alpine hat with a feather in +the side. No one would mistake her for a cyclist or a golfer or a +motorist or anything in the world but an Alpine climber; whatever Miss +Hazel was or was not, she was always _game_. + +Across from Miss Hazel sat her brother in knickerbockers, his Alpine +stock at his elbow and also his fan. Since his domicile in Italy, Mr. +Wilder's fan had assumed the nature of a symbol; he could no more be +separated from it than St. Sebastian from his arrows or St. Laurence from +his gridiron. At Mr. Wilder's elbow was the empty chair where Constance +should have been--she who had insisted on six as a proper breakfast hour, +and had grudgingly consented to postpone it till half-past out of +deference to her sleepy-headed elders. Her father had finished his egg +and hers too, before she appeared, as nonchalant and smiling as if she +were out the earliest of all. + +"I think you might have waited!" was her greeting from the doorway. + +She advanced to the table, saluted in military fashion, dropped a kiss on +her father's bald spot, and possessed herself of the empty chair. She too +was clad in mountain-climbing costume, in so far as blouse and skirt and +leather leggings went, but above her face there fluttered the fluffy +white brim of a ruffled sun hat with a bunch of pink rosebuds set over +one ear. + +"I am sorry not to wear my own Alpine hat, Aunt Hazel; I look so +deliciously German in it, but I simply can't afford to burn all the skin +off my nose." + +"You can't make us believe that," said her father. "The reason is, that +Lieutenant di Ferara and Captain Coroloni are going with us today, and +that this hat is more becoming than the other." + +"It's one reason," Constance agreed imperturbably, "but, as I say, I +don't wish to burn the skin off my nose, because that is unbecoming too. +You are ungrateful, Dad," she added as she helped herself to honey with a +liberal hand, "I invited them solely on your account because you like to +hear them talk English. Have the donkeys come?" + +"The donkeys are at the back door nibbling the buds off the rose-bushes." + +"And the driver?" + +"Is sitting on the kitchen doorstep drinking coffee and smiling over the +top of his cup at Elizabetta. There are two of him." + +"Two! I only ordered one." + +"One is the official driver and the other is a boy whom he has brought +along to do the work." + +Constance eyed her father sharply. There was something at once guilty and +triumphant about his expression. + +"What is it, Dad?" she inquired sternly. "I suppose he has not got a +sash and earrings." + +"On the contrary, he has." + +"Really? How clever of Gustavo! I hope," she added anxiously, "that he +talks good Italian?" + +"I don't know about his Italian, but he talks uncommonly good English." + +"English!" There was reproach, disgust, disillusionment, in her tone. +"Not really, father?" + +"Yes, really and truly--almost as well as I do. He has lived in New York +and he speaks English like a dream--real English--not the +Gustavo--Lieutenant di Ferara kind. I can understand what he says." + +"How simply horrible!" + +"Very convenient, I should say." + +[Illustration: Beppo and the donkeys] + +"If there's anything I detest, it's an Americanized Italian--and here in +Valedolmo of all places, where you have a right to demand something +unique and romantic and picturesque and real. It's too bad of Gustavo! +I shall never place any faith in his judgment again. You may talk English +to the man if you like; I shall address him in nothing but Italian." + +As they rose from the table she suggested pessimistically, "Let's go and +look at the donkeys--I suppose they'll be horrid, scraggly, knock-kneed +little beasts." + +They turned out however to be unusually attractive, as donkeys go, and +they were innocently engaged in nibbling, not rose-leaves but grass, +under the tutelage of a barefoot boy. Constance patted their shaggy +mouse-colored noses, made the acquaintance of the boy, whose name was +Beppo, and looked about for the driver proper. He rose and bowed as she +approached. His appearance was even more violently spectacular than she +had ordered; Gustavo had given good measure. + +He wore a loose white shirt--immaculately white--with a red silk +handkerchief knotted about his throat, brown corduroy knee-breeches, and +a red cotton sash with the hilt of a knife conspicuously protruding. His +corduroy jacket was slung carelessly across his shoulders, his hat was +cocked jauntily, with a red heron feather stuck in the band; last, +perfect touch of all, in his ears--at his ears rather (a close +examination revealed the thread)--two golden hoops flashed in the +sunlight. His skin was dark--not too dark--just a good healthy out-door +tan: his brows level and heavy, his gaze candor itself. He wore a tiny +suggestion of a moustache which turned up at the corners (a suspicious +examination of this, might have revealed the fact that it was touched up +with burnt cork); there was no doubt but that he was a handsome fellow, +and his attire suggested that he knew it. + +Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of admiration. + +"He's perfect!" she cried. "Where on earth did Gustavo find him? Did you +ever see anything so beautiful?" she appealed to the others. "He looks +like a brigand in opera bouffe." + +[Illustration: "Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of +admiration"] + +The donkey-man reddened visibly and fumbled with his hat. + +"My dear," her father warned, "he understands English." + +She continued to gaze with the open admiration one would bestow upon a +picture or a view or a blue-ribbon horse. The man flashed her a momentary +glance from a pair of searching gray eyes, then dropped his gaze humbly +to the ground. + +"_Buon giorno_," he said in glib Italian. + +Constance studied him more intently. There was something elusively +familiar about his expression; she was sure she had seen him before. + +"_Buon giorno_," she replied in Italian. "You have lived in the United +States?" + +"_Si_, signorina." + +"What is your name?" + +"I spik Angleesh," he observed. + +"I don't care if you do speak English; I prefer Italian--what is your +name?" She repeated the question in Italian. + +"_Si_, signorina," he ventured again. An anxious look had crept to his +face and he hastily turned away and commenced carrying parcels from the +kitchen. Constance looked after him, puzzled and suspicious. The one +insult which she could not brook was for an Italian to fail to understand +her when she talked Italian. As he returned and knelt to tighten the +strap of a hamper, she caught sight of the thread that held his earring. +She looked a second longer, and a sudden smile of illumination flashed to +her face. She suppressed it quickly and turned away. + +"He seems rather slow about understanding," she remarked to the others, +"but I dare say he'll do." + +"The poor fellow is embarrassed," apologized her father. "His name is +Tony," he added--even he had understood that much Italian. + +"Was there ever an Italian who had been in America whose name was not +Tony? Why couldn't he have been Angelico or Felice or Pasquale or +something decently picturesque?" + +"My dear," Miss Hazel objected, "I think you are hypercritical. The man +is scarcely to blame for his name." + +"I suppose not," she agreed, "though I should have included that in my +order." + +Further discussion was precluded by the appearance of a station-carriage +which turned in at the gate and stopped before them. Two officers +descended and saluted. In summer uniforms of white linen with gold +shoulder-straps, and shining top-boots, they rivalled the donkey-man in +decorativeness. Constance received them with flattering acclaim, while +she noted from the corner of her eye the effect upon Tony. He had not +counted upon this addition to the party, and was as scowling as she could +have wished. While the officers were engaged in making their bow to the +others, Constance casually reapproached the donkeys. Tony feigned +immersion in the business of strapping hampers; he had no wish to be +drawn into any Italian tete-a-tete. But to his relief she addressed him +this time in English. + +"Are these donkeys used to mountain-climbing?" + +"But yes, signorina! _Sicuramente_. Zay are ver' strong, ver' good. Zat +donk', signorina, he go all day and never one little stumble." + +His English, she noted with amused appreciation, was an exact copy of +Gustavo's; he had learned his lesson well. But she allowed not the +slightest recognition of the fact to appear in her face. + +"And what are their names?" she inquired. + +"Dis is Fidilini, signorina, and zat one wif ze white nose is Macaroni, +and zat ovver is Cristoforo Colombo." + +Elizabetta appeared in the doorway with two rush-covered flasks, and Tony +hurried forward to receive them. There was a complaisant set to his +shoulders as he strode off, Constance noted delightedly; he was +felicitating himself upon the ease with which he had fooled her. Well! +She would give him cause before the day was over for other than +felicitations. She stifled a laugh of prophetic triumph and sauntered +over to Beppo. + +"When Tony is engaged as a guide do you always go with him?" + +"Not always, signorina, but Carlo has wished me to go to-day to look +after the donkeys." + +"And who is Carlo?" + +"He is the guide who owns them." + +Beppo looked momentarily guilty; the answer had slipped out before he +thought. + +"Oh, indeed! But if Tony is a guide why doesn't he have donkeys of his +own?" + +"He used to, but one unfortunately fell into the lake and got drowned and +the other died of a sickness." + +He put forth this preposterous statement with a glance as grave and +innocent as that of a little cherub. + +"Is Tony a good guide?" + +"But yes, of the best!" + +There was growing anxiety in Beppo's tone. He divined suspicion behind +these persistent inquiries, and he knew that in case Tony were +dismissed, his own munificent pay would stop. + +"Do you understand any English?" she suddenly asked. + +He modestly repudiated any great knowledge. "A word here, a word there; I +learn it in school." + +"I see!" She paused for a moment and then inquired casually, "Have you +known Tony long?" + +"_Si_, signorina." + +"How long?" + +Beppo considered. Someone, clearly, must vouch for the man's +respectability. This was not in the lesson that had been taught him, but +he determined to branch out for himself. + +"He is my father, signorina." + +"Really! He looks young to be your father--have you any brothers and +sisters, Beppo?" + +"I have four brothers, signorina, and five sisters." He fell back upon +the truth with relief. + +"_Davvero_!" + +The signorina smiled upon him, a smile of such heavenly sweetness that +he instantly joined the already crowded ranks of her admirers. She drew +from her pocket a handful of coppers and dropped them into his grimy +little palm. + +"Here, Beppo, are some soldi for the brothers and sisters. I hope that +you will be good and obedient and _always_ tell me the truth." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +After some delay--owing to Tony's inability to balance the chafing-dish +on Cristoforo Colombo's back--they filed from the gateway, an imposing +cavalcade. The ladies were on foot, loftily oblivious to the fact that +three empty saddles awaited their pleasure. Constance, a gesticulating +officer at either hand, was vivaciously talking Italian, while Tony, +trudging behind, listened with a somber light in his eye. She now and +then cast a casual glance over her shoulder, and as she caught sight of +his gloomy face the animation of her Italian redoubled. The situation +held for her mischief-loving soul undreamed-of possibilities; and though +she ostensibly occupied herself with the officers, she by no means +neglected the donkey-man. + +During the first few miles of the journey he earned his four francs. +Twice he reshifted the pack because Constance thought it insecure (it was +a disgracefully unprofessional pack; most guides would have blushed at +the making of it); once he retraced their path some two hundred yards in +search of a veil she thought she had dropped--it turned out that she had +had it in her pocket all of the time. He chased Fidilini over half the +mountainside while the others were resting, and he carried the +chafing-dish for a couple of miles because it refused to adjust itself +nicely to the pack. The morning ended by his being left behind with a +balking donkey, while the others completed the last ascent that led to +their halting-place for lunch. + +It was a small plateau shaded by oak trees with a broad view below them, +and a mountain stream foaming down from the rocks above. It was owing to +Beppo's knowledge of the mountain paths rather than Tony's which had +guided them to this agreeable spot; though no one in the party except +Constance appeared to have noted the fact. Tony arrived some ten minutes +after the others, hot but victorious, driving Cristoforo Colombo before +him. Constance welcomed his return with an off-hand nod and set him about +preparing lunch. He and Beppo served it and repacked the hampers, +entirely ignored by the others of the party. Poor Tony was beginning to +realize that a donkey-man lives on a desert island in so far as any +companionship goes. But his moment was coming. As they were about to +start on, Constance spied high above their heads where the stream burst +from the rocks, a clump of starry white blossoms. + +"Edelweiss!" she cried. "Oh, I must have it--it's the first I ever saw +growing; I hadn't supposed we were high enough." She glanced at the +officers. + +The ascent was not dangerous, but it was undeniably muddy, and they both +wore white; with very good cause they hesitated. And while they +hesitated, the opportunity was lost. Tony sprang forward, scrambled up +the precipice hand over hand, swung out across the stream by the aid of +an overhanging branch and secured the flowers. It was very gracefully and +easily done, and a burst of applause greeted his descent. He divided his +flowers into two equal parts, and sweeping off his hat, presented them +with a bow, not to Constance, but to the officers, who somewhat sulkily +passed them on. She received them with a smile; for an instant her eyes +met Tony's, and he fell back, rewarded. + +The captain and lieutenant for the first time regarded the donkey-man, +and they regarded him narrowly, red sash, earrings, stiletto and all. +Constance caught the look and laughed. + +"Isn't he picturesque?" she inquired in Italian. "The head-waiter at the +Hotel du Lac found him for me. He has been in the United States and +speaks English, which is a great convenience." + +The two said nothing, but they looked at each other and shrugged. + +The donkeys were requisitioned for the rest of the journey; while Tony +led Miss Hazel's mount, he could watch Constance ahead on Fidilini, an +officer marching at each side of her saddle. She appeared to divide her +favors with nice discrimination; it was not her fault if the two were +jealous of one another. Tony could draw from that obvious fact what +consolation there was in it. + +[Illustration: "Constance ahead on Fidilini, an officer marching at each +side of her saddle."] + +The ruined fortress, their destination, was now exactly above their +heads. The last ascent boldly skirted the shoulder of the mountain, and +then doubled upward in a series of serpentine coils. Below them the whole +of Lake Garda was spread like a map. Mr. Wilder and the Englishman, +having paused at the edge of the declivity, were endeavoring to trace the +boundary line of Austria, and they called upon the officers for help. The +two relinquished their post at Constance's side, while the donkeys kept +on past them up the hill. The winding path was both stony and steep, +and, from a donkey's standpoint, thoroughly objectionable. Fidilini was +well in the lead, trotting sedately, when suddenly without the slightest +warning, he chose to revolt. Whether Constance pulled the wrong rein, or +whether, as she affirmed, it was merely his natural badness, in any case, +he suddenly veered from the path and took a cross cut down the rocky +slope below them. Donkeys are fortunately sure-footed beasts; otherwise +the two would have plunged together down the sheer face of the mountain. +As it was it looked ghastly enough to the four men below; they shouted to +Constance to stick on, and commenced scrambling up the slope with +absolutely no hope of reaching her. + +It was Tony's chance a second time to show his agility--and this time to +some purpose. He was a dozen yards behind and much lower down, which gave +him a start. Leaping forward, he dropped over the precipice, a fall of +ten feet, to a narrow ledge below. Running toward them at an angle, he +succeeded in cutting off their flight. Before the frightened donkey could +swerve, Tony had seized him--by the tail--and had braced himself against +a boulder. It was not a dignified rescue, but at least it was effective; +Fidilini came to a halt. Constance, not expecting the sudden jolt, +toppled over sidewise, and Tony, being equally unprepared to receive her, +the two went down together rolling over and over on the grassy slope. + +"My dear, are you hurt?" + +Mr. Wilder, quite pale with anxiety, came scrambling to her side. +Constance sat up and laughed hysterically, while she examined a bleeding +elbow. + +"N--no, not dangerously--but I think perhaps Tony is." + +Tony however was at least able to run, as he was again on his feet and +after the donkey. Captain Coroloni and her father helped Constance to her +feet while Lieutenant di Ferara recovered a side-comb and the white sun +hat. They all climbed down together to the path below, none the worse +for the averted tragedy. Tony rejoined them somewhat short of breath, but +leading a humbled Fidilini. Constance, beyond a brief glance, said +nothing; but her father, to the poor man's intense embarrassment, shook +him warmly by the hand with the repeated assurance that his bravery +should not go unrewarded. + +They completed their journey on foot; Tony following behind, quite +conscious that, if he had played the part of hero, he had done it with a +lamentable lack of grace. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Tony was stretched on the parapet that bordered the stone-paved platform +of the fortress. Above him the crumbling tower rose many feet higher, +below him a marvelous view stretched invitingly; but Tony had eyes +neither for medieval architecture nor picturesque scenery. He lay with +his coat doubled under his head for a pillow, in a frowning contemplation +of the cracked stone pavement. + +The four other men, after an hour or so of easy lounging under the pines +at the base of the tower, had organized a fresh expedition to the summit +a mile farther up. Mr. Wilder, since morning, had developed into an +enthusiastic mountain-climber--regret might come with the morrow, but as +yet ambition still burned high. The remainder of the party were less +energetic. The three ladies were resting on rugs spread under the pines; +Beppo was sleeping in the sun, his hat over his face, and the donkeys, +securely tethered (Tony had attended to that) were innocently nibbling +mountain herbs. + +There was no obvious reason why, as he lighted a cigarette and stretched +himself on the parapet, Tony should not have been the most self-satisfied +guide in the world. He had not only completed the expedition in safety, +but had saved the heroine's life by the way; and even if the heroine did +not appear as thankful as she might, still, her father had shown due +gratitude, and, what was to the point, had promised a reward. That should +have been enough for any reasonable donkey-driver. + +But it was distinctly not enough for Tony. He was in a fine temper as he +lay on the parapet and scowled at the pavement. Nothing was turning out +as he had planned. He had not counted on the officers or her +predilection for Italian. He had not counted on chasing donkeys in person +while she stood and looked on--Beppo was to have attended to that. He had +not counted on anything quite so absurd as his heroic capture of +Fidilini. Since she must let the donkey run away with her, why, in the +name of all that was romantic--could it not have occurred by moonlight? +Why, when he caught the beast, could it not have been by the bridle +instead of the tail? And above all, why could she not have fallen into +his arms, instead of on top of him? + +The stage scenery was set for romance, but from the moment the curtain +rose the play had persisted in being farce. However, farce or romance, it +was all one to him so long as he could play leading-man; what he objected +to was the minor part. The fact was clear that sash and earrings could +never compete with uniform and sword and the Italian language. His mind +was made up; he would withdraw tonight before he was found out, and +leave Valedolmo tomorrow morning by the early boat. Miss Constance Wilder +should never have the satisfaction of knowing the truth. + +He was engaged in framing a dignified speech to Mr. Wilder--thanking him +for his generosity, but declining to accept a reward for what had been +merely a matter of duty--when his reflections were cut short by the sound +of footsteps on the stairs. They were by no means noiseless footsteps; +there were good strong nails all over the bottom of Constance's shoes. +The next moment she appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were centered on +the view; she looked entirely over Tony. It was not until he rose to his +feet that she realized his presence with a start. + +"Dear me, is that you, Tony? You frightened me! Don't get up; I know you +must be tired." This with a sweetly solicitous smile. + +Tony smiled too and resumed his seat; it was the first time since morning +that she had condescended to consider his feelings. She sauntered over +to the opposite side and stood with her back to him examining the view. +Tony turned his back and affected to be engaged with the view in the +other direction; he too could play at indifference. + +Constance finished with her view first, and crossing over, she seated +herself in the deep embrasure of a window close beside Tony's parapet. He +rose again at her approach, but there was no eagerness in the motion; it +was merely the necessary deference of a donkey-driver toward his +employer. + +"Oh, sit down," she insisted, "I want to talk to you." + +[Illustration: "She seated herself in the deep embrasure of a window +close beside Tony's parapet"] + +He opened his eyes with a show of surprise; his hurt feelings insisted +that all the advances should be on her part. Constance seemed in no hurry +to begin; she removed her hat, pushed back her hair, and sat playing with +the bunch of edelweiss which was stuck in among the roses--flattening the +petals, rearranging the flowers with careful fingers; a touch, it +seemed to Tony's suddenly clamoring senses, that was almost a caress. +Then she looked up quickly and caught his gaze. She leaned forward with a +laugh. + +"Tony," she said, "do you spik any language besides Angleesh?" + +He triumphantly concealed all sign of emotion. + +"_Si_, signorina, I spik my own language." + +"Would you mind my asking what that language is?" + +He indulged in a moment's deliberation. Italian was clearly out of the +question, and French she doubtless knew better than he--he deplored this +polyglot education girls were receiving nowadays. + +He had it! He would be Hungarian. His sole fellow guest in the hotel at +Verona the week before had been a Hungarian nobleman, who had informed +him that the Magyar language was one of the most difficult on the face of +the globe. There was at least little likelihood that she was acquainted +with that. + +"My own language, signorina, is Magyar." + +"Magyar?" She was clearly taken by surprise. + +"_Si_, signorina, I am Hungarian; I was born in Budapest." He met her +wide-opened eyes with a look of innocent candor. + +"Really!" She beamed upon him delightedly; he was playing up even better +than she had hoped. "But if you are Hungarian, what are you doing here in +Italy, and how does it happen that your name is Antonio?" + +"My movver was Italian. She name me Antonio after ze blessed Saint +Anthony of Padua. If you lose anysing, signorina, and you say a prayer to +Saint Anthony every day for nine days, on ze morning of ze tenth you will +find it again." + +"That is very interesting," she said politely. "How do you come to know +English so well, Tony?" + +"We go live in Amerik' when I li'l boy." + +"And you never learned Italian? I should think your mother would have +taught it to you." + +He imitated Beppo's gesture. + +"A word here, a word there. We spik Magyar at home." + +"Talk a little Magyar, Tony. I should like to hear it." + +"What shall I say, signorina?" + +"Oh, say anything you please." + +He affected to hesitate while he rehearsed the scraps of language at his +command. Latin--French--German--none of them any good--but, thank +goodness, he had elected Anglo-Saxon in college; and thank goodness again +the professor had made them learn passages by heart. He glanced up with +an air of flattered diffidence and rendered, in a conversational +inflection, an excerpt from the Anglo-Saxon Bible. + +"_Ealle gesceafta, heofonas and englas, sunnan and monan, steorran and +eorthan, he gesceop and geworhte on six dagum._" + +"It is a very beautiful language. Say some more." + +He replied with glib promptness, with a passage from Beowulf. + +"_Hie dygel lond warigeath, wulfhleothu, windige naessas._" + +"What does that mean?" + +Tony looked embarrassed. + +"I don't believe you know!" + +"It means--_scusi_, signorina, I no like to say." + +"You don't know." + +"It means--you make me say, signorina,--'I sink you ver' beautiful like +ze angels in Paradise.'" + +"Indeed! A donkey-driver, Tony, should not say anything like that." + +"But it is true." + +"The more reason you should not say it." + +"You asked me, signorina; I could not tell you a lie." + +The signorina smiled slightly and looked away at the view; Tony seized +the opportunity to look sidewise at her. She turned back and caught him; +he dropped his eyes humbly to the floor. + +"Does Beppo speak Magyar?" she inquired. + +"Beppo?" There was wonder in his tone at the turn her questions were +taking. "I sink not, signorina." + +"That must be very inconvenient. Why don't you teach it to him?" + +"_Si_, signorina." He was plainly nonplussed. + +"Yes, he says that you are his father and I should think--" + +"His father?" Tony appeared momentarily startled; then he laughed. "He +did not mean his real father; he mean--how you say--his god-father. I +give to him his name when he get christened." + +"Oh, I see!" + +Her next question was also a surprise. + +"Tony," she inquired with startling suddenness, "why do you wear +earrings?" + +He reddened slightly. + +"Because--because--der's a girl I like ver' moch, signorina; she sink +earrings look nice. I wear zem for her." + +"Oh!--But why do you fasten them on with thread?" + +"Because I no wear zem always. In Italia, yes; in Amerik' no. When I +marry dis girl and go back home, zen I do as I please, now I haf to do as +she please." + +"H'm--" said Constance, ruminatingly. "Where does this girl live, Tony?" + +"In Valedolmo, signorina." + +"What does she look like?" + +"She look like--" His eyes searched the landscape and came back to her +face. "Oh, ver' beautiful, signorina. She have hair brown and gold, and +eyes--yes, eyes! Zay are sometimes black, signorina, and sometimes gray. +Her laugh, it sounds like the song of a nightingale." He clasped his +hands and rolled his eyes in a fine imitation of Gustavo. "She is +beautiful, signorina, beautiful as ze angels in Paradise!" + +"There seem to be a good many people beautiful as the angels in +Paradise." + +"She is most beautiful of all." + +"What is her name?" + +"Costantina." He said it softly, his eyes on her face. + +"Ah," Constance rose and turned away with a shrug. Her manner suggested +that he had gone too far. + +"She wash clothes at ze Hotel du Lac," he called after her. + +Constance paused and glanced over her shoulder with a laugh. + +"Tony," she said, "the quality which I admire most in a donkey-driver, +besides truthfulness and picturesqueness, is imagination." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +On the homeward journey Tony again trudged behind while the officers held +their post at Constance's side. But Tony's spirits were still singing +from the little encounter on the castle platform, and in spite of the +animated Italian which floated back, he was determined to look at the +sunny side of the adventure. It was Mr. Wilder who unconsciously supplied +him with a second opportunity for conversation. He and the Englishman, +being deep in a discussion involving statistics of the Italian army +budget, called on the two officers to set them straight. Tony, at their +order, took his place beside the saddle; Constance was not to be +abandoned again to Fidilini's caprice. Miss Hazel and the Englishwoman +were ambling on ahead in as matter-of-fact a fashion as if that were +their usual mode of travel. Their donkeys were of a sedater turn of mind +than Fidilini--a fact for which Tony offered thanks. + +They were by this time well over the worst part of the mountain and the +brief Italian twilight was already fading. Tony, with a sharp eye on the +path ahead and a ready hand for the bridle, was attending strictly to the +duties of a well-trained donkey-man. It was Constance again who opened +the conversation. + +"Ah, Tony?" + +"_Si_, signorina?" + +"Did you ever read any Angleesh books--or do you do most of your reading +in Magyar?" + +"I haf read one, two, Angleesh books." + +"Did you ever read--er--'The Lightning Conductor' for example?" + +"No, signorina; I haf never read heem." + +"I think it would interest you. It's about a man who pretends he's a +chauffeur in order to--to-- There are any number of books with the same +motive; 'She Stoops to Conquer,' 'Two Gentlemen of Verona,' 'Lalla +Rookh,' 'Monsieur Beaucaire'--Oh, dozens of them! It's an old plot; it +doesn't require the slightest originality to think of it." + +"_Si_, signorina? Sank you." Tony's tone was exactly like Gustavo's when +he has failed to get the point, but feels that a comment is necessary. + +Constance laughed and allowed a silence to follow, while Tony redirected +his attention to Fidilini's movements. His "Yip! Yip!" was an exact +imitation, though in a deeper guttural, of Beppo's cries before them. It +would have taken a close observer to suspect that he had not been bred to +the calling. + +"You have not always been a donkey-driver?" she inquired after an +interval of amused scrutiny. + +"Not always, signorina." + +"What did you do in New York?" + +"I play hand-organ, signorina." + +Tony removed his hand from the bridle and ground "Yankee Doodle" from an +imaginary instrument. + +"I make musica, signorina, wif--wif--how you say, monk, monka? His name +Vittorio Emanuele. Ver' nice monk--simpatica affezionata." + +"You've never been an actor?" + +"An actor? No, signorina." + +"You should try it; I fancy you might have some talent in that +direction." + +"_Si_, signorina. Sank you." + +She let the conversation drop, and Tony, after an interval of silence, +fell to humming Santa Lucia in a very presentable baritone. The tune, +Constance noted, was true enough, but the words were far astray. + +"That's a very pretty song, Tony, but you don't appear to know it." + +"I no understand Italian, signorina. I just learn ze tune because +Costantina like it." + +"You do everything that Costantina wishes?" + +"Everysing! But if you could see her you would not wonder. She has hair +brown and gold, and her eyes, signorina, are sometimes gray and sometimes +black, and her laugh sounds like--" + +"Oh, yes, I know; you told me all that before." + +"When she goes out to work in ze morning, signorina, wif the sunlight +shining on her hair, and a smile on her lips, and a basket of clothes on +her head--Ah, _zen_ she is beautiful!" + +"When are you going to be married?" + +"I do not know, signorina. I have not asked her yet." + +"Then how do you know she wishes to marry you?" + +"I do not know; I just hope." + +He rolled his eyes toward the moon which was rising above the mountains +on the other side of the lake, and with a deep sigh he fell back into +Santa Lucia. + +Constance leaned forward and scanned his face. + +"Tony! Tell me your name." There was an undertone of meaning, a note of +persuasion in her voice. + +"Antonio, signorina." + +She shook her head with a show of impatience. + +"Your real name--your last name." + +"Yamhankeesh." + +"Oh!" she laughed. "Antonio Yamhankeesh doesn't seem to me a very musical +combination; I don't think I ever heard anything like it before." + +"It suits me, signorina." His tone carried a suggestion of wounded +dignity. "Yamhankeesh has a ver' beautiful meaning in my language--'He +who dares not, wins not'." + +"And that is your motto?" + +"_Si_, signorina." + +"A very dangerous motto, Tony; it will some day get you into trouble." + +They had reached the base of the mountain and their path now broadened +into the semblance of a road which wound through the fields, between +fragrant hedgerows, under towering chestnut trees. All about them was the +fragrance of the dewy, flower-scented summer night, the flash of +fireflies, the chirp of crickets, occasionally the note of a +nightingale. Before them out of a cluster of cypresses, rose the square +graceful outline of the village campanile. + +Constance looked about with a pleased, contented sigh. + +"Isn't Italy beautiful, Tony?" + +"Yes, signorina, but I like America better." + +"We have no cypresses and ruins and nightingales in America, Tony. We +have a moon sometimes, but not that moon." + +They passed from the moonlight into the shade of some overhanging +chestnut trees. Fidilini stumbled suddenly over a break in the path and +Tony pulled him up sharply. His hand on the bridle rested for an instant +over hers. + +"Italy is beautiful--to make love in," he whispered. + +She drew her hand away abruptly, and they passed out into the moonlight +again. Ahead of them where the road branched into the highway, the others +were waiting for Constance to catch up, the two officers looking back +with an eager air of expectation. Tony glanced ahead and added with a +quick frown. + +"But perhaps I do not need to tell you that--you may know it already?" + +"You are impertinent, Tony." + +She pulled the donkey into a trot that left him behind. + +The highway was broad and they proceeded in a group, the conversation +general and in English, Tony quite naturally having no part in it. But at +the corners where the road to the village and the road to the villa +separated, Fidilini obligingly turned stubborn again. His mind bent upon +rest and supper, he insisted upon going to the village; the harder +Constance pulled on the left rein, the more fixed was his determination +to turn to the right. + +"Help! I'm being run away with again," she called over her shoulder as +the donkey's pace quickened into a trot. + +Tony, awakening to his duty, started in pursuit, while the others +laughingly shouted directions. He did not run as determinedly as he +might and they had covered considerable ground before he overtook them. +He turned Fidilini's head and they started back--at a walk. + +"Signorina," said Tony, "may I ask a question, a little impertinent?" + +"No, certainly not." + +Silence. + +"Ah, Tony?" she asked presently. + +"_Si_, signorina?" + +"What is it you want to ask?" + +"Are you going to marry that Italian lieutenant--or perhaps the captain?" + +"That _is_ impertinent." + +"Are you?" + +"You forget yourself, Tony. It is not your place to ask such a question." + +"_Si_, signorina; it is my place. If it is true I cannot be your +donkey-man any longer." + +"No, it is not true, but that is no concern of yours." + +"Are you going on another trip Friday--to Monte Maggiore?" + +"Yes." + +"May I come with you?" + +His tone implied more than his words. She hesitated a moment, then +shrugged indifferently. + +"Just as you please, Tony. If you don't wish to work for us any more I +dare say we can find another man." + +"It is as you please, signorina. If you wish it, I come, if you do not +wish it, I go." + +She made no answer. They joined the others and the party proceeded to the +villa gates. + +Lieutenant di Ferara helped Constance dismount, while Captain Coroloni, +with none too good a grace, held the donkey. A careful observer would +have fancied that the lieutenant was ahead, and that both he and the +captain knew it. Tony untied the bundles, dumped them on the kitchen +floor, and waited respectfully, hat in hand, while Mr. Wilder searched +his pockets for change. He counted out four lire and added a note. Tony +pocketed the lire and returned the note, while Mr. Wilder stared his +astonishment. + +"Good-bye, Tony," Constance smiled as he turned away. + +"Good-bye, signorina." There was a note of finality in his voice. + +"Well!" Mr. Wilder ejaculated. "That is the first--" "Italian" he started +to say, but he caught the word before it was out "--donkey-driver I ever +saw refuse money." + +Lieutenant di Ferara raised his shoulders. + +"_Mache_! The fellow is too honest; you do well to watch him." There was +a world of disgust in his tone. + +Constance glanced after the retreating figure and laughed. + +"Tony!" she called. + +He kept on; she raised her voice. + +"Mr. Yamhankeesh." + +He paused. + +"You call, signorina?" + +"Be sure and be here by half past six on Friday morning; we must start +early." + +"Sank you, signorina. Good-night." + +"Good-night, Tony." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +The Hotel du Lac may be approached in two ways. The ordinary, obvious +way, which incoming tourists of necessity choose, is by the highroad and +the gate. But the romantic way is by water. One sees only the garden then +and the garden is the distinguished feature of the place; it was planned +long before the hotel was built to adorn a marquis's pleasure house. +There are grottos, arbors, fountains, a winding stream; and, stretching +the length of the water front, a deep cool grove of interlaced plane +trees. At the end of the grove, half a dozen broad stone steps dip down +to a tiny harbor which is carpeted on the surface with lily pads. The +steps are worn by the lapping waves of fifty years, and are grown over +with slippery, slimy water weeds. + +The world was just stirring from its afternoon siesta, when the +_Farfalla_ dropped her yellow sails and floated into the shady little +harbor. Giuseppe prodded and pushed along the fern-grown banks until the +keel jolted against the water steps. He sprang ashore and steadied the +boat while Constance alighted. She slipped on the mossy step--almost went +under--and righted herself with a laugh that rang gaily through the +grove. + +She came up the steps still smiling, shook out her fluffy pink skirts, +straightened her rose-trimmed hat, and glanced reconnoiteringly about the +grove. One might reasonably expect, attacking the hotel as it were from +the flank, to capture unawares any stray guest. But aside from a +chaffinch or so and a brown-and-white spotted calf tied to a tree, the +grove was empty--blatantly empty. There was a shade of disappointment in +Constance's glance. One naturally does not like to waste one's best +embroidered gown on a spotted calf. + +Then her eye suddenly brightened as it lighted on a vivid splash of +yellow under a tree. She crossed over and picked it up--a paper covered +French novel; the title was _Bijou_, the author was Gyp. She turned to +the first page. Any reasonably careful person might be expected to write +his name in the front of a book--particularly a French book--before +abandoning it to the mercies of a foreign hotel. But the several fly +leaves were immaculately innocent of all sign of ownership. + +So intent was she upon this examination, that she did not hear footsteps +approaching down the long arbor that led from the house; so intent was +the young man upon a frowning scrutiny of the path before him, that he +did not see Constance until he had passed from the arbor into the grove. +Then simultaneously they raised their heads and looked at each other. For +a startled second they stared--rather guiltily--both with the air of +having been caught. Constance recovered her poise first; she nodded--a +nod which contained not the slightest hint of recognition--and laughed. + +"Oh!" she said. "I suppose this is your book? And I am afraid you have +caught me red-handed. You must excuse me for looking at it, but usually +at this season only German Alpine-climbers stop at the Hotel du Lac, and +I was surprised you know to find that German Alpine-climbers did anything +so frivolous as reading Gyp." + +The man bowed with a gesture which made her free of the book, but he +continued his silence. Constance glanced at him again, and this time she +allowed a flash of recognition to appear in her face. + +"Oh!" she re-exclaimed with a note of interested politeness, "you are the +young man who stumbled into Villa Rosa last Monday looking for the garden +of the prince?" + +He bowed a second time, an answering flash appearing in his face. + +[Illustration: "The man bowed with a gesture which made her free of the +book"] + +"And you are the young woman who was sitting on the wall beside a row +of--of--" + +"Stockings?" She nodded. "I trust you found the prince's garden without +difficulty?" + +"Yes, thank you. Your directions were very explicit." + +A slight pause followed, the young man waiting deferentially for her to +take the lead. + +"You find Valedolmo interesting?" she inquired. + +"Interesting!" His tone was enthusiastic. "Aside from the prince's garden +which contains a cedar of Lebanon and an India rubber plant from South +America, there is the Luini in the chapel of San Bartolomeo, and the +statue of Garibaldi in the piazza. And then--" he waved his hand toward +the lake, "there is always the view." + +"Yes," she agreed, "one can always look at the view." + +Her eyes wandered to the lake, and across the lake to Monte Maggiore with +clouds drifting about its peak. And while she obligingly studied the +mountain, he studied the effect of the pink gown and the rose-bud hat. +She turned back suddenly and caught him; it was a disconcerting habit of +Constance's. He politely looked away and she--with frank +interest--studied him. He was bareheaded and dressed in white flannels; +they were very becoming, she noted critically, and yet--they needed just +a touch of color; a red sash, for example, and earrings. + +"The guests of the Hotel du Lac," she remarked, "have a beautiful garden +of their own. Just the mere pleasure of strolling about in it ought to +keep them contented with Valedolmo." + +"Not necessarily," he objected. "Think of the garden of Eden--the most +beautiful garden there has ever been if report speaks true--and yet the +mere pleasure of strolling about didn't keep Adam contented. One gets +lonely you know." + +"Are you the only guest?" + +"Oh, no, there are four of us, but we're not very companionable; there's +such a discrepancy in languages." + +"And you don't speak Italian?" + +He shook his head. + +"Only English and--" he glanced at the book in her hand--"French +indifferently well." + +"I saw someone the other day who spoke Magyar--that is a beautiful +language." + +"Yes?" he returned with polite indifference. "I don't remember ever to +have heard it." + +She laughed and glanced about. Her eyes lighted on the arbor hung with +grape-vines and wistaria, where, far at the other end, Gustavo's figure +was visible lounging in the yellow stucco doorway. The sight appeared to +recall an errand to her mind. She glanced down at a pink wicker-basket +which hung on her arm, and gathered up her skirts with a movement of +departure. + +The young man hastily picked up the conversation. + +"It _is_ a jolly old garden," he affirmed. "And there's something +pathetic about its appearing on souvenir post-cards as a mere adjunct to +a blue and yellow hotel." + +She nodded sympathetically. + +"Built for romance and abandoned to tourists--German tourists at that!" + +"Oh, not entirely--we've a Russian countess just now." + +"A Russian countess?" Constance turned toward him with an air of +reawakened interest. "Is she as young and beautiful and fascinating and +wicked as they always are in novels?" + +"Oh, dear no! Seventy, if she's a day. A nice grandmotherly old soul who +smokes cigarettes." + +"Ah!" Constance smiled; there was even a trace of relief in her manner as +she nodded to the young man and turned away. His face reflected his +disappointment; he plainly wished to detain her, but could think of no +expedient. The spotted calf came to his rescue. The calf had been +watching them from the first, very much interested in the visitor; and +now as she approached his tree, he stretched out his neck as far as the +tether permitted and sniffed insistently. She paused and patted him on +the head. The calf acknowledged the caress with a grateful _moo_; there +was a plaintive light in his liquid eyes. + +"Poor thing--he's lonely!" She turned to the young man and spoke with an +accent of reproach. "The four guests of the Hotel du Lac don't show him +enough attention." + +The young man shrugged. + +"We're tired of calves. It's only a matter of a day or so before he'll be +breaded and fried and served Milanese fashion with a sauce of tomato and +garlic." + +Constance shook her head sympathetically; though whether her sympathy was +for the calf or the partakers of _table d'hote_, was not quite clear. + +"I know," she agreed. "I've been a guest at the Hotel du Lac myself--it's +a tragedy to be born a calf in Italy!" + +She nodded and turned; it was evident this time that she was really +going. He took a hasty step forward. + +"Oh, I say, please don't go! Stay and talk to me--just a little while. +That calf isn't half so lonely as I am." + +"I should like to, but really I mustn't. Elizabetta is waiting for me to +bring her some eggs. We are planning a trip up the Maggiore tomorrow, and +we have to have a cake to take with us. Elizabetta made one this morning +but she forgot to put in the baking powder. Italian cooks are not used to +making cakes; they are much better at--" her eyes fell on the calf--"veal +and such things." + +He folded his arms with an air of desperation. + +"I'm an American--one of your own countrymen; if you had a grain of +charity in your nature you would let the cake go." + +She shook her head relentlessly. + +"Five days at Valedolmo! You would not believe the straits I've been +driven to in search of amusement." + +"Yes?" There was a touch of curiosity in her tone. "What for example?" + +"I am teaching Gustavo how to play tennis." + +"Oh!" she said. "How does he do?" + +"Broken three windows and a flower pot and lost four balls." + +She laughed and turned away; and then as an idea occurred to her, she +turned back and fixed her eyes sympathetically on his face. + +"I suppose Valedolmo _is_ stupid for a man; but why don't you try +mountain climbing? Everybody finds that diverting. There's a guide here +who speaks English--really comprehensible English. He's engaged for +tomorrow, but after that I dare say he'll be free. Gustavo can tell you +about him." + +She nodded and smiled and turned down the arbor. + +The young man stood where she left him, with folded arms, watching her +pink gown as it receded down the long sun-flecked alley hung with purple +and green. He waited until it had been swallowed up in the yellow +doorway; then he fetched a deep breath and strolled to the water-wall. +After a few moments' prophetic contemplation of the mountain across the +lake, he threw back his head with a quick amused laugh, and got out a +cigarette and lighted it. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +As Constance emerged at the other end of the arbor, Gustavo, who had been +nodding on the bench beside the door, sprang to his feet, consternation +in his attitude. + +"Signorina!" he stammered. "You come from ze garden?" + +She nodded in her usual off-hand manner and handed him the basket. + +"Eggs, Gustavo--two dozen if you can spare them. I am sorry always to be +wanting so many, but--" she sighed, "eggs are so breakable!" + +Gustavo rolled his eyes to heaven in silent thanksgiving. She had not, it +was evident, run across the American, and the cat was still safely in the +bag; but how much longer it could be kept there, the saints alone knew. +He was feeling--very properly--guilty in regard to this latest escapade; +but what can a defenceless waiter do in the hands of an impetuous young +American whose pockets are stuffed with silver lire and five-franc notes? + +"Two dozen? Certainly, signorina. _Subitissimo_!" He took the basket and +hurried to the kitchen. + +Constance occupied the interval with the polyglot parrot of the +courtyard. The parrot, since she had last conversed with him, had +acquired several new expressions in the English tongue. As Gustavo +reappeared with the eggs, she confronted him sternly. + +"Have you been teaching this bird English? I am surprised!" + +"No, signorina. It was--it was--" Gustavo mopped his brow. "He jus' pick +it up." + +"I'm sorry that the Hotel du Lac has _guests_ that use such language; +it's very shocking." + +"_Si_, signorina." + +"By the way, Gustavo, how does it happen that that young American man +who left last week is still here?" + +Gustavo nearly dropped the eggs. + +"I just saw him in the garden with a book--I am sure it was the same +young man. What is he doing all this time in Valedolmo?" + +Gustavo's eyes roved wildly until they lighted on the tennis court. + +"He--he stay, signorina, to play lawn tennis wif me, but he go tomorrow." + +"Oh, he is going tomorrow?--What's his name, Gustavo?" + +She put the question indifferently while she stooped to pet a +tortoise-shell cat that was curled asleep on the bench. + +"His name?" Gustavo's face cleared. "I get ze raygeester; you read heem +yourself." + +He darted into the bureau and returned with a black book. + +"_Ecco_, signorina!" spreading it on the table before her. + +His alacrity should have aroused her suspicions; but she was too intent +on the matter in hand. She turned the pages and paused at the week's +entries; Rudolph Ziegelmann und Frau, Berlin; and just beneath, in bold +black letters that stretched from margin to margin, Abraham Lincoln, U. +S. A. + +Gustavo hovered above anxiously watching her face; he had been told that +this would make everything right, that Abraham Lincoln was an exceedingly +respectable name. Constance's expression did not change. She looked at +the writing for fully three minutes, then she opened her purse and looked +inside. She laid the money for the eggs in a pile on the table, and took +out an extra lira which she held in her hand. + +"Gustavo," she asked, "do you think that you _could_ tell me the truth?" + +"Signorina!" he said reproachfully. + +"How did that name get there?" + +"He write it heemself!" + +[Illustration: "She turned the pages and paused at the week's entries."] + +"Yes, I dare say he did--but it doesn't happen to be his name. Oh, I'm +not blind; I can see plainly enough that he has scratched out his own +name underneath." + +Gustavo leaned forward and affected to examine the page. "It was a li'l' +blot, signorina; he scratch heem out." + +"Gustavo!" Her tone was despairing. "Are you incapable of telling the +truth? That young man's name is no more Abraham Lincoln than Victor +Emmanuel II. When did he write that and why?" + +Gustavo's eyes were on the lira; he broke down and told the truth. + +"Yesterday night, signorina. He say, 'ze next time zat Signorina +Americana who is beautiful as ze angels come to zis hotel she look in ze +raygeester, an' I haf it feex ready'." + +"Oh, he said that, did he?" + +"_Si_, signorina." + +"And his real name that comes on his letters?" + +"Jayreem Ailyar, signorina. + +"Say it again, Gustavo." She cocked her head. + +He gathered himself together for a supreme effort. He rolled his r's; he +shouted until the courtyard reverberated. + +"Meestair-r Jay-r-reem Ailyar-r!" + +Constance shook her head. + +"Sounds like Hungarian--at least the way you pronounce it. But anyway +it's of no consequence; I merely asked out of idle curiosity. And +Gustavo--" She still held the lira--"if he asks you if I looked in this +register, what are you going to say?" + +"I say, 'no, Meestair Ailyar, she stay all ze time in ze courtyard +talking wif ze parrot, and she was ver' moch shocked at his Angleesh'." + +"Ah!" Constance smiled and laid the lira on the table. "Gustavo," she +said, "I hope, for the sake of your immortal soul, that you go often to +confession." + +The eggs were not heavy, but Gustavo insisted upon carrying them; he was +determined to see her safely aboard the _Farfalla_, with no further +accidents possible. That she had not identified the young man of the +garden with the donkey-driver of yesterday was clear--though how such +blindness was possible, was not clear. Probably she had only caught a +glimpse of his back at a distance; in any case he thanked a merciful +Providence and decided to risk no further chance. As they neared the end +of the arbor, Gustavo was talking--shouting fairly; their approach was +heralded. + +They turned into the grove. To Gustavo's horror the most conspicuous +object in it was this same reckless young man, seated on the water-wall +nonchalantly smoking a cigarette. The young man rose and bowed; Constance +nodded carelessly, while Gustavo behind her back made frantic signs for +him to flee, to escape while still there was time. The young man +telegraphed back by the same sign language that there was no danger; she +didn't suspect the truth. And to Gustavo's amazement, he fell in beside +them and strolled over to the water steps. His recklessness was catching; +Gustavo suddenly determined upon a bold stroke himself. + +"Signorina," he asked, "zat man I send, zat donk' driver--you like +heem?" + +"Tony?" Her manner was indifferent. "Oh, he does well enough; he seems +honest and truthful, though a little stupid." + +Gustavo and the young man exchanged glances. + +"And Gustavo," she turned to him with a sweetly serious air that admitted +no manner of doubt but that she was in earnest. "I told this young man +that in case he cared to do any mountain climbing, you would find him the +same guide. It would be very useful for him to have one who speaks +English." + +Gustavo bowed in mute acquiescence. He could find no adequate words for +the situation. + +The boat drew alongside and Constance stepped in, but she did not sit +down. Her attention was attracted by two washer-women who had come +clattering on to the little rustic bridge that spanned the stream above +the water steps. The women, their baskets of linen on their heads, had +paused to watch the embarkation. + +"Ah, Gustavo," Constance asked over her shoulder, "is there a +washer-woman here at the Hotel du Lac named Costantina?" + +"_Si_, signorina, zat is Costantina standing on ze bridge wif ze yellow +handkerchief on her head." + +Constance looked at Costantina, and nodded and smiled. Then she laughed +out loud, a beautiful rippling, joyous laugh that rang through the grove +and silenced the chaffinches. + +Perhaps once upon a time Costantina was beautiful--beautiful as the +angels--but if so, it was long, long ago. Now she was old and fat with a +hawk nose and a double chin and one tooth left in the middle of the +front. But if she were not beautiful, she was at least a cheerful old +soul, and, though she could not possibly know the reason, she echoed the +signorina's laugh until she nearly shook the clean clothes into the +water. + +Constance settled herself among the cushions and glanced back toward the +terrace. + +"Good afternoon," she nodded politely to the young man. + +He bowed with his hand on his heart. + +"_Addio_, Gustavo." + +He bowed until his napkin swept the ground. + +"_Addio_, Costantina," she waved her hand toward her namesake. + +The washer-woman laughed again and her earrings flashed in the sunlight. + +Giuseppe raised the yellow sail; they caught the breeze, and the +_Farfalla_ floated away. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Half past six on Friday morning and Constance appeared on the terrace; +Constance in fluffy, billowy, lacy white with a spray of oleander in her +belt--the last costume in the world in which one would start on a +mountain climb. She cast a glance in passing toward the gateway and the +stretch of road visible beyond, but both were empty, and seating herself +on the parapet, she turned her attention to the lake. The breeze that +blew from the farther shore brought fresh Alpine odors of flowers and +pine trees. Constance sniffed it eagerly as she gazed across toward the +purple outline of Monte Maggiore. The serenity of her smile gradually +gave place to doubt; she turned and glanced back toward the house, +visibly changing her mind. + +But before the change was finished, the quiet of the morning was broken +by a clatter of tiny scrambling obstinate hoofs and a series of +ejaculations, both Latin and English. She glanced toward the gate where +Fidilini was visible, plainly determined not to come in. Constance +laughed expectantly and turned back to the water, her eyes intent on the +fishing-smacks that were putting out from the little _marino_. The sounds +of coercion increased; a command floated down the driveway in the English +tongue. It sounded like: + +"You twist his tail, Beppo, while I pull." + +Apparently it was understood in spite of Beppo's slight knowledge of the +language. An eloquent silence followed; then an outraged grunt on the +part of Fidilini, and the cavalcade advanced with a rush to the kitchen +door. Tony left Beppo and the donkeys, and crossed the terrace alone. His +bow swept the ground in the deferential manner of Gustavo, but his +glance was far bolder than a donkey-driver's should have been. She noted +the fact and tossed him a nod of marked condescension. A silence followed +during which Constance studied the lake; when she turned back, she found +Tony arranging a spray of oleander that had dropped from her belt in the +band of his hat. She viewed this performance in silent disfavor. Having +finished to his satisfaction, he tossed the hat aside and seated himself +on the balustrade. Her frown became visible. Tony sprang to his feet with +an air of anxiety. + +"_Scusi_, signorina. I have not meant to be presumptious. Perhaps it is +not fitting that anyone below the rank of lieutenant should sit in your +presence?" + +"It will not be very long, Tony, before you are discharged for +impertinence." + +"Ah, signorina, do not say that! If it is your wish I will kneel when I +address you. My family, signorina, are poor; they need the four francs +which you so munificently pay." + +"You told me that you were an orphan; that you had no family." + +"I mean the family which I hope to have. Costantina has extravagant +tastes and coral earrings cost two-fifty a pair." + +Constance laughed and assumed a more lenient air. She made a slight +gesture which might be interpreted as an invitation to sit down; and Tony +accepted it. + +"By the way, Tony, how do you talk to Costantina, since she speaks no +English and you no Italian?" + +"We have no need of either Italian or English; the language of love, +signorina, is universal." + +"Oh!" she laughed again. "I was at the Hotel du Lac yesterday; I saw +Costantina." + +"You saw Costantina!--Ah, signorina, is she not beautiful? Ze mos' +beautiful in all ze world? But ver' unkind signorina. Yes, she laugh at +me; she smile at ozzer men, at soldiers wif uniforms." He sighed +profoundly. "But I love her just ze same, always from ze first moment I +see her. It was washday, signorina, by ze lac. I climb over ze wall and +talk wif her, but she make fun of me--ver' unkind. I go away ver' sad. No +use, I say, she like dose soldiers best. But I see her again; I hear her +laugh--it sound like angels singing--I say, no, I can not go away; I stay +here and make her love me. Yes, I do everysing she ask--but everysing! I +wear earrings; I make myself into a fool just to please zat Costantina." + +He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. A slow red flush crept over +Constance's face and she turned her head away and looked across the +water. + +Mr. Wilder, in full Alpine regalia, stepped out upon the terrace and +viewed the beauty of the morning with a prophetic eye. Miss Hazel +followed in his wake; she wore a lavender dimity. And suddenly it +occurred to Tony's slow moving masculine perception that neither lavender +dimity nor white muslin were fabrics fit for mountain climbing. + +Constance slipped down from her parapet and hurried to meet them. + +"Good-morning, Aunt Hazel. Morning, Dad! You look beautiful! There's +nothing so becoming to a man as knickerbockers--especially if he's a +little stout.--You're late," she added with a touch of severity. +"Breakfast has been waiting half an hour and Tony fifteen minutes." + +She turned back toward the donkey-man who was standing, hat in hand, +respectfully waiting orders. "Oh, Tony, I forgot to tell you; we shall +not need Beppo and the donkeys to-day. You and my father are going +alone." + +"You no want to climb Monte Maggiore--ver' beautiful mountain." There was +disappointment, reproach, rebellion in his tone. + +"We have made inquiries and my aunt thinks it too long a trip. Without +the donkeys you can cross by boat, and that cuts off three miles." + +"As you please, signorina." He turned away. + +Constance looked after him with a shade of remorse. When this plan of +sending her father and Tony alone had occurred to her as she sailed +homeward yesterday from the Hotel du Lac, it had seemed a humorous and +fitting retribution. The young man had been just a trifle too sure of her +interest; the episode of the hotel register must not go unpunished. +But--it was a beautiful morning, a long empty day stretched before her, +and Monte Maggiore looked alluring; there was no pursuit, for the moment, +which she enjoyed as much as donkey-riding. Oh yes, she was spiting +herself as well as Tony; but considering the circumstances the sacrifice +seemed necessary. + +When the _Farfalla_ drifted up ready to take the mountain-climbers, Miss +Hazel suggested (Constance possessed to a large degree the diplomatic +faculty of making other people propose what she herself had decided on) +that she and her niece cross with them. Tony was sulky and Constance +could not forego the pleasure of baiting him further. + +They put in at the village, on their way, for the morning mail; Mr. +Wilder wished his paper, even at the risk of not beginning the ascent +before the sun was high. Giuseppe brought back from the post, among other +matters, a letter for Constance. The address was in a dashing, angular +hand that pretty thoroughly covered the envelope. Had she not been so +intent on the writing herself, she would have noted Tony's astonished +stare as he passed it to her. + +"Why!" she exclaimed, "here's a letter from Nannie Hilliard, postmarked +Lucerne." + +"Lucerne!" Miss Hazel echoed her surprise. "I thought they were to be in +England for the summer?" + +"They were--the last I heard." Constance ripped the letter open and read +it aloud. + +[Illustration: "Constance ripped the letter open and read it aloud."] + + "DEAR CONSTANCE: You'll doubtless be surprised to hear from us in + Switzerland instead of in England, and to learn further, that in + the course of a week, we shall arrive at Valedolmo en route for + the Dolomites. Jerry Junior at the last moment decided to come with + us, and you know what a _man_ is when it comes to European travel. + Instead of taking two months comfortably to England, as Aunt Kate + and I had planned, we did the whole of the British Isles in ten + days, and Holland and France at the same breathless rate. + + "Jerry says he holds the record for the Louvre; he struck a + six-mile pace at the entrance, and by looking neither to the right + nor the left he did the whole building in forty-three minutes. + + "You can imagine the exhausted state Aunt Kate and I are in after + travelling five weeks with him. We simply struck in Switzerland and + sent him on to Italy alone. I had hoped he would meet us in + Valedolmo, but we have been detained here longer than we expected, + and now he's rushed off again--where to, goodness only knows; we + don't. + + "Anyway, Aunt Kate and I shall land in Valedolmo about the end of + the week. I am dying to see you; I have some beautiful news that's + too complicated to write. We've engaged rooms at the Hotel du + Lac--I hope it's decent; it's the only place starred in Baedeker. + + "Aunt Kate wishes to be remembered to your father and Miss Hazel. + + "Yours ever, + NAN HILLIARD. + + "P. S. I'm awfully sorry not to bring Jerry; I know you'd adore + him." + +She returned the letter to its envelope and looked up. + +"Now isn't that abominable?" she demanded. + +"Abominable!" Miss Hazel was scandalized. "My dear, I think it's +delightful." + +"Oh, yes--I mean about Jerry Junior; I've been trying for six years to +get hold of that man." + +Tony behind them made a sudden movement that let out nearly a yard of +rope, and the _Farfalla_ listed heavily to starboard. + +"Tony!" Constance threw over her shoulder. "Don't you know enough to sit +still when you are holding the sheet?" + +"_Scusi_," he murmured. The sulky look had vanished from his face; he +wore an expression of alert attention. + +"Of course we shall have them at the villa," said Miss Hazel. "And we +shall have to get some new dishes. Elizabetta has already broken so many +plates that she has to stop and wash them between courses." + +Constance looked dreamily across the lake; she appeared to be thinking. +"I wonder," she inquired finally, "if Jerry Junior knew we were here in +Valedolmo?" + +Her father emerged from the columns of his paper. + +"Of course he knew it, and having heard what a dangerous young person you +were, he said to himself, 'I'd better keep out.'" + +"I wish I knew. It would make the score against him considerably +heavier." + +"So there is already a score? I hadn't supposed that the game had begun." + +She nodded. + +"Six years ago--but he doesn't know it. Yes, Dad," her tone was +melodramatic, "for six years I've been waiting for Jerry Junior and +planning my revenge. And now, when I have him almost in my grasp, he +eludes me again!" + +"Dear me!" Mr. Wilder ejaculated. "What did the young man do?" + +Had Constance turned she would have found Tony's face an interesting +study. But she knew well enough without looking at him that he was +listening to the conversation, and she determined to give him something +to listen to. It was a salutary thing for Tony to be kept in mind of the +fact that there were other men in the world. + +She sighed. + +"He was the first man I ever loved, Father, and he spurned me. Do you +remember that Christmas when I was in boarding-school and you were called +South on business? I wanted to visit Nancy Long, but you wouldn't let me +because you didn't like her father; and you got Mrs. Jerymn Hilliard whom +I had never set eyes on to invite me there? I didn't want to go, and you +said I must, and were perfectly horrid about it--you remember that?" + +Mr. Wilder grunted. + +"Yes, I see you do. And you remember how, with my usual sweetness, I +finally gave way? Well, Dad, you never knew the reason. The Yale Glee +Club came to Westfield that year just before the holidays began, and Miss +Jane let everybody go to the concert whose deportment had been above +eighty--that of course included me. + +"Well, we all went, and we all fell in love--in a body--with a sophomore +who played the banjo and sang negro songs. He had lovely dark +gazelle-like eyes and he sang funny songs without smiling. The whole +school raved about him all the way home; we cut his picture out of the +program and pasted in the front of our watches. His name, Father--" she +paused dramatically, "was Jerymn Hilliard Junior!" + +"I sat up half the night writing diplomatic letters to you and Mrs. +Hilliard; and the next day when it got around that I was actually going +to visit in his house--well, I was the most popular girl in school. I was +sixteen years old then; I wore sailor suits and my hair was braided down +my back. Probably I did look young; and then Nannie, whom I was +supposedly visiting, was only fifteen. There were a lot of cousins in the +house besides all the little Hilliards, and what do you think? They made +the children eat in the schoolroom! I never saw him until Christmas +night; then when we were introduced, he shook my hand in a listless sort +of way, said 'How d' y' do?' and forgot all about me. He went off with +the Glee Club the next day, and I only saw him once more. + +"We were playing blind man's buff in the school-room; I had just been +caught by the hair. It hurt and I was squealing. Everybody else was +clapping and laughing, when suddenly the door burst open and there stood +Jerry Junior! He looked straight at me and growled: + +"'What are you kids making such an infernal racket about?'" + +She shut her eyes. + +"Aunt Hazel, Dad, just think. He was my first love. His picture was at +that moment in a locket around my neck. And he called me a _kid_!" + +"And you've never seen him since?" Miss Hazel's smile expressed amused +indulgence. + +Constance shook her head. + +"He's always been away when I've visited Nan--and for six years I've been +waiting." She straightened up with an air of determination. "But now, if +he's on the continent of Europe, I'll get him!" + +"And what shall you do with him?" her father mildly inquired. + +"Do with him? I'll make him take it back; I'll make him eat that word +kid!" + +"H'm!" said her father. "I hope you'll get him; he might act as an +antidote to some of these officers." + +They had run in under the shadow of the mountain and the keel grated on +the shore. Constance raised her eyes and studied the towering crag above +their heads; when she lowered them again, her gaze for an instant met +Tony's. There was a new light in his eyes--amusement, triumph, something +entirely baffling. He gave her the intangible feeling of having at last +got the mastery of the situation. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +The sun was setting behind Monte Maggiore, the fishing smacks were coming +home, Luigi had long since carried the tea things into the house; but +still the two callers lingered on the terrace of Villa Rosa. It was +Lieutenant di Ferara's place to go first since he had come first, and +Captain Coroloni doggedly held his post until such time as his junior +officer should see fit to take himself off. The captain knew, as well as +everyone else at the officer's mess, that in the end the lieutenant would +be the favored man; for he was a son of Count Guido di Ferara of Turin, +and titles are at a premium in the American market. But still the +marriage contract was not signed yet, and the fact remained that the +captain had come last: accordingly he waited. + +They had been there fully two hours, and poor Miss Hazel was worn with +the strain. She sat nervously on the edge of her chair, and leaned +forward with clasped hands listening intently. It required very keen +attention to keep the run of either the captain's or the lieutenant's +English. A few days before she had laughed at what seemed to be a funny +story, and had later learned that it was an announcement of the death of +the lieutenant's grandmother. Today she confined her answers to +inarticulate murmurs which might be interpreted as either assents or +negations as the case required. + +Constance however was buoyantly at her ease; she loved nothing better +than the excitement of a difficult situation. As she bridged over pauses, +and unobtrusively translated from the officer's English into real +English, she at the same time kept a watchful eye on the water. She had +her own reasons for wishing to detain the callers until her father's +return. + +Presently she saw, across the lake, a yellow sailboat float out from the +shadow of Monte Maggiore and head in a long tack toward Villa Rosa. With +this she gave up the task of keeping the conversation general; and +abandoning Captain Coroloni to her aunt, she strolled over to the terrace +parapet with Lieutenant di Ferara at her side. The picture they made was +a charming color scheme. Constance wore white, the lieutenant pale blue; +an oleander tree beside them showed a cloud of pink blossoms, while +behind them for a background, appeared the rose of the villa wall and the +deep green of cypresses against a sunset sky. The picture was +particularly effective as seen from the point of view of an approaching +boat. + +Constance broke off a spray of oleander, and while she listened to the +lieutenant's recountal of a practice march, she picked up his hat from +the balustrade and idly arranged the flowers in the vizor. He bent toward +her and said something; she responded with a laugh. They were both too +occupied to notice that the boat had floated close in shore, until the +flap of the falling sail announced its presence. Constance glanced up +with a start. She caught her father's eye fixed anxiously upon her; +whatever Gustavo and the officer's mess of the tenth cavalry might think, +he had not the slightest wish in the world to see his daughter the +Contessa di Ferara. Tony's face also wore an expression; he was sober, +disgusted, disdainful; there was a glint of anger and determination in +his eye. Constance hurried to the water steps to greet her father. Of +Tony she took no manner of notice; if a man elects to be a donkey-driver, +he must swallow the insults that go with the part. + +The officers, observing that Luigi was hovering about the doorway waiting +to announce dinner, waived the question of precedence and made their +adieus. While Mr. Wilder and Miss Hazel were intent on the captain's +labored farewell speech, the lieutenant crossed to Constance who still +stood at the head of the water steps. He murmured something in Italian +as he bowed over her hand and raised it to his lips. Constance blushed +very becomingly as she drew her hand away; she was aware, if the officer +was not, that Tony was standing beside them looking on. But as he raised +his eyes, he too became aware of it; the man's expression was more than +impertinent. The lieutenant stepped to his side and said something low +and rapid, something which should have made a right-minded donkey-driver +touch his hat and slink off. But Tony held his ground with a laugh which +was more impertinent than the stare had been. The lieutenant's face +flushed angrily and his hand half instinctively went to his sword. +Constance stepped forward. + +"Tony! I shall have no further need of your services. You may go." + +Tony suddenly came to his senses. + +"I--beg your pardon, Miss Wilder," he stammered. + +"I shall not want you again; please go." She turned her back and joined +the others. + +The two officers with final salutes took themselves off. Miss Hazel +hurried indoors to make ready for dinner; Mr. Wilder followed in her +wake, muttering something about finding the change to pay Tony. Constance +stood where they left her, staring at the pavement with hotly burning +cheeks. + +"Miss Wilder!" Tony crossed to her side; his manner was humble--actually +humble--the usual mocking undertone in his voice was missing. "Really I'm +awfully sorry to have caused you annoyance; it was unpardonable." + +Constance turned toward him. + +"Yes, Tony, I think it was. Your position does not give you the right to +insult my guests." + +Tony stiffened slightly. + +"I acknowledge that I insulted him, and I'm sorry. But he insulted me, +for the matter of that. I didn't like the way he looked at me, any more +than he liked the way I looked at him." + +"There is a certain deference, Tony, which an officer in the Royal +Italian Army has a right to expect from a donkey-driver." + +Tony shrugged. + +"It is a difficult position to hold, Miss Wilder. A donkey-driver, I +find, plays the same accommodating role as the family watch-dog. You pat +him when you choose; you kick him when you choose; and he is supposed to +swallow both attentions with equal grace." + +"You should have chosen another profession." + +"Naturally, I was not flattered to find that your real reason for staying +at home today, was that you were expecting more entertaining callers." + +"Is there any use in discussing it further? I am not going to climb any +more mountains, and I shall not, as I told you, need a donkey-man again." + +"Then I'm discharged?" + +"If you wish to put it so. You must see for yourself that the play has +gone far enough. However, it has been amusing, and we will at least part +friends." + +She held out her hand; it was a mark of definite dismissal rather than a +token of friendly forgiveness. + +Tony bowed over her hand in perfect mimicry of the lieutenant's manner. +"Signorina, _addio_!" He gravely raised it to his lips. + +She snatched her hand away quickly and without glancing at him turned +toward the house. He let her cross half the terrace then he called +softly: + +"Signorina!" + +She kept on without pausing. He took a quick step after. + +"Signorina, a moment!" + +She half turned. + +"Well?" + +"I beg of you--one little favor. There are two American ladies expected +at the Hotel du Lac and I thought--perhaps--would you mind writing me a +letter of recommendation?" + +Constance turned back without a word and walked into the house. + +Mr. Wilder's conversation at dinner that night was of the day's +excursion and Tony. He was elated, enthusiastic, glowing. +Mountain-climbing was the most interesting pursuit in the world; he would +begin tomorrow and exhaust the Alps. And as for Tony--his intelligence, +his discretion, his cleverness--there never had been such a guide. +Constance listened silently, her eyes on her plate. At another time it +might have occurred to her that her father's enthusiasm was excessive, +but tonight she was occupied with her thoughts, and she had no reason in +the world to suspect him of guile. She decided, however, to postpone the +announcement of Tony's dismissal; tomorrow mountain-climbing might look +less alluring. + +Dinner over, Mr. Wilder with a tired if satisfied sigh, dropped into a +chair to finish his reading of the London _Times_. He no longer skimmed +his paper lightly as in the days when papers were to be had hot at any +hour. He read it carefully, painstakingly, from the first advertisement +to the last obituary; and he laid it down in the end with a disappointed +sigh that there were not more residential properties for hire, that the +day's death list was so meager. + +Miss Hazel settled herself to her knitting. She was making a rain-bow +shawl of seven colors and an intricate pattern, and she had to count her +stitches; conversation was impossible. Constance, vaguely restless, +picked up a book and laid it down, and finally sauntered out to the +terrace with no thought in the world but to see the moon rise over the +mountains. + +As she approached the parapet she became aware that someone was lounging +on the water-steps smoking a cigarette. The smoker rose politely but +ventured no remark. + +"Is that you, Giuseppe?" she asked in Italian. + +"No, signorina. It is I--Tony. I am waiting for orders." + +"For orders!" There was astonishment as well as indignation in her tone. +"I thought I made it clear--" + +"That I was discharged? Yes, signorina. But I have been so fortunate as +to find another place. The Signor Papa has engage me. I go wif him; we +climb all ze mountain around." He waved his hand largely to comprise the +whole landscape. "I sink perhaps it is better so--for the Signor Papa and +me to go alone. Mountain climbing is too hard; zere is too much fatigue, +signorina, for you." + +He bowed humbly and deferentially, and retired to the steps and his +cigarette. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Half past six on the following morning found Constance and her father +rising from the breakfast table and Tony turning in at the gate. +Constance's nod of greeting was barely perceptible, and her father's eye +contained a twinkle as he watched her. Tony studied her mountain-climbing +costume with an air of concern. + +"You go wif us, signorina?" His expression was blended of surprise and +disapproval, but in spite of himself his tone was triumphant. "You say to +me yesterday you no want to climb any more mountain." + +"I have changed my mind." + +"But zis mountain today too long, too high. You get tired, signorina. +Perhaps anozzer day we take li'l' baby mountain, zen you can go." + +"I am going today." + +"It is not possible, signorina. I have not brought ze donk'." + +"Oh, I'm going to walk." + +"As you please, signorina." + +He sighed patiently. Then he looked up and caught her eye. They both +laughed. + +"Signorina," he whispered, "I ver' happy today. Zat Costantina she more +kind. Yesterday ver' unkind; I go home ver' sad. But today I sink--" + +"Yes?" + +"I sink after all maybe she like me li'l' bit." + + * * * * * + +Giuseppe rowed the three climbers a mile or so down the lake and set them +ashore at the base of their mountain. They started up gaily and had +accomplished half their journey before they thought of being tired. Tony +surpassed himself; if he had been entertaining the day before he was +doubly so now. His spirits were bubbling over and contagious. He and +Constance acted like two children out of school. They ran races and +talked to the peasants in the wayside cottages. They drove a herd of +goats for half a mile while the goatherd strolled behind and smoked +Tony's cigarettes. Constance took a water jar from a little girl they met +coming from the fountain and endeavored to balance it on her own head, +with the result that she nearly drowned both herself and the child. + +They finally stopped for luncheon in a grove of chestnut trees with sheep +nibbling on the hillside below them and a shepherd boy somewhere out of +sight playing on a mouth organ. It should have been a flute, but they +were in a forgiving mood. Constance this time did her share of the work. +She and Tony together spread the cloth and made the coffee while her +father fanned himself and looked on. If Mr. Wilder had any unusual +thoughts in regard to the donkey-man, they were at least not reflected in +his face. + +When they had finished their meal Tony spread his coat under a tree. + +"Signorina," he said, "perhaps you li'l' tired? Look, I make nice place +to sleep. You lie down and rest while ze Signor Papa and me, we have +li'l' smoke. Zen after one, two hours I come call you." + +Constance very willingly accepted the suggestion. They had walked five +uphill miles since morning. It was two hours later that she opened her +eyes to find Tony bending over her. She sat up and regarded him sternly. +He had the grace to blush. + +"Tony, did you kiss my hand?" + +"_Scusi_, signorina. I ver' sorry to wake you, but it is tree o'clock and +ze Signor Papa he say we must start just now or we nevair get to ze top." + +"Answer my question." + +"Signorina, I cannot tell to you a lie. It is true, I forget I am just +poor donkey-man. I play li'l' game. You sleeping beauty; I am ze prince. +I come to wake you. Just _one_ kiss I drop on your hand--one ver' little +kiss, signorina." + +Constance assumed an air of indignant reproof but in the midst of it she +laughed. + +"I wish you wouldn't be so funny, Tony; I can't scold you as much as you +deserve. But I am angry just the same, and if anything like that ever +happens again I shall be very _very_ angry. + +"Signorina, I would not make you very _very_ angry for anysing. As long +as I live nosing like zat shall happen again. No, nevair, I promise." + +They plunged into a pine wood and climbed for another two hours, the +summit always vanishing before them like a mirage. At the end of that +time they were apparently no nearer their goal than when they had +started. They had followed first one path, then another, until they had +lost all sense of direction, and finally when they came to a place where +three paths diverged, they had to acknowledge themselves definitely lost. +Mr. Wilder elected one path, Tony another, and Constance sat down on a +rock. + +"I'm not going any farther," she observed. + +"You can't stay here all night," said her father. + +"Well, I can't walk over this mountain all night. We don't get anywhere; +we merely move in circles. I don't think much of the guide you engaged. +He doesn't know his way." + +"He wasn't engaged to know his way," Tony retorted. "He was engaged to +wear earrings and sing Santa Lucia." + +Constance continued to sit on her rock while Tony went forward on a +reconnoitering expedition. He returned in ten minutes with the +information that there was a shepherd's hut not very far off with a +shepherd inside who would like to be friendly. If the signorina would +deign to ask some questions in the Italian language which she spoke so +fluently, they could doubtless obtain directions as to the way home. + +They found the shepherd, the shepherdess and four little shepherds eating +their evening polenta in an earth-floored room, with half a dozen +chickens and the family pig gathered about them in an expectant group. +They rose politely and invited the travellers to enter. It was an event +in their simple lives when foreigners presented themselves at the door. + +Constance commenced amenities by announcing that she had been walking on +the mountain since sunrise and was starving. Did they by chance have any +fresh milk? + +"Starving! _Madonna mia_, how dreadful!" Madame held up her hands. But +yes, to be sure they had fresh milk. They kept four cows. That was their +business--turning milk into cheese and selling it on market day in the +village. Also they had some fresh mountain strawberries which Beppo had +gathered that morning--perhaps they too might be pleasing to the +signorina? + +Constance nodded affirmatively, and added, with her eyes on the pig, that +it might be pleasanter to eat outside where they could look at the view. +She became quite gay again over what she termed their afternoon +tea-party, and her father had to remind her most insistently that if they +wished to get down before darkness overtook them they must start at once. +An Italian twilight is short. They paid for the food and presented a +lira apiece to the children, leaving them silhouetted against the sky in +a bobbing row shouting musical farewells. + +Their host led them through the woods and out on to the brow of the +mountain in order to start them down by the right path. He regretted that +he could not go all the way but the sheep had still to be brought in for +the night. At the parting he was garrulous with directions. + +The easiest way to get home now would be straight down the mountain to +Grotta del Monte--he pointed out the brown-tiled roofs of a village far +below them--there they could find donkeys or an ox-cart to take them +back. It was nine kilometres to Valedolmo. They had come quite out of +their way; if they had taken the right path in the morning they would +have reached the top where the view was magnificant--truly magnificant. +It was a pity to miss it. Perhaps some other day they would like to come +again and he himself would be pleased to guide them. He shook hands and +wished them a pleasant journey. They would best hurry a trifle, he added, +for darkness came fast and when one got caught on the mountain at +night--he shrugged his shoulders and looked at Tony--one needed a guide +who knew his business. + +They had walked for ten minutes when they heard someone shouting behind +and found a young man calling to them to wait. He caught up with them and +breathlessly explained. + +Pasquale had told him that they were foreigners from America who were +climbing the mountain for diversion and who had lost their way. He was +going down to the village himself and would be pleased to guide them. + +He fell into step beside Constance and commenced asking questions, while +Tony, as the path was narrow, perforce fell behind. Occasionally +Constance translated, but usually she laughed without translating, and +Tony, for the twentieth time, found himself hating the Italian language. + +The young man's questions were refreshingly ingenuous. He was curious +about America, since he was thinking, he said, of becoming an American +himself some day. He knew a man once who had gone to America to live and +had made a fortune there--but yes a large fortune--ten thousand lire in +four years. Perhaps the signorina knew him--Giuseppe Motta; he lived in +Buenos Aires. And what did it look like--America? How was it different +from Italy? + +Constance described the skyscrapers in New York. + +His wonder was intense. A building twenty stories high! _Dio mio_! He +should hate to mount himself up all those stairs. Were the buildings like +that in the country too? Did the shepherds live in houses twenty stories +high? + +"Oh no," she laughed. "In the country the houses are just like these only +they are made of wood instead of stone." + +"Of wood?" He opened his eyes. "But signorina, do they never burn?" + +He had another question to ask. He had been told--though of course he did +not believe it--that the Indians in America had red skins. + +Constance nodded yes. His eyes opened wider. + +"Truly red like your coat?" with a glance at her scarlet golf jacket. + +"Not quite," she admitted. + +"But how it must be diverting," he sighed, "to travel the world over and +see different things." He fell silent and trudged on beside her, the +wanderlust in his eyes. + +It was almost dark when they reached the big arched gateway that led into +the village. Here their ways parted and they paused for farewell. + +"Signorina," the young man said suddenly, "take me with you back to +America. I will prune your olive trees, I will tend your vines. You can +leave me in charge when you go on your travels." + +She shook her head with a laugh. + +"But I have no vines; I have no olive trees. You would be homesick for +Italy." + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"Then good bye. You, signorina, will go around the world and see many +sights while I, for travel, shall ride on a donkey to Valedolmo." + +He shook hands all around and with the grace of a prince accepted two of +Tony's cigarettes. His parting speech showed him a fatalist. + +"What will be, will be. There is a girl--" he waved his hand vaguely in +the direction of the village. "If I go to America then I cannot stay +behind and marry Maria. So perhaps it is planned for the best. You will +find me, signorina, when next you come to Italy, still digging the ground +in Grotta del Monte." + +As he swung away Tony glanced after him with a suggestion of malice, then +he transferred his gaze to the empty gateway. + +"I see no one else with whom you can talk Italian. Perhaps for ten +minutes you will deign to speak English with me?" + +"I am too tired to talk," she threw over her shoulder as she followed her +father through the gate. + +They plunged into a tangle of tortuous paved streets, the houses pressing +each other as closely as if there were not all the outside world to +spread in. Grotta del Monte is built on a slope and its streets are in +reality long narrow flights of stairs all converging in the little +piazza. The moon was not yet up, and aside from an occasional flickering +light before a madonna's shrine, the way was black. + +"Signorina, take my arm. I'm afraid maybe you fall." + +Tony's voice was humbly persuasive. Constance laughed and laid her hand +lightly on his arm. Tony dropped his own hand over hers and held her +firmly. Neither spoke until they came to the piazza. + +"Signorina," he whispered, "you make me ver' happy tonight." + +She drew her hand away. + +"I'm tired, Tony. I'm not quite myself." + +"No, signorina, yesterday I sink maybe you not yourself, but to-day you +ver' good ver' kind--jus' your own self ze way you ought to be." + +The piazza, after the dark, narrow streets that led to it, seemed +bubbling with life. The day's work was finished and the evening's play +had begun. In the center, where a fountain splashed into a broad bowl, +groups of women and girls with copper water-jars were laughing and +gossiping as they waited their turns. One side of the square was flanked +by the imposing facade of a church with the village saint on a pedestal +in front; the other side, by a cheerfully inviting osteria with tables +and chairs set into the street and a glimpse inside of a blazing hearth +and copper kettles. + +Mr. Wilder headed in a straight line for the nearest chair and dropped +into it with an expression of permanence. Constance followed and they +held a colloquy with a bowing host. He was vague as to the finding of +carriage or donkeys, but if they would accommodate themselves until after +supper there would be a diligence along which would take them back to +Valedolmo. + +"How soon will the diligence arrive?" asked Constance. + +The man spread out his hands. + +"It is due in three quarters of an hour, but it may be early and it may +be late. It arrives when God and the driver wills." + +"In that case," she laughed, "we will accommodate ourselves until after +supper--and we have appetites! Please bring everything you have." + +They supped on _minestra_ and _fritto misto_ washed down with the red +wine of Grotta del Monte, which, their host assured them, was famous +through all the country. He could not believe that they had never heard +of it in Valedolmo. People sent for it from far off; even from Verona. + +They finished their supper and the famous wine, but there was still no +diligence. The village also had finished its supper and was drifting in +family groups into the piazza. The moon was just showing above the +house-tops, and its light, combined with the blazing braziers before the +cook-shops made the square a patch work of brilliant high-lights and +black shadows from deep cut doorways. Constance sat up alertly and +watched the people crowding past. Across from the inn an itinerant show +had established itself on a rudely improvised stage, with two flaring +torches which threw their light half across the piazza, and turned the +spray of the fountain into an iridescent shower. The gaiety of the scene +was contagious. Constance rose insistently. + +"Come, Dad; let's go over and see what they're doing." + +"No, thank you, my dear. I prefer my chair." + +"Oh, Dad, you're so phlegmatic!" + +"But I thought you were tired." + +"I'm not any more; I want to see the play.--You come then, Tony." + +Tony rose with an elaborate sigh. + +"As you please, signorina," he murmured obediently. An onlooker would +have thought Constance cruel in dragging him away from his well-earned +rest. + +They made their way across the piazza and mounted the church steps behind +the crowd where they could look across obliquely to the little stage. A +clown was dancing to the music of a hurdy-gurdy while a woman in a tawdry +pink satin evening gown beat an accompaniment on a drum. It was a very +poor play with very poor players, and yet it represented to these people +of Grotta del Monte something of life, of the big outside world which +they in their little village would never see. Their upturned faces +touched by the moonlight and the flare of the torches contained a look of +wondering eagerness--the same look that had been in the eyes of the young +peasant when he had begged to be taken to America. + +The two stood back in the shadow of the doorway watching the people with +the same interest that the people were expending on the stage. A child +had been lifted to the base of the saint's pedestal in order to see, and +in the excitement of a duel between two clowns he suddenly lost his +balance and toppled off. His mother snatched him up quickly and commenced +covering the hurt arm with kisses to make it well. + +Constance laughed. + +"Isn't it queer," she asked, "to think how different these people are +from us and yet how exactly the same. Their way of living is absolutely +foreign but their feelings are just like yours and mine." + +He touched her arm and called her attention to a man and a girl on the +step below them. It was the young peasant again who had guided them down +the mountain, but who now had eyes for no one but Maria. She leaned +toward him to see the stage and his arm was around her. Their interest in +the play was purely a pretense and both of them knew it. + +Tony laughed softly and echoed her words. + +"Yes, their feelings are just like yours and mine." + +He slipped his arm around her. + +Constance drew back quickly. + +"I think," she remarked, "that the diligence has come." + +"Oh, hang the diligence!" Tony growled. "Why couldn't it have been five +minutes late?" + +They returned to the inn to find Mr. Wilder already on the front seat, +and obligingly holding the reins, while the driver occupied himself with +a glass of the famous wine. The diligence was a roomy affair of four +seats and three horses. Behind the driver were three Italians +gesticulating violently over local politics; a new _sindaco_ was +imminent. Behind these were three black-hooded nuns covertly interested +in the woman in the pink evening gown. And behind the three, occupying +the exact center of the rear seat, was a fourth nun with the portly +bearing of a Mother Superior. She was very comfortable as she was, and +did not propose to move. Constance climbed up on one side of her and +Tony on the other. + +"We are well chaperoned," he grumbled, as they jolted out of the piazza. +"I always did think that the Church interfered too much with the rights +of individuals." + +Constance, in a spirit of friendly expansiveness, proceeded to pick up an +acquaintance with the nuns, and the four black heads were presently +bobbing in unison, while Tony, in gloomy isolation at his end of the +seat, folded his arms and stared at the road. The driver had passed +through many villages that day and had drunk many glasses of famous wine; +he cracked his whip and sang as he drove. They rattled in and out of +stone-paved villages, along open stretches of moonlit road, past villas +and olive groves. Children screamed after them, dogs barked, Constance +and her four nuns were very vivacious, and Tony's gloom deepened with +every mile. + +They had covered three quarters of the distance when the diligence was +brought to a halt before a high stone wall and a solid barred gate. The +nuns came back to the present with an excited cackling. Who would believe +they had reached the convent so soon! They made their adieus and +ponderously descended, their departure accelerated by Tony who had become +of a sudden alertly helpful. As they started again he slid along into the +Mother Superior's empty seat. + +"What were we saying when the diligence interrupted?" he inquired. + +"I don't remember, Tony, but I don't want to talk any more; I'm tired." + +"You tired, signorina? Lay your head on my shoulder and go to sleep." + +"Tony, _please_ behave yourself. I'm simply too tired to make you do it." + +He reached over and took her hand. She did not try to withdraw it for +two--three minutes; then she shot him a sidewise glance. + +"Tony," she said, "don't you think you are forgetting your place?" + +"No, signorina, I am just learning it." + +"Let go my hand." + +He gazed pensively at the moon and hummed Santa Lucia under his breath. + +"Tony! I shall be angry with you." + +"I shall be ver' sorry for zat, signorina. I do not wish to make you +angry, but I sink--perhaps you get over it." + +"You are behaving abominably today, Tony. I shall never stay alone with +you again." + +"Signorina, look at zat moon up dere. Is it not ver' bright? When I look +at zat moon I have always beautiful toughts about how much I love +Costantina." + +An interval followed during which neither spoke. The driver's song was +growing louder and the horses were galloping. The diligence suddenly +rounded a curved cliff on two wheels. Constance lurched against him; he +caught her and held her. Her lips were very near his; he kissed her +softly. + +She moved to the far end of the seat and faced him with flushed cheeks. + +"I thought you were a gentleman!" + +"I used to be, signorina; now I am only poor donkey-man." + +"I shall never speak to you again. You can climb as many mountains as you +wish with my father, but you can't have anything more to do with me." + +"_Scusi_, signorina. I--I did not mean to. It was just an accident, +signorina." + +Constance turned her back and stared at the road. + +"It was not my fault. Truly it was not my fault. I did not wish to kiss +you--no nevair. But I could not help it. You put your head too close." + +She raised her eyes and studied the mountain-top. + +"Signorina, why you treat me so cruel?" + +Her back was inflexible. + +"I am desolate. If you forgive me zis once I will nevair again do a sing +so wicked. Nevair, nevair, nevair." + +Constance continued her inspection of the mountain-top. Tony leaned +forward until he could see her face. + +"Signorina," he whispered, "jus' give me one li'l' smile to show me you +are not angry forever." + +The stage had stopped and Mr. Wilder was climbing down but Constance's +gaze was still fixed on the sky, and Tony's eyes were on her. + +"What's the matter, Constance, have you gone to sleep? Aren't you going +to get out?" + +She came back with a start. + +"Are we here already?" + +There was a suspicion of regret in her tone which did not escape Tony. + +At the Villa Rosa gates he wished them a humbly deferential good-night +but with a smile hovering about the corners of his mouth. Constance made +no response. As he strode off, however, she turned her head and looked +after him. He turned too and caught her. He waved his hand with a laugh, +and took up his way, whistling Santa Lucia in double time. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Three days passed in which Mr. Wilder and Tony industriously climbed, and +in which nothing of consequence passed between Constance and Tony. If she +happened to be about when the expeditions either started or came to an +end (and for one reason or another she usually was) she ignored him +entirely; and he ignored her, except for an occasional mockingly +deferential bow. He appeared to extract as much pleasure from the +excursions as Mr. Wilder, and he asked for no extra compensation by the +way. + +It was Tuesday again, just a week and a day since the young American had +dropped over the wall of Villa Rosa asking for the garden of the prince. +Tony and Mr. Wilder were off on a trip; Miss Hazel and Constance on the +point of sitting down to afternoon tea--there were no guests today--when +the gardener from the Hotel du Lac appeared with a message from Nannie +Hilliard. She and her aunt had arrived half an hour before, which was a +good two days earlier than they were due. Constance read the note with a +clouded brow and silently passed it to Miss Hazel. The news was not so +entirely welcome as under other circumstances it would have been. Nannie +Hilliard was both perspicacious and fascinating, and Constance foresaw +that her presence would tangle further the already tangled plot of the +little comedy which was unfolding itself at Villa Rosa. But Miss Hazel, +divining nothing of comedies or plots, was thrown into a pleasant flutter +by the news. Guests were a luxury which occurred but seldom in the quiet +monotony of Valedolmo. + +"We must call on them at once and bring them back to the house." + +"I suppose we must." Constance agreed with an uncordial sigh. + +Fifteen minutes later they were on their way to the Hotel du Lac, while +Elizabetta, on her knees in the villa guest-room, was vigorously +scrubbing the mosaic floor. + +Gustavo hurried out to meet them. He was plainly in a flutter; something +had occurred to upset the usual suavity of his manners. + +"_Si_, signorina, in ze garden--ze two American ladies--having tea. And +you are acquaint wif ze family; all ze time you are acquaint wif zem, and +you never tell me!" There was mystification and reproach in his tone. + +Constance eyed him with a degree of mystification on her side. + +"I am acquainted with a number of families that I have never told you +about," she observed. + +"_Scusi_, signorina," he stammered; and immediately, "Tony, zat +donk'-man, what you do wif him?" + +"Oh, he and my father are climbing Monte Brione today." + +"What time zay come home?" + +"About seven o'clock, I fancy." + +"Ze signora and ze signorina--zay come two days before zay are expect." +He was clearly aggrieved by the fact. + +Constance's mystification increased; she saw not the slightest +connection. + +"I suppose, Gustavo, you can find them something to eat even if they did +come two days before they were expected?" + +The two turned toward the arbor, but Constance paused for a moment and +glanced back with a shade of mischief in her eye. + +"By the way, Gustavo, that young man who taught the parrot English has +gone?" + +Gustavo rolled his eyes to the sky and back to her face. She understood +nothing; was there ever a muddle like this? + +"_Si_, signorina," he murmured confusedly, "ze yong man is gone." + +Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and with a start which nearly +upset the tea table, came running forward to meet them; while her aunt, +Mrs. Eustace, followed more placidly. Nannie was a big wholesome outdoor +girl of a purely American type. She waited for no greetings; she had news +to impart. + +"Constance, Miss Hazel! I'm so glad to see you--what do you think? I'm +engaged!" + +Miss Hazel murmured incoherent congratulations, and tried not to look as +shocked as she felt. In her day, no lady would have made so delicate an +announcement in any such off-hand manner as this. Constance received it +in the spirit in which it was given. + +"Who's the man?" she inquired, as she shook hands with Mrs. Eustace. + +[Illustration: "Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and came +running forward to meet them"] + +"You don't know him--Harry Eastman, a friend of Jerry's. Jerry doesn't +know it yet, and I had to confide in someone. Oh, it's no secret; Harry +cabled home--he wanted to get it announced so I couldn't change my mind. +You see he only had a three weeks' vacation; he took a fast boat, landed +at Cherbourg, followed us the whole length of France, and caught us in +Lucerne just after Jerry had gone. I couldn't refuse him after he'd +taken such a lot of trouble. That's what detained us: we had expected to +come a week ago. And now--" by a rapid change of expression she became +tragic--"We've lost Jerry Junior!" + +"Lost Jerry Junior!" Constance's tone was interested. "What has become of +him?" + +"We haven't an idea. He's been spirited off--vanished from the earth and +left no trace. Really, we're beginning to be afraid he's been captured by +brigands. That head waiter, that Gustavo, knows where he is, but we can't +get a word out of him. He tells a different story every ten minutes. I +looked in the register to see if by chance he'd left an address there, +and what do you think I found?" + +"Oh!" said Constance; there was a world of illumination in her tone. +"What did you find?" she asked, hastily suppressing every emotion but +polite curiosity. + +"'Abraham Lincoln' in Jerry's hand-writing!" + +"Really!" Constance dimpled irrepressibly. "You are sure Jerry wrote +it?" + +"It was his writing; and I showed it to Gustavo, and what do you think he +said?" + +Constance shook her head. + +"He said that Jerry had forgotten to register, that that was written by a +Hungarian nobleman who was here last week--imagine a Hungarian nobleman +named Abraham Lincoln!" + +Constance dropped into one of the little iron chairs and bowed her head +on the back and laughed. + +"Perhaps you can explain?" There was a touch of sharpness in Nannie's +tone. + +"Don't ever ask me to explain anything Gustavo says; the man is not to be +believed under oath." + +"But what's become of Jerry?" + +"Oh, he'll turn up." Constance's tone was comforting. "Aunt Hazel," she +called. Miss Hazel and Mrs. Eustace, their heads together over the tea +table, were busily making up three months' dropped news. "Do you remember +the young man I told you about who popped into our garden last week? +That was Jerry Junior!" + +"Then you've seen him?" said Nannie. + +Constance related the episode of the broken wall--the sequel she omitted. +"I hadn't seen him for six years," she added apologetically, "and I +didn't recognize him. Of course if I'd dreamed--" + +Nannie groaned. + +"And I thought I'd planned it so beautifully!" + +"Planned what?" + +"I suppose I might as well tell you since it's come to nothing. We +hoped--that is, you see--I've been so worried for fear Jerry--" She took +a breath and began again. "You know, Constance, when it comes to getting +married, a man has no more sense than a two-year child. So I determined +to pick out a wife for Jerry, myself, one I would like to have for a +sister. I've done it three times and he simply wouldn't look at them; you +can't imagine how stubborn he is. But when I found we were coming to +Valedolmo, I said to myself, now this is my opportunity; I will have him +marry Connie Wilder." + +"You might have asked my permission." + +"Oh, well, Jerry's a dear; next to Harry you couldn't find anyone nicer. +But I knew the only way was not to let him suspect. I thought you see +that you were still staying at the hotel; I didn't know you'd taken a +villa, so I planned for him to come to meet us three days before we +really expected to get here. I thought in the meantime, being stranded +together in a little hotel you'd surely get acquainted--Jerry's very +resourceful that way--and with all this beautiful Italian scenery about, +and nothing to do--" + +"I see!" Constance's tone was somewhat dry. + +"But nothing happened as I had planned. You weren't here, he was bored to +death, and I was detained longer than I meant. We got the most pathetic +letter from him the second day, saying there was no one but the head +waiter to talk to, nothing but an india-rubber tree to look at, and if we +didn't come immediately, he'd do the Dolomites without us. Then finally, +just as we were on the point of leaving, he sent a telegram saying: +'Don't come. Am climbing mountains. Stay there till you hear from me.' +But being already packed, we came, and this is what we find--" She waved +her hand over the empty grove. + +"It serves you right; you shouldn't deceive people." + +"It was for Jerry's good--and yours too. But what shall we do? He doesn't +know we're here and he has left no address." + +"Come out to the villa and visit us till he comes to search for you." + +Constance could hear her aunt delivering the same invitation to Mrs. +Eustace, and she perforce repeated it, though with the inward hope that +it would be declined. She had no wish that Tony and her father should +return from their trip to find a family party assembled on the terrace. +The adventure was not to end with any such tame climax as that. To her +relief they did decline, at least for the night; they could make no +definite plans until they had heard from Jerry. Constance rose upon this +assurance and precipitated their leave-takings; she did not wish her aunt +to press them to change their minds. + +"Good-bye, Mrs. Eustace, good-bye, Nannie; we'll be around tonight to +take you sailing--provided there's any breeze." + +She nodded and dragged her aunt off; but as they were entering the arbor +a plan for further complicating matters popped into her head, and she +turned back to call: + +"You are coming to the villa tomorrow, remember, whether Jerry Junior +turns up or not. I'll write a note and invite him too--Gustavo can give +it to him when he comes, and you needn't bother any more about him." + +They found Gustavo hovering omnivorously in the courtyard, hungering for +news; Constance summoned him to her side. + +"Gustavo, I am going to send you a note tonight for Mr. Jerymn Hilliard. +You will see that it gets to him as soon as he arrives?" + +"Meestair Jayreem Ailyar?" Gustavo stared. + +"Yes, the brother of the signorina who came today. He is expected +tomorrow or perhaps the day after." + +"_Scusi_, signorina. You--you acquaint wif him?" + +"Yes, certainly. I have known him for six years. Don't forget to deliver +the note; it's important." + +They raised their parasols and departed, while Gustavo stood in the +gateway bowing. The motion was purely mechanical; his thoughts were +laboring elsewhere. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Constance occupied herself upon their return to Villa Rosa in writing the +letter to Jerry Junior. It had occurred to her that this was an excellent +chance to punish him, and it was the working philosophy of her life that +a man should always be punished when opportunity presented. Tony had been +entirely too unconcerned during the past few days; he needed a lesson. +She spent three quarters of an hour in composing her letter and tore up +two false starts before she was satisfied. It did not contain the +slightest hint that she knew the truth, and--considered in this light--it +was likely to have a chastening effect. The letter ran: + + "VILLA ROSA, VALEDOLMO, + "LAGO DI GARDA. + + "DEAR JERRY JUNIOR: I hope you don't mind being called "Jerry + Junior," but "Mr. Hilliard" sounds so absurdly formal, when I have + known your sister so long and so well. We are spending the summer + here in Valedolmo, and Mrs. Eustace and Nannie have promised to + stop with us for a few days, provided you can be persuaded to pause + in your mad rush through Europe. Now please take pity on us--guests + are such unusual luxuries, and as for _men_! Besides a passing + tourist or so, we have had nothing but Italian officers. You can + climb mountains with my father--Nan says you are a climber--and we + can supply mountains enough to keep you occupied for a month. + + "My father would write himself, only that he is climbing this + moment. + + "Yours most cordially, + "CONSTANCE WILDER." + + "P. S. I forgot to mention that we are acquainted already, you and + I. We met six years ago, and you insulted me--under your own roof. + You called me a _kid_. I shall accept nothing but a personal + apology." + +Having read it critically, she sealed and addressed it with malicious +delight; it was calculated to arouse just about the emotions she would +like to have Tony entertain. She gave the note to Giuseppe with +instructions to place it in Gustavo's hands, and then settled herself +gaily to await results. + +Giuseppe was barely out of sight when the two Alpine-climbers appeared at +the gate. Constance had been wondering how she could inform Tony that his +aunt and sister had arrived, without unbending from the dignified silence +of the past three days. The obvious method was to announce it to her +father in Tony's presence, but her father slipped into the house by the +back way without affording her an opportunity. It was Tony himself who +solved the difficulty. Of his own accord he crossed the terrace and +approached her side. He laid a bunch of edelweiss on the balustrade. + +"It's a peace offering," he observed. + +She looked at him a moment without speaking. There was a new expression +in her eyes that puzzled Tony, just as the expression in his eyes that +morning on the water had puzzled her. She was studying him in the light +of Jerry Junior. The likeness to the sophomore, who six years before sang +the funny songs without a smile, was so very striking, she wondered she +could ever have overlooked it. + +"Thank you, Tony; it is very nice of you." She picked up the flowers and +smiled--with the knowledge of the letter that was waiting for him she +could afford to be forgiving. + +"You discharged me, signorina; will you take me back into your service?" + +"I am not going to climb any more mountains; it is too fatiguing. I think +it is better for you and my father to go alone." + +"I will serve you in other ways." + +Constance studied the mountains a moment. Should she tell him she knew, +or should she keep up the pretense a little longer? Her insatiable love +of intrigue won. + +"Are you sure you wish to be taken back?" + +"_Si_, signorina, I am very sure." + +"Then perhaps you will do me a favor on your way home tonight?" + +"You have but to ask." + +"I wish to send a message to a young American man who is staying at the +Hotel du Lac--you may have seen him?" + +Tony nodded. + +"I have climb Monte Maggiore wif him. You recommend me; I sank you ver' +moch. Nice man, zat yong American; ver' good, ver' simpatico." He leaned +forward with a sudden air of anxiety. "Signorina, you--you like zat yong +man?" + +"I have only met him twice, but--yes, I like him." + +"You like him better zan me?" His anxiety deepened; he hung upon her +words. + +She shook her head reassuringly. + +"I like you both exactly the same." + +"Signorina, which you like better, zat yong American or ze Signor +Lieutenant?" + +"Your questions are getting too personal, Tony." + +He folded his arms and sighed. + +"Will you deliver my message?" + +"_Si_, signorina, wif pleasure." There was not a trace of curiosity in +his expression, nothing beyond a deferential desire to serve. + +"Tell him, Tony, that Miss Wilder will be at home tomorrow afternoon at +tea time; if he will come by the gate and present a card she will be most +pleased to see him. She wishes him to meet an American friend, a Miss +Hilliard, who has just arrived at the hotel this afternoon." + +She watched him sharply; his expression did not alter by a shade. He +repeated the message and then added as if by the merest chance: + +"Ze yong American man, signorina--you know his name?" + +"Yes, I know his name." This time for the fraction of a second she +surprised a look. "His name--" she hesitated tantalizingly--"is Signor +Abraham Lincoln." + +"Signor Ab-ra-ham Lin-coln." He repeated it after her as if committing it +to memory. They gazed at each other soberly a moment; then both laughed +and looked away. + +Luigi had appeared in the doorway. Seeing no one more important than Tony +about, he found no reason for delaying the announcement of dinner. + +"_Il pranzo e sulla tavola, signorina._" + +"_Bene_!" said Constance over her shoulder. She turned back to Tony; her +manner was kind. "If you go to the kitchen, Tony, Elizabetta will give +you some dinner." + +"Sank you, signorina." His manner was humble. "Elizabetta's dinners +consist of a plate of garlic and macaroni on the kitchen steps. I don't +like garlic and I'm tired of macaroni; if it's just the same to you, I +think I'll dine at home." He held out his hand. + +She read his purpose in his eye and put her own hands behind her. + +"You won't shake hands, signorina? We are not friends?" + +"I learned a lesson the last time." + +"You shake hands wif Lieutenant Count Carlo di Ferara." + +"It is the custom in Italy." + +"We are in Italy." + +"Behave yourself, Tony, and run along home!" + +She laughed and nodded and turned away. On the steps she paused to add: + +"Be sure not to forget the message for Signor Abraham Lincoln. I shall be +disappointed if he doesn't come." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Tony returned to the Hotel du Lac, modestly, by the back way. He assured +himself that his aunt and sister were well by means of an open window +in the rear of the dining-room. The window was shaded by a clump of +camellias, and he studied at his ease the back of Mrs. Eustace's +head and Nannie's vivacious profile as she talked in fluent and +execrable German to the two Alpinists who were, at the moment, the only +other guests. Brotherly affection--and a humorous desire to create a +sensation--prompted him to walk in and surprise them. But saner second +thoughts prevailed; he decided to postpone the reunion until he should +have changed from the picturesque costume of Tony, to the soberer garb of +Jerry Junior. + +He skirted the dining-room by a wide detour, and entered the court-yard +at the side. Gustavo, who for the last hour and a half had been alertly +watchful of four entrances at once, pounced upon him and drew him to a +corner. + +"Signore," in a conspiratorial whisper, "zay are come, ze aunt and ze +sister." + +"I know--the Signorina Costantina told me so." + +Gustavo blinked. + +"But, signore, she does not know it." + +"Yes, she does--she saw 'em herself." + +"I mean, signore, she does not know zat you are ze brover?" + +"Oh, no, she doesn't know that." + +"But she tell me zat she is acquaint wif ze brover for six years." He +shook his head hopelessly. + +"That's all right." Tony patted his shoulder reassuringly. "When she knew +me I used to have yellow hair, but I thought it made me look too girlish, +so I had it dyed black. She didn't recognize me." + +Gustavo accepted the explanation with a side glance at the hair. + +"Now, pay attention." Tony's tone was slow and distinct. + +"I am going upstairs to change my clothes. Then I will slip out the back +way with a suit case, and go down the road and meet the omnibus as it +comes back from the boat landing. You keep my aunt and sister in the +court-yard talking to the parrot or something until the omnibus arrives. +Then when I get out, you come forward with your politest bow and ask me +if I want a room. I'll attend to the rest--do you understand?" + +Gustavo nodded with glistening eyes. He had always felt stirring within +him powers for diplomacy, for finesse, and he rose to the occasion +magnificently. + +Tony turned away and went bounding upstairs two steps at a time, +chuckling as he went. He, too, was developing an undreamed of appetite +for intrigue, and his capacity in that direction was expanding to meet +it. He had covered the first flight, when Gustavo suddenly remembered +the letter and bounded after. + +"Signore! I beg of you to wait one moment. Here is a letter from ze +signorina; it is come while you are away." + +Tony read the address with a start of surprise. + +"Then she knows!" There was regret, disillusionment, in his tone. + +It was Gustavo's turn to furnish enlightenment. + +"But no, signore, she do not comprehend. She sink Meestair Jayreem Ailyar +is ze brover who is not arrive. She leave it for him when he come." + +"Ah!" Tony ripped it open and read it through with a chuckle. He read it +a second time and his face grew grave. He thrust it into his pocket and +strode away without a word for Gustavo. Gustavo looked after him +reproachfully. As a head waiter, he naturally did not expect to read the +letters of guests; but as a fellow conspirator, he felt that he was +entitled to at least a general knowledge of all matters bearing on the +conspiracy. He turned back down stairs with a disappointed droop to his +shoulders. + +Tony closed his door and walked to the window where he stood staring at +the roof of Villa Rosa. He drew the letter from his pocket and read it +for the third time slowly, thoughtfully, very, very soberly. The reason +was clear; she was tired of Tony and was looking ahead for fresh worlds +to conquer. Jerry Junior was to come next. + +He understood why she had been so complaisant today. She wished the +curtain to go down on the comedy note. Tomorrow, the nameless young +American, the "Abraham Lincoln" of the register, would call--by the +gate--would be received graciously, introduced in his proper person to +the guests; the story of the donkey-man would be recounted and laughed +over, and he would be politely asked when he was planning to resume his +travels. This would be the end of the episode. To Constance, it had been +merely an amusing farce about which she could boast when she returned to +America. In her vivacious style it would make a story, just as her first +meeting with Jerry Junior had made a story. But as for the play itself, +for _him_, she cared nothing. Tony the man had made no impression. He +must pass on and give place to Jerry Junior. + +A flush crept over Tony's face and his mouth took a straighter line as he +continued to gaze down on the roof of Villa Rosa. His reflections were +presently interrupted by a knock. He turned and threw the door open with +a fling. + +"Well?" he inquired. + +Gustavo took a step backward. + +"_Scusi_, signore, but zay are eating ze dessart and in five--ten minutes +ze omnibus will arrive." + +"The omnibus?" Tony stared. "Oh!" he laughed shortly. "I was just joking, +Gustavo." + +Gustavo bowed and turned down the corridor; there was a look on Tony's +face that did not encourage confidences. He had not gone half a dozen +steps, however, when the door opened again and Tony called him back. + +"I am going away tomorrow morning--by the first boat this time--and you +mustn't let my aunt and sister know. I will write two letters and you are +to take them down to the steward of the boat that leaves tonight. Ask him +to put on Austrian stamps and mail them at Riva, so they'll get back here +tomorrow. Do you understand?" + +Gustavo nodded and backed away. His disappointment this time was too keen +for words. He saw stretching before him a future like the past, +monotonously bereft of plots and masquerades. + +Tony, having hit on a plan, sat down and put it into instant execution. +Opening his Baedeker, he turned to Riva and picked out the first hotel +that was mentioned. Then he wrote two letters, both short and to the +point; he indulged in none of Constance's vacillations, and yet in their +way his letters also were masterpieces of illusion. The first was +addressed to Miss Constance Wilder at Villa Rosa. It ran: + + "HOTEL SOLE D'ORO, + "RIVA, AUSTRIA. + + "DEAR MISS WILDER: Nothing would give me greater pleasure than + spending a few days in Valedolmo, but unfortunately I am pressed + for time, and am engaged to start Thursday morning with some + friends on a trip through the Dolomites. + + "Trusting that I may have the pleasure of making your acquaintance + at some future date, + + "Yours truly, + "JERYMN HILLIARD, JR." + +The second letter was addressed to his sister, but he trusted to luck +that Constance would see it. It ran: + + "HOTEL SOLE D'ORO, + "RIVA, AUSTRIA. + + "DEAR NAN: Who in thunder is Constance Wilder? She wants us to stop + and make a visit in Valedolmo. I wouldn't step into that infernal + town, not if the king himself invited me--it's the deadest hole on + the face of the earth. You can stay if you like and I'll go on + through the Dolomites alone. There's an American family stopping + here who are also planning the trip--a stunning girl; I know you'd + like her. + + "Of course the travelling will be pretty rough. Perhaps you and + Aunt Kate would rather visit your friends and meet me later in + Munich. If you decide to take the trip, you will have to come on + down to Riva as soon as you get this letter, as we're planning to + pull out Thursday morning. + + "Sorry to hurry you, but you know my vacation doesn't last forever. + + "Love to Aunt Kate and yourself, + + "Yours ever, + "JERRY." + +He turned the letters over to Gustavo with a five-franc note, leaving +Gustavo to decide with his own conscience whether the money was intended +for himself or the steward of the Regina Margarita. This accomplished, he +slipped out unobtrusively and took the road toward Villa Rosa. + +He strode along with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the path +until he nearly bumped his nose against the villa gate-post. Then he +stopped and thought. He had no mind to be ushered to the terrace where he +would have to dissemble some excuse for his visit before Miss Hazel and +Mr. Wilder. His business tonight was with Constance, and Constance alone. +He turned and skirted the villa wall, determined on reconnoitering first. +There was a place in the wall--he knew well--where the stones were +missing, and a view was obtainable of the terrace and parapet. + +He reached the place to find Lieutenant Carlo di Ferara already there. +Now the Lieutenant's purpose was exactly as innocent as Tony's own; he +merely wished to assure himself that Captain Coroloni was not before him. +It was considered a joke at the tenth cavalry mess to detail one or the +other of the officers to call on the Americans at the same time that +Lieutenant di Ferara called. He was not spying on the family, merely on +his meddling brother officers. + +Tony of course could know nothing of this, and as his eyes fell upon the +lieutenant, there was apparent in their depths a large measure of +contempt. A lieutenant in the Royal Italian Cavalry can afford to be +generous in many things, but he cannot afford to swallow contempt from a +donkey-driver. The signorina was not present this time; there was no +reason why he should not punish the fellow. He dropped his hand on Tony's +shoulder--on his collar to be exact--and whirled him about. The action +was accompanied by some vigorous colloquial Italian--the gist of it being +that Tony was to mind his own business and mend his manners. The +lieutenant had a muscular arm, and Tony turned. But Tony had not played +quarterback four years for nothing; he tackled low, and the next moment +the lieutenant was rolling down the bank of a dried stream that stretched +at their feet. No one likes to roll down a dusty stony bank, much less +an officer in immaculate uniform on the eve of paying a formal call upon +ladies. He picked himself up and looked at Tony; he was quite beyond +speech. + +Tony looked back and smiled. He swept off his hat with a deferential bow. +"_Scusi_," he murmured, and jumped over the wall into the grounds of +Villa Rosa. + +The lieutenant gasped. If anything could have been more insultingly +inadequate to the situation than that one word _scusi_, it did not at the +moment occur to him. Jeering, blasphemy, vituperation, he might have +excused, but this! The shock jostled him back to a thinking state. + +Here was no ordinary donkey-driver. The hand that had rested for a moment +on his arm was the hand of a gentleman. The man's face was vaguely, +elusively familiar; if the lieutenant had not seen him before, he had at +least seen his picture. The man had pretended he could not talk Italian, +but--_scusi_--it came out very pat when it was needed. + +An idea suddenly assailed Lieutenant di Ferara. He scrambled up the bank +and skirted the wall, almost on a run, until he reached the place where +his horse was tied. Two minutes later he was off at a gallop, headed for +the house of the prefect of police of Valedolmo. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Tony jumped over the wall. He might have landed in the midst of a family +party; but in so much luck was with him. He found the _Farfalla_ bobbing +at the foot of the water steps with Mr. Wilder and Miss Hazel already +embarked. They were waiting for Constance, who had obligingly run back to +the house to fetch the rainbow shawl (finished that afternoon) as Miss +Hazel distrusted the Italian night breeze. + +Constance stepped out from the door as Tony emerged from the bushes. She +regarded him in startled surprise; he was still in some slight disarray +from his encounter with the lieutenant. + +"May I speak to you, Miss Wilder? I won't detain you but a moment." + +She nodded and kept on, her heart thumping absurdly. He had received the +letter of course; and there would be consequences. She paused at the top +of the water steps. + +"You go on," she called to the others, "and pick me up on your way back. +Tony wants to see me about something, and I don't like to keep Mrs. +Eustace and Nannie waiting." + +Giuseppe pushed off and Constance was left standing alone on the water +steps. She turned as Tony approached; there was a touch of defiance in +her manner. + +"Well?" + +He came to her side and leaned carelessly against the parapet, his eyes +on the _Farfalla_ as she tossed and dipped in the wash of the _Regina +Margarita_ which was just puffing out from the village landing. Constance +watched him, slightly taken aback; she had expected him to be angry, +sulky, reproachful--certainly not nonchalant. When he finally brought his +eyes from the water, his expression was mildly melancholy. + +"Signorina, I have come to say good bye. It is very sad, but tomorrow, I +too--" he waved his hand toward the steamer--"shall be a passenger." + +"You are going away from Valedolmo?" + +He nodded. + +"Unfortunately, yes. I should like to stay, but--" he shrugged--"life +isn't all play, Miss Wilder. Though one would like to be a donkey-man +forever, one only may be for a summer's holiday. I am your debtor for a +unique and pleasant experience." + +She studied his face without speaking. Did it mean that he had got the +letter and was hurt, or did it perhaps mean that he had got the letter +and did not care to appear as Jerry Junior? That he enjoyed the play so +long as he could remain incognito and stop it where he pleased, but that +he had no mind to let it drift into reality? Very possibly it meant--she +flushed at the thought--that he divined Nannie's plot, and refused also +to consider the fourth candidate. + +She laughed and dropped into their usual jargon. + +"And the young American man, Signor Abraham Lincoln, will he come +tomorrow for tea?" + +"Ah, signorina, he is desolated, but it is not possible. He has received +a letter and he must go; he has stopped too long in Valedolmo. Tomorrow +morning early, he and I togever, we sail away to Austria." His eyes went +back to the trail of smoke left by the little steamer. + +"And Costantina, Tony. You are leaving her behind?" It took some courage +to put this question, but she did not flinch; she put it with a laugh +which contained nothing but raillery. + +Tony sighed--a deep melodramatic sigh--and laid his hand on his heart. + +"Ah, signorina, zat Costantina, she has not any heart. She love one man +one day, anozzer ze next. I go away to forget." + +His eyes dropped to hers; for an instant the mocking light died out; a +questioning, wounded look took its place. + +She felt a quick impulse to hold out her hands, to say, "Jerry, don't +go!" If she only knew! Was he going because he thought that she wished to +dismiss him, or because he wished to dismiss himself? Was it pique that +bade him carry the play to the end, or was it merely the desire to get +out of an awkward situation gracefully? + +She stood hesitating, scanning the terrace pavement with troubled eyes; +when she raised them to his face the chance was gone. He straightened his +shoulders with an air of finality and picked up his hat from the +balustrade. + +"Some day, signorina, in New York, perhaps I play a little tune underneaf +your window." + +She nodded and smiled. + +"I will give the monkey a penny when he comes--good-bye." + +He bowed over her hand and touched it lightly to his lips. + +"Signorina, _addio_!" + +As he strode away into the dusky lane of cypresses, she heard him +whistling softly "Santa Lucia." It was the last stroke, she reflected, +angrily; he might at least have omitted that! She turned away and dropped +down on the water steps to wait for the _Farfalla_. The terrace, the +lake, the beautiful Italian night, suddenly seemed deserted and empty. +Before she knew it was coming, she had leaned her head against the +balustrade with a deep sob. She caught herself sharply. She to sit there +crying, while Tony went whistling on his way! + + * * * * * + +As the _Farfalla_ drifted idly over the water, Constance sat in the +stern, her chin in her hand, moodily gazing at the shimmering path of +moonlight. But no one appeared to notice her silence, since Nannie was +talking enough for both. And the only thing she talked about was Jerry +Junior, how funny and clever and charming he was, how phenomenally +good--for a man; when she showed signs of stopping, Mr. Wilder by a +question started her on. It seemed to Constance an interminable two +hours before they dropped their guests in the garden of the Hotel du Lac, +and headed again for Villa Rosa. + +As they approached their own water steps it became apparent that +someone--a man--was standing at the top in an attitude of expectancy. +Constance's heart gave a sudden bound and the next instant sank deep. A +babble of frenzied greetings floated out to meet them; there was no +mistaking Gustavo. Moreover, there was no mistaking the fact that he was +excited; his excitement was contagious even before they had learned the +reason. He stuttered in his impatience to share the news. + +"Signore! _Dio mio_! A calamity has happened. Zat Tony, zat donk'-man! he +has got hisself arrested. Zay say it is a lie, zat he is American +citizen; he is an officer who is dessert from ze Italian army. Zay say he +just pretend he cannot spik Italian--but it is not true. He know +ten--leven words." + +They came hurrying up the steps and surrounded him, Mr. Wilder no less +shocked than Gustavo himself. + +"Arrested--as a deserter? It's an outrage!" he thundered. + +Constance laid her hand on Gustavo's sleeve and whirled him about. + +"What do you mean? I don't understand. Where is Tony?" + +Gustavo groaned. + +"In jail, signorina. Four carabinieri are come to take him away. And he +fight--_Dio mio_! he fight like ze devil. But zay put--" he indicated +handcuffs--"and he go." + +Constance dropped down on the upper step and leaning her head against the +balustrade, she laughed until she was weak. + +Her father whirled upon her indignantly. + +"Constance! Haven't you any sympathy for the man? This isn't a laughing +matter." + +"I know, Dad, but it's so funny--Tony an Italian officer! He can't +pronounce the ten--leven words he does know right." + +"Of course he can't; he doesn't know as much Italian as I do. Can't +these fools tell an American citizen when they see one? I'll teach 'em to +go about chucking American citizens in jail. I'll telegraph the consul in +Milan; I'll make an international matter of it!" + +He fumed up and down the terrace, while Constance rose to her feet and +followed after with a pretense at pacification. + +"Hush, Dad! Don't be so excitable. It was a very natural mistake for them +to make. But if Tony is really what he says he is it will be very easily +proved. You must be sure of your ground though, before you act. I don't +like to say anything against poor Tony now that he is in trouble, but I +have always felt that there was a mystery connected with him. For all we +know he may be a murderer or a brigand or an escaped convict in disguise. +We only have his word you know that he is an American citizen." + +"His word!" Mr. Wilder fairly exploded. "Are you utterly blind? He's +exactly as much an American citizen as I am. He's--" He stopped and +fanned himself furiously. He had sworn never to betray Tony's secret, and +yet, the present situation was exceptionable. + +Constance patted him on the arm. + +"There, Dad. I haven't a doubt his story is true. He was born in +Budapest, and he's a naturalized American citizen. It's the duty of the +United States Government to protect him--but it won't be difficult; I +dare say he's got his naturalization papers with him. A word in the +morning will set everything straight." + +"Leave him in jail all night?" + +"But you can't do anything now; it's after ten o'clock; the authorities +have gone to bed." + +She turned to Gustavo; her tone was reassuring. + +"In the morning we'll get some American war-ships to bombard the jail." + +"Signorina, you joke!" His tone was reproachful. + +She suddenly looked anxious. + +"Gustavo, is the jail strong?" + +"Ver' strong, signorina." + +"He can't escape and get over into Austria? We are very near the +frontier, you know." + +"No, signorina, it is impossible." He shook his head hopelessly. + +Constance laughed and slipped her hand through her father's arm. + +"Come, Dad. The first thing in the morning we'll go down to the jail and +cheer him up. There's not the slightest use in worrying any more tonight. +It won't hurt Tony to be kept in--er--cold storage for a few hours--I +think on the whole it will do him good!" + +She nodded dismissal to Gustavo, and drew her father, still muttering, +toward the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Jerry Junior's letter of regret arrived from Riva on the early mail. In +the light of Constance's effusively cordial invitation, the terse +formality of his reply was little short of rude; but Constance read +between the lines and was appeased. The writer, plainly, was angry, and +anger was a much more becoming emotion than nonchalance. As she set out +with her father toward the village jail, she was again buoyantly in +command of the situation. She carried a bunch of oleanders, and the pink +and white egg basket swung from her arm. Their way led past the gate of +the Hotel du Lac, and Mr. Wilder, being under the impression that he was +enjoying a very good joke all by himself, could not forego the temptation +of stopping to inquire if Mrs. Eustace and Nannie had heard any news of +the prodigal. They found the two at breakfast in the courtyard, an open +letter spread before them. Nannie received them with lamentations. + +"We can't come to the villa! Here's a letter from Jerry wanting us to +start immediately for the Dolomites--did you ever know anything so +exasperating?" + +She passed the letter to Constance, and then as she remembered the first +sentence, made a hasty attempt to draw it back. It was too late; +Constance's eyes had already pounced upon it. She read it aloud with +gleeful malice. + +"'Who in thunder is Constance Wilder?'--If that's an example of the +famous Jerry Junior's politeness, I prefer not to meet him, thank +you.--It's worse than his last insult; I shall _never_ forgive this!" She +glanced down the page and handed it back with a laugh; from her point of +vantage it was naively transparent. From Mr. Wilder's point, however, the +contents were inscrutable; he looked from the letter to his daughter's +serene smile, and relapsed into a puzzled silence. + +"I should say on the contrary, that he _doesn't_ want you to start +immediately for the Dolomites," Constance observed. + +"It's a girl," Nannie groaned. "I suspected it from the moment we got the +telegram in Lucerne. Oh, why did I ever let that wretched boy get out of +my sight?" + +"I dare say she's horrid," Constance put in. "One meets such frightful +Americans traveling." + +"We will go up to Riva on the afternoon boat and investigate." It was +Mrs. Eustace who spoke. There was an undertone in her voice which +suggested that she was prepared to do her duty by her brother's son, +however unpleasant that duty might be. + +"American girls are so grasping," said Nannie plaintively. "It's scarcely +safe for an unattached man to go out alone." + +Mr. Wilder leaned forward and reexamined the letter. + +"By the way, Miss Nannie, how did Jerry learn that you were here? His +letter, I see, was mailed in Riva at ten o'clock last night." + +Nannie examined the post mark. + +"I hadn't thought of that! How could he have found out--unless that beast +of a head waiter telegraphed? What does it mean?" + +Mr. Wilder spread out his hands and raised his shoulders. "You've got +me!" A gleam of illumination suddenly flashed over his face; he turned to +his daughter with what was meant to be a carelessly off-hand manner. +"Er--Constance, while I think of it, you didn't discharge Tony again +yesterday, did you?" + +Constance opened her eyes. + +"Discharge Tony? Why should I do that? He isn't working for me." + +"You weren't rude to him?" + +"Father, am I ever rude to anyone?" + +Mr. Wilder looked at the envelope again and shook his head. "There's +something mighty fishy about this whole business. When you get hold of +that brother of yours again, my dear young woman, you make him tell what +he's been up to this week--and make him tell the truth." + +"Mr. Wilder!" Nannie was reproachful. "You don't know Jerry; he's +incapable of telling anything but the truth." + +Constance tittered. + +"What are you laughing at, Constance?" + +"Nothing--only it's so funny. Why don't you advertise for him? Lost--a +young man, age twenty-eight, height, five feet eleven, weight one hundred +and seventy pounds, dark hair, gray eyes, slight scar over left eye brow; +dressed when last seen in double breasted blue serge suit and brown +russet shoes. Finder please return to Hotel du Lac and receive liberal +reward." + +"He isn't lost," said Nannie. "We know where he is perfectly; he's at the +Hotel Sole d' Oro in Riva, and that's at the other end of the lake. We're +going up on the afternoon boat to join him." + +"Oh!" said Constance, meekly. + +"You take my advice," Mr. Wilder put in. "Go up to Riva if you +must--it's a pleasant trip--but leave your luggage here. See this young +man in person and bring him back with you; tell him we have just as good +mountains as he'll find in the Dolomites. If by any chance you shouldn't +find him--" + +"Of course, we'll find him!" said Nannie. + +Constance looked troubled. + +"Don't go, it's quite a long trip. Write instead and give the letter to +Gustavo; he'll give it to the boat steward who will deliver it +personally. Then if Jerry shouldn't be there--" + +Nannie was losing her patience. + +"Shouldn't be there? But he _says_ he's there." + +"Oh! yes, certainly, that ends it. Only, you know, Nannie, _I_ don't +believe there really is any such person as Jerry Junior! I think he's a +myth." + +Gustavo had been hanging about the gate looking anxiously up the road as +if he expected something to happen. His brow cleared suddenly as a boy +on a bicycle appeared in the distance. The boy whirled into the court and +dismounted; glancing dubiously from one to the other of the group, he +finally presented his telegram to Gustavo, who passed it on to Nannie. +She ripped it open and ran her eyes over the contents. + +"Can anyone tell me the meaning of this? It's Italian!" She spread it on +the table while the three bent over it in puzzled wonder. + +"Ceingide mai maind dunat comtu Riva stei in Valedolmo geri." + +Constance was the first to grasp the meaning; she read it twice and +laughed. + +"That's not Italian; it's English, only the operator has spelt it +phonetically--I begin to believe there is a Jerry," she added, "no one +could cause such a bother who didn't exist." She picked up the slip and +translated: + + "'Changed my mind. Do not come to Riva; stay in Valedolmo. JERRY.'" + +"I'm a clairvoyant you see. I told you he wouldn't be there!" + +"But where is he?" Nannie wailed. + +Constance and her father glanced tentatively at each other and were +silent. Gustavo who had been hanging officiously in the rear, approached +and begged their pardon. + +"_Scusi_, signora, but I sink I can explain. _Ecco_! Ze telegram is dated +from Limone--zat is a village close by here on ze ozzer side of ze lake. +He is gone on a walking trip, ze yong man, of two--tree days wif an +Englishman who is been in zis hotel. If he expect you so soon he would +not go. But patience, he will come back. Oh, yes, in a little while, +after one--two day he come back." + +"What is the man talking about?" Mrs. Eustace was both indignant and +bewildered. "Jerry was in Riva yesterday at the Hotel Sole d' Oro. How +can he be on a walking trip at the other end of the lake today?" + +"You don't suppose--" Nannie's voice was tragic--"that he has eloped +with that American girl?" + +"Good heavens, my dear!" Mrs. Eustace appealed to Mr. Wilder. "What are +the laws in this dreadful country? Don't banns or something have to be +published three weeks before the ceremony can take place?" + +Mr. Wilder rose hastily. + +"Yes, yes, dear lady. It's impossible; don't consider any such +catastrophe for a moment. Come, Constance, I really think we ought to be +going.--Er, you see, Mrs. Eustace, you can't believe--that is, don't let +anything Gustavo says trouble you. With all respect for his many fine +qualities, he has not Jerry's regard for truth. And don't bother any more +about the boy; he will turn up in a day or so. He may have written some +letters of explanation that you haven't got. These foreign mails--" He +edged toward the gate. + +Constance followed him and then turned back. + +"We're on our way to the jail," she said, "to visit our donkey-driver +who has managed to get himself arrested. While we're there we can make +inquiries if you like; it's barely possible that they might have got hold +of Jerry on some false charge or other. These foreign jails--" + +"Constance!" said Nannie reproachfully. + +"Oh, my dear, I was only joking; of course it's impossible. Good bye." +She nodded and laughed and ran after her father. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +If one must go to jail at all one could scarcely choose a more +entertaining jail than that of Valedolmo. It occupies a structure which +was once a palace; and its cells, planned for other purposes, are +spacious. But its most gratifying feature, to one forcibly removed from +social intercourse, is its outlook. The windows command the Piazza +Garibaldi, which is the social center of the town; it contains the +village post, the fountain, the tobacco shop, the washing-trough, and the +two rival cafes, the "Independenza" and the "Liberta." The piazza is +always dirty and noisy--that goes without saying--but on Wednesday +morning at nine o'clock, it is peculiarly dirty and noisy. Wednesday is +Valedolmo's market day, and the square is so cluttered with booths and +huxters and anxious buyers, that the peaceable pedestrian can scarcely +wedge his way through. The noise moreover is deafening; above the cries +of vendors and buyers, rises a shriller chorus of bleating kids and +squealing pigs and braying donkeys. + +Mr. Wilder, red in the face and short of temper, pushed through the crowd +with little ceremony, prodding on the right with his umbrella, on the +left with his fan, and using his elbows vigorously. Constance, serenely +cool, followed in his wake, nodding here and there to a chance +acquaintance, smiling on everyone; the spectacle to her held always fresh +interest. An image vendor close at her elbow insisted that she should buy +a Madonna and Bambina for fifty centesimi, or at least a San Giuseppe for +twenty-five. To her father's disgust she bought them both, and presented +them to two wide-eyed children who in bashful fascination were dogging +their footsteps. + +The appearance of the foreigners in the piazza caused such a ripple of +interest, that for a moment the bargaining was suspended. When the two +mounted the steps of the jail and jerked the bell, as many of the +bystanders as the steps would accommodate mounted with them. Nobody +answered the first ring, and Constance pulled again with a force which +sent a jangle of bells echoing through the interior. After a second's +wait--snortingly impatient on Mr. Wilder's part; he was being pressed +close by the none too clean citizens of Valedolmo--the door was opened a +very small crack by a frowsy jailoress. Her eye fell first upon the +crowd, and she was disposed to close it again; but in the act she caught +sight of the Signorina Americana dressed in white, smiling above a +bouquet of oleanders. Her eyes widened with astonishment. It was long +since such an apparition had presented itself at that door. She dropped a +courtesy and the crack widened. + +"Your commands, signorina?" + +"We wish to come in." + +[Illustration: "The two mounted the steps of the jail and jerked the +bell"] + +"But it is against the orders. Friday is visiting-day at thirteen +o'clock. If the signorina had a _permesso_ from the _sindaco_, why +then--" + +The signorina shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. She had no +_permesso_ and it was too much trouble to get one. Besides, the +_sindaco's_ office didn't open till ten o'clock. She glanced down; there +was a shining two-franc piece in her hand. Perhaps the jailoress would +allow them to step inside away from the crowd and she would explain? + +This sounded reasonable; the door opened farther and they squeezed +through. It banged in the faces of the disappointed spectators, who +lingered hopefully a few moments longer, and then returned to their +bargaining. Inside the big damp stone-walled corridor Constance drew a +deep breath and smiled upon the jailoress; the jailoress smiled back. +Then as a preliminary skirmish, Constance presented the two-franc piece; +and the jailoress dropped a courtesy. + +"We have heard that Antonio, our donkey-driver, has been arrested for +deserting from the army and we have come to find out about it. My father, +the signore here--" she waved her hand toward Mr. Wilder--"likes Antonio +very much and is quite sure that it is a mistake." + +The woman's mouth hardened; she nodded with emphasis. + +"_Gia_. We have him, the man Antonio, if that is his name. He may not be +the deserter they search--I do not know--but if he is not the deserter he +is something else. You should have heard him last night, signorina, when +they brought him in. The things he said! They were in a foreign tongue; I +did not understand, but I _felt_. Also he kicked my husband--kicked him +quite hard so that he limps today. And the way he orders us about! You +would think he were a prince in his own palace and we were his servants. +Nothing is good enough for him. He objected to the room we gave him first +because it smelt of the cooking. He likes butter with his bread and hot +milk with his coffee. He cannot smoke the cigars which my husband bought +for him, and they cost three soldi apiece. And this morning--" her voice +rose shrilly as she approached the climax--"he called for a bath. It is +true, signorina, a _bath_. _Dio mio_, he wished me to carry the entire +village fountain to his room!" + +"Not really?" Constance opened her eyes in shocked surprise. "But surely, +signora, you did not do it?" + +The woman blinked. + +"It would be impossible, signorina," she contented herself with saying. + +Constance, with grave concern, translated the sum of Tony's enormities to +her father; and turned back to the jailoress apologetically. + +"My father is very much grieved that the man should have caused you so +much trouble. But he says, that if we could see him, we could persuade +him to be more reasonable. We talk his language, and can make him +understand." + +The woman winked meaningly. + +"Eh--he pretends he cannot talk Italian, but he understands enough to +ask for what he wishes. I think--and the Signor-Lieutenant who ordered +his arrest thinks--that he is shamming." + +"It was a lieutenant who ordered his arrest? Do you remember his +name--was it Carlo di Ferara?" + +"It might have been." Her face was vague. + +"Of the cavalry?" + +"_Si_, signorina, of the cavalry--and very handsome." + +Constance laughed. "Well, the plot thickens! Dad, you must come to Tony's +hearing this afternoon, and put it tactfully to our friend the lieutenant +that we don't like to have our donkey-man snatched away without our +permission." She turned back to the jailoress. "And now, where is the +man? We should like to speak with him." + +"It is against the orders, but perhaps--I have already permitted the head +waiter from the Hotel du Lac to carry him newspapers and cigarettes. He +says that the man Antonio is in reality an American nobleman from New +York who merely plays at being a donkey-driver for diversion, and that +unless he is set at liberty immediately a ship will come with cannon, +but--we all know Gustavo, signorina." + +Constance nodded and laughed. + +"You have reason! We all know Gustavo--may we go right up?" + +The jailoress called the jailor. They talked aside; the two-franc piece +was produced as evidence. The jailor with a great show of caution got out +a bunch of keys and motioned them to follow. Up two flights and down a +long corridor with peeling frescoes on the walls--nymphs and cupids and +garlands of roses; most incongruous decorations for a jail--at last they +paused before a heavy oak door. Their guide tried two wrong keys, swore +softly as each failed to turn, and finally with an exclamation of triumph +produced the right one. He swung the door wide and stepped back with a +bow. + +A large room was revealed, brick-floored and somewhat scanty as to +furniture, but with a view--an admirable view, if one did not mind its +being checked off into iron squares. The most conspicuous object in the +room, however, was its occupant, as he sat, in an essentially American +attitude, with his chair tipped back and his feet on the table. A cloud +of tobacco smoke and a wide spread copy of a New York paper concealed him +from too impertinent gaze. He did not raise his head at the sound of the +opening door but contented himself with growling: + +"Confound your impudence! You might at least knock before you come in." + +Constance laughed and advanced a hesitating step across the threshold. +Tony dropped his paper and sprang to his feet, his face assuming a shade +of pink only less vivid than the oleanders. She shook her head +sorrowfully. + +"I don't need to tell you, Tony, how shocked we are to find you in such a +place. Our trust has been rudely shaken; we had not supposed we were +harboring a deserter." + +Mr. Wilder stepped forward and held out his hand; there was a twinkle in +his eye which he struggled manfully to suppress. + +"Nonsense, Tony, we don't believe a word of it. You a deserter from the +Italian army? It's preposterous! Where are your naturalization papers?" + +"Thank you, Mr. Wilder, but I don't happen to have my papers with me--I +trust it won't be necessary to produce them. You see--" his glance rested +entirely on Mr. Wilder; he studiously overlooked Constance's +presence--"this Angelo Fresi, the fellow they are after, got into a +quarrel over a gambling debt and struck a superior officer. To avoid +being court-martialed he lit out; it happened a month ago in Milan and +they've been looking for him ever since. Now last night I had the +misfortune to tip Lieutenant Carlo di Ferara over into a ditch. The +matter was entirely accidental and I regretted it very much. I, of +course, apologized. But what did the lieutenant do but take it into his +head that I, being an assaulter of superior officers, was, by _a priori_ +reasoning, this Angelo Fresi in disguise. Accordingly--" he waved his +hand around the room--"you see me here." + +"It's an imposition! Depriving an American citizen of his liberty on any +such trumped-up charge as that! I'll telegraph the consul in Milan. +I'll--" + +"Oh, don't trouble. I'll get off this afternoon; they've sent for someone +to identify me, and if he doesn't succeed, I don't see how they can hold +me. In the meantime, I'm comfortable enough." + +Mr. Wilder's eye wandered about the room. "H'm, it isn't bad for a jail! +Got everything you need--tobacco, papers? What's this, New York _Sun_ +only ten days old?" He picked it up and plunged into the headlines. + +Constance turned from the window and glanced casually at Tony. + +"You didn't go to Austria after all?" + +"I was detained; I hope to get off tomorrow." + +"Oh, before I forget it." She removed the basket from her arm and set it +on the table. "Here is some lemon jelly, Tony. I couldn't remember +whether one takes lemon jelly to prisoners or invalids--I've never known +any prisoners before, you see. But anyway, I hope you'll like it; +Elizabetta made it." + +He bowed stiffly. "I beg of you to convey my thanks to Elizabetta." + +"Tony!" She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and glanced +apprehensively over her shoulder to see if the jailor were listening. "If +by any chance they _should_ identify you as that deserter, just get word +to me and I will have Elizabetta bake you a veal pasty with a rope ladder +and a file inside. I would have had her bake it this morning, only +Wednesday is ironing-day at the villa, and she was so awfully busy--" + +"This is your innings," Tony rejoined somewhat sulkily. "I hope you'll +get all the entertainment you can out of the situation." + +"Thank you, Tony, that's kind. Of course," she added with a plaintive +note in her voice, "this must be tiresome for you; but it is a pleasant +surprise for me. I was feeling very sad last night, Tony, at the thought +that you were going to Austria and that I should never, never see you any +more." + +"I wish I knew whether there's any truth in that statement or not!" + +"Any truth! I realize well, that I might search the whole world over and +never find another donkey-man who sings such beautiful tenor, who wears +such lovely sashes and such becoming earrings. Why, Tony--" she took a +step nearer and her face assumed a look of consternation. "You've lost +your earrings!" + +He turned his back and walked to the window where he stood moodily +staring at the market. Constance watched his squared shoulders dubiously +out of the corner of her eye; then she glanced momentarily into the hall +where the jailor was visible, his face flattened against the bars of an +open window; and from him to her father, still deep in the columns of his +paper, oblivious to both time and place. She crossed to Tony and stood at +his side peering down at the scene below. + +"I don't suppose it will interest you," she said in an off-hand tone, her +eyes still intent on the crowd, "but I got a letter this morning from a +young man who is stopping at the Sole d' Oro in Riva--a very rude letter +I thought." + +He whirled about. + +"You know!" + +"It struck me that the person who wrote it was in a temper and might +afterwards be sorry for having hurt my feelings, and so"--she raised her +eyes momentarily to his--"the invitation is still open." + +"Tell me," there was both entreaty and command in his tone, "did you know +the truth before you wrote that letter?" + +"You mean, did I know whom I was inviting? Assuredly! Do you think it +would have been dignified to write such an informal invitation to a +person I did not know?" + +She turned away quickly and laid her hand on her father's shoulder. + +"Come, Dad, don't you think we ought to be going? Poor Tony wants to read +the paper himself." + +Mr. Wilder came back to the jail and his companions with a start. + +"Oh, eh, yes, I think perhaps we ought. If they don't let you out this +afternoon, Tony, I'll make matters lively for 'em, and if there's +anything you need send word by Gustavo--I'll be back later." He fished in +his pockets and brought up a handful of cigars. "Here's something better +than lemon jelly, and they're not from the tobacco shop in Valedolmo +either." + +He dropped them on the table and turned toward the door; Constance +followed with a backward glance. + +"Good-bye, Tony; don't despair. Remember that it's always darkest before +the dawn, and that whatever others think, Costantina and I believe in +you. _We_ know that you are incapable of telling anything but the truth!" +She had almost reached the door when she became aware of the flowers in +her hand; she hurried back. "Oh, I forgot! Costantina sent these with +her--with--" She faltered; her audacity did not go quite that far. + +Tony reached for them. "With what?" he insisted. + +She laughed; and a second later the door closed behind her. He stood +staring at the door till he heard the key turn in the lock, then he +looked down at the flowers in his hand. A note was tied to the stems; his +fingers trembled as he worked with the knot. + +"_Caro Antonio mio_," it commenced; he could read that. "_La sua +Costantina_," it ended; he could read that. But between the two was an +elusive, tantalizing hiatus. He studied it and put it in his pocket and +took it out and studied it again. He was still puzzling over it half an +hour later when Gustavo came to inquire if the signore had need of +anything. + +Had he need of anything! He sent Gustavo flying to the stationer's in +search of an Italian-English dictionary. + + * * * * * + +It was four o'clock in the afternoon and all the world--except +Constance--was taking a siesta. The _Farfalla_, anchored at the foot of +the water steps in a blaze of sunshine, was dipping up and down in drowsy +harmony with the lapping waves; she was for the moment abandoned, +Giuseppe being engaged with a nap in the shade of the cypress trees at +the end of the drive. He was so very engaged that he did not hear the +sound of an approaching carriage, until the horse was pulled to a sudden +halt to avoid stepping on him. Giuseppe staggered sleepily to his feet +and rubbed his eyes. He saw a gentleman descend, a gentleman clothed as +for a wedding, in a frock coat and a white waistcoat, in shining hat and +pearl gray gloves and a boutonniere of oleander. Having paid the driver +and dismissed the carriage, the gentleman fumbled in his pocket for his +card-case. Giuseppe hurrying forward with a polite bow, stopped suddenly +and blinked. He fancied that he must still be dreaming; he rubbed his +eyes and stared again, but he found the second inspection more +confounding than the first. The gentleman looked back imperturbably, no +slightest shade of recognition in his glance, unless a gleam of amusement +far, far down in the depths of his eye might be termed recognition. He +extracted a card with grave deliberation and handed it to his companion. + +"_Voglio vedere la Signorina Costantina_," he remarked. + +The tone, the foreign accent, were both reminiscent of many a friendly +though halting conversation. Giuseppe stared again, appealingly, but the +gentleman did not help him out; on the contrary he repeated his request +in a slightly sharpened tone. + +"_Si, signore_," Giuseppe stammered. "_Prego di verire. La signorina e +nel giardino._" + +He started ahead toward the garden, looking behind at every third step to +make sure that the gentleman was still following, that he was not merely +a figment of his own sleepy senses. Their direction was straight toward +the parapet where, on a historic wash-day, the signorina had sat beside a +row of dangling stockings. She was sitting there now, dressed in white, +the oleander tree above her head enveloping her in a glowing and fragrant +shade. So occupied was she with a dreamy contemplation of the mountains +across the lake that she did not hear footsteps until Giuseppe paused +before her and presented the card. She glanced from this to the visitor +and extended a friendly hand. + +"Mr. Hilliard! Good afternoon." + +There was nothing of surprise in her greeting; evidently she did not find +the visit extraordinary. Giuseppe stared, his mouth and eyes at their +widest, until the signorina dismissed him; then he turned and walked +back--staggered back almost--never before, not even late at night on +Corpus Domini day, had he had such overwhelming reason to doubt his +senses. + +Constance turned to the visitor and swept him with an appreciative +glance, her eye lingering a second on the oleander in his buttonhole. + +"Perhaps you can tell me, is Tony out of jail? I am so anxious to know." + +He shook his head. + +"Found guilty and sentenced for life; you'll never see him again." + +"Ah; poor Tony! I shall miss him." + +"I shall miss him too; we've had very good times together." + +Constance suddenly became aware that her guest was still standing; she +moved along and made place on the wall. "Won't you sit down? Oh, excuse +me," she added with an anxious glance at his clothes, "I'm afraid you'll +get dusty; it would be better to bring a chair." She nodded toward the +terrace. + +He sat down beside her. + +"I am only too honored; the last time I came you did not invite me to sit +on the wall." + +"I am sorry if I appeared inhospitable, but you came so unexpectedly, Mr. +Hilliard." + +"Why 'Mr. Hilliard'? When you wrote you called me 'dear Jerry'." + +"That was a slip of the pen; I hope you will excuse it." + +"When I wrote I called you 'Miss Wilder'; that was a slip of the pen too. +What I meant to say was 'dear Constance'." + +She let this pass without comment. + +"I have an apology to make." + +"Yes?" + +"Once, a long time ago, I insulted you; I called you a kid. I take it +back; I swallow the word. You were never a kid." + +"Oh," she dimpled, and then, "I don't believe you remember a thing about +it!" + +[Illustration: "Never before had he had such overwhelming reason to doubt +his senses"] + +"Connie Wilder, a little girl in a blue sailor suit, and two nice fat +braids of yellow hair dangling down her back with red bows on the +ends--very convenient for pulling." + +"You are making that up. You don't remember." + +"Ah, but I do! And as for the racket you were making that afternoon, it +was, if you will permit the expression, _infernal_. I remember it +distinctly; I was trying to cram for a math. exam." + +"It wasn't I. It was your bad little sisters and brothers and cousins." + +"It was you, dear Constance. I saw you with my own eyes; I heard you with +my own ears." + +"Bobbie Hilliard was pulling my hair." + +"I apologize on his behalf, and with that we will close the incident. +There is something much more important which I wish to talk about." + +"Have you seen Nannie?" She offered this hastily not to allow a pause. + +"Yes, dear Constance, I have seen Nannie." + +"Call me 'Miss Wilder' please." + +"I'll be hanged if I will! You've been calling me Tony and Jerry and +anything else you chose ever since you knew me--and long before for the +matter of that." + +Constance waived the point. + +"Was she glad to see you?" + +"She's always glad to see me." + +"Oh, don't be so provoking! Give me the particulars. Was she surprised? +How did you explain the telegrams and letters and Gustavo's stories? I +should think the Hotel Sole d'Oro at Riva and the walking trip with the +Englishman must have been difficult." + +"Not in the least; I told the truth." + +"The truth! Not all of it?" + +"Every word." + +"How could you?" There was reproach in her accent. + +"It did come hard; I'm a little out of practice." + +"Did you tell her about--about me?" + +"I had to, Constance. When it came to the necessity of squaring all of +Gustavo's yarns, my imagination gave out. Anyway, I had to tell her out +of self-defence; she was so superior. She said it was just like a man to +muddle everything up. Here I'd been ten days in the same town with the +most charming girl in the world, and hadn't so much as discovered her +name; whereas if _she_ had been managing it--You see how it was; I had to +let her know that I was quite capable of taking care of myself without +any interference from her. I even--anticipated a trifle." + +"How?" + +"She said she was engaged. I told her I was too." + +"Indeed!" Constance's tone was remote. "To whom?" + +"The most charming girl in the world." + +"May I ask her name?" + +He laid his hand on his heart in a gesture reminiscent of Tony. +"Costantina." + +"Oh! I congratulate you." + +"Thank you--I hoped you would." + +She looked away, gravely, toward the Maggiore rising from the midst of +its clouds. His gaze followed hers, and for three minutes there was +silence. Then he leaned toward her. + +"Constance, will you marry me?" + +"No!" + +A pause of four minutes during which Constance stared steadily at the +mountain. At the end of that time her curiosity overcame her dignity; she +glanced at him sidewise. He was watching her with a smile, partly of +amusement, partly of something else. + +"Dear Constance, haven't you had enough of play, are you never going to +grow up? You are such a kid!" + +She turned back to the mountain. + +"I haven't known you long enough," she threw over her shoulder. + +"Six years!" + +"One week and two days." + +"Through three incarnations." + +She laughed a delicious rippling laugh of surrender, and slipped her hand +into his. + +"You don't deserve it, Jerry, after the fib you told your sister, but I +think--on the whole--I will." + +Neither noticed that Mr. Wilder had stepped out from the house and was +strolling down the cypress alley in their direction. He rounded the +corner in front of the parapet, and as his eye fell upon them, came to a +startled halt. The young man failed to let go of her hand, and Constance +glanced at her father with an apprehensive blush. + +"Here's--Tony, Dad. He's out of jail." + +"I see he is." + +She slipped down from the wall and brought Jerry with her. + +"We'd like your parental blessing, please. I'm going to marry him, but +don't look so worried. He isn't really a donkey-man nor a Magyar nor an +orphan nor an organ-grinder nor--any of the things he has said he was. He +is just a plain American man and an _awful liar_!" + +The young man held out his hand and Mr. Wilder shook it. + +"Jerry," he said, "I don't need to tell you how pleased--" + +"'Jerry!'" echoed Constance. "Father, you knew?" + +"Long before you did, my dear." There was a suggestion of triumph in Mr. +Wilder's tone. + +"Jerry, you told." There was reproach, scorn, indignation in hers. + +Jerry spread out his hands in a gesture of repudiation. + +"What could I do? He asked my name the day we climbed Monte Maggiore; +naturally, I couldn't tell him a lie." + +"Then we haven't fooled anybody. How unromantic!" + +"Oh, yes," said Jerry, "we've fooled lots of people. Gustavo doesn't +understand, and Giuseppe, you noticed, looked rather dazed. Then there's +Lieutenant Carlo di Ferara--" + +"Oh!" said Constance, her face suddenly blank. + +"You can explain to him now," said her father, peering through the trees. + +A commotion had suddenly arisen on the terrace--the rumble of wheels, the +confused mingling of voices. Constance and Jerry looked too. They found +the yellow omnibus of the Hotel du Lac, its roof laden with luggage, +drawn up at the end of the driveway, and Mrs. Eustace and Nannie on the +point of descending. The center of the terrace was already occupied by +Lieutenant di Ferara, who, with heels clicked together and white gloved +hands at salute, was in the act of achieving a military bow. Miss Hazel +fluttering from the door, in one breath welcomed the guests, presented +the lieutenant, and ordered Giuseppe to convey the luggage upstairs. Then +she glanced questioningly about the terrace. + +"I thought Constance and her father were here--Giuseppe!" + +Giuseppe dropped his end of a trunk and approached. Miss Hazel handed him +the lieutenant's card. "The signorina and the signore--in the garden, I +think." + +Giuseppe advanced upon the garden. Jerry's face, at the sight, became as +blank as Constance's. The two cast upon each other a glance of guilty +terror, and from this looked wildly behind for a means of escape. Their +eyes simultaneously lighted on the break in the garden wall. Jerry sprang +up and pulled Constance after him. On the top, she gathered her skirts +together preparatory to jumping, then turned back for a moment toward her +father. + +"Dad," she called in a stage whisper, "you go and meet him like a +gentleman. Tell him you are very sorry, but your daughter is not at home +today." + +The two conspirators scrambled down on the other side; and Mr. Wilder +with a sigh, dutifully stepped forward to greet the guests. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jerry Junior, by Jean Webster + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JERRY JUNIOR *** + +***** This file should be named 20358.txt or 20358.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/3/5/20358/ + +Produced by Bruce Albrecht, Louise Pryor and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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