Jean Webster

“ 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.” ”

“ 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? ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 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.” ”

“ 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.”
“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.” ”

“ 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!” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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!” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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 ”

“ 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.” ”

“ 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!” ”