Jean Webster

“ 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. ”

“ 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 to-morrow 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. ”

“ 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 tranquillity 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. ”

“ 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 sombre 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 some one—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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 courtyard, paused for a moment to tease the parrot, and sauntered on to his favourite 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. ”

“ 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? ”

“ 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? ”

“ She came up the steps still smiling, shook out her fluffy pink skirts, straightened her rose-trimmed hat, and glanced reconnoitringly 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. ”

“ She have hair brown and gold, and eyes—yes, eyes! Zay are sometimes black, signorina, and sometimes grey. 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. ”

“ 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 pretence 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. ”

“ 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 to-morrow, but after that I dare say he’ll be free. Gustavo can tell you about him.’
She nodded and smiled and turned down the arbour. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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.
‘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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 travelling.’
‘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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 reconnoitring expedition. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 to-night. 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. ”

“ 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 question’s 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 ”

“ 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 ”