Jerry (13 page)

He understood why she had been so complaisant to-day. She wished the curtain to go down on the comedy note. To-morrow, 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 to-morrow 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 to-night. Ask him to put on Austrian stamps and mail them at Riva, so they'll get back here to-morrow. 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 for ever.

'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 to-night was with Constance, and Constance alone. He turned and skirted the villa wall, determined on reconnoitring 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 to-morrow, 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 for ever, 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 to-morrow 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. To-morrow 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 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. 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.'