Jerry (8 page)

'How did that name get there?'

'He write it heemself!'

'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 arbour, 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 odours 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 disfavour. 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 any one 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 wash-day, 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 forgo 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.

'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.