by Jean Webster
CHAPTER XI
The sun was setting behind Monte Maggiore, the fishing smacks were cominghome, Luigi had long since carried the tea things into the house; butstill the two callers lingered on the terrace of Villa Rosa. It wasLieutenant di Ferara's place to go first since he had come first, andCaptain Coroloni doggedly held his post until such time as his juniorofficer should see fit to take himself off. The captain knew, as well asevery one else at the officers' mess, that in the end the lieutenantwould be the favoured man; for he was a son of Count Guido di Ferara, ofTurin, and titles are at a premium in the American market. But still themarriage contract was not signed yet, and the fact remained that thecaptain had come last; accordingly he waited.
They had been there fully two hours, and poor Miss Hazel was worn withthe strain. She sat nervously on the edge of her chair, and leanedforward with clasped hands listening intently. It required very keenattention to keep the run of either the captain's or the lieutenant'sEnglish. A few days before she had laughed at what seemed to be a funnystory, and had later learned that it was an announcement of the death ofthe lieutenant's grandmother. To-day she confined her answers toinarticulate murmurs which might be interpreted as either assents ornegations as the case required.
Constance, however, was buoyantly at her ease; she loved nothing betterthan the excitement of a difficult situation. As she bridged over pauses,and unobtrusively translated from the officer's English into realEnglish, she at the same time kept a watchful eye on the water. She hadher own reasons for wishing to detain the callers until her father'sreturn.
Presently she saw, across the lake, a yellow sailboat float out from theshadow of Monte Maggiore and head in a long tack toward Villa Rosa. Withthis she gave up the task of keeping the conversation general; andabandoning Captain Coroloni to her aunt, she strolled over to the terraceparapet with Lieutenant di Ferara at her side. The picture they made wasa charming colour scheme. Constance wore white, the lieutenant pale blue;an oleander tree beside them showed a cloud of pink blossoms, whilebehind them for a background appeared the rose of the villa wall and thedeep green of cypresses against a sunset sky. The picture wasparticularly effective as seen from the point of view of an approachingboat.
Constance broke off a spray of oleander, and while she listened to thelieutenant's recountal of a practice march, she picked up his hat fromthe balustrade and idly arranged the flowers in the vizor. He bent towardher and said something; she responded with a laugh. They were both toooccupied to notice that the boat had floated close in shore, until theflap of the falling sail announced its presence. Constance glanced upwith a start. She caught her father's eye fixed anxiously upon her;whatever Gustavo and the officers' mess of the tenth cavalry might think,he had not the slightest wish in the world to see his daughter theContessa di Ferara. Tony's face also wore an expression; he was sober,disgusted, disdainful; there was a glint of anger and determination inhis eye. Constance hurried to the water-steps to greet her father. OfTony 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 waitingto announce dinner, waived the question of precedence and made theiradieus. While Mr. Wilder and Miss Hazel were intent on the captain'slaboured farewell speech, the lieutenant crossed to Constance, who stillstood at the head of the water-steps. He murmured something in Italian ashe bowed over her hand and raised it to his lips. Constance blushed verybecomingly as she drew her hand away; she was aware, if the officer wasnot, that Tony was standing beside them looking on. But as he raised hiseyes, he too became aware of it; the man's expression was more thanimpertinent. The lieutenant stepped to his side and said something lowand rapid, something which should have made a right-minded donkey-drivertouch his hat and slink off. But Tony held his ground with a laugh whichwas more impertinent than the stare had been. The lieutenant's faceflushed 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 joinedthe others.
The two officers with final salutes took themselves off. Miss Hazelhurried indoors to make ready for dinner; Mr. Wilder followed in herwake, muttering something about finding the change to pay Tony. Constancestood where they left her, staring at the pavement with hotly burningcheeks.
'Miss Wilder!' Tony crossed to her side; his manner was humble--actuallyhumble--the usual mocking undertone in his voice was missing. 'Really I'mawfully 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 toinsult 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 morethan he liked the way I looked at him.'
'There is a certain deference, Tony, which an officer in the RoyalItalian Army has a right to expect from a donkey-driver.'
Tony shrugged.
'It is a difficult position to hold, Miss Wilder. A donkey-driver, Ifind, plays the same accommodating role as the family watch-dog. You pathim when you choose; you kick him when you choose; and he is supposed toswallow both attentions with equal grace.'
'You should have chosen another profession.'
'Naturally, I was not flattered to find that your real reason for stayingat home to-day, was that you were expecting more entertaining callers.'
'Is there any use in discussing it further? I am not going to climb anymore 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 hasgone far enough. However, it has been amusing, and we will at least partfriends.'
She held out her hand; it was a mark of definite dismissal rather than atoken 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 turnedtoward the house. He let her cross half the terrace, then he calledsoftly--
'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 favour. There are two American ladies expectedat the Hotel du Lac and I thought--perhaps--would you mind writing me aletter 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 excursionand Tony. He was elated, enthusiastic, glowing. Mountain-climbing was themost interesting pursuit in the world; he would begin to-morrow andexhaust the Alps. And as for Tony--his intelligence, his discretion, hiscleverness--there never had been such a guide. Constance listenedsilently, her eyes on her plate. At another time it might have occurredto her that her father's enthusiasm was excessive, but to-night she wasoccupied with her thoughts, and she had no reason in the world tosuspect him of guile. She decided, however, to postpone the announcementof Tony's dismissal; to-morrow mountain-climbing might look lessalluring.
Dinner over, Mr. Wilder, with a tired if satisfied sigh, dropped into achair to finish his reading of the London _Times_. He no longer skimmedhis paper lightly as in the days when papers were to be had hot at anyhour. He read it carefully, painstakingly, from the first advertisementto the last obituary; and he laid it down in the end with a disappointedsigh that there were not more residential properties for hire, that theday's death list was so meagre.
Miss Hazel settled herself to her knitting. She was making a
rainbowshawl of seven colours and an intricate pattern, and she had to count herstitches; conversation was impossible. Constance, vaguely restless,picked up a book and laid it down, and finally sauntered out to theterrace with no thought in the world but to see the moon rise over themountains.
As she approached the parapet she became aware that some one was loungingon the water-steps smoking a cigarette. The smoker rose politely butventured 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 asto find another place. The Signor Papa has engage me. I go wif him; weclimb all ze mountain around.' He waved his hand largely to comprise thewhole landscape. 'I sink perhaps it is better so--for the Signor Papa andme 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 hiscigarette.
