The Lady Paramount

by Henry Harland

  XXIII

  "Now, Commendatore," said Susanna, making her face grave, "listen, andyou shall hear"--but then her gravity broke down--"of the midnight rideof Paul Revere," she concluded, laughing.

  She raised her eyes to his, aglow with that tender, appealing, mocking,defiant smile of hers. He, poor man, smiled too, though not veryhappily, I fear--nay, even with a kind of suspicious bewilderment, asone who sniffs brewing mischief, but knows not of what particularvariety it will be. They were seated in the shade and the coolness ofa long open colonnade at Isola Nobile, while, all round them, theAugust morning, like a thing alive, pulsated with warmth and light, andthe dancing waves of the bay lapped musically against the walls below.The Commendatore was clad in stiffly-starched white duck, and held awhite yachting-cap in his hand. Susanna wore a costume of some coolgauzy tissue, pearl-grey, with white ruffles that looked as impalpableas froth.

  "Listen," she said, "and you shall hear of the midday quest ofCommendatore Fregi. I will tell you step by step what steps you are totake. My cousin is staying with the Ponte brothers at their villa.Well,--first step of all,--you are to call upon him."

  "No," said the Commendatore, jerking his head, his baldish old headwith its fringe of iron-grey curls.

  "Yes," said Susanna, resolutely compressing her lips.

  "No," said he. "It is not etiquette. The new-comer pays the firstcall."

  "That is Italian etiquette," said she. "But my cousin is anEnglishman."

  "_Nun fa nien'e_. He is in Italy. He must conform to the customs ofthe country," insisted Commendatore Fregi, in the dialect of Sampaolo,twirling his fierce old moustaches, glaring with his mild old eyes.

  "No," said Susanna, softly, firmly; "we must stretch a point in hisfavour. He is English. We will adopt the custom of _his_ country. Soyou will call upon him. I wish it."

  "Ph-h-h," puffed the Commendatore, fanning himself with his cap."Well--?" he questioned.

  Susanna, in her diaphanous light-coloured frock, leaned back, smiling.The Commendatore fanned himself rapidly with his cap, and waited forher instructions.

  "You call upon him, you introduce yourself as an old friend of thefamily. 'As a boy, I knew your grandfather, your grandmother, and Iwas a playfellow of your father's.'"

  She threw back her head, pouted out her lips, and achieved a veryadmirable counterfeit of the Commendatore's manner.

  "You ask the usual questions, pay the usual compliments. 'Can I havethe pleasure of serving you in anyway? I beg leave to place myself atyour disposal. You must not fail to command me'--and patati andpatata."

  "You are an outrageous little ape," said the Commendatore, grinning inspite of himself. "You would mimic the Devil to his face."

  "No," said Susanna. "I only mimic people when I am fond of them."

  And again she lifted her eyes to his, where they melted in her tender,teasing smile.

  "Ph-h-h," puffed the Commendatore, agitating his cap.

  "And then," pursued Susanna, "having paid the usual compliments, yourise to go."

  "Ah--_bene_," said the Commendatore, and his lean old yellow facelooked a good deal relieved.

  "Yes," said she. "But then, having risen to go, then, like the wilyand supple diplomat you are, you come to the real business of yourvisit."

  "Oh?" said the Commendatore.

  He sat forward, on the edge of his chair, and frowned. He had thoughthis troubles were over, and now it appeared that they had not yet begun.

  "Yes," said Susanna. "Having risen to go, you pause, you hesitate, andthen suddenly you take your courage in both hands. 'Count,' you say,'I wish to speak to you about your cousin.' And thereupon, frankly,confidentially, you proceed to lay before him the difficulties of yourposition. 'I was your cousin's guardian; I am still her nearestfriend; I occupy the place of a parent towards her, and feel myselfresponsible for her. And one of my chief concerns, one of my firstduties, is, of course, to see that she makes a good marriage. She is agreat heiress--she would be the natural prey of fortune-hunters. Imust protect her, I must direct her. With one hand I must keep awayundesirable suitors, with the other hand I must catch a desirable one.But now observe my perplexities. Your cousin is peculiar. She is notin the least like the typical submissive young Italian girl. She isexcessively self-willed, capricious, fantastic, unreasonable----'"

  "Bravo," put in the Commendatore, clapping his bony old hands. "I cansay all that with a clear conscience." He twirled his moustaches again.

  "Do you think I would ask you to say anything you could n't say with aclear conscience?" Susanna demanded, with a glance of reproach. "So,with a clear conscience, you go on: 'Your cousin is fantastic,unreasonable, sentimental, romantic, extravagant. And--to come to thepoint--she has got it into her unreasonable and romantic little headthat she has no right to the position which she occupies. She hasstudied the history of her family, and she has got it into her perverselittle head that by the changes which took place in 1850 a very greatinjustice was perpetrated. She has persuaded herself, in short, thatthe properties here at Sampaolo, which are technically and legallyhers, are rightfully and morally _yours_; and, to tell you the wholetruth, since my guardianship expired, a few months ago, I have had hardwork to restrain her from taking measures to relinquish thoseproperties in your favour.' No--don't interrupt," she forbade him,when the Commendatore made as if to speak.

  A sound of guttural impatience died in the old man's throat. He fannedhimself nervously, while Susanna, smiling, resumed the lesson.

  "'But,' you declare with energy, 'I _have_ restrained her, and I shallcontinue to restrain her. She could only make the properties over toyou by becoming a nun and taking vows of perpetual poverty. I willfight to my dying gasp to prevent her from doing that. However'--andnow you change your note, and speak as one anxious to conciliate andconvince--'however, it has occurred to me that there is a simple courseby which the whole awkward situation could be solved--by which yourcousin's scruples could be set at rest, and you yourself put inpossession of your ancestral estates. My dear Count, your cousin is acharming girl, and it is my chief concern and duty to arrange asuitable marriage for her. Let me have the very great satisfaction ofarranging a marriage between her and you.'"

  Susanna leaned back, and laughed. But the Commendatore frowned at herwith genuine anger.

  "_Macche_!" he cried. "What fool's talk is this? What farce are youpreparing?"

  "No farce," said Susanna, gently. "Only a wedding--at which you shallgive the bride away. And now--the launch is waiting. The sooner youare off, the sooner you 'll return."

  "Never," said the Commendatore. "I would sell myself to be choppedinto sausage-meat, before I would become a party to any such carnivaltricks."

  "Carnival tricks? Do you call marriage a carnival trick?" Susannawondered. "Or do you wish me to live and die an old maid? Is it or isit not your duty to arrange a suitable match for me?"

  "It is not my duty to arrange a match for you with a foreigner whom Ihave n't the honour of knowing," he retorted.

  "Well, then," urged Susanna, "go to my cousin and make him theproposition I have suggested. And if he says yes,--if he consents tomarry me,--I give you my most solemn promise that not for anyconsideration in the world will I accept him."

  "What?" questioned the Commendatore, blinking at her.

  "If he says yes, I 'll say no. If he says no, he says no. So it isno, either way," she pointed out. "And meanwhile--the launch iswaiting."

  "If he says no!" scoffed the Commendatore. "Is the man born who willsay no to a bag of gold?"

  "That's exactly what you have now an opportunity of discovering," shereplied. "But if he says yes, I give you my solemn promise, it will bethe end of him, so far as I 'm concerned."

  The Commendatore rubbed the back of his neck.

  "I never heard such a gallimaufry of headless and tailless nonsense,"he declared.

  "Think of that poor long-suffering launch," said Susanna. "You are
still keeping it waiting."

  "It may wait till the sea dries up, for all of me," said theCommendatore, settling himself in his seat. "Do you take me forPulcinella? I will not begin at my time of life to play carnivaltricks."

  "Ah, well, after all," said Susanna, "it does n't really matter verymuch."

  And apparently she abandoned her intention. But after a pause sheadded, rather as if speaking to herself, "I must send for FatherAngelo, I suppose."

  "_What_?" snapped out the Commendatore, sitting up.

  "Yes," said Susanna, dreamily, "Father Angelo. _He_ won't refuse to dowhat I ask him to."

  "Bah," said the Commendatore. "A priest--a monk--a shaveling--abare-toes."

  "A very good, kind, holy man," said Susanna. "And as my cousin is afaithful Catholic, I think on all accounts Father Angelo will serve mypurpose best."

  "Peuh--a Jesuit," said the Commendatore, elevating his nose.

  "He is n't a Jesuit--he is a Capuchin," said Susanna.

  "They are all Jesuits," said the Commendatore, with a sweeping gesture."A brown-back--a funeral-follower--a prayer-monger," he growled,brushing his immense moustaches upwards, to emphasize his scorn.

  "Hush," Susanna remonstrated, lifting her hand. "You must n't railagainst religion."

  "I do not rail against religion," answered the Commendatore. "Taken inmoderation, religion is an excellent thing--for women. Did I not seethat you were religiously brought up? But when it comes to thesepriests, these Jesuits,--when it comes to that Father Angelo,--I wouldhave them all hung up and smoke-dried, to make bacon of. Garrh!" hesnorted, tossing his head.

  "Yes, I know," murmured Susanna. "You were always jealous of FatherAngelo."

  "I? Jealous of that gnawer of fish-bones? It is probable," sniffedthe Commendatore.

  He rose from his chair, and stood before her, very slim and erect, hischin thrust forward, so that the tendons of his long thin neck showedlike wires.

  "But I am an old ass. I can deny you nothing. I go to your cousin,"he consented.

  "You are an old dear," said Susanna. "I knew you would go."

  Her eyes were brimming with mirth, with triumph, with fondness. Sherose too, and gently patted his stiffly-starched white duck sleeve.

  After he was gone, she crossed one of the light marble bridges, andwalked in the garden on Isola Sorella, where it was shaded by a row ofilexes. Blackcaps (those tireless ubiquitous minstrels) were singingwildly overhead; ring-doves kept up their monotonous coo-cooing.Beyond, in the sun, butterflies flitted among the flowers, cockchafersheavily droned and blundered, a white peacock strutted, and at thewater's edge two long-legged, wry-necked flamingoes stood motionless,like sentinels. At the other side of the ilexes stretched a bit ofbright green lawn, with a fountain plashing in the middle, from whosespray the sun struck sparks of iridescent fire; and then, terrace uponterrace, the garden rose to a summit, where there was a belvedere.

  I don't know how many times Susanna strolled backwards and forwards, Idon't know how many times she looked at her watch. Here and theresemi-circular marble benches were placed. Sometimes she would sit downand rest for a little; but she was soon up again, walking, walking,looking at her watch. At last she left the shade, crossed the lawn,ascended the terraces, between orange and lemon-trees with theirundergrowth of jessamine, and entered the belvedere, having by thisprogress created a panic indescribable in the community of lizards.

  From the belvedere she could command the whole sunlit surface of thebay, here blue, here silver, here deepening to violet, paling to green,here dimly, obscurely rose. A fleet of fishing-boats, their colouredsails decorated with stripes and geometric patterns, or even now andthen with a representation of the owner's patron-saint, was putting outto sea in single file, between the Capo del Turco and the Capo delPapa. But Susanna concentrated her attention upon a part of the shore,perhaps half a mile distant, and half a mile to the east of Vallanza,where the grey-green of the prevailing olives was broken by thedark-green of a garden. The garden ran out into the bay a little,forming a point. Susanna waited and watched, watched and waited, till,by-and-by, from behind the point, a boat appeared, a launch, and cameswiftly bobbing over the waves towards Isola Nobile. She must havekept very still during this vigil, for now, when she turned to leavethe belvedere, she saw that at least a hundred lizards had come forthfrom their hiding-places, and were staring at her with their twinklinglittle pin-heads of eyes. But even as she saw them--zrrrp!--a flash, arustle, and there was not a lizard anywhere in sight.

  She went back to the colonnade.

  "My dear," said Commendatore Fregi, "your cousin is an extremely finefellow, and upon my word I am sorry that my mission to him has failed.I could not hope to find you a better husband."

  Whatever the Commendatore's emotion might be, it generally impelled himto do something to his moustaches. Now he pulled them straight out ateither side.

  "Your mission has failed?" asked Susanna. "How do you mean?"

  "He cannot marry you," said the Commendatore, with a shake of the head,a shrug of the shoulders. "He is engaged to a lady in England."

  "Ah--I see," said Susanna.

  "He is very good-looking," said the Commendatore. "He is hisgrandfather come back to life."

  "Is he indeed?" said Susanna.

  "Yes," affirmed the Commendatore. "He dresses well. He has a goodmanner. He is very quiet."

  "Englishmen are apt to be quiet," said Susanna.

  "He speaks Italian as well as I do," went on the Commendatore. "But hecannot speak Sampaolese."

  "He could easily learn Sampaolese," said Susanna.

  "Yes," said the Commendatore. "When I repeated that humbug about yourbecoming a nun and resigning the properties to him, he held up hishands in horror. 'She must not think of such a thing,' he cried.'Tell the young lady that I could never conceivably accept such asacrifice. I understand her scruples, and they do her great honour.But she and I and all of us must accept the situation as we find it.She must not think of becoming a nun.' You see, he has good sense aswell as good feeling. That is what I have always told you myself--wemust accept the situation as we find it. There's no use trying to openup the past."

  "H'm," said Susanna, on a key of doubt.

  "And then, with my heart in the business, for I had seen that he was ofthe right stuff, then I proposed a marriage," said the Commendatore."I put it to him as strongly as I could. I painted the advantages invivid colours. But it was no good. He cannot marry you. He isalready betrothed."

  "So you said," Susanna reminded him. "To a lady in England, I think?"

  "Yes," assented the Commendatore. "It is a pity on our account that hewill not throw her over. But it is to his credit. Let me tell you itis not every man in his position who would stick at the point ofhonour. Consider the alternative. He throws over his Englishwoman,and he becomes master not only of one of the noblest estates in Europe,but of an estate which must have for him the incalculable additionalvalue of being his patrimony." Never chary of gesture, the speaker wasat this point lavish of it.

  "May I be permitted," said Susanna, raising her eyebrows, "to admirethe light-hearted way in which you leave _me_ out of the saga?"

  "You?" puzzled the Commendatore. "Out of the--what? What is a saga?"

  "A Scandinavian legend," Susanna instructed him. "Now see how youleave me out of your Scandinavian legend. 'Consider the alternative,'said you. 'He throws over his Englishwoman, and he becomes--' Well,_you_ said, 'Master of a noble estate.' But a really gallant personmight have said, 'Husband of a perfectly entrancing Italian woman.'"

  She pulled a little face.

  "Ha," laughed the Commendatore, briefly. "You must have your joke."And his hand instinctively made for his moustaches. "Well, I am sorry.I can never hope to find you a better husband."

  "You need never try," said Susanna. "He will do."

  "What?" said the Commendatore.

  "He will do," said she. "We'll have a
grand wedding in the Cathedral.The Bishop shall officiate, in his very best cope and mitre, and you,with your grandest flourish, shall give the bride away."

  The Commendatore shrugged his shoulders, and gazed for commiseration atthe sky.

  "You are incomprehensible," he said. "Haven't I spent an hour tellingyou he is affianced to a lady in England?"

  "No," said Susanna; "only something like ten minutes."

  "Brrr," said the Commendatore, contemptuous of the quibble.

  "And anyhow, I shall marry him," said Susanna. "You have made me quitefall in love with him, by your glowing description--and I rather likedhim before. The lady in England is neither here nor there. We 'll bemarried in the Cathedral, where so many generations of our ancestorshave been married. His friend Mr. Willes shall be best man; and thePontes shall pontificate in their most British manner, withwedding-favours sent out from London. And so the ancient legitimateline of the Valdeschi shall be restored."

  "You are mad," said the Commendatore, simply.

  "And you shall offer us a wedding-breakfast at the Villa Fregi," shepursued. "We 'll have all sorts of nice things to eat and drink, andyou shall propose the health of the bride, and make a magnificentspeech. And I shall wear my coronet--which I have never yet worn--forthen I shall be the Countess of Sampaolo with a clear right to thetitle. And now I 'll tell you a secret. Would you like me to tell youa secret?" she inquired.

  "I can tell _you_ a secret that will soon be a matter of publicnotoriety," said the Commendatore. "And that is that you 've cleangone out of your senses."

  "The lady he is engaged to in England," said Susanna, "guess who sheis. I give it to you in a million."

  "How the devil can I guess who she is?" said the Commendatore.

  "Well, then, listen," said Susanna. "You must n't faint, or explode,or anything--but the lady he's engaged to in England is your oldfriend--that bold adventuress, that knightess errant--the widowTorrebianca."

  "_Domeniddio_!" gasped the Commendatore, falling back in his chair.

  And I half think he would have pulled his moustaches out by their rootsif Susanna had n't interceded with him to spare them.

  "Don't--don't," she pleaded. "You won't have any left."

  "_Domeniddio_!" he gasped three separate times, on three separate notes.

  "If you're surprised," said Susanna, "think how much more surprised hewill be."

  "_Do-men-id-dio_!" said the Commendatore, in a whisper.

  And then a servant came to announce that luncheon was ready.