CHAPTER XVII
Jerry Junior's letter of regret arrived from Riva on the early mail. Inthe light of Constance's effusively cordial invitation, the terseformality of his reply was little short of rude; but Constance readbetween the lines and was appeased. The writer, plainly, was angry, andanger was a much more becoming emotion than nonchalance. As she set outwith her father toward the village jail, she was again buoyantly incommand of the situation. She carried a bunch of oleanders, and the pinkand white egg basket swung from her arm. Their way led past the gate ofthe Hotel du Lac, and Mr. Wilder, being under the impression that he wasenjoying a very good joke all by himself, could not forgo the temptationof stopping to inquire if Mrs. Eustace and Nannie had heard any news ofthe prodigal. They found the two at breakfast in the courtyard, an openletter spread before them. Nannie received them with lamentations.
'We can't come to the villa! Here's a letter from Jerry wanting us tostart immediately for the Dolomites--did you ever know anything soexasperating?'
She passed the letter to Constance, and then as she remembered the firstsentence, made a hasty attempt to draw it back. It was too late;Constance's eyes had already pounced upon it. She read it aloud withgleeful malice.
'"Who in thunder is Constance Wilder?"--If that's an example of thefamous Jerry Junior's politeness, I prefer not to meet him, thankyou.--It's worse than his last insult; I shall _never_ forgive this!' Sheglanced down the page and handed it back with a laugh; from her point ofvantage it was naively transparent. From Mr. Wilder's point, however, thecontents were inscrutable; he looked from the letter to his daughter'sserene smile, and relapsed into a puzzled silence.
'I should say, on the contrary, that he _doesn't_ want you to startimmediately for the Dolomites,' Constance observed.
'It's a girl,' Nannie groaned. 'I suspected it from the moment we got thetelegram in Lucerne. Oh, why did I ever let that wretched boy get out ofmy sight?'
'I dare say she's horrid,' Constance put in. 'One meets such frightfulAmericans travelling.'
'We will go up to Riva on the afternoon boat and investigate.' It wasMrs. Eustace who spoke. There was an undertone in her voice whichsuggested 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 scarcelysafe for an unattached man to go out alone.'
Mr. Wilder leaned forward and reexamined the letter.
'By the way, Miss Nannie, how did Jerry learn that you were here? Hisletter, I see, was mailed in Riva at ten o'clock last night.'
Nannie examined the postmark. 'I hadn't thought of that! How could hehave found out--unless that beast of a head waiter telegraphed? What doesit mean?'
Mr. Wilder spread out his hands and raised his shoulders. 'You've gotme!' A gleam of illumination suddenly flashed over his face; he turned tohis daughter with what was meant to be a carelessly off-hand manner.'Er--Constance, while I think of it, you didn't discharge Tony againyesterday, did you?'
Constance opened her eyes.
'Discharge Tony? Why should I do that? He isn't working for me.'
'You weren't rude to him?'
'Father, am I ever rude to any one?'
Mr. Wilder looked at the envelope again and shook his head. 'There'ssomething mighty fishy about this whole business. When you get hold ofthat brother of yours again, my dear young woman, you make him tell whathe's been up to this week--and make him tell the truth.'
'Mr. Wilder!' Nannie was reproachful. 'You don't know Jerry; he'sincapable of telling anything but the truth.'
Constance tittered.
'What are you laughing at, Constance?'
'Nothing--only it's so funny. Why don't you advertise for him? Lost--ayoung man, age twenty-eight, height five feet eleven, weight one hundredand seventy pounds, dark hair, grey eyes, slight scar over left eyebrow;dressed when last seen in double-breasted blue serge suit and brownrusset shoes. Finder please return to Hotel du Lac and receive liberalreward.'
'He isn't lost,' said Nannie. 'We know where he is perfectly; he's at theHotel Sole d'Oro in Riva, and that's at the other end of the lake. We'regoing up on the afternoon boat to join him.'
'Oh!' said Constance meekly.
'You take my advice,' Mr. Wilder put in. 'Go up to Riva if you must--it'sa pleasant trip--but leave your luggage here. See this young man inperson and bring him back with you; tell him we have just as goodmountains as he'll find in the Dolomites. If by any chance you shouldn'tfind him----'
'Of course, we'll find him!' said Nannie.
Constance looked troubled.
'Don't go, it's quite a long trip. Write instead and give the letter toGustavo; he'll give it to the boat steward who will deliver itpersonally. Then if Jerry shouldn't be there----'
Nannie was losing her patience.
'Shouldn't be there? But he _says_ he's there.'
'Oh! yes, certainly, that ends it. Only, you know, Nannie, _I_ don'tbelieve there really is any such person as Jerry Junior! I think he's amyth.'
Gustavo had been hanging about the gate looking anxiously up the road asif he expected something to happen. His brow cleared suddenly as a boy ona bicycle appeared in the distance. The boy whirled into the court anddismounted; glancing dubiously from one to the other of the group, hefinally presented his telegram to Gustavo, who passed it on to Nannie.She ripped it open and ran her eyes over the contents.
'Can any one tell me the meaning of this? It's Italian!' She spread it onthe table while the three bent over it in puzzled wonder.
'Ceingide mai maind dunat comtu Riva stei in Valedolmo geri.'
Constance was the first to grasp the meaning; she read it twice andlaughed.
'That's not Italian; it's English, only the operator has spelt itphonetically--I begin to believe there is a Jerry,' she added, 'no onecould cause such a bother who didn't exist.' She picked up the slip andtranslated--
'"Changed my mind. Do not come to Riva; stay in Valedolmo--JERRY."'
'I'm a clairvoyant, you see. I told you he wouldn't be there!'
'But where is he?' Nannie wailed.
Constance and her father glanced tentatively at each other, and weresilent. Gustavo, who had been hanging officiously in the rear, approachedand begged their pardon.
'_Scusi_, signora, but I sink I can explain. _Ecco_! Ze telegram is datedfrom Limone--zat is a village close by here on ze ozzer side of ze lake.He is gone on a walking trip, ze yong man, of two--tree days wif anEnglishman who is been in zis hotel. If he expect you so soon he wouldnot go. But patience, he will come back. Oh, yes, in a little while,after one--two day he come back.'
'What is the man talking about?' Mrs. Eustace was both indignant andbewildered. 'Jerry was in Riva yesterday at the Hotel Sole d'Oro. Howcan he be on a walking trip at the other end of the lake to-day?'
'You don't suppose'--Nannie's voice was tragic--'that he has eloped withthat American girl?'
'Good heavens, my dear!' Mrs. Eustace appealed to Mr. Wilder. 'What arethe laws in this dreadful country? Don't banns or something have to bepublished three weeks before the ceremony can take place?'
Mr. Wilder rose hastily.
'Yes, yes, dear lady. It's impossible; don't consider any suchcatastrophe for a moment. Come, Constance, I really think we ought to begoing.--Er, you see, Mrs. Eustace, you can't believe--that is, don't letanything Gustavo says trouble you. With all respect for his many finequalities, he has not Jerry's regard for truth. And don't bother any moreabout the boy; he will turn up in a day or so. He may have written someletters of explanation that you haven't got. These foreign mails----' Heedged toward the gate.
Constance followed him and then turned back.
'We're on our way to the jail,' she said, 'to visit our donkey-driver,who has managed to get himself arrested. While we're there we can makeinquiries if you like; it's barely possible that they might have got holdof Jerry on some false charge or other. These foreign jails----'
'Constanc
e!' said Nannie reproachfully.
'Oh, my dear, I was only joking; of course it's impossible. Good-bye.'She nodded and laughed and ran after her father.
CHAPTER XVIII
If one must go to jail at all one could scarcely choose a moreentertaining jail than that of Valedolmo. It occupies a structure whichwas once a palace; and its cells, planned for other purposes, arespacious. But its most gratifying feature, to one forcibly removed fromsocial intercourse, is its outlook. The windows command the PiazzaGaribaldi, which is the social centre of the town; it contains thevillage post, the fountain, the tobacco shop, the washing-trough, and thetwo rival cafes, the 'Independenza' and the 'Liberta.' The piazza isalways dirty and noisy--that goes without saying--but on Wednesdaymorning at nine o'clock, it is peculiarly dirty and noisy. Wednesday isValedolmo's market day, and the square is so cluttered with booths andhucksters and anxious buyers, that the peaceable pedestrian can scarcelywedge his way through. The noise moreover is deafening; above the criesof vendors and buyers rises a shriller chorus of bleating kids andsquealing pigs and braying donkeys.
Mr. Wilder, red in the face and short of temper, pushed through the crowdwith little ceremony, prodding on the right with his umbrella, on theleft with his fan, and using his elbows vigorously. Constance, serenelycool, followed in his wake, nodding here and there to a chanceacquaintance, smiling on every one; the spectacle to her held alwaysfresh interest. An image vendor close at her elbow insisted that sheshould buy a Madonna and Bambina for fifty centesimi, or at least a SanGiuseppe for twenty-five. To her father's disgust she bought them both,and presented them to two wide-eyed children who in bashful fascinationwere dogging their footsteps.
The appearance of the foreigners in the piazza caused such a ripple ofinterest, that for a moment the bargaining was suspended. When the twomounted the steps of the jail and jerked the bell, as many of thebystanders as the steps would accommodate mounted with them. Nobodyanswered the first ring, and Constance pulled again with a force whichsent a jangle of bells echoing through the interior. After a second'swait--snortingly impatient on Mr. Wilder's part; he was being pressedclose by the none too clean citizens of Valedolmo--the door was opened avery small crack by a frowsy jailoress. Her eye fell first upon thecrowd, and she was disposed to close it again; but in the act she caughtsight of the Signorina Americana dressed in white, smiling above abouquet of oleanders. Her eyes widened with astonishment. It was longsince such an apparition had presented itself at that door. She dropped acurtsy, and the crack widened.
'Your commands, signorina?'
'We, wish to come in.'
'But it is against the orders. Friday is visiting-day at thirteeno'clock. If the signorina had a _permesso_ from the _sindaco_, whythen----'
The signorina shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. She had no_permesso_ and it was too much trouble to get one. Besides, the_sindaco's_ office didn't open till ten o'clock. She glanced down; therewas a shining two-franc piece in her hand. Perhaps the jailoress wouldallow them to step inside away from the crowd, and she would explain?
This sounded reasonable; the door opened farther and they squeezedthrough. It banged in the faces of the disappointed spectators, wholingered hopefully a few moments longer, and then returned to theirbargaining. Inside the big damp stone-walled corridor Constance drew adeep breath and smiled upon the jailoress; the jailoress smiled back.Then as a preliminary skirmish, Constance presented the two-franc piece;and the jailoress dropped a curtsy.
'We have heard that Antonio, our donkey-driver, has been arrested fordeserting from the army and we have come to find out about it. My father,the signore here'--she waved her hand toward Mr. Wilder--'likes Antoniovery much, and is quite sure that it is a mistake.'
The woman's mouth hardened; she nodded with emphasis.
'_Gia_. We have him, the man Antonio, if that is his name. He may not bethe deserter they search--I do not know--but if he is not the deserter heis something else. You should have heard him last night, signorina, whenthey brought him in. The things he said! They were in a foreign tongue; Idid not understand, but I _felt_. Also he kicked my husband--kicked himquite hard so that he limps to-day. And the way he orders us about! Youwould think he were a prince in his own palace and we were his servants.Nothing is good enough for him. He objected to the room we gave him firstbecause it smelt of the cooking. He likes butter with his bread and hotmilk with his coffee. He cannot smoke the cigars which my husband boughtfor him, and they cost three soldi apiece. And this morning'--her voicerose shrilly as she approached the climax--'he called for a bath. It istrue, signorina, a _bath_. _Dio mio_, he wished me to carry the entirevillage fountain to his room!'
'Not really?' Constance opened her eyes in shocked surprise. 'But surely,signora, you did not do it?'
The woman blinked.
'It would be impossible, signorina,' she contented herself with saying.
Constance, with grave concern, translated the sum of Tony's enormities toher father; and turned back to the jailoress apologetically.
'My father is very much grieved that the man should have caused you somuch trouble. But he says, that if we could see him, we could persuadehim to be more reasonable. We talk his language, and can make himunderstand.'
The woman winked meaningly.
'Eh--he pretends he cannot talk Italian, but he understands enough to askfor what he wishes. I think--and the Signor-Lieutenant who ordered hisarrest thinks--that he is shamming.'
'It was a lieutenant who ordered his arrest? Do you remember hisname--was it Carlo di Ferara?'
'It might have been.' Her face was vague.
'Of the cavalry?'
'_Si_, signorina, of the cavalry--and very handsome.'
Constance laughed. 'Well, the plot thickens! Dad, you must come to Tony'shearing this afternoon, and put it tactfully to our friend the lieutenantthat we don't like to have our donkey-man snatched away without ourpermission.' She turned back to the jailoress. 'And now, where is theman? We should like to speak with him.'
'It is against the orders, but perhaps--I have already permitted the headwaiter from the Hotel du Lac to carry him newspapers and cigarettes. Hesays that the man Antonio is in reality an American nobleman from NewYork, who merely plays at being a donkey-driver for diversion, and thatunless he is set at liberty immediately a ship will come with cannon,but--we all know Gustavo, signorina.'
Constance nodded and laughed.
'You have reason! We all know Gustavo--may we go right up?'
The jailoress called the jailor. They talked aside; the two-franc piecewas produced as evidence. The jailor with a great show of caution got outa bunch of keys and motioned them to follow. Up two flights and down along corridor with peeling frescoes on the walls--nymphs and cupids andgarlands of roses; most incongruous decorations for a jail--at last theypaused before a heavy oak door. Their guide tried two wrong keys, sworesoftly as each failed to turn, and finally with an exclamation of triumphproduced the right one. He swung the door wide and stepped back with abow.
A large room was revealed, brick-floored and somewhat scanty as tofurniture, but with a view--an admirable view, if one did not mind itbeing checked off into iron squares. The most conspicuous object in theroom, however, was its occupant, as he sat, in an essentially Americanattitude, with his chair tipped back and his feet on the table. A cloudof tobacco smoke and a wide-spread copy of a New York paper concealed himfrom too impertinent gaze. He did not raise his head at the sound of theopening door, but contented himself with growling----
'Confound your impudence! You might at least knock before you come in.'
Constance laughed and advanced a hesitating step across the threshold.Tony dropped his paper and sprang to his feet, his face, assuming a shadeof pink only less vivid than the oleanders. She shook her headsorrowfully.
'I don't need to tell you, Tony, how shocked we are to find you in such aplace. Our trust has been rudely shaken; we had not supposed we wereharbouring a deserter.'
Mr. Wil
der stepped forward and held out his hand; there was a twinkle inhis eye, which he struggled manfully to suppress.
'Nonsense, Tony, we don't believe a word of it. You a deserter from theItalian army? It's preposterous! Where are your naturalization papers?'
'Thank you, Mr. Wilder, but I don't happen to have my papers with me--Itrust it won't be necessary to produce them. You see'--his glance restedentirely on Mr. Wilder; he studiously overlooked Constance'spresence--'this Angelo Fresi, the fellow they are after, got into aquarrel over a gambling debt and struck a superior officer. To avoidbeing court-martialled he lit out; it happened a month ago in Milan andthey've been looking for him ever since. Now last night I had themisfortune to tip Lieutenant Carlo di Ferara over into a ditch. Thematter was entirely accidental, and I regretted it very much. I, ofcourse, apologized. But what did the lieutenant do but take it into hishead that I, being an assaulter of superior officers, was, by a priorireasoning, this Angelo Fresi in disguise. Accordingly'--he waved his handaround the room--'you see me here.'
'It's an imposition! Depriving an American citizen of his liberty on anysuch trumped-up charge as that! I'll telegraph the consul in Milan.I'll----'
'Oh, don't trouble. I'll get off this afternoon; they've sent for someone to identify me, and if he doesn't succeed, I don't see how they canhold me. In the meantime, I'm comfortable enough.'
Mr. Wilder's eye wandered about the room. 'H'm, it isn't bad for a jail!Got everything you need--tobacco, papers?' What's this, New York _Sun_only ten days old?' He picked it up and plunged into the headlines.
Constance turned from the window and glanced casually at Tony.
'You didn't go to Austria after all?'
'I was detained; I hope to get off to-morrow.'
'Oh, before I forget it.' She removed the basket from her arm and set iton the table. 'Here is some lemon jelly, Tony. I couldn't rememberwhether one takes lemon jelly to prisoners or invalids--I've never knownany prisoners before, you see. But anyway, I hope you'll like it;Elizabetta made it.'
He bowed stiffly. 'I beg of you to convey my thanks to Elizabetta.'
'Tony!' She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and glancedapprehensively over her shoulder to see if the jailor were listening. 'Ifby any chance they _should_ identify you as that deserter, just get wordto me and I will have Elizabetta bake you a veal pasty with a rope ladderand a file inside. I would have had her bake it this morning, onlyWednesday is ironing-day at the villa, and she was so awfully busy----'
'This is your innings,' Tony rejoined somewhat sulkily. 'I hope you'llget all the entertainment you can out of the situation.'
'Thank you, Tony, that's kind. Of course,' she added with a plaintivenote in her voice, 'this must be tiresome for you; but it is a pleasantsurprise for me. I was feeling very sad last night, Tony, at the thoughtthat you were going to Austria and that I should never, never see you anymore.'
'I wish I knew whether there's any truth in that statement or not!'
'Any truth! I realize well, that I might search the whole world over andnever find another donkey-man who sings such beautiful tenor, who wearssuch lovely sashes and such becoming earrings. Why, Tony'--she took astep nearer and her face assumed a look of consternation--'you've lostyour earrings!'
He turned his back and walked to the window, where he stood moodilystaring at the market. Constance watched his squared shoulders dubiouslyout of the corner of her eye; then she glanced momentarily into the hallwhere the jailor was visible his face flattened against the bars of anopen window; and from him to her father, still deep in the columns of hispaper, oblivious to both time and place. She crossed to Tony and stood athis side, peering down at the scene below.
'I don't suppose it will interest you,' she said in an off-hand tone, hereyes still intent on the crowd, 'but I got a letter this morning from ayoung man who is stopping at the Sole d'Oro in Riva--a very rude letter,I thought.'
He whirled about.
'You know!'
'It struck me that the person who wrote it was in a temper and mightafterwards be sorry for having hurt my feelings, and so'--she raised hereyes momentarily to his--'the invitation is still open.'
'Tell me,' there was both entreaty and command in his tone, 'did you knowthe truth before you wrote that letter?'
'You mean, did I know whom I was inviting? Assuredly! Do you think itwould have been dignified to write such an informal invitation to aperson I did not know?'
She turned away quickly and laid her hand on her father's shoulder.
'Come, Dad, don't you think we ought to be going? Poor Tony wants to readthe paper himself.'
Mr. Wilder came back to the jail and his companions with a start.
'Oh, eh, yes, I think perhaps we ought. If they don't let you out thisafternoon, Tony, I'll make matters lively for 'em, and if there'sanything you need, send word by Gustavo--I'll send back later.' He fishedin his pockets and brought up a handful of cigars. 'Here's somethingbetter than lemon jelly, and they're not from the tobacco shop inValedolmo either.'
He dropped them on the table and turned toward the door; Constancefollowed with a backward glance.
'Good-bye, Tony; don't despair. Remember that it's always darkest beforethe dawn, and that whatever others think, Costantina and I believe inyou. _We_ know that you are incapable of telling anything but the truth!'She had almost reached the door when she became aware of the flowers inher hand; she hurried back. 'Oh, I forgot! Costantina sent these withher--with----' She faltered; her audacity did not go quite that far.
Tony reached for them. 'With what?' he insisted.
She laughed; and a second later the door closed behind her. He stoodstaring at the door till he heard the key turn in the lock, then helooked down at the flowers in his hand. A note was tied to the stems; hisfingers trembled as he worked with the knot.
'_Caro Antonio mio_,' it commenced; he could read that. '_La suaCostantina_,' it ended; he could read that. But between the two was anelusive, tantalizing hiatus. He studied it and put it in his pocket andtook it out and studied it again. He was still puzzling over it half anhour later when Gustavo came to inquire if the signore had need ofanything.
Had he need of anything! He sent Gustavo flying to the stationer's insearch of an Italian-English dictionary.
It was four o'clock in the afternoon and all the world--exceptConstance--was taking a siesta. The _Farfalla_, anchored at the foot ofthe water-steps in a blaze of sunshine, was dipping up and down in drowsyharmony with the lapping waves; she was for the moment abandoned,Giuseppe being engaged with a nap in the shade of the cypress trees atthe end of the drive. He was so very engaged that he did not hear thesound of an approaching carriage, until the horse was pulled to a suddenhalt to avoid stepping on him. Giuseppe staggered sleepily to his feetand rubbed his eyes. He saw a gentleman descend, a gentleman clothed asfor a wedding, in a frock coat and a white waistcoat, in shining hat andpearl grey gloves and a boutonniere of oleander. Having paid the driverand dismissed the carriage, the gentleman fumbled in his pocket for hiscard-case. Giuseppe hurrying forward with a polite bow, stopped suddenlyand blinked. He fancied that he must still be dreaming; he rubbed hiseyes and stared again, but he found the second inspection moreconfounding than the first. The gentleman looked back imperturbably, noslightest shade of recognition in his glance, unless a gleam of amusementfar, far down in the depths of his eye might be termed recognition. Heextracted a card with grave deliberation and handed it to his companion.
'_Voglio vedere la Signorina Costantina_,' he remarked.
The tone, the foreign accent, were both reminiscent of many a friendlythough halting conversation. Giuseppe stared again, appealingly, but thegentleman did not help him out; on the contrary he repeated his requestin a slightly sharpened tone.
'_Si, signore_,' Giuseppe stammered. '_Prego di verire. La signorina enel giardino._'
He started ahead toward the garden, looking behind at every third step tomake sure that the gentleman was still following, t
hat he was not merelya figment of his own sleepy senses. Their direction was straight towardthe parapet where, on an historic wash-day, the signorina had sat besidea row of dangling stockings. She was sitting there now, dressed in white,the oleander tree above her head enveloping her in a glowing and fragrantshade. So occupied was she with a dreamy contemplation of the mountainsacross the lake that she did not hear footsteps until Giuseppe pausedbefore her and presented the card. She glanced from this to the visitor,and extended a friendly hand.
'Mr. Hilliard! Good afternoon.'
There was nothing of surprise in her greeting; evidently she did not findthe visit extraordinary. Giuseppe stared, his mouth and eyes at theirwidest, until the signorina dismissed him; then he turned and walkedback--staggered back almost--never before not even late at night onCorpus Domini day, had he had such overwhelming reason to doubt hissenses.
Constance turned to the visitor, and swept him with an appreciativeglance, her eye lingering a second on the oleander in his buttonhole.
'Perhaps you can tell me, is Tony out of jail? I am so anxious to know.'
He shook his head.
'Found guilty and sentenced for life; you'll never see him again.'
'Ah; poor Tony! I shall miss him.'
'I shall miss him too; we've had very good times together.'
Constance suddenly became aware that her guest was still standing; shemoved along and made place on the wall. 'Won't you sit down? Oh, excuseme,' she added with an anxious glance at his clothes, 'I'm afraid you'llget dusty; it would be better to bring a chair.' She nodded toward theterrace.
He sat down beside her.
'I am only too honoured; the last time I came you did not invite me tosit on the wall.'
'I am sorry if I appeared inhospitable, but you came so unexpectedly, Mr.Hilliard.'
'Why "Mr. Hilliard"? When you wrote you called me "dear Jerry."'
'That was a slip of the pen; I hope you will excuse it.'
'When I wrote I called you "Miss Wilder"; that was a slip of the pen too.What I meant to say was, "dear Constance."'
She let this pass without comment.
'I have an apology to make.'
'Yes?'
'Once, a long time ago, I insulted you; I called you a kid. I take itback; I swallow the word. You were never a kid.'
'Oh,' she dimpled, and then, 'I don't believe you remember a thing aboutit?'
'Connie Wilder, a little girl in a blue sailor suit, and two nice fatbraids of yellow hair dangling down her back with red bows on theends--very convenient for pulling.'
'You are making that up. You don't remember.'
'Ah, but I do! And as for the racket you were making that afternoon, itwas, if you will permit the expression, _infernal_. I remember itdistinctly; I was trying to cram for a math. exam.'
'It wasn't I. It was your bad little sisters and brothers and cousins.'
'It was you, dear Constance. I saw you with my own eyes; I heard you withmy own ears.'
'Bobbie Hilliard was pulling my hair.'
'I apologize on his behalf, and with that we will close the incident.There is something much more important which I wish to talk about.'
'Have you seen Nannie?' She offered this hastily, not to allow a pause.
'Yes, dear Constance, I have seen Nannie.'
'Call me "Miss Wilder," please.'
'I'll be hanged if I will! You've been calling me Tony and Jerry andanything else you chose ever since you knew me--and long before for thematter of that.'
Constance waived the point.
'Was she glad to see you?'
'She's always glad to see me.'
'Oh, don't be so provoking! Give me the particulars. Was she surprised?How did you explain the telegrams and letters and Gustavo's stories? Ishould think the Hotel Sole d'Oro at Riva and the walking trip with theEnglishman must have been difficult.'
'Not in the least; I told the truth.'
'The truth! Not all of it?'
'Every word.'
'How could you?' There was reproach in her accent.
'It did come hard; I'm a little out of practice.'
'Did you tell her about--about me?'
'I had to, Constance. When it came to the necessity of squaring all ofGustavo's yarns, my imagination gave out. Anyway, I had to tell her outof self-defence; she was so superior. She said it was just like a man tomuddle everything up. Here I'd been ten days in the same town with themost charming girl in the world, and hadn't so much as discovered hername; whereas if _she_ had been managing it---- You see how it was; I hadto let her know that I was quite capable of taking care of myself withoutany interference from her. I even--anticipated a trifle.'
'How?'
'She said she was engaged. I told her I was too.'
'Indeed!' Constance's tone was remote. 'To whom?'
'The most charming girl in the world.'
'May I ask her name?'
He laid his hand on his heart in a gesture reminiscent of Tony.'Costantina.'
'Oh! I congratulate you.'
'Thank you--I hoped you would.'
She looked away gravely toward the Maggiore rising from the midst of itsclouds. His gaze followed hers, and for three minutes there was silence.Then he leaned toward her.
'Constance, will you marry me?'
'No!'
A pause of four minutes during which Constance stared steadily at themountain. At the end of that time her curiosity overcame her dignity; sheglanced at him sidewise. He was watching her with a smile, partly ofamusement, partly of something else.
'Dear Constance, haven't you had enough of play, are you never going togrow up? You are such a kid!'
She turned back to the mountain.
'I haven't known you long enough,' she threw over her shoulder.
'Six years!'
'One week and two days.'
'Through three incarnations.'
She laughed a delicious rippling laugh of surrender, and slipped her handinto his.
'You don't deserve it, Jerry, after the fib you told your sister, but Ithink--on the whole--I will.'
Neither noticed that Mr. Wilder had stepped out from the house and wasstrolling down the cypress alley in their direction. He rounded thecorner in front of the parapet, and as his eye fell upon them, came to astartled halt. The young man failed to let go of her hand, and Constanceglanced at her father with an apprehensive blush.
'Here's--Tony, Dad. He's out of jail.'
'I see he is.'
She slipped down from the wall and brought Jerry with her.
'We'd like your parental blessing, please. I'm going to marry him, butdon't look so worried. He isn't really a donkey-man, nor a Magyar, noran orphan, nor an organ-grinder, nor--any of the things he has said hewas. He is just a plain American man and an _awful liar_!'
The young man held out his hand and Mr. Wilder shook it.
'Jerry,' he said, 'I don't need to tell you how pleased----'
'"Jerry!"' echoed Constance. 'Father, you knew?'
'Long before you did, my dear.' There was a suggestion of triumph in Mr.Wilder's tone.
'Jerry, you told.' There was reproach, scorn, indignation in hers.
Jerry spread out his hands in a gesture of repudiation.
'What could I do? He asked my name the day we climbed Monte Maggiore;naturally, I couldn't tell him a lie.'
'Then we haven't fooled anybody. How unromantic!'
'Oh, yes,' said Jerry, 'we've fooled lots of people. Gustavo doesn'tunderstand, and Giuseppe, you noticed, looked rather dazed. Then there'sLieutenant Carlo di Ferara----'
'Oh!' said Constance, her face suddenly blank.
'You can explain to him now,' said her father, peering through the trees.
A commotion had suddenly arisen on the terrace--the rumble of wheels,the confused mingling of voices. Constance and Jerry looked too. Theyfound the yellow omnibus of the Hotel du Lac, its roof laden withluggage, drawn up at the end of the driveway, and Mrs. Eustace and Nannieo
n the point of descending. The centre of the terrace was alreadyoccupied by Lieutenant di Ferara, who, with heels clicked together andwhite gloved hands at salute, was in the act of achieving a military bow.Miss Hazel fluttering from the door, in one breath welcomed the guests,presented the lieutenant, and ordered Giuseppe to convey the luggageupstairs. Then she glanced questioningly about the terrace.
'I thought Constance and her father were here--Giuseppe!'
Giuseppe dropped his end of a trunk and approached. Miss Hazel handed himthe lieutenant's card. 'The signorina and the signore--in the garden, Ithink.'
Giuseppe advanced upon the garden. Jerry's face, at the sight, became asblank as Constance's. The two cast upon each other a glance of guiltyterror, and from this looked wildly behind for a means of escape. Theireyes simultaneously lighted on the break in the garden wall. Jerry sprangup and pulled Constance after him. On the top, she gathered her skirtstogether preparatory to jumping, then turned back for a moment toward herfather.
'Dad,' she called in a stage whisper, 'you go and meet him like agentleman. Tell him you are very sorry, but your daughter is not at hometo-day.'
The two conspirators scrambled down on the other side; and Mr. Wilder,with a sigh, dutifully stepped forward to greet the guests.
Printed in Great Britain by Butler & Tanner, Frome and London
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