Indian Summer

  IX

  The next morning Paolo, when he brought up Colville's breakfast, broughtthe news that there was to be a veglione at the Pergola Theatre. Thisnews revived Colville's courage. "Paolo," he said, "you ought to open abanking-house." Paolo was used to being joked by foreigners who couldnot speak Italian very well; he smiled as if he understood.

  The banker had his astute doubts of Paolo's intelligence; the banker inEurope doubts all news not originating in his house; but after a day ortwo the advertisements in the newspapers carried conviction even to thebanker.

  When Colville went to the ladies with news of the veglione, he foundthat they had already heard of it. "Should you like to go?" he askedMrs. Bowen.

  "I don't know. What do you think?" she asked in turn.

  "Oh, it's for you to do the thinking. I only know what I want."

  Imogene said nothing, while she watched the internal debate as itexpressed itself in Mrs. Bowen's face.

  "People go in boxes," she said thoughtfully; "but you would feel that abox wasn't the same thing exactly?"

  "_We_ went on the floor," suggested Colville.

  "It was very different then. And, besides, Mrs. Finlay had absolutely_no_ sense of propriety." When a woman has explicitly condemned a givenaction, she apparently gathers courage for its commission under a littledifferent conditions. "Of course, if we went upon the floor, I shouldn'twish it to be known at all, though foreigners can do almost anythingthey like."

  "Really," said Colville, "when it comes to that, I don't see any harm init."

  "And you say go?"

  "I say whatever you say."

  Mrs. Bowen looked from him to Imogene. "I don't either," she saidfinally, and they understood that she meant the harm which he had notseen.

  "Which of us has been so good as to deserve this?" asked Colville.

  "Oh, you have all been good," she said. "We shall go in masks anddominoes," she continued. "Nothing will happen, and who should know usif anything did?" They had received tickets to the great Borghese ball,which is still a fashionable and desired event of the Carnival toforeigners in Florence; but their preconceptions of the veglione threwinto the shade the entertainment which the gentlemen of Florence offeredto favoured sojourners.

  "Come," said Mrs. Bowen, "you must go with us and help us choose ourdominoes."

  A prudent woman does not do an imprudent thing by halves. Effie was tobe allowed to go to the veglione too, and she went with them to the shopwhere they were to hire their dominoes. It would be so much more fun,Mrs. Bowen said, to choose the dresses in the shop than to have themsent home for you to look at. Effie was to be in black; Imogene was tohave a light blue domino, and Mrs. Bowen chose a purple one; even wheretheir faces were not to be seen they considered their complexions inchoosing the colours. If you happened to find a friend, and wanted tounmask, you would not want to look horrid. The shop people took thevividest interest in it all, as if it were a new thing to them, andthese were the first foreigners they had ever served with masks anddominoes. They made Mrs. Bowen and Imogene go into an inner room andcome out for the mystification of Colville, hulking about in the frontshop with his mask and domino on.

  "Which is which?" the ladies both challenged him, in the mask'sconventional falsetto, when they came out.

  With a man's severe logic he distinguished them according to theirsilks, but there had been time for them to think of changing, and theytook off their masks to laugh in his face.

  They fluttered so airily about among the pendent masks and dominoes,from which they shook a ghostly perfume of old carnivals, that his heartleaped.

  "Ah, you'll never be so fascinating again!" he cried. He wanted to takethem in his arms, they were both so delicious; a man has still only thatprimitive way of expressing his supreme satisfaction in women. "Now,which am I?" he demanded of them, and that made them laugh again. He hadreally put his arm about Effie.

  "Do you think you will know your papa at the veglione?" asked one of theshop-women, with a mounting interest in the amiable family party.

  They all laughed; the natural mistake seemed particularly droll toImogene.

  "Come," cried Mrs. Bowen; "it's time we should be going."

  That was true; they had passed so long a time in the shop that they didnot feel justified in seriously attempting to beat down the price oftheir dresses. They took them at the first price. The woman said withreason that it was Carnival, and she could get her price for the things.

  They went to the veglione at eleven, the ladies calling for Colville, asbefore, in Mrs. Bowen's carriage. He felt rather sheepish, coming out ofhis room in his mask and domino, but the corridors of the hotel wereempty, and for the most part dark; there was no one up but the porter,who wished him a pleasant time in as matter-of-fact fashion as if hewere going out to an evening party in his dress coat. His spiritsmounted in the atmosphere of adventure which the ladies diffused aboutthem in the carriage; Effie Bowen laughed aloud when he entered, inchildish gaiety of heart.

  The narrow streets roared with the wheels of cabs and carriages comingand going; the street before the theatre was so packed that it was sometime before they could reach the door. Masks were passing in and out;the nervous joy of the ladies expressed itself in a deep-drawn quiveringsigh. Their carriage door was opened by a servant of the theatre, whowished them a pleasant veglione, and the next moment they were in thecrowded vestibule, where they paused a moment, to let Imogene and Effiereally feel that they were part of a masquerade.

  "Now, keep all together," said Mrs. Bowen, as they passed through theinner door of the vestibule, and the brilliantly lighted theatre flashedits colours and splendours upon them. The floor of the pit had beenlevelled to that of the stage, which, stripped of the scenic apparatus,opened vaster spaces for the motley crew already eddying over it in thewaltz. The boxes, tier over tier, blazed with the light of candelabrawhich added their sparkle to that of the gas jets.

  "You and Effie go before," said Mrs. Bowen to Imogene. She made themtake hands like children, and mechanically passed her own hand throughColville's arm.

  A mask in red from head to foot attached himself to the party, and beganto make love to her in excellent pantomime.

  Colville was annoyed. He asked her if he should tell the fellow to takehimself off.

  "Not on any account!" she answered. "It's perfectly delightful. Itwouldn't be the veglione without it. Did you ever see such good acting?"

  "I don't think it's remarkable for anything but its fervour," saidColville.

  "I should like to see you making love to some lady," she rejoinedmischievously.

  "I will make love to you, if you like," he said, but he felt in aninstant that his joke was in bad taste.

  They went the round of the theatre. "That is Prince Strozzi, Imogene,"said Mrs. Bowen, leaning forward to whisper to the girl. She pointed outother people of historic and aristocratic names in the boxes, wherethere was a democracy of beauty among the ladies, all painted andpowdered to the same marquise effect.

  On the floor were gentlemen in evening dress, without masks, and hereand there ladies waltzing, who had masks but no dominoes. But for themost part people were in costume; the theatre flushed and flowered ingay variety of tint that teased the eye with its flow through the dance.

  Mrs. Bowen had circumscribed the adventure so as to exclude dancing fromit. Imogene was not to dance. One might go to the veglione and look onfrom a box; if one ventured further and went on the floor, decidedly onewas not to dance.

  This was thoroughly understood beforehand, and there were to be nopetitions or murmurs at the theatre. They found a quiet corner, and satdown to look on.

  The mask in red followed, and took his place at a little distance,where, whenever Mrs. Bowen looked that way, he continued to protest hispassion.

  "You're sure he doesn't bore you?" suggested Colville.

  "No, indeed. He's very amusing."

  "Oh, all right!"

  The waltz ceased; the whirling and winding con
fusion broke into anirregular streaming hither and thither, up and down. They began to pickout costumes and characters that interested them. Clowns in white, withbig noses, and harlequins in their motley, with flat black masks,abounded. There were some admirable grasshoppers in green, with longantennae quivering from their foreheads. Two or three Mephistos reddenedthrough the crowd. Several knights in armour got about with difficulty,apparently burdened by their greaves and breastplates.

  A group of leaping and dancing masks gathered around a young man inevening dress, with long hair, who stood leaning against a pillar nearthem, and who underwent their mockeries with a smile of patience, halfamused, half tormented.

  When they grew tired of baiting him, and were looking about for otherprey, the red mask redoubled his show of devotion to Mrs. Bowen, and theother masks began to flock round and approve.

  "Oh, now," she said, with a little embarrassed laugh, in which there wasno displeasure, "I think you may ask him to go away. But don't be harshwith him," she added, at a brusque movement which Colville made towardthe mask.

  "Oh, why should I be harsh with him? We're not rivals." This was not ingood taste either, Colville felt. "Besides, I'm an Italian too," hesaid, to retrieve himself. He made a few paces toward the mask, and saidin a low tone, with gentle suggestion, "Madame finds herself a littleincommoded."

  The mask threw himself into an attitude of burlesque despair, bowed lowwith his hand on his heart, in token of submission, and vanished intothe crowd. The rest dispersed with cries of applause.

  "How very prettily you did it, both of you!" said Mrs. Bowen. "I beginto believe you are an Italian, Mr. Colville. I shall be afraid of you."

  "You weren't afraid of him."

  "Oh, he was a real Italian."

  "It seems to me that mamma is getting all the good of the veglione,"said Effie, in a plaintive murmur. The well-disciplined child must havesuffered deeply before she lifted this seditious voice.

  "Why, so I am, Effie," answered her mother, "and I don't think it's fairmyself. What shall we do about it?"

  "I should like something to eat," said the child.

  "So should I," said Colville. "That's reparation your mother owes usall. Let's make her take us and get us something. Wouldn't you like anice, Miss Graham?"

  "Yes, an _ice_," said Imogene, with an effect of adding, "Nothing morefor worlds," that made Colville laugh. She rose slowly, like one in adream, and cast a look as impassioned as a look could be made through amask on the scene she was leaving behind her. The band was playing awaltz again, and the wide floor swam with circling couples.

  The corridor where the tables were set was thronged with people, whowere drinking beer and eating cold beef and boned turkey and slices ofhuge round sausages. "Oh, how _can_ they?" cried the girl, shuddering.

  "I didn't know you were so ethereal-minded about these things," saidColville. "I thought you didn't object to the salad at MadameUccelli's."

  "Oh, but at the veglione!" breathed the girl for all answer. He laughedagain, but Mrs. Bowen did not laugh with him; he wondered why.

  When they returned to their corner in the theatre they found a mask in ablack domino there, who made place for them, and remained standing near.They began talking freely and audibly, as English-speaking peopleincorrigibly do in Italy, where their tongue is all but the language ofthe country.

  "Really," said Colville, "I think I shall stifle in this mask. If youladies will do what you can to surround me and keep me secret, I'll takeit off a moment."

  "I believe I will join you, Mr. Colville," said the mask near them. Hepushed up his little visor of silk, and discovered the mild, benignantfeatures of Mr. Waters.

  "Bless my soul!" cried Colville.

  Mrs. Bowen was apparently too much shocked to say anything.

  "You didn't expect to meet me here?" asked the old man, as if otherwiseit should be the most natural thing in the world. After that they couldonly unite in suppressing their astonishment. "It's extremelyinteresting," he went on, "extremely! I've been here ever since theexercises began, and I have not only been very greatly amused, butgreatly instructed. It seems to me the key to a great many anomalies inthe history of this wonderful people."

  If Mr. Waters took this philosophical tone about the Carnival, it wasnot possible for Colville to take any other.

  "And have you been able to divine from what you have seen here," heasked gravely, "the grounds of Savonarola's objection to the Carnival?"

  "Not at all," said the old man promptly. "I have seen nothing but themost harmless gaiety throughout the evening."

  Colville hung his head. He remembered reading once in a passage fromSwedenborg, that the most celestial angels had scarcely any power ofperceiving evil.

  "Why aren't you young people dancing?" asked Mr. Waters, in a cheerfulgeneral way, of Mrs. Bowen's party.

  Colville was glad to break the silence. "Mrs. Bowen doesn't approve ofdancing at vegliones."

  "No?--why not?" inquired the old man, with invincible simplicity.

  Mrs. Bowen smiled her pretty, small smile below her mask.

  "The company is apt to be rather mixed," she said quietly.

  "Yes," pursued Mr. Waters; "but you could dance with one another. Thecompany seems very well behaved."

  "Oh, quite so," Mrs. Bowen assented.

  "Shortly after I came," said Mr. Waters, "one of the masks asked me todance. I was really sorry that my age and traditions forbade my doingso. I tried to explain, but I'm afraid I didn't make myself quiteclear."

  "Probably it passed for a joke with her," said Colville, in order to saysomething.

  "Ah, very likely; but I shall always feel that my impressions of theCarnival would have been more definite if I could have danced. Now, if Iwere a young man like you----"

  Imogene turned and looked at Colville through the eye-holes of her mask;even in that sort of isolation he thought her eyes expressed surprise.

  "It never occurred to you before that I was a young man," he suggestedgravely.

  She did not reply.

  After a little interval, "Imogene," asked Mrs. Bowen, "would you like todance?"

  Colville was astonished. "The veglione has gone to your head, Mrs.Bowen," he tacitly made his comment. She had spoken to Imogene, but sheglanced at him as if she expected him to be grateful to her for thisstroke of liberality.

  "What would be the use?" returned the girl.

  Colville rose. "After my performance in the Lancers, I can't expect youto believe me; but I really do know how to waltz." He had but to extendhis arms, and she was hanging upon his shoulder, and they were whirlingaway through a long orbit of delight to the girl.

  "Oh, why have you let me do you such injustice?" she murmured intensely."I never shall forgive myself."

  "It grieved me that you shouldn't have divined that I was really amagnificent dancer in disguise, but I bore it as best I could," saidColville, really amused at her seriousness. "Perhaps you'll find outafter a while that I'm not an old fellow either, but only a 'LostYouth.'"

  "Hush," she said; "I don't like to hear you talk so."

  "How?"

  "About--age!" she answered. "It makes me feel----- Don't to-night!"

  Colville laughed. "It isn't a fact that my blinking is going to changematerially. You had better make the most of me as a lost youth. I'm oldenough to be two of them."

  She did not answer, and as they wound up and down through the otherorbing couples, he remembered the veglione of seventeen years before,when he had dreamed through the waltz with the girl who jilted him; shewas very docile and submissive that night; he believed afterward that ifhe had spoken frankly then, she would not have refused him. But he hadveiled his passion in words and phrases that, taken in themselves, hadno meaning--that neither committed him nor claimed her. He could nothelp it; he had not the courage at any moment to risk the loss of herfor ever, till it was too late, till he must lose her.

  "Do you believe in pre-existence?" he demanded of Imogene.

&
nbsp; "Oh yes!" she flashed back. "This very instant it was just as if I hadbeen here before, long ago."

  "Dancing with me?"

  "With you? Yes--yes--I think so."

  He had lived long enough to know that she was making herself believewhat she said, and that she had not lived long enough to know this.

  "Then you remember what I said to you--tried to say to you--that night?"Through one of those psychological juggles which we all practise withourselves at times, it amused him, it charmed him, to find her strivingto realise this past.

  "No; it was so long ago? What was it?" she whispered dreamily.

  A turn of the waltz brought them near Mrs. Bowen; her mask seemed towear a dumb reproach.

  He began to be weary; one of the differences between youth and laterlife is that the latter wearies so soon of any given emotion.

  "Ah, I can't remember, either! Aren't you getting rather tired of thewaltz and me?"

  "Oh no; go on!" she deeply murmured. "Try to remember."

  The long, pulsating stream of the music broke and fell. The dancerscrookedly dispersed in wandering lines. She took his arm; he felt herheart leap against it; those innocent, trustful throbs upbraided him. Atthe same time his own heart beat with a sort of fond, protectingtenderness; he felt the witchery of his power to make this young,radiant, and beautiful creature hang flattered and bewildered on histalk; he liked the compassionate worship with which his tacit confidencehad inspired her, even while he was not without some satirical sense ofthe crude sort of heart-broken hero he must be in the fancy of a girl ofher age.

  "Let us go and walk in the corridor a moment," he said. But they walkedthere till the alluring melancholy music of the waltz began again. In amutual caprice, they rejoined the dance.

  It came into his head to ask, "Who is _he_?" and as he had got pastdenying himself anything, he asked it.

  "He? What he?"

  "He that Mrs. Bowen thought might object to your seeing the Carnival?"

  "Oh!--oh yes! That was the not impossible he."

  "Is that all?"

  "Yes."

  "Then he's not even the not improbable he?"

  "No, indeed."

  They waltzed in silence. Then, "Why did you ask me that?" she murmured.

  "I don't know. Was it such a strange question?"

  "I don't know. You ought to."

  "Yes, if it was wrong, I'm old enough to know better."

  "You promised not to say 'old' any more."

  "Then I suppose I mustn't. But you mustn't get me to ignore it, and thenlaugh at me for it."

  "Oh!" she reproached him, "you think I could do that?"

  "You could if it was you who were here with me once before."

  "Then I know I wasn't."

  Again they were silent, and it was he who spoke first. "I wish you wouldtell me why you object to the interdicted topic?"

  "Because--because I like every time to be perfect in itself."

  "Oh! And this wouldn't be perfect in itself if I were--not so young assome people?"

  "I didn't mean that. No; but if you didn't mention it, no one else wouldthink of it or care for it."

  "Did any one ever accuse you of flattering, Miss Graham?"

  "Not till now. And you are unjust."

  "Well, I withdraw the accusation."

  "And will you ever pretend such a thing again?"

  "Oh, never!"

  "Then I have your promise."

  The talk was light word-play, such as depends upon the talker's own moodfor its point or its pointlessness. Between two young people of equalyears it might have had meanings to penetrate, to sigh over, toquestion. Colville found it delicious to be pursued by the ingenuousfervour of this young girl, eager to vindicate her sincerity inprohibiting him from his own ironical depreciation. Apparently, she hada sentimental mission of which he was the object; he was to be convincedthat he was unnecessarily morbid; he was to be cheered up, to be kept inheart.

  "I must believe in you after this," he said, with a smile which his maskhid.

  "Thanks," she breathed. It seemed to him that her hand closedconvulsively upon his in their light clasp.

  The pressure sent a real pang to his heart. It forced her name from hislips. "Imogene! Ah, I've no right to call you that."

  "Yes."

  "From this out I promise to be twenty years younger. But no one is toknow it but you. Do you think you will know it? I shouldn't like to keepthe secret to myself altogether."

  "No; I will help you. It shall be _our_ secret."

  She gave a low laugh of delight. He convinced himself that she hadentered into the light spirit of banter in which he believed that he wastalking.

  The music ceased again. He whirled her to the seat where he had leftMrs. Bowen. She was not there, nor the others.

  Colville felt the meanness of a man who has betrayed his trust, and hisself-contempt was the sharper because the trust had been as tacit andindefinite as it was generous. The effect of Mrs. Bowen's absence was asif she had indignantly flown, and left him to the consequences of histreachery.

  He sat down rather blankly with Imogene to wait for her return; it wasthe only thing they could do.

  It had grown very hot. The air was thick with dust. The lights burnedthrough it as through a fog.

  "I believe I will take off my mask," she said. "I can scarcely breathe."

  "No, no," protested Colville; "that won't do."

  "I feel faint," she gasped.

  His heart sank. "Don't," he said incoherently. "Come with me into thevestibule, and get a breath of air."

  He had almost to drag her through the crowd, but in the vestibule sherevived, and they returned to their place again. He did not share theeasy content with which she recognised the continued absence of Mrs.Bowen.

  "Why they must be lost. But isn't it perfect sitting here and watchingthe maskers?"

  "Perfect," said Colville distractedly.

  "Don't you like to make romances about the different ones?"

  It was on Colville's tongue to say that he had made all the romances hewished for that evening, but he only answered, "Oh, very."

  "Poor Mrs. Bowen," laughed the girl. "It will be such a joke on her,with her punctilious notions, getting lost from her _protegee_ at aCarnival ball! I shall tell every one."

  "Oh no, don't," said Colville, in horror that big mask scarcelyconcealed.

  "Why not?"

  "It wouldn't be at all the thing."

  "Why, are you becoming Europeanised too?" she demanded. "I thought youwent in for all sorts of unconventionalities. Recollect your promise.You must be as impulsive as I am."

  Colville, staring anxiously about in every direction, made for the firsttime the reflection that most young girls probably conform to theproprieties without in the least knowing why.

  "Do you think," he asked, in desperation, "that you would be afraid tobe left here a moment while I went about in the crowd and tried to findthem?"

  "Not at all," she said. But she added, "Don't be gone long."

  "Oh no," he answered, pulling off his mask. "Be sure not to move fromhere on any account."

  He plunged into the midst of the crowd that buffeted him from side toside as he struck against its masses. The squeaking and gibbering masksmocked in their falsetto at his wild-eyed, naked face thrusting hitherand thither among them.

  "I saw your lady wife with another gentleman," cried one of them, in asubtle misinterpretation of the cause of his distraction.

  The throng had immensely increased; the clowns and harlequins ranshrieking up and down, and leaped over one another's heads.

  It was useless. He went back to Imogene with a heart-sickening fear thatshe too might have vanished.

  But she was still there.

  "You ought to have come sooner," she said gaily. "That red mask has beenhere again. He looked as if he wanted to make love to _me_ this time.But he didn't. If you'd been here you might have asked him where Mrs.Bowen was."

  Colville sat
down. He had done what he could to mend the matter, and thetime had come for philosophical submission. It was now his duty to keepup Miss Graham's spirits. They were both Americans, and from thenational standpoint he was simply the young girl's middle-aged bachelorfriend. There was nothing in the situation for him to beat his breastabout.

  "Well, all that we can do is to wait for them," he said.

  "Oh yes," she answered easily. "They'll be sure to come back in thecourse of time."

  They waited a half-hour, talking somewhat at random, and still theothers did not come. But the red mask came again. He approachedColville, and said politely--

  "_La signora e partita._"

  "The lady gone?" repeated Colville, taking this to be part of the redmask's joke.

  "_La bambina pareva poco lene._"

  "The little one not well?" echoed Colville again, rising. "Are youjoking?"

  The mask made a deep murmur of polite deprecation. "I am not capable ofsuch a thing in a serious affair. Perhaps you know me?" he said, takingoff his mask, and in further sign of good faith he gave the name of apainter sufficiently famous in Florence.

  "I beg your pardon, and thank you," said Colville. He had no need tospeak to Imogene--, her hand was already trembling on his arm.

  They drove home in silence through the white moonlight of the streets,filled everywhere with the gay voices and figures of the Carnival.

  Mrs. Bowen met them at the door of her apartment, and received them witha manner that justly distributed the responsibility and penalty fortheir escapade. Colville felt that a meaner spirit would have wreakedits displeasure upon the girl alone. She made short, quiet answers toall his eager inquiries. Most probably it was some childishindisposition; Effie had been faint. No, he need not go for the doctor.Mr. Waters had called the doctor, who had just gone away. There wasnothing else that he could do for her. She dropped her eyes, and ineverything but words dismissed him. She would not even remain with himtill he could decently get himself out of the house. She left Imogene toreceive his adieux, feigning that she heard Effie calling.

  "I'm--I'm very sorry," faltered the girl, "that we didn't go back to herat once."

  "Yes; I was to blame," answered the humiliated hero of her Carnivaldream. The clinging regret with which she kept his hand at partingscarcely consoled him for what had happened.

  "I will come round in the morning," he said. "I must know how Effie is."

  "Yes; come."