A City Schoolgirl and Her Friends

  CHAPTER XXII.

  DANTE'S IDYLL.

  'We shall just have a quiet Easter here with nursie, Vava; you won'tmind not having sea-breezes now that you have her, will you?' Stellainquired of her sister a week before the Easter holidays began.

  They were sitting in the Enterprise Club waiting for Amy, who now hadfrequently to go home alone, as Eva was often very late, and had toldher friend not to wait for her. So, as it only meant getting homehalf-an-hour later, the sisters had promised to wait for Amy to-day.

  All round them were girls talking of their Easter holidays, and everyone was going away somewhere, either to the sea or to the country, or totheir respective homes, wherever they were.

  Stella knew very few of them, and those only to say good-morning to; butthey all turned to ask her where she was spending her holidays and howlong she had; and when she had told them she had ten days, and meant tospend them at home, they were loud in their expression of surprise.

  And Vava too seemed to be depressed at hearing of all these plans forpleasure; though when they asked her if she did not want to go away sheimmediately answered by saying of course she did not.

  One of the girls, with less tact than the others, guessing that it was amatter of expense, remarked, 'I should go away if I were you if only forthe day, if you can't afford more. But it really wouldn't cost much;there are lots of places where they take in business girls for as littleas ten shillings a week, and it will cost you nearly that at home. I cangive you some addresses if you like.'

  'No, thank you,' said Stella with stiff politeness, and she was gladthat Amy appeared just then, so that she could get out of the club-room,which had never been so distasteful to her before.

  'All the same, Stella,' observed Vava, when the three of them were inthe train, and although Stella had made no remark upon the subject, 'Ishould like to go away for the day on Easter Monday. They say BankHoliday is a horrid day in London, and you can get very cheap tickets tothe sea on that day.'

  'Go in an excursion train!' cried Stella in accents of dismay.

  'You would not like it at all, Vava; it would be ten times worse thanstopping in town. Besides, Blackstead is not town, and you will not seemany holiday-makers down Heather Road; it will be quieter than anexcursion train, with twenty people crowded into one carriage, and thenspending the day at a crowded seaside resort,' said Amy.

  'Oh well, I think it was only to say I had been somewhere; all the girlsat school are going away, even Doreen will be away; but I don't reallymind,' said Vava.

  And so it was arranged, and the next week was spent in rehearsing a playfor Founder's Day.

  'Fancy, Stella, I am to be Beatrice in our play; only it is not calledBeatrice, but "Beatreechee,"' explained Vava, pronouncing it, as shehoped, in correct Italian fashion.

  'What play are you acting--Shakespeare's?' inquired Stella.

  'No, Dante's, and the proper Beatrice has got ill, and they have chosenme, partly because I am the same height, and so her clothes will fit me,and partly because they say my face suits, though I don't think I am abit Italian-looking. Do you think so, Stella?' Vava demanded.

  Stella looked at her sister, and then remarked with a smile, 'No, Idon't think you are; at least, not the type we call Italian.' But sheprivately thought the stage-manager had made a very good choice, forVava had improved in looks since her arrival in London, and would make ahandsome Beatrice.

  'Miss Briggs says it does not matter, as none of us are Italian, norlook it; but that, as I have a good memory and can learn quickly, Ishall be able to learn up her part. It's a lovely part, Stella, thoughMiss Briggs says it's not historical at all, and that Dante never saidanything about talking to Beatrice, and she doesn't believe he everspoke to her; but that's nonsense. How could any man write pages andpages of poetry about a person he had never spoken to?' demanded Vava.

  'Quite well. Imagination goes a long way with poets, and I was justwondering how you were going to act Beatrice. She does not say much inthe poem, and then only as a spirit; so you don't want clothes to fit.'

  'Ah, but it is all her life before she dies; the play begins at theparty where Dante first meets Beatrice,' said Vava, who had the book ofwords in her hand and was studying it.

  'But you, or rather Beatrice, are only nine years old at that party. Howare you going to manage that?' demanded Stella, for Vava was a tallgirl, and had grown taller and slimmer since she had been in London.

  'We can't take any notice of that; you have no imagination, Stella. Howcan I make myself into a little child in the first act, and then begrown-up in the second?' she asked impatiently.

  'Then I think I should not attempt such a play; it is making a parody ofDante's glorious poem,' protested Stella, who had studied Dante with herfather, and thought this play presumptuous.

  'It's not a parody, and my opinion is that it's better than Dante's,'declared Vava.

  Stella laughed outright at this assertion.

  But Vava was not crushed. 'You wait and see; it's got some lovely scenesin it, and the stage scenery is beautifully painted by ourselves--atleast, in the school by the painting-mistress and the girls. There's theBridge of the Trinita at Florence, where Dante meets me and makes abeautiful speech, and I have quite a lot to say to him there,' saidVava.

  'You ought not to have,' interposed Stella, meaning from a historicalpoint of view.

  But Vava--who was 'rehearsing her play' to Stella more for her ownbenefit than to entertain her sister--was not at all pleased at thiscriticism, and replied irately, 'If you want to see your old Dante you'dbetter not come, for we are not going by it at all.'

  'So it appears,' observed Stella dryly.

  'How could we--horrid, gruesome stuff? Pray, how would you expect us toput on the stage a lake of boiling pitch, with a lot of people in itheads downwards and their legs struggling in the air? And who would cometo see it if we did? I wouldn't take part in such a horrid piece! Why,even the reading of it made me feel quite ill,' argued Vava.

  'You need not pick out that particular scene; there are beautifulpassages in Dante; but I do not think it is suitable for staging, and Ican't understand why it has been chosen,' remarked her sister.

  'It is called _Dante: an Idyll_; and, as I said before, you wait and seewhether it is not splendid. I must go and rehearse this with Doreennow,' replied Vava.

  'Is Doreen to be in the play too?' asked Stella.

  'Yes, she's a Florentine painter named Giotto. It's very funny, but herfeatures are just like his in his picture; and there's a Jewish girl inthe school with a long face who makes up very well as Dante. Oh you willbe astonished when you see our play; we do things in style at ourschool, I can tell you!'

  'Don't boast, Vava; it's very vulgar,' said Stella.

  Vava did not answer back as she used to do, but went off to Doreen, whomshe found studying her part diligently. 'I'm so glad you've come; it'sno use saying this play to one's self. I know the words all right, butit's the coming in at the right place and the pronunciation. I wish, ifyou didn't mind, you would just say these speeches over first, and letme say them after you, and see if I can pronounce them like you. I wouldlike to speak well, but I can't twist my mouth into shape as you do!'she exclaimed.

  'But we don't twist our mouths; that is just what you do that you shouldnot. See, talk like this, Doreen,' explained Vava; and for more than anhour she sat patiently repeating the words and correcting Doreen, whohad a quick ear and copied her way of speaking fairly well, until atlast Vava said, with a sigh of satisfaction, 'That's all right now,Doreen; you pronounce those words quite nicely, and you say yourspeeches ever so much better than the other girls; one would think youwere a painter yourself, you speak with such feeling of the beautifulpictures you are supposed to be painting.'

  'I don't know much about painting, though I like looking at pictures;but I do feel what I am saying, and I think it must have been splendidto have been Dante's friend as Giotto was, and have been inspired byhim. No wonder he painted beautiful pi
ctures, and one day I will go andsee them all,' announced Doreen.

  'I never thought of all that; then I ought to feel more still, becauseit is I that inspired Dante; but the worst of it is, Doreen, that Idon't feel Beatrice at all,' Vava confided to her.

  'How do you mean?' demanded Doreen.

  'I don't feel as if I could possibly inspire a person like Dante; and,what's more, I don't want to,' she announced in a burst of confidence.

  'You wouldn't like to have inspired the most beautiful poem that wasever written?' cried Doreen incredulously.

  'No, I wouldn't like to have inspired a vision of such horrors,'maintained Vava stoutly.

  Doreen could not help laughing at her tone. 'Then you can't admire someof my pictures,' she suggested.

  'I like your little dog,' Vava replied, laughing too. This was anallusion to Giotto's famous sculpture of shepherds with a dog, on hisbeautiful tower at Florence.

  And with this Doreen had to be satisfied.

  'And you know, Doreen, they say I inspired him; but in this play I don'tsay anything very inspiring; it's Dante who has all the say, and uttersall the beautiful speeches; I only have to try and look noble, andthat's fearfully difficult and frightfully dull,' complained Vava.

  'It's not difficult for you to look noble, because you are noble--incharacter, I mean--and you have a noble face,' declared Doreen.

  'Oh Doreen! you horrid flatterer; that is just because you like me. Idon't feel at all noble; but don't let's talk about that. Tell me ifthis is the proper way to move my hands when I am talking; the Italiansgesticulate all the time they are talking, it appears. I don't know howthey do it, for I have never been in Italy,' said Vava, talking rapidly,to prevent Doreen making any more such embarrassing remarks.

  'You must wave them gracefully in the air, one at a time,' said Doreen,suiting the action to the word.

  Doreen's action was anything but graceful, and Vava gave a peal oflaughter.

  'What is the matter?' demanded the former, stopping her windmillmovements.

  'I beg your pardon, but you did look so funny. I think I had better notpretend to be Italian; I can't move my hands gracefully, and I feelawkward all the time,' she said.

  'Luckily I have not to be graceful, and I have a palette and paint-brushin my hands all the time; that gives me some occupation for my hands,'observed Doreen.

  'Yes, but I don't believe you ought to point at people with yourpaint-brush; the Italians are a very polite nation, and I do not thinkthey would do such a thing as that,' commented Vava.

  Doreen looked grave. 'But I've got to point, and how am I to pointexcept with my paint-brush, or the palette, which would be worse? I haveone in each hand, and I haven't a third hand,' she said, afterconsideration.

  Vava laughed. 'I suppose you can put one of them down for a minute.Giotto did not paint all day long,' she suggested.

  'No, but I am going to. I would not be without them for the world, and Ishould feel as if I had six pairs of hands. I shall do like you, and notattempt to be an Italian,' she announced.

  However, the two of them were very enthusiastic players, and at thedress-rehearsal it was doubtful which was the better. Vava, of coursewas prettier, and acted well, but hers was a difficult part; and Doreenseemed to have become an Italian artist for the time being, and enteredinto the life and feelings of a Florentine painter of the Middle Ages,and her dress was an exact copy of Giotto's. It was as well that thegirls had become word-perfect in their play before the last week of theterm; for that week, at least, Vava would have found it difficult to fixher mind on it. However, it was arranged that the dress-rehearsal shouldcome off before the examination began, so as to leave the girls' mindsfree for them, and the girls all knew their parts a week beforehand.

  Vava gave herself up to preparing for her examination, and took upnearly two hours of Mr. Jones's time one Saturday morning in having heralgebra explained to her; and Stella, finding she could not stop this,decided that it would be best to take no notice of Mr. James Jones'sgoodness, and treat it as a personal matter between him and Vava, andhave nothing to do with the matter, which was also Vava's opinion; for,as she said candidly to Stella, 'You are not so civil to him that hewould care to do you a favour.'

  Afterwards she felt that her candour both to Stella and the juniorpartner had been rather a mistake.