CHAPTER XVIII
EXPLANATIONS
"I am sorry," Aunt Caroline was saying, as she and Irma and Uncle Jimdrifted along in a gondola, "that you will lose Milan. Perhaps you mighthave gone up with your uncle on his trip last week, but it seemed hot."
"It was hot," interposed Uncle Jim. "And I had so much business that Icould have given no time to showing Irma around. She could have seen theCathedral, of course, which, after all, is one of the most beautiful inthe world, and different from the others you have seen in Italy; and shecould have visited one or two delightful galleries. But I doubt thatyour head will retain an impression of half those you've alreadyvisited. If you will accept my impression of Milan, you will know justwhat it is, a busy, bustling city, full of energetic people who aremaking their way upward. If the rest of Italy could catch the spirit ofMilan, the whole country would soon be prosperous. In fact the spirit ofindependence is so strong that car conductors, policemen, andshopkeepers, as well as cabmen, are insolent, and inclined to look downon the _forestieri_. Sometime, when you return to Italy in coolerweather, you can visit Milan; but be thankful you didn't go there withme last week."
"We shall have a warm journey back to Naples, and if your business werenot so pressing, I should be inclined to go to Switzerland. While she isover here, Irma ought to see----"
"Oh, no, no," interrupted Irma, without waiting for Aunt Caroline tofinish the sentence. "Really I do not need to see more. I ought, thatis, I _must_ go home."
"Why, my dear child," cried Aunt Caroline, "I had no idea you weregetting homesick. I thought you were enjoying everything."
"Yes, I am enjoying everything," replied Irma, "and that is why I feelas if I can hardly wait to see them all at home. I just long to tellthem about everything, and I don't want Tessie to grow up before I seeher again. And if Katie gets to Cranston before I do, she will take Napaway, and perhaps I may never see him again. Oh, I am glad we are goinghome." Irma's voice now broke completely, and she made no attempt tohide her tears.
"There, my dear, it is the warm weather. The climate of Venice is toorelaxing----"
"We'd get home sooner, Irma, if we should give up our Mediterraneanpassage and take a boat from Havre or Cherbourg. Perhaps you would liketo start to-morrow with Mrs. Sanford's party. You wouldn't lose sight ofKatie then," said Uncle Jim mischievously.
"Nonsense," rejoined Aunt Caroline. "A few days more or less will benothing to Irma, when once her face is turned toward the United States."
"I feel better now," cried Irma. "Those were only makebelieve tears, butI do feel better to be going home. I am glad that we are not to be awaythree months more, and, if you please, I would rather not go to theBridge of Sighs to-day."
"You can look at it without any qualms," said Uncle Jim, "for ourmatter of fact historians say that since that bridge was built more thantwo hundred years ago, only one prisoner has been sent across to the_pozzi_, under sentence of death."
"_Pozzi?_" asked Irma.
"Yes, _pozzi_, or wells, is a good name for those dungeons across fromthe palace. The water used to rise two feet in them, and the poor wretchhad to spend his time on a kind of trestle. I went through the _pozzi_the other day, but I shouldn't care to have you or your aunt there; theyare too depressing for tender-hearted people."
"Why not take a last look at the Doge's Palace to-day; that would bemore cheerful," suggested Aunt Caroline.
"Certainly," and in a short time their gondola was at the steps near St.Mark's, the usual old man rose from his slumbers and steadied thegondola with his hook, and the three, after getting their tickets,wandered through the immense halls of the Doge's Palace.
"When I was here the other day," said Irma, "the carvings and gildingsand the enormous paintings dazzled me. Yes, I feel it is the same now,and I believe, after all, I care more for the general impression. Icannot remember each separate painting."
"Why should you try to?" asked Uncle Jim. "These gray-bearded doges intheir caps and ermine-trimmed cloaks are much alike, whether Titian orVeronese, or some other one of the great masters painted them."
"Doesn't it seem as if those old doges were pretty conceited," saidIrma, "to have themselves painted in sacred pictures with the Madonnaand Christ?"
"But you will notice that they are generally in an attitude of humility,and perhaps in that way they meant to attribute their greatness tosomething besides themselves."
"A Doge could not do whatever he wished. Weren't they something like ourpresidents, simply elected to be the executive officer of the state?"asked Aunt Caroline.
"Yes, it was the Great Council, and not the Doge, that held the supremepower, at least until the time of the Council of Ten. But the Doge,although at first chosen for only a year, was often re-elected termafter term, and with his councillors he often had great power."
"Yet the Venetians didn't like him to have too great power?"
"Oh, no. You noticed the black tablet in the great hall in place of theportrait of Marino Faliero, beheaded for his ambition."
"Yes, I have read about him, but I feel almost sorrier for LudovicoManin, the last Doge. You know the French made him abdicate in 1797, andthey burnt his Doge's bonnet, and the Libro d'oro--the Golden Book ofVenetian nobility under the Liberty-tree, and they say this nearly brokehis heart, although he lived a number of years longer. When he died heleft all his fortune to some charity."
"The history of Italy is full of tragedies," responded Uncle Jim. "Sodon't waste your sorrow on any one man, even though he is the last ofthe doges."
A little later the three were in front of St. Mark's.
"I must look my last at the Piazza," said Irma.
"But I thought you were coming down this evening to hear the band play."
"Oh, yes, but there will be such a crowd that we shall only sit at thelittle tables."
"Yes, and sip lemonade."
"Of course. It is Muriel's party. It is singular that we have seen herso little. But the music and the lemonade and all we shall have to sayto each other--for she goes away to-morrow--will prevent my thinkingmuch of the Piazza. Just now," and Irma half closed her eyes, "I amimagining the day when the Venetians gathered here to decide whether ornot they should help the Crusaders. What a grand sight it must havebeen; and now, I open my eyes and see nothing but pigeons."
"Aunt Caroline," said Irma, as they glided homeward, "I like Venicebetter than any other place. There seem to be more really old buildingshere than anywhere else. I have not tried to remember the great picturesas I did in Rome and Florence. I have a general impression of Belliniand the Vivarini, Titian and Veronese and Tintoretto, they are the greatVenetian painters, but I cannot describe any one picture."
"We hardly expect a girl of your age to care for artistic details,"responded Aunt Caroline, smiling. "You could probably tell more aboutthe palaces."
"I am not sure that I could describe a single one of them, so that anyone would recognize it. It is the effect of Venice as a whole thatpleases me, even if it isn't just what artists paint it. The palaces arereally much grayer than they look in pictures, and there are never manysails on the canal, and even down toward the Lido there is seldom one ofthose bright painted sails."
"Is there any other thing that falls below your expectations?"
"Oh, some things are different, but I like them all the better. I usedto think that only gondolas and small pleasure boats went on the GrandCanal. But there are so many other things--these little steamboats thatpass constantly up and down, and take people so quickly and cheaply, andthose large _barche_ that are like express wagons. Why, the othermorning I sat at my window before breakfast, and first a large gondolapassed, loaded with vegetables; and then a larger one piled high withbricks for building; and then it really looked so funny--some family wasmoving, and there was a boat full of furniture, with the mother andchildren sitting at one end, while the father and eldest son werepushing it on with their long sticks. Then the gondolas, too! I thoughtthey were only pleasure boats; but
the other day, when I saw a funeralprocession going across to the island where the cemetery is, I realizedthey took the place of horses and carriages for everything."
"I believe there isn't a horse in all Venice," said Uncle Jim, "andonly two or three at the Lido. But here we are," and a moment later theyhad landed at the hotel.
That evening, in spite of the charm of the music on the Piazza, and theevident gaiety of the crowd of listeners, the young people of theSanford and Curtin parties were less gay than usual. Muriel, the nextmorning, was to start for the Dolomites, and later in the day Mrs.Sanford and her party were to begin their journey to Paris, allowing afew days for Switzerland on the way.
"Irma," whispered Richard, in one of the pauses of the music, "I musttell you that I think Marion and Katie have struck a bargain about Nap.It seems Marion was able to prove that that ring we have seen Katie weararound her scarf really belongs to him. He showed her his initialsinside. They were very small, but could be seen under a glass. He lost apurse one day when he visited the Rag Fair in Rome."
"Yes, I was with him," said Irma.
"Well, the same day Katie and a friend whom we met at our hotel in Romealso went to the fair. The ring was offered for sale at one of thebooths, and Katie took a great fancy to it. She ought to have known itwas stolen; for she got it for almost nothing."
"Then she can afford to give it back to Marion; for of course she oughtto do so."
"That's just the point. Katie hates to give it up; I heard her talkingto Marion about it. She said she'd like to buy it, but he wouldn'tlisten to that. Then he began to talk about your little dog, and I ampretty sure it ended in Katie's promising to give up all claim to thedog if Marion would let her keep the ring. Rather it was just the otherway. Marion made the offer and Katie agreed, but it amounts to the samething, and as soon as Katie is out of the way Marion will tell you."
It happened, however, that after all the good-byes had been said toMuriel and her mother and Mademoiselle Potin, the other young people andtheir elders walked home to their hotel. It chanced that Katie was nearIrma part of the way, and thus had a chance to announce her decisionabout Nap.
"After all," she said, "a dog is a great trouble, and Nap is so muchbetter acquainted with your family that I think I will let him stay withthem."
"Oh, thank you," replied Irma, wishing she felt free to tell Katie whatshe had heard about Marion's offer. "Thank you," she repeated. "It wouldbreak my little sister's heart to give him up, and I should feel verybadly myself."
At this moment they reached a bridge where they went single file. Whenthey were on the level road again, Irma found herself beside AuntCaroline, and she had no chance to discuss Nap either with Katie orMarion.
"Our last evening together!" exclaimed Richard, as they reached thehotel. "There's a faint moon, and if so young a thing as that can sit uplate, why not we?" and before Aunt Caroline and Mrs. Sanford had time toprotest, four young people were seated around the little table on thebalcony overlooking the Canal, and Richard had sent the waiter for whathe called "a last lemonade."
Marion had not joined the others. He stood with his hand on the railing.The water was lapping the steps just below him.
"Don't fall in," cried Richard, from his seat at the table. "You look asif you were meditating a bath. But it's late, and in spite of the moonthe water is cold."
As Richard spoke the girls turned their heads in Marion's direction,and there, under their very eyes, Marion was hurling his coat from him.With his hand on the railing a moment later he had sprung into the GrandCanal.
The others jumped to their feet; Katie screamed, and in an instantRichard might have plunged after Marion, had he not seen a reason forMarion's act. Some one had fallen into the water, and Marion had madehis wild leap to rescue him. It all happened very quickly, and when, afew minutes later, rescuer and rescued stood on the balcony somedistance from where Marion had gone in, the latter was seen to be a boyof about ten. He was evidently more frightened than hurt, and hewhimpered a little as the crowd gathered around him.
"I don't see how it could have happened," cried Katie. "No one _ever_falls from a gondola," and her tone implied that this particular boycould not possibly have been in need of rescuing.
"But he _did_ fall in; you can see that for yourself; a small boy canalways get into impossible mischief."
There was certainly no doubt that this particular small boy had managedto elude both his mother and the gondolier. Sitting on the prow, he hadbeen screened for the moment by the cabin. Then a sudden impulse had ledhim to creep to the very end, where he raised himself to shake his handin defiance at the gondolier. At this moment a passing steamboat gave anew motion to the gondola and threw the little fellow into the water.
"Oh, but really it was nothing," cried Marion. "The water was not deep,and the gondolier would have been in almost as soon as I--and----"
"Nonsense, nonsense, boy; when you do a brave thing take the credit thatis your due."
Irma started at the voice. She was one of the crowd that had drawnnearer to Marion.
"I saw the whole thing," continued the voice. "You acted without ashadow of fear, but this chill may be bad for you."
"Come, Marion, I will go with you to your room," and Richard led theunresisting Marion away, only too glad to escape the eyes of the curiouswho had come from the numerous reading and reception rooms on the firstfloor, at the rumor of an accident.
"Billy," said the mother of the boy, who had caused all the excitement,"this is the last time I'll let you sit up after eight o'clock, nomatter how you tease."
"Madame," interposed the voice that a few moments earlier had praisedMarion, "I would advise you to take your little boy at once to his room.His escapade might have cost him his life, and might have had seriousresults for my nephew, who is only recovering from the effects of ashock to his nerves. Put your little boy to bed at once, Madame."
Then the mother and the little boy and a number of sympathizing friendswalked off, while the fairy godfather, for of course it was he whosevoice Irma had recognized, took Irma's hand in his.
"Well, my child, we haven't met since I brought you back from Hadrian'svilla. I found I couldn't safely keep so near Marion without reallyexplaining myself. But the time hadn't come. He wrote me a pretty savageletter before he left New York. He thought I was one of those who hadaccused him of cowardice. This was a mistake on his part. But in themood he was in three months ago, it would have been useless to try tochange his mind. I had occasion to come to Italy myself, and thereseemed to be no reason why I should not come on the ship with him. Iknew that in the company of your aunt and uncle and yourself," and theold gentleman smiled at Irma, "he would have influences that ought tolift him out of his depression."
"Did Uncle Jim and Aunt Caroline know?" asked Irma.
"Yes, they knew after a while that I was hovering near. But I did notmean to dog Marion's steps, especially after I had seen at Rome that hewas beginning to be himself again. At first Marion was unaware that Ihad come to Europe, but when a letter of apology was forwarded from himto me, I thought the time had come to tell him. So I had written himthat I would see him soon.
"He is really a fine, manly fellow, and it hurt him very much that heshould have been so unjustly blamed. But I know that you, as well asyour uncle and aunt, have been very patient with him, and now, well, nowI must have a little talk with him before he falls asleep. I am to sailwith you from Naples. Good night."
Irma thought it quite the natural thing for the fairy godfather todisappear in this sudden fashion. When she had answered the questionsthat Richard showered upon her, she ran up to Aunt Caroline's room.
"So you have always known about the fairy godfather."
"I had never known him by that name until you gave it to him," said AuntCaroline, smiling. "But as Mr. Skerritt, I have always felt that he wasone of Marion's best friends. I spoke of him to you the other day when Itold you Marion's story. Perhaps he mentioned that he is going back onthe ship with
us. Do you realize that in three days you will be sailingaway from Italy?"
"It is hard to realize it."
"But you are glad to go home?" queried Aunt Caroline.
"I am a little more homesick than when I left home," responded Irma,"but I have enjoyed every minute in Italy."
The evening before leaving Venice Irma made a long entry in her diary:"No one knows how glad I am to be going home. Four months is a long timeto be away from one's own country, and especially from one's family. Ofcourse I have enjoyed everything, and I have learned even more than Iexpected, and I am so grateful for the trip. But there's no place Iwould rather see now than Cranston.
"To-night I had such a surprise. Aunt Caroline came to my room, carryinga large pasteboard box. Then she opened it and showed me a lovely ambernecklace, just like one I had admired in Florence. 'This is a presentfor you from Marion,' she said, 'and these other little things he hopesyou will give to Tessie and the boys and Mahala. You will know how todivide them.'
"I won't attempt to describe them, only I know Tessie will be delightedwith the little flock of bronze pigeons, because I have written herabout the pigeons of St. Mark's. There was even a silver-mounted leathercollar for Nap. 'You may wonder at Marion's thoughtfulness,' explainedAunt Caroline, 'but he says you have taught him to think of othersbesides himself, and he appreciates your patience with him when he wasso unamiable.'
"It is true that Marion _did_ seem rather disagreeable at first, andperhaps I didn't try to like him because I was so disappointed that hewas not a girl. But now--well, I only hope Chris and Rudolph will knowas much as he does when they are his age. So I told Aunt Caroline thatthe whole trouble had been that I didn't try to understand him at first.Then she smiled, and added, 'Marion is sure that he has learned a greatdeal from you, especially how to govern his temper. But he saysparticularly, that no one is to thank him for these things. It is as ifyou had bought them yourself, for everything in the box is something heheard you admire, when you and he were out together. I believe there'ssomething from every city we have been in. He says the money partdoesn't count at all for everything there represents your taste.'
"But I think I shall find some way of thanking him, if not now,sometime when our trip is over, and really, if it hadn't been forMarion, I am sure that I should not have had half as much fun."