Jerry Junior

 [Illustration: "Constance studied the mountains a moment"]

 Jerry Junior

 By Jean Webster Author of "When Patty Went to College, " etc. 

 With Illustrations by Orson Lowell

 New York The Century Co. 1907

 Copyright, 1907, by THE CENTURY CO. 

 * * * * *

 Copyright, 1906, 1907, by THE CROWELL PUBLISHING COMPANY

 * * * * *

 _Published April_, 1907

 THE DE VINNE PRESS

List of Illustrations

 FACING PAGE

 "Constance studied the mountains a moment" _Frontispiece_

 "'Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?'" 5

 "The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown hair, was sitting at ease on the balustrade" 23

 "Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation" 29

 "He had also shifted his position so that he might command the profile of the girl" 45

 Beppo and the donkeys 67

 "Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of admiration" 71

 "Constance ahead on Fidilini, an officer marching at each side of her saddle" 85

 "She seated herself in the deep embrasure of a window close beside Tony's parapet" 95

 "The man bowed with a gesture which made her free of the book" 119

 "She turned the pages and paused at the week's entries" 133

 "Constance ripped the letter open and read it aloud" 149

 "Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and came running forward to meet them" 199

 "The two mounted the steps of the jail and jerked the bell" 253

 "Never before had he had such overwhelming reason to doubt his senses" 273

Jerry Junior

CHAPTER I

The courtyard of the Hotel du Lac, furnished with half a dozen tables andchairs, a red and green parrot chained to a perch, and a shady littlearbor covered with vines, is a pleasant enough place for morning coffee, but decidedly too sunny for afternoon tea. It was close upon four of aJuly day, when Gustavo, his inseparable napkin floating from his arm, emerged from the cool dark doorway of the house and scanned the burningvista of tables and chairs. He would never, under ordinary circumstances, have interrupted his siesta for the mere delivery of a letter; but thisparticular letter was addressed to the young American man, and youngAmerican men, as every head waiter knows, are an unreasonably impatientlot. The court-yard was empty, as he might have foreseen, and he wasturning with a patient sigh towards the long arbor that led to the lake, when the sound of a rustling paper in the summer house deflected hiscourse. He approached the doorway and looked inside. 

The young American man, in white flannels with a red guide-bookprotruding from his pocket, was comfortably stretched in a lounging chairengaged with a cigarette and a copy of the Paris _Herald_. He glanced upwith a yawn--excusable under the circumstances--but as his eye fell uponthe letter he sprang to his feet. 

"Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?"

[Illustration: "'Hello, Gustavo! Is that for me?'"]

Gustavo bowed. 

"_Ecco_! She is at last arrive, ze lettair for which you haf so mochweesh. " He bowed a second time and presented it. "Meestair JayreenAilyar!"

The young man laughed. 

"I don't wish to hurt your feelings, Gustavo, but I'm not sure Ishould answer if my eyes were shut. "

He picked up the letter, glanced at the address to make sure--the namewas Jerymn Hilliard Jr. --and ripped it open with an exaggerated sigh ofrelief. Then he glanced up and caught Gustavo's expression. Gustavo cameof a romantic race; there was a gleam of sympathetic interest in his eye. 

"Oh, you needn't look so knowing! I suppose you think this is a loveletter? Well it's not. It is, since you appear to be interested, a letterfrom my sister informing me that they will arrive tonight, and that wewill pull out for Riva by the first boat tomorrow morning. Not that Iwant to leave you, Gustavo, but--Oh, thunder!"

He finished the reading in a frowning silence while the waiter stood atpolite attention, a shade of anxiety in his eye--there was usuallyanxiety in his eye when it rested on Jerymn Hilliard Jr. One could neverforesee what the young man would call for next. Yesterday he had rungthe bell and demanded a partner to play lawn tennis, as if the hotel keptpartners laid away in drawers like so many sheets. 

He crumpled up the letter and stuffed it in his pocket. 

"I say, Gustavo, what do you think of this? They're going to stay inLucerne till the tenth--that's next week--and they hope I don't mindwaiting; it will be nice for me to have a rest. A _rest_, man, and I'vealready spent three days in Valedolmo!"

"_Si_, signore, you will desire ze same room?" was as much as Gustavothought. 

"Ze same room? Oh, I suppose so. "

He sank back into his chair and plunged his hands into his pockets withan air of sombre resignation. The waiter hovered over him, dividedbetween a desire to return to his siesta, and a sympathetic interest inthe young man's troubles. Never before in the history of his connectionwith the Hotel du Lac had Gustavo experienced such a munificent, companionable, expansive, entertaining, thoroughly unique andinexplicable guest. Even the fact that he was American scarcely accountedfor everything. 

The young man raised his head and eyed his companion gloomily. 

"Gustavo, have you a sister?"

"A sister?" Gustavo's manner was uncomprehending but patient. "_Si_, signore, I have eight sister. "

"Eight! Merciful saints. How do you manage to be so cheerful?"

"Tree is married, signore, one uvver is betrofed, one is in a convent, one is dead and two is babies. "

"I see--they're pretty well disposed of; but the babies will grow up, Gustavo, and as for that betrothed one, I should still be a littlenervous if I were you; you can never be sure they are going to staybetrothed. I hope she doesn't spend her time chasing over the map ofEurope making appointments with you to meet her in unheard of littlemountain villages where the only approach to Christian reading matter isa Paris _Herald_ four days old, and then doesn't turn up to keep herappointments?"

Gustavo blinked. His supple back achieved another bow. 

"Sank you, " he murmured. 

"And you don't happen to have an aunt?"

"An aunt, signore?" There was vagueness in his tone. 

"Yes, Gustavo, an aunt. A female relative who reads you like an openbook, who sees your faults and skips your virtues, who remembers how dearand good and obliging your father was at your age, who hoped great thingsof you when you were a baby, who had intended to make you her heir buthas about decided to endow an orphan asylum--have you, Gustavo, by chancean aunt?"

"_Si_, signore. "

"I do not think you grasp my question. An _aunt_--the sister of yourfather, or perhaps your mother. "

A gleam of illumination swept over Gustavo's troubled features. 

"_Ecco_! You would know if I haf a _zia_--a aunt--yes, zat is it. A aunt. _Sicuramente_, signore, I haf ten--leven aunt. "

"Eleven aunts! Before such a tragedy I am speechless; you need say nomore, Gustavo, from this moment we are friends. "

He held out his hand. Gustavo regarded it dazedly; then, since it seemedto be expected, he gingerly presented his own. The result was a shiningnewly-minted two-lire piece. He pocketed it with a fresh succession ofbows. 

"_Grazie tanto_! Has ze signore need of anysing?"

"Have I need of anysing?" There was reproach, indignation, disgust in theyoung man's tone. "How can you ask such a question, Gustavo? Here am I, three days in Valedolmo, with seven more stretching before me. I haveplenty of towels and soap and soft-boiled eggs, if that is what you mean;but a man's spirit cannot be nourished on soap and soft-boiled eggs. What I need is food for the mind--diversion, distraction, amusement--no, Gustavo, you needn't offer me the Paris _Herald_ again. I already know byheart the list of guests in every hotel in Switzerland. "

"Ah, it is diversion zat you wish? Have you seen zat ver' beautiful Luiniin ze chapel of San Bartolomeo? It is four hundred years old. "

"Yes, Gustavo, I have seen the Luini in the chapel of San Bartolomeo. Iderived all the pleasure to be got out of it the first afternoon I came. "

"Ze garden of Prince Sartonio-Crevelli? Has ze signore seen ze cedar ofLebanon in ze garden of ze prince?"

"Yes, Gustavo, the signore has seen the cedar of Lebanon in the garden ofthe prince, also the ilex tree two hundred years old and the india-rubberplant from South America. They are extremely beautiful but they don'tlast a week. "

"Have you swimmed in ze lake?"

"It is lukewarm, Gustavo. "

The waiter's eyes roved anxiously. They lighted on the lunette ofshimmering water and purple mountains visible at the farther end of thearbor. 

"Zere is ze view, " he suggested humbly. "Ze view from ze water front isconsider ver' beautiful, ver' nice. Many foreigners come entirely forhim. You can see Lago di Garda, Monte Brione, Monte Baldo wif ze ruincastle of ze Scaliger, Monte Maggiore, ze Altissimo di Nago, ze snowcover peak of Monte--"

Mr. Jerymn Hilliard Jr. Stopped him with a gesture. 

"That will do; I read Baedeker myself, and I saw them all the first nightI came. You must know at your age, Gustavo, that a man can't enjoy a viewby himself; it takes two for that sort of thing--Yes, the truth is that Iam lonely. You can see yourself to what straits I am pushed forconversation. If I had your command of language, now, I would talk to theGerman Alpine climbers. "

An idea flashed over Gustavo's features. 

"Ah, zat is it! Why does not ze signore climb mountains? Ver' helful;ver' diverting. I find guide. "

"You needn't bother. Your guide would be Italian, and it's too much of astrain to talk to a man all day in dumb show. " He folded his arms with aweary sigh. "A week of Valedolmo! An eternity!"

Gustavo echoed the sigh. Though he did not entirely comprehend thetrouble, still he was of a generously sympathetic nature. 

"It is a pity, " he observed casually, "zat you are not acquaint wif zeSignor Americano who lives in Villa Rosa. He also finds Valedolmoundiverting. He comes--but often--to talk wif me. He has fear offorgetting how to spik Angleesh, he says. "

The young man opened his eyes. 

"What are you talking about--a Signor Americano here in Valedolmo?"

"_Sicuramente_, in zat rose-color villa wif ze cypress trees and ze_terrazzo_ on ze lake. His daughter, la Signorina Costantina, she livewif him--ver' yong, ver' beautiful--" Gustavo rolled his eyes and claspedhis hands--"beautiful like ze angels in Paradise--and she spik Italialike I spik Angleesh. "

Jerymn Hilliard Jr. Unfolded his arms and sat up alertly. 

"You mean to tell me that you had an American family up your sleeve allthis time and never said a word about it?" His tone was stern. 

"_Scusi_, signore, I have not known zat you have ze plaisir of zeracquaintance. "

"The pleasure of their acquaintance! Good heavens, Gustavo, when oneship-wrecked man meets another ship-wrecked man on a desert island mustthey be introduced before they can speak?"

"_Si_, signore. "

"And why, may I ask, should an intelligent American family be living inValedolmo?"

"I do not know, signore. I have heard ze Signor Papa's healf was no good, and ze doctors in Americk' zay say to heem, 'you need change, to breaveze beautiful climate of Italia. ' And he say, 'all right, I go toValedolmo. ' It is small, signore, but ver' _famosa_. Oh, yes, _moltofamosa_. In ze autumn and ze spring foreigners come from all zeworld--Angleesh, French, German--_tutti_! Ze Hotel du Lac is full. Everyday we turn peoples away. "

"So! I seem to have struck the wrong season. --But about this Americanfamily, what's their name?"

"La familia Veeldair from Nuovo York. "

"Veeldair. " He shook his head. "That's not American, Gustavo, at leastwhen you say it. But never mind, if they come from New York it's allright. How many are there--just two?"

"But no! Ze papa and ze signorina and ze--ze--" he rolled his eyes insearch of the word--"ze aunt!"

"Another aunt! The sky appears to be raining aunts today. What does shedo for amusement--the signorina who is beautiful as the angels?"

Gustavo spread out his hands. 

"Valedolmo, signore, is on ze frontier. It is--what you say--garrison_città_. Many soldiers, many officers--captains, lieutenants, wifuniforms and swords. Zay take tea on ze _terrazzo_ wif ze Signor Papa andze Signora Aunt, and most _specialmente_ wif ze Signorina Costantina. ZeSignor Papa say he come for his healf, but if you ask me, I sink maybe hecome to marry his daughter. "

"I see! And yet, Gustavo, American papas are generally not so keen as youmight suppose about marrying their daughters to foreign captains andlieutenants even if they have got uniforms and swords. I shouldn't besurprised if the Signor Papa were just a little nervous over thesituation. It seems to me there might be an opening for a likely youngfellow speaking the English language, even if he hasn't a uniform andsword. How does he strike you?"

"_Si_, signore. "

"I'm glad you agree with me. It is now five minutes past four; do youthink the American family would be taking a siesta?"

"I do not know, signore. " Gustavo's tone was still patient. 

"And whereabouts is the rose-colored villa with the terrace on the lake?"

"It is a quarter of a hour beyond ze Porta Sant' Antonio. If ze gate isshut you ring at ze bell and Giuseppe will open. But ze road is ver' hotand ver' dusty. It is more cooler to take ze paf by ze lake. Straight toze left for ten minutes and step over ze wall; it is broken in zat placeand quite easy. "

"Thank you, that is a wise suggestion; I shall step over the wall by allmeans. " He jumped to his feet and looked about for his hat. "You turn tothe left and straight ahead for ten minutes? Good-bye then till dinner. Igo in search of the Signorina Costantina who is beautiful as the angelsin Paradise, and who lives in a rose-colored villa set in a cypress groveon the shores of Lake Garda--not a bad setting for romance, is it, Gustavo?--Dinner, I believe, is at seven o'clock?"

"_Si_, signore, at seven; and would you like veal cooked Milanesefashion?"

"Nothing would please me more. We have only had veal Milanese fashionfive times since I came. "

He waved his hand jauntily and strolled whistling down the arbor that ledto the lake. Gustavo looked after him and shook his head. Then he tookout the two-lire piece and rang it on the table. The metal rang true. Heshrugged his shoulders and turned back indoors to order the veal. 

CHAPTER II

The terrace of Villa Rosa juts out into the lake, bordered on three sidesby a stone parapet, and shaded above by a yellow-ochre awning. Masses ofoleanders hang over the wall and drop pink petals into the blue watersbelow. As a study in color the terrace is perfect, but, like thecourt-yard of the Hotel du Lac, decidedly too hot for mid-afternoon. Tothe right of the terrace, however, is a shady garden set in alleys ofcypress trees, and separated from the lake by a strip of beach and a lowbalustrade. There could be no better resting place for a warm afternoon. 

It was close upon four--five minutes past to be accurate--and the usualafternoon quiet that enveloped the garden had fled before the garrulousadvent of four girls. Three of them, with black eyes and blacker hair, were kneeling on the beach thumping and scrubbing a pile of linen. Inspite of their chatter they were working busily, and the grass beyond thewater-wall was already white with bleaching sheets, while a lace trimmedpetticoat fluttered from a near-by oleander, and a row of silk stockingsstretched the length of the parapet. The most undeductive observer wouldhave guessed by this time that the pink villa, visible through the trees, contained no such modern conveniences as stationary tubs. 

The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown hair, was sitting atease on the balustrade, fanning herself with a wide brimmed hat anddangling her feet, clad in white tennis shoes, over the edge. She wore asuit of white linen cut sailor fashion, low at the throat and withsleeves rolled to the elbows. She looked very cool and comfortable andfree as she talked, with the utmost friendliness, to the three girlsbelow. Her Italian, to an unaccustomed ear, was exactly as glib astheirs. 

The washer-girls were dressed in the gayest of peasant clothes--green andscarlet petticoats, flowered kerchiefs, coral beads and flashingearrings; you would have to go far into the hills in these degeneratedays before meeting their match on an Italian highway. But the girl onthe wall, who was actual if not titular ruler of the domain of VillaRosa, possessed a keen eye for effect; and--she plausibly argued--sinceone must have washer-women about, why not, in the name of all that isbeautiful, have them in harmony with tradition and the landscape?Accordingly, she designed and purchased their costumes herself. 

There drifted presently into sight from around the little promontory thathid the village, a blue and white boat with yellow lateen sails. She waspropelled gondolier fashion, for the wind was a mere breath, by apicturesque youth in a suit of dark blue with white sash and flaringcollar--the hand of the girl on the wall was here visible also. 

[Illustration: "The fourth girl, with gray eyes and yellow-brown hair, was sitting at ease on the balustrade"]

The boat fluttering in toward shore, looked like a giant butterfly; andher name, emblazoned in gold on her prow, was, appropriately, the_Farfalla_. Earlier in the season, with a green hull and a dingy brownsail, she had been prosaically enough, the _Maria_. But since the adventof the girl all this had been changed. The _Farfalla_ dropped her yellowwings with the air of a salute, and lighted at the foot of thewater-steps under the terrace. The girl on the parapet leaned forwardeagerly. 

"Did you get any mail, Giuseppe?" she called. 

"_Si_, signorina. " He scrambled up the steps and presented a copy of theLondon _Times_. 

She received it with a shrug. Clearly, she felt little interest in theLondon _Times_. Giuseppe took himself back to his boat and commencedfussing about its fittings, dusting the seats, plumping up the cushions, with an air of absorption which deceived nobody. The signorina watchedhim a moment with amused comprehension, then she called peremptorily:

"Giuseppe, you know you must spade the garden border. "

Poor Giuseppe, in spite of his nautical costume, was man of all work. Heglanced dismally toward the garden border which lay basking in thesunshine under the wall that divided Villa Rosa from the rest of theworld. It contained every known flower which blossoms in July in thekingdom of Italy from camellias and hydrangeas to heliotrope and wallflowers. Its spading was a complicated business and it lay too far off topermit of conversation. Giuseppe was not only a lazy, but also a socialsoul. 

"Signorina, " he suggested, "would you not like a sail?"

She shook her head. "There is not wind enough and it is too hot and toosunny. "

"But yes, there's a wind, and cool--when you get out on the lake. I willput up the awning, signorina, the sun shall not touch you. "

She continued to shake her head and her eyes wandered suggestively to thehydrangeas, but Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation. Not being acruel mistress, she dropped the subject, and turned back to herconversation with the washer-girls. They were discussing--a pleasanttopic for a sultry summer afternoon--the probable content of Paradise. The three girls were of the opinion that it was made up of warm sunshineand cool shade, of flowers and singing birds and sparkling waters, ofblue skies and cloud-capped mountains--not unlike, it will be observed, the very scene which at the moment stretched before them. In so much theywere all agreed, but there were several debatable points. Whether thestones were made of gold, and whether the houses were not gold too, and, that being the case, whether it would not hurt your eyes to look at them. Marietta declared, blasphemously, as the others thought, that shepreferred a simple gray stone villa or at most one of pink stucco, toall the golden edifices that Paradise contained. 

It was by now fifteen minutes past four, and a spectator had arrived, though none of the five were aware of his presence. The spectator wasstanding on the wall above the garden border examining with appreciationthe idyllic scene below him, and with most particular appreciation, thedainty white-clad person of the girl on the balustrade. He waswondering--anxiously--how he might make his presence known. For no verytangible reason he had suddenly become conscious that the matter would beeasier if he carried in his pocket a letter of introduction. The purlieusof Villa Rosa in no wise resembled a desert island; and in the face ofthat very fluent Italian, the suspicion was forcing itself upon him thatafter all, the mere fact of a common country was not a sufficient bond ofunion. He had definitely decided to withdraw, when the matter was takenfrom his hands. 

[Illustration: "Giuseppe still made a feint of preoccupation"]

The wall--as Gustavo had pointed out--was broken; it was owing to thisfact that he had been so easily able to climb it. Now, as he stealthilyturned, preparing to re-descend in the direction whence he had come, theloose stone beneath his foot slipped and he slipped with it. Fivestartled pairs of eyes were turned in his direction. What they saw, was ayoung man in flannels suddenly throw up his arms, slide into an azaleabush, from this to the balustrade, and finally land on all fours on thenarrow strip of beach, a shower of pink petals and crumbling masonryfalling about him. A momentary silence followed; then the washer-girls, making sure that he was not injured, broke into a shrill chorus oflaughter, while the _Farfalla_ rocked under impact of Giuseppe's mirth. The girl on the wall alone remained grave. 

The young man picked himself up, restored his guide book to his pocket, and blushingly stepped forward, hat in hand, to make an apology. One kneebore a splash of mud, and his tumbled hair was sprinkled with azaleablossoms. 

"I beg your pardon, " he stammered, "I didn't mean to come so suddenly;I'm afraid I broke your wall. "

The girl dismissed the matter with a polite gesture. 

"It was already broken, " and then she waited with an air of graveattention until he should state his errand. 

"I--I came--" He paused and glanced about vaguely; he could not at themoment think of any adequate reason to account for his coming. 

"Yes?"

Her eyes studied him with what appeared at once a cool and an amusedscrutiny. He felt himself growing red beneath it. 

"Can I do anything for you?" she prompted with the kind desire of puttinghim at his ease. 

"Thank you--" He grasped at the first idea that presented itself. "I'mstopping at the Hotel du Lac and Gustavo, you know, told me there was avilla somewhere around here that belongs to Prince Someone or Other. Ifyou ring at the gate and give the gardener two francs and a visitingcard, he will let you walk around and look at the trees. "

"I see!" said the girl, "and so now you are looking for the gate?" Hertone suggested that she suspected him of trying to avoid both it and thetwo francs. "Prince Sartorio-Crevelli's villa is about half a milefarther on. "

"Ah, thank you, " he bowed a second time, and then added out of thedesperate need of saying something, "There's a cedar of Lebanon in it andan India rubber plant from South America. "

"Indeed!"

She continued to observe him with polite interest, though she made nomove to carry on the conversation. 

"You--are an American?" he asked at length. 

"Oh, yes, " she agreed easily. "Gustavo knows that. "

He shifted his weight. 

"I am an American too, " he observed. 

"Really?" The girl leaned forward and examined him more closely, aninnocent, candid, wholly detached look in her eyes. "From your appearanceI should have said you were German--most of the foreigners who visitValedolmo are German. "

"Well, I'm not, " he said shortly. "I'm American. "

"It is a pity my father is not at home, " she returned, "_he_ enjoysmeeting Americans. "

A gleam of anger replaced the embarrassment in the young man's eyes. Heglanced about for a dignified means of escape; they had him pretty wellpenned in. Unless he wished to reclimb the wall--and he did not--he mustgo by the terrace which retreat was cut off by the washer-women, or bythe parapet, already occupied by the girl in white and the washing. Heturned abruptly and his elbow brushed a stocking to the ground. 

He stooped to pick it up and then he blushed still a shade deeper. 

"This is washing day, " observed the girl with a note of apology. She roseto her feet and stood on the top of the parapet while she beckoned toGiuseppe, then she turned and looked down upon the young man with anexpression of frank amusement. "I hope you will enjoy the cedar ofLebanon and the India rubber tree. Good afternoon. "

She jumped to the ground and crossed to the water-steps where Giuseppe, with a radiant smile, was steadying the boat against the landing. Shesettled herself comfortably among the cushions and then for a momentglanced back towards shore. 

"You would better go out by the gate, " she called. "The wall on thefarther side is harder to climb than the one you came in by; and besides, it has broken glass on the top. "

Giuseppe raised the yellow sail and the _Farfalla_ with a graceful dip, glided out to sea. The young man stood eyeing its progress revengefully. Now that the girl was out of hearing, a number of pointed things occurredto him which he might have said. His thoughts were interrupted by a freshgiggle from behind and he found that the three washer-girls were laughingat him. 

"Your mistress's manners are not the best in the world, " said he, severely, "and I am obliged to add that yours are no better. "

They giggled again, though there was no malice behind their humor; it wasmerely that they found the lack of a language in common a mirth-provokingcircumstance. Marietta, with a flash of black eyes, murmured somethingvery kindly in Italian, as she shook out a linen sailor suit--the exacttwin of the one that had gone to sea--and spread it on the wall to dry. 

The young man did not linger for further words. Setting his hat firmly onhis head, he vaulted the parapet and strode off down the cypress alleythat stretched before him; he passed the pink villa without a glance. Atthe gate he stood aside to admit a horse and rider. The horse wasprancing in spite of the heat; the rider wore a uniform and a shiningsword. There was a clank of accoutrements as he passed, and the wayfarercaught a gleam of piercing black eyes and a slight black moustache turnedup at the ends. The rider saluted politely and indifferently, and jangledon. The young man scowled after him maliciously until the cypresses hidhim from view; then he turned and took up the dusty road back towards theHotel du Lac. 

It was close upon five, and Gustavo was in the court-yard feeding theparrot, when his eye fell upon the American guest scuffling down the roadin a cloud of white dust. Gustavo hastened to the gate to welcome himback, his very eyebrows expressive of his eagerness for news. 

"You are returned, signore?"

The young man paused and regarded him unemotionally. 

"Yes, Gustavo, I am returned--with thanks. "

"You have seen ze Signorina Costantina?"

"Yes, I saw her. "

"And is it not as I have said, zat she is beautiful as ze holy angels?"

"Yes, Gustavo, she is--and just about equally remote. You may make out mybill. "

The waiter's face clouded. 

"You do not wish to remain longer, signore?"

"Can't stand it, Gustavo; it's too infernally restful. "

Poor Gustavo saw a munificent shower of tips vanishing into nothing. Hisface was rueful but his manner was undiminishingly polite. 

"_Si_, signore, sank you. When shall you wish ze omnibus?"

"Tomorrow morning for the first boat. "

Gustavo bowed to the inevitable; and the young man passed on. He pausedhalf way across the court-yard. 

"What time does the first boat leave?"

"At half past five, signore. "

"Er--no--I'll take the second. "

"_Si_, signore. At half-past ten. "

CHAPTER III

It was close upon ten when Jerymn Hilliard Jr. , equipped for travel inproper blue serge, appeared in the doorway of the Hotel du Lac. He lookedat his watch and discovered that he still had twenty minutes before theomnibus meeting the second boat was due. He strolled across thecourt-yard, paused for a moment to tease the parrot, and sauntered on tohis favorite seat in the summer house. He had barely established himselfwith a cigarette when who should appear in the gateway but Miss ConstanceWilder of Villa Rosa and a middle-aged man--at a glance the Signor Papa. Jerymn Hilliard's heart doubled its beat. Why, he asked himselfexcitedly, _why_ had they come?

The Signor Papa closed his green umbrella, and having dropped into achair--obligingly near the summer house--took off his hat and fannedhimself. He had a tendency toward being stout and felt the heat. Thegirl, meanwhile, crossed the court and jangled the bell; she waitedtwo--three--minutes, then she pulled the rope again. 

"Gustavo! Oh, Gustavo!"

The bell might have been rung by any-one--the fisherman, theomnibus-driver, Suor Celestina from the convent asking her everlastingalms--and Gustavo took his time. But the voice was unmistakable; hewaited only to throw a clean napkin over his arm before hurrying toanswer. 

"_Buon giorno_, signorina! Good morning, signore. It is beautifulwea-thir, but warm. _Già_, it is warm. "

He bowed and smiled and rubbed his hands together. His moustaches, fairlybristling with good will, turned up in a half circle until they caressedhis nose on either side. He bustled about placing table and chairs, andrecklessly dusting them with the clean napkin. The signorina laid herfluffy white parasol on one chair and seated herself on another, herprofile turned to the summer house. Gustavo hovered over them, awaitingtheir pleasure, the genius itself of respectful devotion. It wasConstance who gave the order--she, it might be noticed, gave most of theorders that were given in her vicinity. She framed it in English out ofdeference to Gustavo's pride in his knowledge of the language. 

"A glass of _vino santo_ for the Signore and _limonata_ for me. I wish toput the sugar in myself, the last time you mixed it, Gustavo, it was allsugar and no lemon. And bring a bowl of cracked ice--_fino_--_fino_--andsome pine nut cakes if you are sure they are fresh. "

"Sank you, signorina. _Subitissimo_!"

He was off across the court, his black coat-tails, his white napkinstreaming behind, proclaiming to all the world that he was engaged on theSignorina Americana's bidding; for persons of lesser note he stillpreserved a measure of dignity. 

The young man in the summer house had meanwhile dropped his cigaretteupon the floor and noiselessly stepped on it. He had also--with theutmost caution lest the chair creak--shifted his position so that hemight command the profile of the girl. The entrance to the summer housewas fortunately on the other side, and in all likelihood they would nothave occasion to look within. It was eavesdropping of course, but he hadalready been convicted of that yesterday, and in any case it was not suchvery bad eavesdropping. The court-yard of the Hotel du Lac was publicproperty; he had been there first, he was there by rights as a guest ofthe house; if anything, they were the interlopers. Besides, nobody talkedsecrets with a head waiter. His own long conversations with Gustavo wereas open and innocent as the day; the signorina was perfectly welcome tolisten to them as much as she chose. 

She was sitting with her chin in her hand, eyeing the flying coat-tailsof Gustavo, a touch of amusement in her face. Her father was eyeing herseverely. 

"Constance, it is disgraceful!"

She laughed. Apparently she already knew or divined what it was that wasdisgraceful, but the accusation did not appear to bother her much. Mr. Wilder proceeded grumblingly. 

"It's bad enough with those five deluded officers, but they walked intothe trap with their eyes open and it's their own affair. But look atGustavo; he can scarcely carry a dish without breaking it when you arewatching him. And Giuseppe--that confounded _Farfalla_ with its yellowsails floats back and forth in front of the terrace till I am on thepoint of having it scuttled as a public nuisance; and those threewasher-women and the post-office clerk and the boy who brings milk, andLuigi and--every man, woman and child in the village of Valedolmo!"

"And my own dad as well?"

Mr. Wilder shook his head. 

[Illustration: "He had also shifted his position so that he mightcommand the profile of the girl"]

"I came here at your instigation for rest and relaxation--to get rid ofnervous worries, and here I find a big new worry waiting for me that I'dnever thought of having before. What if my only daughter should take itin her head to marry one of these infernally good-looking Italianofficers?"

Constance reached over and patted his arm. 

"Don't let it bother you, Dad; I assure you I won't do anything of thesort. I should think it my duty to learn the subjunctive mood, and thatis impossible. "

Gustavo came hurrying back with a tray. He arranged the glasses, the ice, the sugar, the cakes, with loving, elaborate obsequiousness. Thesignorina examined the ice doubtfully, then with approval. 

"It's exactly right to-day, Gustavo! You got it too large the last time, you remember. "

She stirred in some sugar and tasted it tentatively, her head on oneside. Gustavo hung upon her expression in an agony of apprehension; onewould have thought it a matter for public mourning if the lemonade werenot mixed exactly right. But apparently it was right--she nodded andsmiled--and Gustavo's expression assumed relief. Constance broke open apine nut cake and settled herself for conversation. 

"Haven't you any guests, Gustavo?" Her eyes glanced over the emptycourt-yard. "I am afraid the hotel is not having a very prosperousseason. "

"_Grazie_, signorina. Zer never are many in summer; it is ze dead time, but still zay come and zay go. Seven arrive last night. "

"Seven! That's nice. What are they like?"

"German mountain-climbers wif nails in zer shoes. Zey have gone to Rivaon ze first boat. "

"That's too bad--then the hotel is empty?"

"But no! Zer is an Italian Signora wif two babies and a governess, andtwo English ladies and an American gentleman--"

"An American gentleman?" Her tone was languidly interested. "How long hashe been here?"

"Tree--four day. "

"Indeed--what is he like?"

"Nice--ver' nice. " (Gustavo might well say that; his pockets were linedwith the American gentleman's silver lire. ) "He talk to me always. 'Gustavo, ' he say, 'I am all alone; I wish to be 'mused. Come and talkAngleesh. ' Yes, it is true; I have no time to finish my work; I spendwhole day talking wif dis yong American gentleman. He is just a little--"He touched his head significantly. 

"Really?" She raised her eyes with an air of awakened interest. "And howdid he happen to come to Valedolmo?"

"He come to meet his family, his sister and his--his aunt, who are goingwif him to ze Tyrollo. But zay have not arrive. Zey are in Lucerne, hesays, where zer is a lion dying, and zey wish to wait until he is dead;zen zey come. --Yes, it is true; he tell me zat. " Gustavo tapped his heada second time. 

The signorina glanced about apprehensively. 

"Is he safe, Gustavo--to be about?"

"_Si_, signorina, _sicuramente_! He is just a little simple. "

Mr. Wilder chuckled. 

"Where is he, Gustavo? I think I'd like to make that young man'sacquaintance. "

"I sink, signore, he is packing his trunk. He go away today. "

"Today, Gustavo?" There was audible regret in Constance's tone. "Why ishe going?"

"It is not possible for him to stand it, signorina. Valedolmo too damslow. "

"Gustavo! You mustn't say that; it is very, very bad. Nice men don't sayit. "

Gustavo held his ground. 

"_Si_, signorina, zat yong American gentleman say it--dam slow, no_divertimento_. "

"He's just about right, Gustavo, " Mr. Wilder broke in. "The next time ayoung American gentleman blunders into the Hotel du Lac you send himaround to me. "

"_Si_, signore. "

Gustavo rolled his eyes toward the signorina; she continued to sip herlemonade. 

"I have told him yesterday an American family live at Villa Rosa; he say'All right, I go call, ' but--but I sink maybe you were not at home. "

"Oh!" The signorina raised her head in apparent enlightenment. "So thatwas the young man? Yes, to be sure, he came, but he said he was lookingfor Prince Sartorio's villa. I am sorry you were away, Father, you wouldhave enjoyed him; his English was excellent. --Did he tell you he saw me, Gustavo?"

"_Si_, signorina, he tell me. "

"What did he say? Did he think I was nice?"

Gustavo looked embarrassed. 

"I--I no remember, signorina. "

She laughed and to his relief changed the subject. 

"Those English ladies who are staying here--what do they look like? Arethey young?"

Gustavo delivered himself of an inimitable gesture which suggested thatthe English ladies had entered the bounds of that indefinite period whenthe subject of age must be politely waived. 

"They are tall, signorina, and of a thinness--you would not believe itpossible. "

"I see! And so the poor young man was bored?"

Gustavo bowed vaguely. He saw no connection. 

"He was awfully good-looking, " she added with a sigh. "I'm afraid I madea mistake. It would be rather fun, don't you think, Dad, to have anentertaining young American gentleman about?"

"Ump!" he grunted. "I thought you were so immensely satisfied with theofficers. "

"Oh, I am, " she agreed with a shrug which dismissed forever the youngAmerican gentleman. 

"Well, Gustavo, " she added in a business-like tone, "I will tell you whywe called. The doctor says the Signor Papa is getting too fat--I don'tthink he's too fat, do you? He seems to me just comfortably chubby; butanyway, the doctor says he needs exercise, so we're going to beginclimbing mountains with nails in our shoes like the Germans. And we'regoing to begin to-morrow because we've got two English people at thevilla who adore mountains. Do you think you can find us a guide and somedonkeys? We want a nice, gentle, lady-like donkey for my aunt, andanother for the English lady and a third to carry the things--and maybeme, if I get tired. Then we want a man who will twist their tails andmake them go; and I am very particular about the man. I want him to bepicturesque--there's no use being in Italy if you can't have thingspicturesque, is there, Gustavo?"

"_Si_, signorina, " he bowed and resumed his attitude of strainedattention. 

"He must have curly hair and black eyes and white teeth and a nice smile;I should like him to wear a red sash and earrings. He must be obligingand cheerful and deferential and speak good Italian--I won't have a manwho speaks only dialect. He must play the mandolin and sing SantaLucia--I believe that's all. "

"And I suppose since he is to act as guide he must know the region?" herfather mildly suggested. 

"Oh, no, that's immaterial; we can always ask our way. "

Mr. Wilder grunted, but offered no further suggestion. 

"We pay four lire a day and furnish his meals, " she added munificently. "And we shall begin with the castle on Monte Baldo; then when we get veryproficient we'll climb Monte Maggiore. Do you understand?"

"Ze signorina desires tree donkeys and a driver at seven o'clockto-morrow morning to climb Monte Baldo?"

"In brief, yes, but _please_ remember the earrings. "

 * * * * *

Meanwhile a commotion was going on behind them. The hotel omnibus hadrumbled into the court yard. A _fachino_ had dragged out a leather trunk, an English hat box and a couple of valises and dumped them on the groundwhile he ran back for the paste pot and a pile of labels. The twounder-waiters, the chamber-maid and the boy who cleaned boots had driftedinto the court. It was evident that the American gentleman's departurewas imminent. 

The luggage was labelled and hoisted to the roof of the omnibus; they alldrew up in a line with their eyes on the door; but still the young mandid not come. Gustavo, over his shoulder, dispatched a waiter to hunt himup. The waiter returned breathless. The gentleman was nowhere. He hadsearched the entire house; there was not a trace. Gustavo sent theboot-boy flying down the arbor to search the garden; he was beginning tofeel anxious. What if the gentleman in a sudden fit of melancholia hadthrown himself into the lake? That would indeed be an unfortunate affair!

Constance reassured him, and at the same time she arose. It occurred toher suddenly that, since the young man was going, there was nothing to begained by waiting, and he might think--She picked up her parasol andstarted for the gate, but Mr. Wilder hung back; he wanted to see thematter out. 

"Father, " said she reproachfully, "it's embarrassing enough for him tofee all those people without our staying and watching him do it. "

"I suppose it is, " he acknowledged regretfully, as he resumed his hat andumbrella and palm leaf fan. 

She paused for a second in the gateway. 

"_Addio_, Gustavo, " she called over her shoulder. "_Don't_ forget theearrings. "

Gustavo bowed twice and turned back with a dazed air to direct thebusiness in hand. The boot-boy, reappearing, shook his head. No, thegentleman was not to be found in the garden. The omnibus driver leanedfrom his seat and swore. 

_Corpo di Bacco_! Did he think the boat would wait all day for the sakeof one passenger? As it was, they were ten minutes late and would have togallop every step of the way. 

The turmoil of ejaculation and gesture was approaching a climax; whensuddenly, who should come sauntering into the midst of it, but the youngAmerican man himself! He paused to light a cigarette, then waved his handaloft toward his leather belongings. 

"Take 'em down, Gustavo. Changed my mind; not going to-day--it's toohot. "

Gustavo gasped. 

"But, signore, you have paid for your ticket. "

"True, Gustavo, but there is no law compelling me to use it. To tell thetruth I find that I am fonder of Valedolmo than I had supposed. There issomething satisfying about the peace and tranquility of the place--onedoesn't realize it till the moment of parting comes. Do you think I canobtain a room for a--well, an indefinite period?"

Gustavo saw a dazzling vista of silver lire stretching into the future. With an all-inclusive gesture he placed the house, the lake, thesurrounding mountains, at the disposal of the American. 

"You shall have what you wish, signore. At dis season ze Hotel du Lac--"

"Is not crowded, and there are half a hundred rooms at my disposal? Verywell, I will keep the one I have which commands a very attractive view ofa rose-colored villa set in a grove of cypress trees. "

The others had waited in a state of suspension, dumbfounded at what wasgoing on. But as soon as the young man dipped into his pocket and fishedout a handful of silver, they broke into smiles; this at least wasintelligible. The silver was distributed, the luggage was hoisted down, the omnibus was dismissed. The courtyard resumed its former quiet; justthe American gentleman, Gustavo and the parrot were left. 

Then suddenly a frightful suspicion dawned upon Gustavo--it was more thana suspicion; it was an absolute certainty which in his excitement he hadoverlooked. From where had the American gentleman dropped? Not the sky, assuredly, and there was no place else possible, unless the door of thesummer house. Yes, he had been in the summer house, and not sleepingeither. An indefinable something about his manner informed Gustavo thathe was privy to the entire conversation. Gustavo, a picture of guiltyremorse, searched his memory for the words he had used. Why, oh why, hadhe not piled up adjectives? It was the opportunity of a lifetime and hehad wantonly thrown it away. 

But--to his astonished relief--the young man appeared to be bearing nomalice. He appeared, on the contrary, quite unusually cheerful as hesauntered whistling, across the court and seated himself in the exactchair the signorina had occupied. He plunged his hand into his pocketsuggestively--Gustavo had been the only one omitted in the distributionof silver--and drew forth a roll of bills. Having selected five crispfive-lire notes, he placed them under the sugar bowl, and watched hiscompanion while he blew three meditative rings of smoke. 

"Gustavo, " he inquired, "do you suppose you could find me some nice, gentle, lady-like donkeys and a red sash and a pair of earrings?"

Gustavo's fascinated gaze had been fixed upon the sugar bowl and he hadonly half caught the words. 

"_Scusi_, signore, I no understand. "

"Just sit down, Gustavo, it makes me nervous to see you standing all thetime. I can't be comfortable, you know, unless everybody else iscomfortable. Now pay strict attention and see if you can grasp mymeaning. "

Gustavo dubiously accepted the edge of the indicated chair; he wished tohumor the signore's mood, however incomprehensible that mood might be. For half an hour he listened with strained attention while the gentlemantalked and toyed with the sugar bowl. Amazement, misgiving, amusement, daring, flashed in succession across his face; in the end he leanedforward with shining eyes. 

"_Si, si_, " he whispered after a conspiratorial glance over his shoulder, "I will do it all; you may trust to me. "

The young man rose, removed the sugar bowl, and sauntered on toward theroad. Gustavo pocketed the notes and gazed after him. 

"_Dio mio_, " he murmured as he set about gathering up the glasses, "zeseAmericans!"

At the gate the young man paused to light another cigarette. 

"_Addio_, Gustavo, " he called over his shoulder, "_don't_ forget theearrings!"

CHAPTER IV

The table was set on the terrace; breakfast was served and the companywas gathered. Breakfast consisted of the usual caffè-latte, rolls andstrained honey, and--since a journey was to the fore and somethingsustaining needed--a soft-boiled egg apiece. There were four personspresent, though there should have been five. The two guests were anEnglishman and his wife, whom the chances of travel had brought overnight to Valedolmo. 

Between them, presiding over the coffee machine, was Mr. Wilder's sister, "Miss Hazel"--never "Miss Wilder" except to the butcher and baker. It wasthe cross of her life, she had always affirmed, that her name was notMary or Jane or Rebecca. "Hazel" does well enough when one is eighteenand beautiful, but when one is fifty and no longer beautiful, it islittle short of absurd. But if anyone at fifty could carry such a namegracefully, it was Miss Hazel Wilder; her fifty years sat as jauntily asConstance's twenty-two. This morning she was very business-like in hershort skirt, belted jacket, and green felt Alpine hat with a feather inthe side. No one would mistake her for a cyclist or a golfer or amotorist or anything in the world but an Alpine climber; whatever MissHazel was or was not, she was always _game_. 

Across from Miss Hazel sat her brother in knickerbockers, his Alpinestock at his elbow and also his fan. Since his domicile in Italy, Mr. Wilder's fan had assumed the nature of a symbol; he could no more beseparated from it than St. Sebastian from his arrows or St. Laurence fromhis gridiron. At Mr. Wilder's elbow was the empty chair where Constanceshould have been--she who had insisted on six as a proper breakfast hour, and had grudgingly consented to postpone it till half-past out ofdeference to her sleepy-headed elders. Her father had finished his eggand hers too, before she appeared, as nonchalant and smiling as if shewere out the earliest of all. 

"I think you might have waited!" was her greeting from the doorway. 

She advanced to the table, saluted in military fashion, dropped a kiss onher father's bald spot, and possessed herself of the empty chair. She toowas clad in mountain-climbing costume, in so far as blouse and skirt andleather leggings went, but above her face there fluttered the fluffywhite brim of a ruffled sun hat with a bunch of pink rosebuds set overone ear. 

"I am sorry not to wear my own Alpine hat, Aunt Hazel; I look sodeliciously German in it, but I simply can't afford to burn all the skinoff my nose. "

"You can't make us believe that, " said her father. "The reason is, thatLieutenant di Ferara and Captain Coroloni are going with us today, andthat this hat is more becoming than the other. "

"It's one reason, " Constance agreed imperturbably, "but, as I say, Idon't wish to burn the skin off my nose, because that is unbecoming too. You are ungrateful, Dad, " she added as she helped herself to honey with aliberal hand, "I invited them solely on your account because you like tohear them talk English. Have the donkeys come?"

"The donkeys are at the back door nibbling the buds off the rose-bushes. "

"And the driver?"

"Is sitting on the kitchen doorstep drinking coffee and smiling over thetop of his cup at Elizabetta. There are two of him. "

"Two! I only ordered one. "

"One is the official driver and the other is a boy whom he has broughtalong to do the work. "

Constance eyed her father sharply. There was something at once guilty andtriumphant about his expression. 

"What is it, Dad?" she inquired sternly. "I suppose he has not got asash and earrings. "

"On the contrary, he has. "

"Really? How clever of Gustavo! I hope, " she added anxiously, "that hetalks good Italian?"

"I don't know about his Italian, but he talks uncommonly good English. "

"English!" There was reproach, disgust, disillusionment, in her tone. "Not really, father?"

"Yes, really and truly--almost as well as I do. He has lived in New Yorkand he speaks English like a dream--real English--not theGustavo--Lieutenant di Ferara kind. I can understand what he says. "

"How simply horrible!"

"Very convenient, I should say. "

[Illustration: Beppo and the donkeys]

"If there's anything I detest, it's an Americanized Italian--and here inValedolmo of all places, where you have a right to demand somethingunique and romantic and picturesque and real. It's too bad of Gustavo!I shall never place any faith in his judgment again. You may talk Englishto the man if you like; I shall address him in nothing but Italian. "

As they rose from the table she suggested pessimistically, "Let's go andlook at the donkeys--I suppose they'll be horrid, scraggly, knock-kneedlittle beasts. "

They turned out however to be unusually attractive, as donkeys go, andthey were innocently engaged in nibbling, not rose-leaves but grass, under the tutelage of a barefoot boy. Constance patted their shaggymouse-colored noses, made the acquaintance of the boy, whose name wasBeppo, and looked about for the driver proper. He rose and bowed as sheapproached. His appearance was even more violently spectacular than shehad ordered; Gustavo had given good measure. 

He wore a loose white shirt--immaculately white--with a red silkhandkerchief knotted about his throat, brown corduroy knee-breeches, anda red cotton sash with the hilt of a knife conspicuously protruding. Hiscorduroy jacket was slung carelessly across his shoulders, his hat wascocked jauntily, with a red heron feather stuck in the band; last, perfect touch of all, in his ears--at his ears rather (a closeexamination revealed the thread)--two golden hoops flashed in thesunlight. His skin was dark--not too dark--just a good healthy out-doortan: his brows level and heavy, his gaze candor itself. He wore a tinysuggestion of a moustache which turned up at the corners (a suspiciousexamination of this, might have revealed the fact that it was touched upwith burnt cork); there was no doubt but that he was a handsome fellow, and his attire suggested that he knew it. 

Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy of admiration. 

"He's perfect!" she cried. "Where on earth did Gustavo find him? Did youever see anything so beautiful?" she appealed to the others. "He lookslike a brigand in opera bouffe. "

[Illustration: "Constance clasped her hands in an ecstasy ofadmiration"]

The donkey-man reddened visibly and fumbled with his hat. 

"My dear, " her father warned, "he understands English. "

She continued to gaze with the open admiration one would bestow upon apicture or a view or a blue-ribbon horse. The man flashed her a momentaryglance from a pair of searching gray eyes, then dropped his gaze humblyto the ground. 

"_Buon giorno_, " he said in glib Italian. 

Constance studied him more intently. There was something elusivelyfamiliar about his expression; she was sure she had seen him before. 

"_Buon giorno_, " she replied in Italian. "You have lived in the UnitedStates?"

"_Si_, signorina. "

"What is your name?"

"I spik Angleesh, " he observed. 

"I don't care if you do speak English; I prefer Italian--what is yourname?" She repeated the question in Italian. 

"_Si_, signorina, " he ventured again. An anxious look had crept to hisface and he hastily turned away and commenced carrying parcels from thekitchen. Constance looked after him, puzzled and suspicious. The oneinsult which she could not brook was for an Italian to fail to understandher when she talked Italian. As he returned and knelt to tighten thestrap of a hamper, she caught sight of the thread that held his earring. She looked a second longer, and a sudden smile of illumination flashed toher face. She suppressed it quickly and turned away. 

"He seems rather slow about understanding, " she remarked to the others, "but I dare say he'll do. "

"The poor fellow is embarrassed, " apologized her father. "His name isTony, " he added--even he had understood that much Italian. 

"Was there ever an Italian who had been in America whose name was notTony? Why couldn't he have been Angelico or Felice or Pasquale orsomething decently picturesque?"

"My dear, " Miss Hazel objected, "I think you are hypercritical. The manis scarcely to blame for his name. "

"I suppose not, " she agreed, "though I should have included that in myorder. "

Further discussion was precluded by the appearance of a station-carriagewhich turned in at the gate and stopped before them. Two officersdescended and saluted. In summer uniforms of white linen with goldshoulder-straps, and shining top-boots, they rivalled the donkey-man indecorativeness. Constance received them with flattering acclaim, whileshe noted from the corner of her eye the effect upon Tony. He had notcounted upon this addition to the party, and was as scowling as she couldhave wished. While the officers were engaged in making their bow to theothers, Constance casually reapproached the donkeys. Tony feignedimmersion in the business of strapping hampers; he had no wish to bedrawn into any Italian tête-à-tête. But to his relief she addressed himthis time in English. 

"Are these donkeys used to mountain-climbing?"

"But yes, signorina! _Sicuramente_. Zay are ver' strong, ver' good. Zatdonk', signorina, he go all day and never one little stumble. "

His English, she noted with amused appreciation, was an exact copy ofGustavo's; he had learned his lesson well. But she allowed not theslightest recognition of the fact to appear in her face. 

"And what are their names?" she inquired. 

"Dis is Fidilini, signorina, and zat one wif ze white nose is Macaroni, and zat ovver is Cristoforo Colombo. "

Elizabetta appeared in the doorway with two rush-covered flasks, and Tonyhurried forward to receive them. There was a complaisant set to hisshoulders as he strode off, Constance noted delightedly; he wasfelicitating himself upon the ease with which he had fooled her. Well!She would give him cause before the day was over for other thanfelicitations. She stifled a laugh of prophetic triumph and saunteredover to Beppo. 

"When Tony is engaged as a guide do you always go with him?"

"Not always, signorina, but Carlo has wished me to go to-day to lookafter the donkeys. "

"And who is Carlo?"

"He is the guide who owns them. "

Beppo looked momentarily guilty; the answer had slipped out before hethought. 

"Oh, indeed! But if Tony is a guide why doesn't he have donkeys of hisown?"

"He used to, but one unfortunately fell into the lake and got drowned andthe other died of a sickness. "

He put forth this preposterous statement with a glance as grave andinnocent as that of a little cherub. 

"Is Tony a good guide?"

"But yes, of the best!"

There was growing anxiety in Beppo's tone. He divined suspicion behindthese persistent inquiries, and he knew that in case Tony weredismissed, his own munificent pay would stop. 

"Do you understand any English?" she suddenly asked. 

He modestly repudiated any great knowledge. "A word here, a word there; Ilearn it in school. "

"I see!" She paused for a moment and then inquired casually, "Have youknown Tony long?"

"_Si_, signorina. "

"How long?"

Beppo considered. Someone, clearly, must vouch for the man'srespectability. This was not in the lesson that had been taught him, buthe determined to branch out for himself. 

"He is my father, signorina. "

"Really! He looks young to be your father--have you any brothers andsisters, Beppo?"

"I have four brothers, signorina, and five sisters. " He fell back uponthe truth with relief. 

"_Davvero_!"

The signorina smiled upon him, a smile of such heavenly sweetness thathe instantly joined the already crowded ranks of her admirers. She drewfrom her pocket a handful of coppers and dropped them into his grimylittle palm. 

"Here, Beppo, are some soldi for the brothers and sisters. I hope thatyou will be good and obedient and _always_ tell me the truth. "

CHAPTER V

After some delay--owing to Tony's inability to balance the chafing-dishon Cristoforo Colombo's back--they filed from the gateway, an imposingcavalcade. The ladies were on foot, loftily oblivious to the fact thatthree empty saddles awaited their pleasure. Constance, a gesticulatingofficer at either hand, was vivaciously talking Italian, while Tony, trudging behind, listened with a somber light in his eye. She now andthen cast a casual glance over her shoulder, and as she caught sight ofhis gloomy face the animation of her Italian redoubled. The situationheld for her mischief-loving soul undreamed-of possibilities; and thoughshe ostensibly occupied herself with the officers, she by no meansneglected the donkey-man. 

During the first few miles of the journey he earned his four francs. Twice he reshifted the pack because Constance thought it insecure (it wasa disgracefully unprofessional pack; most guides would have blushed atthe making of it); once he retraced their path some two hundred yards insearch of a veil she thought she had dropped--it turned out that she hadhad it in her pocket all of the time. He chased Fidilini over half themountainside while the others were resting, and he carried thechafing-dish for a couple of miles because it refused to adjust itselfnicely to the pack. The morning ended by his being left behind with abalking donkey, while the others completed the last ascent that led totheir halting-place for lunch. 

It was a small plateau shaded by oak trees with a broad view below them, and a mountain stream foaming down from the rocks above. It was owing toBeppo's knowledge of the mountain paths rather than Tony's which hadguided them to this agreeable spot; though no one in the party exceptConstance appeared to have noted the fact. Tony arrived some ten minutesafter the others, hot but victorious, driving Cristoforo Colombo beforehim. Constance welcomed his return with an off-hand nod and set him aboutpreparing lunch. He and Beppo served it and repacked the hampers, entirely ignored by the others of the party. Poor Tony was beginning torealize that a donkey-man lives on a desert island in so far as anycompanionship goes. But his moment was coming. As they were about tostart on, Constance spied high above their heads where the stream burstfrom the rocks, a clump of starry white blossoms. 

"Edelweiss!" she cried. "Oh, I must have it--it's the first I ever sawgrowing; I hadn't supposed we were high enough. " She glanced at theofficers. 

The ascent was not dangerous, but it was undeniably muddy, and they bothwore white; with very good cause they hesitated. And while theyhesitated, the opportunity was lost. Tony sprang forward, scrambled upthe precipice hand over hand, swung out across the stream by the aid ofan overhanging branch and secured the flowers. It was very gracefully andeasily done, and a burst of applause greeted his descent. He divided hisflowers into two equal parts, and sweeping off his hat, presented themwith a bow, not to Constance, but to the officers, who somewhat sulkilypassed them on. She received them with a smile; for an instant her eyesmet Tony's, and he fell back, rewarded. 

The captain and lieutenant for the first time regarded the donkey-man, and they regarded him narrowly, red sash, earrings, stiletto and all. Constance caught the look and laughed. 

"Isn't he picturesque?" she inquired in Italian. "The head-waiter at theHotel du Lac found him for me. He has been in the United States andspeaks English, which is a great convenience. "

The two said nothing, but they looked at each other and shrugged. 

The donkeys were requisitioned for the rest of the journey; while Tonyled Miss Hazel's mount, he could watch Constance ahead on Fidilini, anofficer marching at each side of her saddle. She appeared to divide herfavors with nice discrimination; it was not her fault if the two werejealous of one another. Tony could draw from that obvious fact whatconsolation there was in it. 

[Illustration: "Constance ahead on Fidilini, an officer marching at eachside of her saddle. "]

The ruined fortress, their destination, was now exactly above theirheads. The last ascent boldly skirted the shoulder of the mountain, andthen doubled upward in a series of serpentine coils. Below them the wholeof Lake Garda was spread like a map. Mr. Wilder and the Englishman, having paused at the edge of the declivity, were endeavoring to trace theboundary line of Austria, and they called upon the officers for help. Thetwo relinquished their post at Constance's side, while the donkeys kepton past them up the hill. The winding path was both stony and steep, and, from a donkey's standpoint, thoroughly objectionable. Fidilini waswell in the lead, trotting sedately, when suddenly without the slightestwarning, he chose to revolt. Whether Constance pulled the wrong rein, orwhether, as she affirmed, it was merely his natural badness, in any case, he suddenly veered from the path and took a cross cut down the rockyslope below them. Donkeys are fortunately sure-footed beasts; otherwisethe two would have plunged together down the sheer face of the mountain. As it was it looked ghastly enough to the four men below; they shouted toConstance to stick on, and commenced scrambling up the slope withabsolutely no hope of reaching her. 

It was Tony's chance a second time to show his agility--and this time tosome purpose. He was a dozen yards behind and much lower down, which gavehim a start. Leaping forward, he dropped over the precipice, a fall often feet, to a narrow ledge below. Running toward them at an angle, hesucceeded in cutting off their flight. Before the frightened donkey couldswerve, Tony had seized him--by the tail--and had braced himself againsta boulder. It was not a dignified rescue, but at least it was effective;Fidilini came to a halt. Constance, not expecting the sudden jolt, toppled over sidewise, and Tony, being equally unprepared to receive her, the two went down together rolling over and over on the grassy slope. 

"My dear, are you hurt?"

Mr. Wilder, quite pale with anxiety, came scrambling to her side. Constance sat up and laughed hysterically, while she examined a bleedingelbow. 

"N--no, not dangerously--but I think perhaps Tony is. "

Tony however was at least able to run, as he was again on his feet andafter the donkey. Captain Coroloni and her father helped Constance to herfeet while Lieutenant di Ferara recovered a side-comb and the white sunhat. They all climbed down together to the path below, none the worsefor the averted tragedy. Tony rejoined them somewhat short of breath, butleading a humbled Fidilini. Constance, beyond a brief glance, saidnothing; but her father, to the poor man's intense embarrassment, shookhim warmly by the hand with the repeated assurance that his braveryshould not go unrewarded. 

They completed their journey on foot; Tony following behind, quiteconscious that, if he had played the part of hero, he had done it with alamentable lack of grace. 

CHAPTER VI

Tony was stretched on the parapet that bordered the stone-paved platformof the fortress. Above him the crumbling tower rose many feet higher, below him a marvelous view stretched invitingly; but Tony had eyesneither for medieval architecture nor picturesque scenery. He lay withhis coat doubled under his head for a pillow, in a frowning contemplationof the cracked stone pavement. 

The four other men, after an hour or so of easy lounging under the pinesat the base of the tower, had organized a fresh expedition to the summita mile farther up. Mr. Wilder, since morning, had developed into anenthusiastic mountain-climber--regret might come with the morrow, but asyet ambition still burned high. The remainder of the party were lessenergetic. The three ladies were resting on rugs spread under the pines;Beppo was sleeping in the sun, his hat over his face, and the donkeys, securely tethered (Tony had attended to that) were innocently nibblingmountain herbs. 

There was no obvious reason why, as he lighted a cigarette and stretchedhimself on the parapet, Tony should not have been the most self-satisfiedguide in the world. He had not only completed the expedition in safety, but had saved the heroine's life by the way; and even if the heroine didnot appear as thankful as she might, still, her father had shown duegratitude, and, what was to the point, had promised a reward. That shouldhave been enough for any reasonable donkey-driver. 

But it was distinctly not enough for Tony. He was in a fine temper as helay on the parapet and scowled at the pavement. Nothing was turning outas he had planned. He had not counted on the officers or herpredilection for Italian. He had not counted on chasing donkeys in personwhile she stood and looked on--Beppo was to have attended to that. He hadnot counted on anything quite so absurd as his heroic capture ofFidilini. Since she must let the donkey run away with her, why, in thename of all that was romantic--could it not have occurred by moonlight?Why, when he caught the beast, could it not have been by the bridleinstead of the tail? And above all, why could she not have fallen intohis arms, instead of on top of him?

The stage scenery was set for romance, but from the moment the curtainrose the play had persisted in being farce. However, farce or romance, itwas all one to him so long as he could play leading-man; what he objectedto was the minor part. The fact was clear that sash and earrings couldnever compete with uniform and sword and the Italian language. His mindwas made up; he would withdraw tonight before he was found out, andleave Valedolmo tomorrow morning by the early boat. Miss Constance Wildershould never have the satisfaction of knowing the truth. 

He was engaged in framing a dignified speech to Mr. Wilder--thanking himfor his generosity, but declining to accept a reward for what had beenmerely a matter of duty--when his reflections were cut short by the soundof footsteps on the stairs. They were by no means noiseless footsteps;there were good strong nails all over the bottom of Constance's shoes. The next moment she appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were centered onthe view; she looked entirely over Tony. It was not until he rose to hisfeet that she realized his presence with a start. 

"Dear me, is that you, Tony? You frightened me! Don't get up; I know youmust be tired. " This with a sweetly solicitous smile. 

Tony smiled too and resumed his seat; it was the first time since morningthat she had condescended to consider his feelings. She sauntered overto the opposite side and stood with her back to him examining the view. Tony turned his back and affected to be engaged with the view in theother direction; he too could play at indifference. 

Constance finished with her view first, and crossing over, she seatedherself in the deep embrasure of a window close beside Tony's parapet. Herose again at her approach, but there was no eagerness in the motion; itwas merely the necessary deference of a donkey-driver toward hisemployer. 

"Oh, sit down, " she insisted, "I want to talk to you. "

[Illustration: "She seated herself in the deep embrasure of a windowclose beside Tony's parapet"]

He opened his eyes with a show of surprise; his hurt feelings insistedthat all the advances should be on her part. Constance seemed in no hurryto begin; she removed her hat, pushed back her hair, and sat playing withthe bunch of edelweiss which was stuck in among the roses--flattening thepetals, rearranging the flowers with careful fingers; a touch, itseemed to Tony's suddenly clamoring senses, that was almost a caress. Then she looked up quickly and caught his gaze. She leaned forward with alaugh. 

"Tony, " she said, "do you spik any language besides Angleesh?"

He triumphantly concealed all sign of emotion. 

"_Si_, signorina, I spik my own language. "

"Would you mind my asking what that language is?"

He indulged in a moment's deliberation. Italian was clearly out of thequestion, and French she doubtless knew better than he--he deplored thispolyglot education girls were receiving nowadays. 

He had it! He would be Hungarian. His sole fellow guest in the hotel atVerona the week before had been a Hungarian nobleman, who had informedhim that the Magyar language was one of the most difficult on the face ofthe globe. There was at least little likelihood that she was acquaintedwith that. 

"My own language, signorina, is Magyar. "

"Magyar?" She was clearly taken by surprise. 

"_Si_, signorina, I am Hungarian; I was born in Budapest. " He met herwide-opened eyes with a look of innocent candor. 

"Really!" She beamed upon him delightedly; he was playing up even betterthan she had hoped. "But if you are Hungarian, what are you doing here inItaly, and how does it happen that your name is Antonio?"

"My movver was Italian. She name me Antonio after ze blessed SaintAnthony of Padua. If you lose anysing, signorina, and you say a prayer toSaint Anthony every day for nine days, on ze morning of ze tenth you willfind it again. "

"That is very interesting, " she said politely. "How do you come to knowEnglish so well, Tony?"

"We go live in Amerik' when I li'l boy. "

"And you never learned Italian? I should think your mother would havetaught it to you. "

He imitated Beppo's gesture. 

"A word here, a word there. We spik Magyar at home. "

"Talk a little Magyar, Tony. I should like to hear it. "

"What shall I say, signorina?"

"Oh, say anything you please. "

He affected to hesitate while he rehearsed the scraps of language at hiscommand. Latin--French--German--none of them any good--but, thankgoodness, he had elected Anglo-Saxon in college; and thank goodness againthe professor had made them learn passages by heart. He glanced up withan air of flattered diffidence and rendered, in a conversationalinflection, an excerpt from the Anglo-Saxon Bible. 

"_Ealle gesceafta, heofonas and englas, sunnan and monan, steorran andeorthan, hè gesceop and geworhte on six dagum. _"

"It is a very beautiful language. Say some more. "

He replied with glib promptness, with a passage from Beowulf. 

"_Hie dygel lond warigeath, wulfhleothu, windige naessas. _"

"What does that mean?"

Tony looked embarrassed. 

"I don't believe you know!"

"It means--_scusi_, signorina, I no like to say. "

"You don't know. "

"It means--you make me say, signorina, --'I sink you ver' beautiful likeze angels in Paradise. '"

"Indeed! A donkey-driver, Tony, should not say anything like that. "

"But it is true. "

"The more reason you should not say it. "

"You asked me, signorina; I could not tell you a lie. "

The signorina smiled slightly and looked away at the view; Tony seizedthe opportunity to look sidewise at her. She turned back and caught him;he dropped his eyes humbly to the floor. 

"Does Beppo speak Magyar?" she inquired. 

"Beppo?" There was wonder in his tone at the turn her questions weretaking. "I sink not, signorina. "

"That must be very inconvenient. Why don't you teach it to him?"

"_Si_, signorina. " He was plainly nonplussed. 

"Yes, he says that you are his father and I should think--"

"His father?" Tony appeared momentarily startled; then he laughed. "Hedid not mean his real father; he mean--how you say--his god-father. Igive to him his name when he get christened. "

"Oh, I see!"

Her next question was also a surprise. 

"Tony, " she inquired with startling suddenness, "why do you wearearrings?"

He reddened slightly. 

"Because--because--der's a girl I like ver' moch, signorina; she sinkearrings look nice. I wear zem for her. "

"Oh!--But why do you fasten them on with thread?"

"Because I no wear zem always. In Italia, yes; in Amerik' no. When Imarry dis girl and go back home, zen I do as I please, now I haf to do asshe please. "

"H'm--" said Constance, ruminatingly. "Where does this girl live, Tony?"

"In Valedolmo, signorina. "

"What does she look like?"

"She look like--" His eyes searched the landscape and came back to herface. "Oh, ver' beautiful, signorina. She have hair brown and gold, andeyes--yes, eyes! Zay are sometimes black, signorina, and sometimes gray. Her laugh, it sounds like the song of a nightingale. " He clasped hishands and rolled his eyes in a fine imitation of Gustavo. "She isbeautiful, signorina, beautiful as ze angels in Paradise!"

"There seem to be a good many people beautiful as the angels inParadise. "

"She is most beautiful of all. "

"What is her name?"

"Costantina. " He said it softly, his eyes on her face. 

"Ah, " Constance rose and turned away with a shrug. Her manner suggestedthat he had gone too far. 

"She wash clothes at ze Hotel du Lac, " he called after her. 

Constance paused and glanced over her shoulder with a laugh. 

"Tony, " she said, "the quality which I admire most in a donkey-driver, besides truthfulness and picturesqueness, is imagination. "

CHAPTER VII

On the homeward journey Tony again trudged behind while the officers heldtheir post at Constance's side. But Tony's spirits were still singingfrom the little encounter on the castle platform, and in spite of theanimated Italian which floated back, he was determined to look at thesunny side of the adventure. It was Mr. Wilder who unconsciously suppliedhim with a second opportunity for conversation. He and the Englishman, being deep in a discussion involving statistics of the Italian armybudget, called on the two officers to set them straight. Tony, at theirorder, took his place beside the saddle; Constance was not to beabandoned again to Fidilini's caprice. Miss Hazel and the Englishwomanwere ambling on ahead in as matter-of-fact a fashion as if that weretheir usual mode of travel. Their donkeys were of a sedater turn of mindthan Fidilini--a fact for which Tony offered thanks. 

They were by this time well over the worst part of the mountain and thebrief Italian twilight was already fading. Tony, with a sharp eye on thepath ahead and a ready hand for the bridle, was attending strictly to theduties of a well-trained donkey-man. It was Constance again who openedthe conversation. 

"Ah, Tony?"

"_Si_, signorina?"

"Did you ever read any Angleesh books--or do you do most of your readingin Magyar?"

"I haf read one, two, Angleesh books. "

"Did you ever read--er--'The Lightning Conductor' for example?"

"No, signorina; I haf never read heem. "

"I think it would interest you. It's about a man who pretends he's achauffeur in order to--to-- There are any number of books with the samemotive; 'She Stoops to Conquer, ' 'Two Gentlemen of Verona, ' 'LallaRookh, ' 'Monsieur Beaucaire'--Oh, dozens of them! It's an old plot; itdoesn't require the slightest originality to think of it. "

"_Si_, signorina? Sank you. " Tony's tone was exactly like Gustavo's whenhe has failed to get the point, but feels that a comment is necessary. 

Constance laughed and allowed a silence to follow, while Tony redirectedhis attention to Fidilini's movements. His "Yip! Yip!" was an exactimitation, though in a deeper guttural, of Beppo's cries before them. Itwould have taken a close observer to suspect that he had not been bred tothe calling. 

"You have not always been a donkey-driver?" she inquired after aninterval of amused scrutiny. 

"Not always, signorina. "

"What did you do in New York?"

"I play hand-organ, signorina. "

Tony removed his hand from the bridle and ground "Yankee Doodle" from animaginary instrument. 

"I make musica, signorina, wif--wif--how you say, monk, monka? His nameVittorio Emanuele. Ver' nice monk--simpatica affezionata. "

"You've never been an actor?"

"An actor? No, signorina. "

"You should try it; I fancy you might have some talent in thatdirection. "

"_Si_, signorina. Sank you. "

She let the conversation drop, and Tony, after an interval of silence, fell to humming Santa Lucia in a very presentable baritone. The tune, Constance noted, was true enough, but the words were far astray. 

"That's a very pretty song, Tony, but you don't appear to know it. "

"I no understand Italian, signorina. I just learn ze tune becauseCostantina like it. "

"You do everything that Costantina wishes?"

"Everysing! But if you could see her you would not wonder. She has hairbrown and gold, and her eyes, signorina, are sometimes gray and sometimesblack, and her laugh sounds like--"

"Oh, yes, I know; you told me all that before. "

"When she goes out to work in ze morning, signorina, wif the sunlightshining on her hair, and a smile on her lips, and a basket of clothes onher head--Ah, _zen_ she is beautiful!"

"When are you going to be married?"

"I do not know, signorina. I have not asked her yet. "

"Then how do you know she wishes to marry you?"

"I do not know; I just hope. "

He rolled his eyes toward the moon which was rising above the mountainson the other side of the lake, and with a deep sigh he fell back intoSanta Lucia. 

Constance leaned forward and scanned his face. 

"Tony! Tell me your name. " There was an undertone of meaning, a note ofpersuasion in her voice. 

"Antonio, signorina. "

She shook her head with a show of impatience. 

"Your real name--your last name. "

"Yamhankeesh. "

"Oh!" she laughed. "Antonio Yamhankeesh doesn't seem to me a very musicalcombination; I don't think I ever heard anything like it before. "

"It suits me, signorina. " His tone carried a suggestion of woundeddignity. "Yamhankeesh has a ver' beautiful meaning in my language--'Hewho dares not, wins not'. "

"And that is your motto?"

"_Si_, signorina. "

"A very dangerous motto, Tony; it will some day get you into trouble. "

They had reached the base of the mountain and their path now broadenedinto the semblance of a road which wound through the fields, betweenfragrant hedgerows, under towering chestnut trees. All about them was thefragrance of the dewy, flower-scented summer night, the flash offireflies, the chirp of crickets, occasionally the note of anightingale. Before them out of a cluster of cypresses, rose the squaregraceful outline of the village campanile. 

Constance looked about with a pleased, contented sigh. 

"Isn't Italy beautiful, Tony?"

"Yes, signorina, but I like America better. "

"We have no cypresses and ruins and nightingales in America, Tony. Wehave a moon sometimes, but not that moon. "

They passed from the moonlight into the shade of some overhangingchestnut trees. Fidilini stumbled suddenly over a break in the path andTony pulled him up sharply. His hand on the bridle rested for an instantover hers. 

"Italy is beautiful--to make love in, " he whispered. 

She drew her hand away abruptly, and they passed out into the moonlightagain. Ahead of them where the road branched into the highway, the otherswere waiting for Constance to catch up, the two officers looking backwith an eager air of expectation. Tony glanced ahead and added with aquick frown. 

"But perhaps I do not need to tell you that--you may know it already?"

"You are impertinent, Tony. "

She pulled the donkey into a trot that left him behind. 

The highway was broad and they proceeded in a group, the conversationgeneral and in English, Tony quite naturally having no part in it. But atthe corners where the road to the village and the road to the villaseparated, Fidilini obligingly turned stubborn again. His mind bent uponrest and supper, he insisted upon going to the village; the harderConstance pulled on the left rein, the more fixed was his determinationto turn to the right. 

"Help! I'm being run away with again, " she called over her shoulder asthe donkey's pace quickened into a trot. 

Tony, awakening to his duty, started in pursuit, while the otherslaughingly shouted directions. He did not run as determinedly as hemight and they had covered considerable ground before he overtook them. He turned Fidilini's head and they started back--at a walk. 

"Signorina, " said Tony, "may I ask a question, a little impertinent?"

"No, certainly not. "

Silence. 

"Ah, Tony?" she asked presently. 

"_Si_, signorina?"

"What is it you want to ask?"

"Are you going to marry that Italian lieutenant--or perhaps the captain?"

"That _is_ impertinent. "

"Are you?"

"You forget yourself, Tony. It is not your place to ask such a question. "

"_Si_, signorina; it is my place. If it is true I cannot be yourdonkey-man any longer. "

"No, it is not true, but that is no concern of yours. "

"Are you going on another trip Friday--to Monte Maggiore?"

"Yes. "

"May I come with you?"

His tone implied more than his words. She hesitated a moment, thenshrugged indifferently. 

"Just as you please, Tony. If you don't wish to work for us any more Idare say we can find another man. "

"It is as you please, signorina. If you wish it, I come, if you do notwish it, I go. "

She made no answer. They joined the others and the party proceeded to thevilla gates. 

Lieutenant di Ferara helped Constance dismount, while Captain Coroloni, with none too good a grace, held the donkey. A careful observer wouldhave fancied that the lieutenant was ahead, and that both he and thecaptain knew it. Tony untied the bundles, dumped them on the kitchenfloor, and waited respectfully, hat in hand, while Mr. Wilder searchedhis pockets for change. He counted out four lire and added a note. Tonypocketed the lire and returned the note, while Mr. Wilder stared hisastonishment. 

"Good-bye, Tony, " Constance smiled as he turned away. 

"Good-bye, signorina. " There was a note of finality in his voice. 

"Well!" Mr. Wilder ejaculated. "That is the first--" "Italian" he startedto say, but he caught the word before it was out "--donkey-driver I eversaw refuse money. "

Lieutenant di Ferara raised his shoulders. 

"_Machè_! The fellow is too honest; you do well to watch him. " There wasa world of disgust in his tone. 

Constance glanced after the retreating figure and laughed. 

"Tony!" she called. 

He kept on; she raised her voice. 

"Mr. Yamhankeesh. "

He paused. 

"You call, signorina?"

"Be sure and be here by half past six on Friday morning; we must startearly. "

"Sank you, signorina. Good-night. "

"Good-night, Tony. "

CHAPTER VIII

The Hotel du Lac may be approached in two ways. The ordinary, obviousway, which incoming tourists of necessity choose, is by the highroad andthe gate. But the romantic way is by water. One sees only the garden thenand the garden is the distinguished feature of the place; it was plannedlong before the hotel was built to adorn a marquis's pleasure house. There are grottos, arbors, fountains, a winding stream; and, stretchingthe length of the water front, a deep cool grove of interlaced planetrees. At the end of the grove, half a dozen broad stone steps dip downto a tiny harbor which is carpeted on the surface with lily pads. Thesteps are worn by the lapping waves of fifty years, and are grown overwith slippery, slimy water weeds. 

The world was just stirring from its afternoon siesta, when the_Farfalla_ dropped her yellow sails and floated into the shady littleharbor. Giuseppe prodded and pushed along the fern-grown banks until thekeel jolted against the water steps. He sprang ashore and steadied theboat while Constance alighted. She slipped on the mossy step--almost wentunder--and righted herself with a laugh that rang gaily through thegrove. 

She came up the steps still smiling, shook out her fluffy pink skirts, straightened her rose-trimmed hat, and glanced reconnoiteringly about thegrove. One might reasonably expect, attacking the hotel as it were fromthe flank, to capture unawares any stray guest. But aside from achaffinch or so and a brown-and-white spotted calf tied to a tree, thegrove was empty--blatantly empty. There was a shade of disappointment inConstance's glance. One naturally does not like to waste one's bestembroidered gown on a spotted calf. 

Then her eye suddenly brightened as it lighted on a vivid splash ofyellow under a tree. She crossed over and picked it up--a paper coveredFrench novel; the title was _Bijou_, the author was Gyp. She turned tothe first page. Any reasonably careful person might be expected to writehis name in the front of a book--particularly a French book--beforeabandoning it to the mercies of a foreign hotel. But the several flyleaves were immaculately innocent of all sign of ownership. 

So intent was she upon this examination, that she did not hear footstepsapproaching down the long arbor that led from the house; so intent wasthe young man upon a frowning scrutiny of the path before him, that hedid not see Constance until he had passed from the arbor into the grove. Then simultaneously they raised their heads and looked at each other. Fora startled second they stared--rather guiltily--both with the air ofhaving been caught. Constance recovered her poise first; she nodded--anod which contained not the slightest hint of recognition--and laughed. 

"Oh!" she said. "I suppose this is your book? And I am afraid you havecaught me red-handed. You must excuse me for looking at it, but usuallyat this season only German Alpine-climbers stop at the Hotel du Lac, andI was surprised you know to find that German Alpine-climbers did anythingso frivolous as reading Gyp. "

The man bowed with a gesture which made her free of the book, but hecontinued his silence. Constance glanced at him again, and this time sheallowed a flash of recognition to appear in her face. 

"Oh!" she re-exclaimed with a note of interested politeness, "you are theyoung man who stumbled into Villa Rosa last Monday looking for the gardenof the prince?"

He bowed a second time, an answering flash appearing in his face. 

[Illustration: "The man bowed with a gesture which made her free of thebook"]

"And you are the young woman who was sitting on the wall beside a rowof--of--"

"Stockings?" She nodded. "I trust you found the prince's garden withoutdifficulty?"

"Yes, thank you. Your directions were very explicit. "

A slight pause followed, the young man waiting deferentially for her totake the lead. 

"You find Valedolmo interesting?" she inquired. 

"Interesting!" His tone was enthusiastic. "Aside from the prince's gardenwhich contains a cedar of Lebanon and an India rubber plant from SouthAmerica, there is the Luini in the chapel of San Bartolomeo, and thestatue of Garibaldi in the piazza. And then--" he waved his hand towardthe lake, "there is always the view. "

"Yes, " she agreed, "one can always look at the view. "

Her eyes wandered to the lake, and across the lake to Monte Maggiore withclouds drifting about its peak. And while she obligingly studied themountain, he studied the effect of the pink gown and the rose-bud hat. She turned back suddenly and caught him; it was a disconcerting habit ofConstance's. He politely looked away and she--with frankinterest--studied him. He was bareheaded and dressed in white flannels;they were very becoming, she noted critically, and yet--they needed justa touch of color; a red sash, for example, and earrings. 

"The guests of the Hotel du Lac, " she remarked, "have a beautiful gardenof their own. Just the mere pleasure of strolling about in it ought tokeep them contented with Valedolmo. "

"Not necessarily, " he objected. "Think of the garden of Eden--the mostbeautiful garden there has ever been if report speaks true--and yet themere pleasure of strolling about didn't keep Adam contented. One getslonely you know. "

"Are you the only guest?"

"Oh, no, there are four of us, but we're not very companionable; there'ssuch a discrepancy in languages. "

"And you don't speak Italian?"

He shook his head. 

"Only English and--" he glanced at the book in her hand--"Frenchindifferently well. "

"I saw someone the other day who spoke Magyar--that is a beautifullanguage. "

"Yes?" he returned with polite indifference. "I don't remember ever tohave heard it. "

She laughed and glanced about. Her eyes lighted on the arbor hung withgrape-vines and wistaria, where, far at the other end, Gustavo's figurewas visible lounging in the yellow stucco doorway. The sight appeared torecall an errand to her mind. She glanced down at a pink wicker-basketwhich hung on her arm, and gathered up her skirts with a movement ofdeparture. 

The young man hastily picked up the conversation. 

"It _is_ a jolly old garden, " he affirmed. "And there's somethingpathetic about its appearing on souvenir post-cards as a mere adjunct toa blue and yellow hotel. "

She nodded sympathetically. 

"Built for romance and abandoned to tourists--German tourists at that!"

"Oh, not entirely--we've a Russian countess just now. "

"A Russian countess?" Constance turned toward him with an air ofreawakened interest. "Is she as young and beautiful and fascinating andwicked as they always are in novels?"

"Oh, dear no! Seventy, if she's a day. A nice grandmotherly old soul whosmokes cigarettes. "

"Ah!" Constance smiled; there was even a trace of relief in her manner asshe nodded to the young man and turned away. His face reflected hisdisappointment; he plainly wished to detain her, but could think of noexpedient. The spotted calf came to his rescue. The calf had beenwatching them from the first, very much interested in the visitor; andnow as she approached his tree, he stretched out his neck as far as thetether permitted and sniffed insistently. She paused and patted him onthe head. The calf acknowledged the caress with a grateful _moo_; therewas a plaintive light in his liquid eyes. 

"Poor thing--he's lonely!" She turned to the young man and spoke with anaccent of reproach. "The four guests of the Hotel du Lac don't show himenough attention. "

The young man shrugged. 

"We're tired of calves. It's only a matter of a day or so before he'll bebreaded and fried and served Milanese fashion with a sauce of tomato andgarlic. "

Constance shook her head sympathetically; though whether her sympathy wasfor the calf or the partakers of _table d'hote_, was not quite clear. 

"I know, " she agreed. "I've been a guest at the Hotel du Lac myself--it'sa tragedy to be born a calf in Italy!"

She nodded and turned; it was evident this time that she was reallygoing. He took a hasty step forward. 

"Oh, I say, please don't go! Stay and talk to me--just a little while. That calf isn't half so lonely as I am. "

"I should like to, but really I mustn't. Elizabetta is waiting for me tobring her some eggs. We are planning a trip up the Maggiore tomorrow, andwe have to have a cake to take with us. Elizabetta made one this morningbut she forgot to put in the baking powder. Italian cooks are not used tomaking cakes; they are much better at--" her eyes fell on the calf--"vealand such things. "

He folded his arms with an air of desperation. 

"I'm an American--one of your own countrymen; if you had a grain ofcharity in your nature you would let the cake go. "

She shook her head relentlessly. 

"Five days at Valedolmo! You would not believe the straits I've beendriven to in search of amusement. "

"Yes?" There was a touch of curiosity in her tone. "What for example?"

"I am teaching Gustavo how to play tennis. "

"Oh!" she said. "How does he do?"

"Broken three windows and a flower pot and lost four balls. "

She laughed and turned away; and then as an idea occurred to her, sheturned back and fixed her eyes sympathetically on his face. 

"I suppose Valedolmo _is_ stupid for a man; but why don't you trymountain climbing? Everybody finds that diverting. There's a guide herewho speaks English--really comprehensible English. He's engaged fortomorrow, but after that I dare say he'll be free. Gustavo can tell youabout him. "

She nodded and smiled and turned down the arbor. 

The young man stood where she left him, with folded arms, watching herpink gown as it receded down the long sun-flecked alley hung with purpleand green. He waited until it had been swallowed up in the yellowdoorway; then he fetched a deep breath and strolled to the water-wall. After a few moments' prophetic contemplation of the mountain across thelake, he threw back his head with a quick amused laugh, and got out acigarette and lighted it. 

CHAPTER IX

As Constance emerged at the other end of the arbor, Gustavo, who had beennodding on the bench beside the door, sprang to his feet, consternationin his attitude. 

"Signorina!" he stammered. "You come from ze garden?"

She nodded in her usual off-hand manner and handed him the basket. 

"Eggs, Gustavo--two dozen if you can spare them. I am sorry always to bewanting so many, but--" she sighed, "eggs are so breakable!"

Gustavo rolled his eyes to heaven in silent thanksgiving. She had not, itwas evident, run across the American, and the cat was still safely in thebag; but how much longer it could be kept there, the saints alone knew. He was feeling--very properly--guilty in regard to this latest escapade;but what can a defenceless waiter do in the hands of an impetuous youngAmerican whose pockets are stuffed with silver lire and five-franc notes?

"Two dozen? Certainly, signorina. _Subitissimo_!" He took the basket andhurried to the kitchen. 

Constance occupied the interval with the polyglot parrot of thecourtyard. The parrot, since she had last conversed with him, hadacquired several new expressions in the English tongue. As Gustavoreappeared with the eggs, she confronted him sternly. 

"Have you been teaching this bird English? I am surprised!"

"No, signorina. It was--it was--" Gustavo mopped his brow. "He jus' pickit up. "

"I'm sorry that the Hotel du Lac has _guests_ that use such language;it's very shocking. "

"_Si_, signorina. "

"By the way, Gustavo, how does it happen that that young American manwho left last week is still here?"

Gustavo nearly dropped the eggs. 

"I just saw him in the garden with a book--I am sure it was the sameyoung man. What is he doing all this time in Valedolmo?"

Gustavo's eyes roved wildly until they lighted on the tennis court. 

"He--he stay, signorina, to play lawn tennis wif me, but he go tomorrow. "

"Oh, he is going tomorrow?--What's his name, Gustavo?"

She put the question indifferently while she stooped to pet atortoise-shell cat that was curled asleep on the bench. 

"His name?" Gustavo's face cleared. "I get ze raygeester; you read heemyourself. "

He darted into the bureau and returned with a black book. 

"_Ecco_, signorina!" spreading it on the table before her. 

His alacrity should have aroused her suspicions; but she was too intenton the matter in hand. She turned the pages and paused at the week'sentries; Rudolph Ziegelmann und Frau, Berlin; and just beneath, in boldblack letters that stretched from margin to margin, Abraham Lincoln, U. S. A. 

Gustavo hovered above anxiously watching her face; he had been told thatthis would make everything right, that Abraham Lincoln was an exceedinglyrespectable name. Constance's expression did not change. She looked atthe writing for fully three minutes, then she opened her purse and lookedinside. She laid the money for the eggs in a pile on the table, and tookout an extra lira which she held in her hand. 

"Gustavo, " she asked, "do you think that you _could_ tell me the truth?"

"Signorina!" he said reproachfully. 

"How did that name get there?"

"He write it heemself!"

[Illustration: "She turned the pages and paused at the week's entries. "]

"Yes, I dare say he did--but it doesn't happen to be his name. Oh, I'mnot blind; I can see plainly enough that he has scratched out his ownname underneath. "

Gustavo leaned forward and affected to examine the page. "It was a li'l'blot, signorina; he scratch heem out. "

"Gustavo!" Her tone was despairing. "Are you incapable of telling thetruth? That young man's name is no more Abraham Lincoln than VictorEmmanuel II. When did he write that and why?"

Gustavo's eyes were on the lira; he broke down and told the truth. 

"Yesterday night, signorina. He say, 'ze next time zat SignorinaAmericana who is beautiful as ze angels come to zis hotel she look in zeraygeester, an' I haf it feex ready'. "

"Oh, he said that, did he?"

"_Si_, signorina. "

"And his real name that comes on his letters?"

"Jayreem Ailyar, signorina. 

"Say it again, Gustavo. " She cocked her head. 

He gathered himself together for a supreme effort. He rolled his r's; heshouted until the courtyard reverberated. 

"Meestair-r Jay-r-reem Ailyar-r!"

Constance shook her head. 

"Sounds like Hungarian--at least the way you pronounce it. But anywayit's of no consequence; I merely asked out of idle curiosity. AndGustavo--" She still held the lira--"if he asks you if I looked in thisregister, what are you going to say?"

"I say, 'no, Meestair Ailyar, she stay all ze time in ze courtyardtalking wif ze parrot, and she was ver' moch shocked at his Angleesh'. "

"Ah!" Constance smiled and laid the lira on the table. "Gustavo, " shesaid, "I hope, for the sake of your immortal soul, that you go often toconfession. "

The eggs were not heavy, but Gustavo insisted upon carrying them; he wasdetermined to see her safely aboard the _Farfalla_, with no furtheraccidents possible. That she had not identified the young man of thegarden with the donkey-driver of yesterday was clear--though how suchblindness was possible, was not clear. Probably she had only caught aglimpse of his back at a distance; in any case he thanked a mercifulProvidence and decided to risk no further chance. As they neared the endof the arbor, Gustavo was talking--shouting fairly; their approach washeralded. 

They turned into the grove. To Gustavo's horror the most conspicuousobject in it was this same reckless young man, seated on the water-wallnonchalantly smoking a cigarette. The young man rose and bowed; Constancenodded carelessly, while Gustavo behind her back made frantic signs forhim to flee, to escape while still there was time. The young mantelegraphed back by the same sign language that there was no danger; shedidn't suspect the truth. And to Gustavo's amazement, he fell in besidethem and strolled over to the water steps. His recklessness was catching;Gustavo suddenly determined upon a bold stroke himself. 

"Signorina, " he asked, "zat man I send, zat donk' driver--you likeheem?"

"Tony?" Her manner was indifferent. "Oh, he does well enough; he seemshonest and truthful, though a little stupid. "

Gustavo and the young man exchanged glances. 

"And Gustavo, " she turned to him with a sweetly serious air that admittedno manner of doubt but that she was in earnest. "I told this young manthat in case he cared to do any mountain climbing, you would find him thesame guide. It would be very useful for him to have one who speaksEnglish. "

Gustavo bowed in mute acquiescence. He could find no adequate words forthe situation. 

The boat drew alongside and Constance stepped in, but she did not sitdown. Her attention was attracted by two washer-women who had comeclattering on to the little rustic bridge that spanned the stream abovethe water steps. The women, their baskets of linen on their heads, hadpaused to watch the embarkation. 

"Ah, Gustavo, " Constance asked over her shoulder, "is there awasher-woman here at the Hotel du Lac named Costantina?"

"_Si_, signorina, zat is Costantina standing on ze bridge wif ze yellowhandkerchief on her head. "

Constance looked at Costantina, and nodded and smiled. Then she laughedout loud, a beautiful rippling, joyous laugh that rang through the groveand silenced the chaffinches. 

Perhaps once upon a time Costantina was beautiful--beautiful as theangels--but if so, it was long, long ago. Now she was old and fat with ahawk nose and a double chin and one tooth left in the middle of thefront. But if she were not beautiful, she was at least a cheerful oldsoul, and, though she could not possibly know the reason, she echoed thesignorina's laugh until she nearly shook the clean clothes into thewater. 

Constance settled herself among the cushions and glanced back toward theterrace. 

"Good afternoon, " she nodded politely to the young man. 

He bowed with his hand on his heart. 

"_Addio_, Gustavo. "

He bowed until his napkin swept the ground. 

"_Addio_, Costantina, " she waved her hand toward her namesake. 

The washer-woman laughed again and her earrings flashed in the sunlight. 

Giuseppe raised the yellow sail; they caught the breeze, and the_Farfalla_ floated away. 

CHAPTER X

Half past six on Friday morning and Constance appeared on the terrace;Constance in fluffy, billowy, lacy white with a spray of oleander in herbelt--the last costume in the world in which one would start on amountain climb. She cast a glance in passing toward the gateway and thestretch of road visible beyond, but both were empty, and seating herselfon the parapet, she turned her attention to the lake. The breeze thatblew from the farther shore brought fresh Alpine odors of flowers andpine trees. Constance sniffed it eagerly as she gazed across toward thepurple outline of Monte Maggiore. The serenity of her smile graduallygave place to doubt; she turned and glanced back toward the house, visibly changing her mind. 

But before the change was finished, the quiet of the morning was brokenby a clatter of tiny scrambling obstinate hoofs and a series ofejaculations, both Latin and English. She glanced toward the gate whereFidilini was visible, plainly determined not to come in. Constancelaughed expectantly and turned back to the water, her eyes intent on thefishing-smacks that were putting out from the little _marino_. The soundsof coercion increased; a command floated down the driveway in the Englishtongue. It sounded like:

"You twist his tail, Beppo, while I pull. "

Apparently it was understood in spite of Beppo's slight knowledge of thelanguage. An eloquent silence followed; then an outraged grunt on thepart of Fidilini, and the cavalcade advanced with a rush to the kitchendoor. Tony left Beppo and the donkeys, and crossed the terrace alone. Hisbow swept the ground in the deferential manner of Gustavo, but hisglance was far bolder than a donkey-driver's should have been. She notedthe fact and tossed him a nod of marked condescension. A silence followedduring which Constance studied the lake; when she turned back, she foundTony arranging a spray of oleander that had dropped from her belt in theband of his hat. She viewed this performance in silent disfavor. Havingfinished to his satisfaction, he tossed the hat aside and seated himselfon the balustrade. Her frown became visible. Tony sprang to his feet withan air of anxiety. 

"_Scusi_, signorina. I have not meant to be presumptious. Perhaps it isnot fitting that anyone below the rank of lieutenant should sit in yourpresence?"

"It will not be very long, Tony, before you are discharged forimpertinence. "

"Ah, signorina, do not say that! If it is your wish I will kneel when Iaddress you. My family, signorina, are poor; they need the four francswhich you so munificently pay. "

"You told me that you were an orphan; that you had no family. "

"I mean the family which I hope to have. Costantina has extravaganttastes and coral earrings cost two-fifty a pair. "

Constance laughed and assumed a more lenient air. She made a slightgesture which might be interpreted as an invitation to sit down; and Tonyaccepted it. 

"By the way, Tony, how do you talk to Costantina, since she speaks noEnglish and you no Italian?"

"We have no need of either Italian or English; the language of love, signorina, is universal. "

"Oh!" she laughed again. "I was at the Hotel du Lac yesterday; I sawCostantina. "

"You saw Costantina!--Ah, signorina, is she not beautiful? Ze mos'beautiful in all ze world? But ver' unkind signorina. Yes, she laugh atme; she smile at ozzer men, at soldiers wif uniforms. " He sighedprofoundly. "But I love her just ze same, always from ze first moment Isee her. It was washday, signorina, by ze lac. I climb over ze wall andtalk wif her, but she make fun of me--ver' unkind. I go away ver' sad. Nouse, I say, she like dose soldiers best. But I see her again; I hear herlaugh--it sound like angels singing--I say, no, I can not go away; I stayhere and make her love me. Yes, I do everysing she ask--but everysing! Iwear earrings; I make myself into a fool just to please zat Costantina. "

He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. A slow red flush crept overConstance's face and she turned her head away and looked across thewater. 

Mr. Wilder, in full Alpine regalia, stepped out upon the terrace andviewed the beauty of the morning with a prophetic eye. Miss Hazelfollowed in his wake; she wore a lavender dimity. And suddenly itoccurred to Tony's slow moving masculine perception that neither lavenderdimity nor white muslin were fabrics fit for mountain climbing. 

Constance slipped down from her parapet and hurried to meet them. 

"Good-morning, Aunt Hazel. Morning, Dad! You look beautiful! There'snothing so becoming to a man as knickerbockers--especially if he's alittle stout. --You're late, " she added with a touch of severity. "Breakfast has been waiting half an hour and Tony fifteen minutes. "

She turned back toward the donkey-man who was standing, hat in hand, respectfully waiting orders. "Oh, Tony, I forgot to tell you; we shallnot need Beppo and the donkeys to-day. You and my father are goingalone. "

"You no want to climb Monte Maggiore--ver' beautiful mountain. " There wasdisappointment, reproach, rebellion in his tone. 

"We have made inquiries and my aunt thinks it too long a trip. Withoutthe donkeys you can cross by boat, and that cuts off three miles. "

"As you please, signorina. " He turned away. 

Constance looked after him with a shade of remorse. When this plan ofsending her father and Tony alone had occurred to her as she sailedhomeward yesterday from the Hotel du Lac, it had seemed a humorous andfitting retribution. The young man had been just a trifle too sure of herinterest; the episode of the hotel register must not go unpunished. But--it was a beautiful morning, a long empty day stretched before her, and Monte Maggiore looked alluring; there was no pursuit, for the moment, which she enjoyed as much as donkey-riding. Oh yes, she was spitingherself as well as Tony; but considering the circumstances the sacrificeseemed necessary. 

When the _Farfalla_ drifted up ready to take the mountain-climbers, MissHazel suggested (Constance possessed to a large degree the diplomaticfaculty of making other people propose what she herself had decided on)that she and her niece cross with them. Tony was sulky and Constancecould not forego the pleasure of baiting him further. 

They put in at the village, on their way, for the morning mail; Mr. Wilder wished his paper, even at the risk of not beginning the ascentbefore the sun was high. Giuseppe brought back from the post, among othermatters, a letter for Constance. The address was in a dashing, angularhand that pretty thoroughly covered the envelope. Had she not been sointent on the writing herself, she would have noted Tony's astonishedstare as he passed it to her. 

"Why!" she exclaimed, "here's a letter from Nannie Hilliard, postmarkedLucerne. "

"Lucerne!" Miss Hazel echoed her surprise. "I thought they were to be inEngland for the summer?"

"They were--the last I heard. " Constance ripped the letter open and readit aloud. 

[Illustration: "Constance ripped the letter open and read it aloud. "]

 "DEAR CONSTANCE: You'll doubtless be surprised to hear from us in Switzerland instead of in England, and to learn further, that in the course of a week, we shall arrive at Valedolmo en route for the Dolomites. Jerry Junior at the last moment decided to come with us, and you know what a _man_ is when it comes to European travel. Instead of taking two months comfortably to England, as Aunt Kate and I had planned, we did the whole of the British Isles in ten days, and Holland and France at the same breathless rate. 

 "Jerry says he holds the record for the Louvre; he struck a six-mile pace at the entrance, and by looking neither to the right nor the left he did the whole building in forty-three minutes. 

 "You can imagine the exhausted state Aunt Kate and I are in after travelling five weeks with him. We simply struck in Switzerland and sent him on to Italy alone. I had hoped he would meet us in Valedolmo, but we have been detained here longer than we expected, and now he's rushed off again--where to, goodness only knows; we don't. 

 "Anyway, Aunt Kate and I shall land in Valedolmo about the end of the week. I am dying to see you; I have some beautiful news that's too complicated to write. We've engaged rooms at the Hotel du Lac--I hope it's decent; it's the only place starred in Baedeker. 

 "Aunt Kate wishes to be remembered to your father and Miss Hazel. 

 "Yours ever, NAN HILLIARD. 

 "P. S. I'm awfully sorry not to bring Jerry; I know you'd adore him. "

She returned the letter to its envelope and looked up. 

"Now isn't that abominable?" she demanded. 

"Abominable!" Miss Hazel was scandalized. "My dear, I think it'sdelightful. "

"Oh, yes--I mean about Jerry Junior; I've been trying for six years toget hold of that man. "

Tony behind them made a sudden movement that let out nearly a yard ofrope, and the _Farfalla_ listed heavily to starboard. 

"Tony!" Constance threw over her shoulder. "Don't you know enough to sitstill when you are holding the sheet?"

"_Scusi_, " he murmured. The sulky look had vanished from his face; hewore an expression of alert attention. 

"Of course we shall have them at the villa, " said Miss Hazel. "And weshall have to get some new dishes. Elizabetta has already broken so manyplates that she has to stop and wash them between courses. "

Constance looked dreamily across the lake; she appeared to be thinking. "I wonder, " she inquired finally, "if Jerry Junior knew we were here inValedolmo?"

Her father emerged from the columns of his paper. 

"Of course he knew it, and having heard what a dangerous young person youwere, he said to himself, 'I'd better keep out. '"

"I wish I knew. It would make the score against him considerablyheavier. "

"So there is already a score? I hadn't supposed that the game had begun. "

She nodded. 

"Six years ago--but he doesn't know it. Yes, Dad, " her tone wasmelodramatic, "for six years I've been waiting for Jerry Junior andplanning my revenge. And now, when I have him almost in my grasp, heeludes me again!"

"Dear me!" Mr. Wilder ejaculated. "What did the young man do?"

Had Constance turned she would have found Tony's face an interestingstudy. But she knew well enough without looking at him that he waslistening to the conversation, and she determined to give him somethingto listen to. It was a salutary thing for Tony to be kept in mind of thefact that there were other men in the world. 

She sighed. 

"He was the first man I ever loved, Father, and he spurned me. Do youremember that Christmas when I was in boarding-school and you were calledSouth on business? I wanted to visit Nancy Long, but you wouldn't let mebecause you didn't like her father; and you got Mrs. Jerymn Hilliard whomI had never set eyes on to invite me there? I didn't want to go, and yousaid I must, and were perfectly horrid about it--you remember that?"

Mr. Wilder grunted. 

"Yes, I see you do. And you remember how, with my usual sweetness, Ifinally gave way? Well, Dad, you never knew the reason. The Yale GleeClub came to Westfield that year just before the holidays began, and MissJane let everybody go to the concert whose deportment had been aboveeighty--that of course included me. 

"Well, we all went, and we all fell in love--in a body--with a sophomorewho played the banjo and sang negro songs. He had lovely darkgazelle-like eyes and he sang funny songs without smiling. The wholeschool raved about him all the way home; we cut his picture out of theprogram and pasted in the front of our watches. His name, Father--" shepaused dramatically, "was Jerymn Hilliard Junior!"

"I sat up half the night writing diplomatic letters to you and Mrs. Hilliard; and the next day when it got around that I was actually goingto visit in his house--well, I was the most popular girl in school. I wassixteen years old then; I wore sailor suits and my hair was braided downmy back. Probably I did look young; and then Nannie, whom I wassupposedly visiting, was only fifteen. There were a lot of cousins in thehouse besides all the little Hilliards, and what do you think? They madethe children eat in the schoolroom! I never saw him until Christmasnight; then when we were introduced, he shook my hand in a listless sortof way, said 'How d' y' do?' and forgot all about me. He went off withthe Glee Club the next day, and I only saw him once more. 

"We were playing blind man's buff in the school-room; I had just beencaught by the hair. It hurt and I was squealing. Everybody else wasclapping and laughing, when suddenly the door burst open and there stoodJerry Junior! He looked straight at me and growled:

"'What are you kids making such an infernal racket about?'"

She shut her eyes. 

"Aunt Hazel, Dad, just think. He was my first love. His picture was atthat moment in a locket around my neck. And he called me a _kid_!"

"And you've never seen him since?" Miss Hazel's smile expressed amusedindulgence. 

Constance shook her head. 

"He's always been away when I've visited Nan--and for six years I've beenwaiting. " She straightened up with an air of determination. "But now, ifhe's on the continent of Europe, I'll get him!"

"And what shall you do with him?" her father mildly inquired. 

"Do with him? I'll make him take it back; I'll make him eat that wordkid!"

"H'm!" said her father. "I hope you'll get him; he might act as anantidote to some of these officers. "

They had run in under the shadow of the mountain and the keel grated onthe shore. Constance raised her eyes and studied the towering crag abovetheir heads; when she lowered them again, her gaze for an instant metTony's. There was a new light in his eyes--amusement, triumph, somethingentirely baffling. He gave her the intangible feeling of having at lastgot the mastery of the situation. 

CHAPTER XI

The sun was setting behind Monte Maggiore, the fishing smacks were cominghome, Luigi had long since carried the tea things into the house; butstill the two callers lingered on the terrace of Villa Rosa. It wasLieutenant di Ferara's place to go first since he had come first, andCaptain Coroloni doggedly held his post until such time as his juniorofficer should see fit to take himself off. The captain knew, as well aseveryone else at the officer's mess, that in the end the lieutenant wouldbe the favored man; for he was a son of Count Guido di Ferara of Turin, and titles are at a premium in the American market. But still themarriage contract was not signed yet, and the fact remained that thecaptain had come last: accordingly he waited. 

They had been there fully two hours, and poor Miss Hazel was worn withthe strain. She sat nervously on the edge of her chair, and leanedforward with clasped hands listening intently. It required very keenattention to keep the run of either the captain's or the lieutenant'sEnglish. A few days before she had laughed at what seemed to be a funnystory, and had later learned that it was an announcement of the death ofthe lieutenant's grandmother. Today she confined her answers toinarticulate murmurs which might be interpreted as either assents ornegations as the case required. 

Constance however was buoyantly at her ease; she loved nothing betterthan the excitement of a difficult situation. As she bridged over pauses, and unobtrusively translated from the officer's English into realEnglish, she at the same time kept a watchful eye on the water. She hadher own reasons for wishing to detain the callers until her father'sreturn. 

Presently she saw, across the lake, a yellow sailboat float out from theshadow of Monte Maggiore and head in a long tack toward Villa Rosa. Withthis she gave up the task of keeping the conversation general; andabandoning Captain Coroloni to her aunt, she strolled over to the terraceparapet with Lieutenant di Ferara at her side. The picture they made wasa charming color scheme. Constance wore white, the lieutenant pale blue;an oleander tree beside them showed a cloud of pink blossoms, whilebehind them for a background, appeared the rose of the villa wall and thedeep green of cypresses against a sunset sky. The picture wasparticularly effective as seen from the point of view of an approachingboat. 

Constance broke off a spray of oleander, and while she listened to thelieutenant's recountal of a practice march, she picked up his hat fromthe balustrade and idly arranged the flowers in the vizor. He bent towardher and said something; she responded with a laugh. They were both toooccupied to notice that the boat had floated close in shore, until theflap of the falling sail announced its presence. Constance glanced upwith a start. She caught her father's eye fixed anxiously upon her;whatever Gustavo and the officer's mess of the tenth cavalry might think, he had not the slightest wish in the world to see his daughter theContessa di Ferara. Tony's face also wore an expression; he was sober, disgusted, disdainful; there was a glint of anger and determination inhis eye. Constance hurried to the water steps to greet her father. OfTony she took no manner of notice; if a man elects to be a donkey-driver, he must swallow the insults that go with the part. 

The officers, observing that Luigi was hovering about the doorway waitingto announce dinner, waived the question of precedence and made theiradieus. While Mr. Wilder and Miss Hazel were intent on the captain'slabored farewell speech, the lieutenant crossed to Constance who stillstood at the head of the water steps. He murmured something in Italianas he bowed over her hand and raised it to his lips. Constance blushedvery becomingly as she drew her hand away; she was aware, if the officerwas not, that Tony was standing beside them looking on. But as he raisedhis eyes, he too became aware of it; the man's expression was more thanimpertinent. The lieutenant stepped to his side and said something lowand rapid, something which should have made a right-minded donkey-drivertouch his hat and slink off. But Tony held his ground with a laugh whichwas more impertinent than the stare had been. The lieutenant's faceflushed angrily and his hand half instinctively went to his sword. Constance stepped forward. 

"Tony! I shall have no further need of your services. You may go. "

Tony suddenly came to his senses. 

"I--beg your pardon, Miss Wilder, " he stammered. 

"I shall not want you again; please go. " She turned her back and joinedthe others. 

The two officers with final salutes took themselves off. Miss Hazelhurried indoors to make ready for dinner; Mr. Wilder followed in herwake, muttering something about finding the change to pay Tony. Constancestood where they left her, staring at the pavement with hotly burningcheeks. 

"Miss Wilder!" Tony crossed to her side; his manner was humble--actuallyhumble--the usual mocking undertone in his voice was missing. "Really I'mawfully sorry to have caused you annoyance; it was unpardonable. "

Constance turned toward him. 

"Yes, Tony, I think it was. Your position does not give you the right toinsult my guests. "

Tony stiffened slightly. 

"I acknowledge that I insulted him, and I'm sorry. But he insulted me, for the matter of that. I didn't like the way he looked at me, any morethan he liked the way I looked at him. "

"There is a certain deference, Tony, which an officer in the RoyalItalian Army has a right to expect from a donkey-driver. "

Tony shrugged. 

"It is a difficult position to hold, Miss Wilder. A donkey-driver, Ifind, plays the same accommodating rôle as the family watch-dog. You pathim when you choose; you kick him when you choose; and he is supposed toswallow both attentions with equal grace. "

"You should have chosen another profession. "

"Naturally, I was not flattered to find that your real reason for stayingat home today, was that you were expecting more entertaining callers. "

"Is there any use in discussing it further? I am not going to climb anymore mountains, and I shall not, as I told you, need a donkey-man again. "

"Then I'm discharged?"

"If you wish to put it so. You must see for yourself that the play hasgone far enough. However, it has been amusing, and we will at least partfriends. "

She held out her hand; it was a mark of definite dismissal rather than atoken of friendly forgiveness. 

Tony bowed over her hand in perfect mimicry of the lieutenant's manner. "Signorina, _addio_!" He gravely raised it to his lips. 

She snatched her hand away quickly and without glancing at him turnedtoward the house. He let her cross half the terrace then he calledsoftly:

"Signorina!"

She kept on without pausing. He took a quick step after. 

"Signorina, a moment!"

She half turned. 

"Well?"

"I beg of you--one little favor. There are two American ladies expectedat the Hotel du Lac and I thought--perhaps--would you mind writing me aletter of recommendation?"

Constance turned back without a word and walked into the house. 

Mr. Wilder's conversation at dinner that night was of the day'sexcursion and Tony. He was elated, enthusiastic, glowing. Mountain-climbing was the most interesting pursuit in the world; he wouldbegin tomorrow and exhaust the Alps. And as for Tony--his intelligence, his discretion, his cleverness--there never had been such a guide. Constance listened silently, her eyes on her plate. At another time itmight have occurred to her that her father's enthusiasm was excessive, but tonight she was occupied with her thoughts, and she had no reason inthe world to suspect him of guile. She decided, however, to postpone theannouncement of Tony's dismissal; tomorrow mountain-climbing might lookless alluring. 

Dinner over, Mr. Wilder with a tired if satisfied sigh, dropped into achair to finish his reading of the London _Times_. He no longer skimmedhis paper lightly as in the days when papers were to be had hot at anyhour. He read it carefully, painstakingly, from the first advertisementto the last obituary; and he laid it down in the end with a disappointedsigh that there were not more residential properties for hire, that theday's death list was so meager. 

Miss Hazel settled herself to her knitting. She was making a rain-bowshawl of seven colors and an intricate pattern, and she had to count herstitches; conversation was impossible. Constance, vaguely restless, picked up a book and laid it down, and finally sauntered out to theterrace with no thought in the world but to see the moon rise over themountains. 

As she approached the parapet she became aware that someone was loungingon the water-steps smoking a cigarette. The smoker rose politely butventured no remark. 

"Is that you, Giuseppe?" she asked in Italian. 

"No, signorina. It is I--Tony. I am waiting for orders. "

"For orders!" There was astonishment as well as indignation in her tone. "I thought I made it clear--"

"That I was discharged? Yes, signorina. But I have been so fortunate asto find another place. The Signor Papa has engage me. I go wif him; weclimb all ze mountain around. " He waved his hand largely to comprise thewhole landscape. "I sink perhaps it is better so--for the Signor Papa andme to go alone. Mountain climbing is too hard; zere is too much fatigue, signorina, for you. "

He bowed humbly and deferentially, and retired to the steps and hiscigarette. 

CHAPTER XII

Half past six on the following morning found Constance and her fatherrising from the breakfast table and Tony turning in at the gate. Constance's nod of greeting was barely perceptible, and her father's eyecontained a twinkle as he watched her. Tony studied her mountain-climbingcostume with an air of concern. 

"You go wif us, signorina?" His expression was blended of surprise anddisapproval, but in spite of himself his tone was triumphant. "You say tome yesterday you no want to climb any more mountain. "

"I have changed my mind. "

"But zis mountain today too long, too high. You get tired, signorina. Perhaps anozzer day we take li'l' baby mountain, zen you can go. "

"I am going today. "

"It is not possible, signorina. I have not brought ze donk'. "

"Oh, I'm going to walk. "

"As you please, signorina. "

He sighed patiently. Then he looked up and caught her eye. They bothlaughed. 

"Signorina, " he whispered, "I ver' happy today. Zat Costantina she morekind. Yesterday ver' unkind; I go home ver' sad. But today I sink--"

"Yes?"

"I sink after all maybe she like me li'l' bit. "

 * * * * *

Giuseppe rowed the three climbers a mile or so down the lake and set themashore at the base of their mountain. They started up gaily and hadaccomplished half their journey before they thought of being tired. Tonysurpassed himself; if he had been entertaining the day before he wasdoubly so now. His spirits were bubbling over and contagious. He andConstance acted like two children out of school. They ran races andtalked to the peasants in the wayside cottages. They drove a herd ofgoats for half a mile while the goatherd strolled behind and smokedTony's cigarettes. Constance took a water jar from a little girl they metcoming from the fountain and endeavored to balance it on her own head, with the result that she nearly drowned both herself and the child. 

They finally stopped for luncheon in a grove of chestnut trees with sheepnibbling on the hillside below them and a shepherd boy somewhere out ofsight playing on a mouth organ. It should have been a flute, but theywere in a forgiving mood. Constance this time did her share of the work. She and Tony together spread the cloth and made the coffee while herfather fanned himself and looked on. If Mr. Wilder had any unusualthoughts in regard to the donkey-man, they were at least not reflected inhis face. 

When they had finished their meal Tony spread his coat under a tree. 

"Signorina, " he said, "perhaps you li'l' tired? Look, I make nice placeto sleep. You lie down and rest while ze Signor Papa and me, we haveli'l' smoke. Zen after one, two hours I come call you. "

Constance very willingly accepted the suggestion. They had walked fiveuphill miles since morning. It was two hours later that she opened hereyes to find Tony bending over her. She sat up and regarded him sternly. He had the grace to blush. 

"Tony, did you kiss my hand?"

"_Scusi_, signorina. I ver' sorry to wake you, but it is tree o'clock andze Signor Papa he say we must start just now or we nevair get to ze top. "

"Answer my question. "

"Signorina, I cannot tell to you a lie. It is true, I forget I am justpoor donkey-man. I play li'l' game. You sleeping beauty; I am ze prince. I come to wake you. Just _one_ kiss I drop on your hand--one ver' littlekiss, signorina. "

Constance assumed an air of indignant reproof but in the midst of it shelaughed. 

"I wish you wouldn't be so funny, Tony; I can't scold you as much as youdeserve. But I am angry just the same, and if anything like that everhappens again I shall be very _very_ angry. 

"Signorina, I would not make you very _very_ angry for anysing. As longas I live nosing like zat shall happen again. No, nevair, I promise. "

They plunged into a pine wood and climbed for another two hours, thesummit always vanishing before them like a mirage. At the end of thattime they were apparently no nearer their goal than when they hadstarted. They had followed first one path, then another, until they hadlost all sense of direction, and finally when they came to a place wherethree paths diverged, they had to acknowledge themselves definitely lost. Mr. Wilder elected one path, Tony another, and Constance sat down on arock. 

"I'm not going any farther, " she observed. 

"You can't stay here all night, " said her father. 

"Well, I can't walk over this mountain all night. We don't get anywhere;we merely move in circles. I don't think much of the guide you engaged. He doesn't know his way. "

"He wasn't engaged to know his way, " Tony retorted. "He was engaged towear earrings and sing Santa Lucia. "

Constance continued to sit on her rock while Tony went forward on areconnoitering expedition. He returned in ten minutes with theinformation that there was a shepherd's hut not very far off with ashepherd inside who would like to be friendly. If the signorina woulddeign to ask some questions in the Italian language which she spoke sofluently, they could doubtless obtain directions as to the way home. 

They found the shepherd, the shepherdess and four little shepherds eatingtheir evening polenta in an earth-floored room, with half a dozenchickens and the family pig gathered about them in an expectant group. They rose politely and invited the travellers to enter. It was an eventin their simple lives when foreigners presented themselves at the door. 

Constance commenced amenities by announcing that she had been walking onthe mountain since sunrise and was starving. Did they by chance have anyfresh milk?

"Starving! _Madonna mia_, how dreadful!" Madame held up her hands. Butyes, to be sure they had fresh milk. They kept four cows. That was theirbusiness--turning milk into cheese and selling it on market day in thevillage. Also they had some fresh mountain strawberries which Beppo hadgathered that morning--perhaps they too might be pleasing to thesignorina?

Constance nodded affirmatively, and added, with her eyes on the pig, thatit might be pleasanter to eat outside where they could look at the view. She became quite gay again over what she termed their afternoontea-party, and her father had to remind her most insistently that if theywished to get down before darkness overtook them they must start at once. An Italian twilight is short. They paid for the food and presented alira apiece to the children, leaving them silhouetted against the sky ina bobbing row shouting musical farewells. 

Their host led them through the woods and out on to the brow of themountain in order to start them down by the right path. He regretted thathe could not go all the way but the sheep had still to be brought in forthe night. At the parting he was garrulous with directions. 

The easiest way to get home now would be straight down the mountain toGrotta del Monte--he pointed out the brown-tiled roofs of a village farbelow them--there they could find donkeys or an ox-cart to take themback. It was nine kilometres to Valedolmo. They had come quite out oftheir way; if they had taken the right path in the morning they wouldhave reached the top where the view was magnificant--truly magnificant. It was a pity to miss it. Perhaps some other day they would like to comeagain and he himself would be pleased to guide them. He shook hands andwished them a pleasant journey. They would best hurry a trifle, he added, for darkness came fast and when one got caught on the mountain atnight--he shrugged his shoulders and looked at Tony--one needed a guidewho knew his business. 

They had walked for ten minutes when they heard someone shouting behindand found a young man calling to them to wait. He caught up with them andbreathlessly explained. 

Pasquale had told him that they were foreigners from America who wereclimbing the mountain for diversion and who had lost their way. He wasgoing down to the village himself and would be pleased to guide them. 

He fell into step beside Constance and commenced asking questions, whileTony, as the path was narrow, perforce fell behind. OccasionallyConstance translated, but usually she laughed without translating, andTony, for the twentieth time, found himself hating the Italian language. 

The young man's questions were refreshingly ingenuous. He was curiousabout America, since he was thinking, he said, of becoming an Americanhimself some day. He knew a man once who had gone to America to live andhad made a fortune there--but yes a large fortune--ten thousand lire infour years. Perhaps the signorina knew him--Giuseppe Motta; he lived inBuenos Aires. And what did it look like--America? How was it differentfrom Italy?

Constance described the skyscrapers in New York. 

His wonder was intense. A building twenty stories high! _Dio mio_! Heshould hate to mount himself up all those stairs. Were the buildings likethat in the country too? Did the shepherds live in houses twenty storieshigh?

"Oh no, " she laughed. "In the country the houses are just like these onlythey are made of wood instead of stone. "

"Of wood?" He opened his eyes. "But signorina, do they never burn?"

He had another question to ask. He had been told--though of course he didnot believe it--that the Indians in America had red skins. 

Constance nodded yes. His eyes opened wider. 

"Truly red like your coat?" with a glance at her scarlet golf jacket. 

"Not quite, " she admitted. 

"But how it must be diverting, " he sighed, "to travel the world over andsee different things. " He fell silent and trudged on beside her, thewanderlust in his eyes. 

It was almost dark when they reached the big arched gateway that led intothe village. Here their ways parted and they paused for farewell. 

"Signorina, " the young man said suddenly, "take me with you back toAmerica. I will prune your olive trees, I will tend your vines. You canleave me in charge when you go on your travels. "

She shook her head with a laugh. 

"But I have no vines; I have no olive trees. You would be homesick forItaly. "

He shrugged his shoulders. 

"Then good bye. You, signorina, will go around the world and see manysights while I, for travel, shall ride on a donkey to Valedolmo. "

He shook hands all around and with the grace of a prince accepted two ofTony's cigarettes. His parting speech showed him a fatalist. 

"What will be, will be. There is a girl--" he waved his hand vaguely inthe direction of the village. "If I go to America then I cannot staybehind and marry Maria. So perhaps it is planned for the best. You willfind me, signorina, when next you come to Italy, still digging the groundin Grotta del Monte. "

As he swung away Tony glanced after him with a suggestion of malice, thenhe transferred his gaze to the empty gateway. 

"I see no one else with whom you can talk Italian. Perhaps for tenminutes you will deign to speak English with me?"

"I am too tired to talk, " she threw over her shoulder as she followed herfather through the gate. 

They plunged into a tangle of tortuous paved streets, the houses pressingeach other as closely as if there were not all the outside world tospread in. Grotta del Monte is built on a slope and its streets are inreality long narrow flights of stairs all converging in the littlepiazza. The moon was not yet up, and aside from an occasional flickeringlight before a madonna's shrine, the way was black. 

"Signorina, take my arm. I'm afraid maybe you fall. "

Tony's voice was humbly persuasive. Constance laughed and laid her handlightly on his arm. Tony dropped his own hand over hers and held herfirmly. Neither spoke until they came to the piazza. 

"Signorina, " he whispered, "you make me ver' happy tonight. "

She drew her hand away. 

"I'm tired, Tony. I'm not quite myself. "

"No, signorina, yesterday I sink maybe you not yourself, but to-day youver' good ver' kind--jus' your own self ze way you ought to be. "

The piazza, after the dark, narrow streets that led to it, seemedbubbling with life. The day's work was finished and the evening's playhad begun. In the center, where a fountain splashed into a broad bowl, groups of women and girls with copper water-jars were laughing andgossiping as they waited their turns. One side of the square was flankedby the imposing façade of a church with the village saint on a pedestalin front; the other side, by a cheerfully inviting osteria with tablesand chairs set into the street and a glimpse inside of a blazing hearthand copper kettles. 

Mr. Wilder headed in a straight line for the nearest chair and droppedinto it with an expression of permanence. Constance followed and theyheld a colloquy with a bowing host. He was vague as to the finding ofcarriage or donkeys, but if they would accommodate themselves until aftersupper there would be a diligence along which would take them back toValedolmo. 

"How soon will the diligence arrive?" asked Constance. 

The man spread out his hands. 

"It is due in three quarters of an hour, but it may be early and it maybe late. It arrives when God and the driver wills. "

"In that case, " she laughed, "we will accommodate ourselves until aftersupper--and we have appetites! Please bring everything you have. "

They supped on _minestra_ and _fritto misto_ washed down with the redwine of Grotta del Monte, which, their host assured them, was famousthrough all the country. He could not believe that they had never heardof it in Valedolmo. People sent for it from far off; even from Verona. 

They finished their supper and the famous wine, but there was still nodiligence. The village also had finished its supper and was drifting infamily groups into the piazza. The moon was just showing above thehouse-tops, and its light, combined with the blazing braziers before thecook-shops made the square a patch work of brilliant high-lights andblack shadows from deep cut doorways. Constance sat up alertly andwatched the people crowding past. Across from the inn an itinerant showhad established itself on a rudely improvised stage, with two flaringtorches which threw their light half across the piazza, and turned thespray of the fountain into an iridescent shower. The gaiety of the scenewas contagious. Constance rose insistently. 

"Come, Dad; let's go over and see what they're doing. "

"No, thank you, my dear. I prefer my chair. "

"Oh, Dad, you're so phlegmatic!"

"But I thought you were tired. "

"I'm not any more; I want to see the play. --You come then, Tony. "

Tony rose with an elaborate sigh. 

"As you please, signorina, " he murmured obediently. An onlooker wouldhave thought Constance cruel in dragging him away from his well-earnedrest. 

They made their way across the piazza and mounted the church steps behindthe crowd where they could look across obliquely to the little stage. Aclown was dancing to the music of a hurdy-gurdy while a woman in a tawdrypink satin evening gown beat an accompaniment on a drum. It was a verypoor play with very poor players, and yet it represented to these peopleof Grotta del Monte something of life, of the big outside world whichthey in their little village would never see. Their upturned facestouched by the moonlight and the flare of the torches contained a look ofwondering eagerness--the same look that had been in the eyes of the youngpeasant when he had begged to be taken to America. 

The two stood back in the shadow of the doorway watching the people withthe same interest that the people were expending on the stage. A childhad been lifted to the base of the saint's pedestal in order to see, andin the excitement of a duel between two clowns he suddenly lost hisbalance and toppled off. His mother snatched him up quickly and commencedcovering the hurt arm with kisses to make it well. 

Constance laughed. 

"Isn't it queer, " she asked, "to think how different these people arefrom us and yet how exactly the same. Their way of living is absolutelyforeign but their feelings are just like yours and mine. "

He touched her arm and called her attention to a man and a girl on thestep below them. It was the young peasant again who had guided them downthe mountain, but who now had eyes for no one but Maria. She leanedtoward him to see the stage and his arm was around her. Their interest inthe play was purely a pretense and both of them knew it. 

Tony laughed softly and echoed her words. 

"Yes, their feelings are just like yours and mine. "

He slipped his arm around her. 

Constance drew back quickly. 

"I think, " she remarked, "that the diligence has come. "

"Oh, hang the diligence!" Tony growled. "Why couldn't it have been fiveminutes late?"

They returned to the inn to find Mr. Wilder already on the front seat, and obligingly holding the reins, while the driver occupied himself witha glass of the famous wine. The diligence was a roomy affair of fourseats and three horses. Behind the driver were three Italiansgesticulating violently over local politics; a new _sindaco_ wasimminent. Behind these were three black-hooded nuns covertly interestedin the woman in the pink evening gown. And behind the three, occupyingthe exact center of the rear seat, was a fourth nun with the portlybearing of a Mother Superior. She was very comfortable as she was, anddid not propose to move. Constance climbed up on one side of her andTony on the other. 

"We are well chaperoned, " he grumbled, as they jolted out of the piazza. "I always did think that the Church interfered too much with the rightsof individuals. "

Constance, in a spirit of friendly expansiveness, proceeded to pick up anacquaintance with the nuns, and the four black heads were presentlybobbing in unison, while Tony, in gloomy isolation at his end of theseat, folded his arms and stared at the road. The driver had passedthrough many villages that day and had drunk many glasses of famous wine;he cracked his whip and sang as he drove. They rattled in and out ofstone-paved villages, along open stretches of moonlit road, past villasand olive groves. Children screamed after them, dogs barked, Constanceand her four nuns were very vivacious, and Tony's gloom deepened withevery mile. 

They had covered three quarters of the distance when the diligence wasbrought to a halt before a high stone wall and a solid barred gate. Thenuns came back to the present with an excited cackling. Who would believethey had reached the convent so soon! They made their adieus andponderously descended, their departure accelerated by Tony who had becomeof a sudden alertly helpful. As they started again he slid along into theMother Superior's empty seat. 

"What were we saying when the diligence interrupted?" he inquired. 

"I don't remember, Tony, but I don't want to talk any more; I'm tired. "

"You tired, signorina? Lay your head on my shoulder and go to sleep. "

"Tony, _please_ behave yourself. I'm simply too tired to make you do it. "

He reached over and took her hand. She did not try to withdraw it fortwo--three minutes; then she shot him a sidewise glance. 

"Tony, " she said, "don't you think you are forgetting your place?"

"No, signorina, I am just learning it. "

"Let go my hand. "

He gazed pensively at the moon and hummed Santa Lucia under his breath. 

"Tony! I shall be angry with you. "

"I shall be ver' sorry for zat, signorina. I do not wish to make youangry, but I sink--perhaps you get over it. "

"You are behaving abominably today, Tony. I shall never stay alone withyou again. "

"Signorina, look at zat moon up dere. Is it not ver' bright? When I lookat zat moon I have always beautiful toughts about how much I loveCostantina. "

An interval followed during which neither spoke. The driver's song wasgrowing louder and the horses were galloping. The diligence suddenlyrounded a curved cliff on two wheels. Constance lurched against him; hecaught her and held her. Her lips were very near his; he kissed hersoftly. 

She moved to the far end of the seat and faced him with flushed cheeks. 

"I thought you were a gentleman!"

"I used to be, signorina; now I am only poor donkey-man. "

"I shall never speak to you again. You can climb as many mountains as youwish with my father, but you can't have anything more to do with me. "

"_Scusi_, signorina. I--I did not mean to. It was just an accident, signorina. "

Constance turned her back and stared at the road. 

"It was not my fault. Truly it was not my fault. I did not wish to kissyou--no nevair. But I could not help it. You put your head too close. "

She raised her eyes and studied the mountain-top. 

"Signorina, why you treat me so cruel?"

Her back was inflexible. 

"I am desolate. If you forgive me zis once I will nevair again do a singso wicked. Nevair, nevair, nevair. "

Constance continued her inspection of the mountain-top. Tony leanedforward until he could see her face. 

"Signorina, " he whispered, "jus' give me one li'l' smile to show me youare not angry forever. "

The stage had stopped and Mr. Wilder was climbing down but Constance'sgaze was still fixed on the sky, and Tony's eyes were on her. 

"What's the matter, Constance, have you gone to sleep? Aren't you goingto get out?"

She came back with a start. 

"Are we here already?"

There was a suspicion of regret in her tone which did not escape Tony. 

At the Villa Rosa gates he wished them a humbly deferential good-nightbut with a smile hovering about the corners of his mouth. Constance madeno response. As he strode off, however, she turned her head and lookedafter him. He turned too and caught her. He waved his hand with a laugh, and took up his way, whistling Santa Lucia in double time. 

CHAPTER XIII

Three days passed in which Mr. Wilder and Tony industriously climbed, andin which nothing of consequence passed between Constance and Tony. If shehappened to be about when the expeditions either started or came to anend (and for one reason or another she usually was) she ignored himentirely; and he ignored her, except for an occasional mockinglydeferential bow. He appeared to extract as much pleasure from theexcursions as Mr. Wilder, and he asked for no extra compensation by theway. 

It was Tuesday again, just a week and a day since the young American haddropped over the wall of Villa Rosa asking for the garden of the prince. Tony and Mr. Wilder were off on a trip; Miss Hazel and Constance on thepoint of sitting down to afternoon tea--there were no guests today--whenthe gardener from the Hotel du Lac appeared with a message from NannieHilliard. She and her aunt had arrived half an hour before, which was agood two days earlier than they were due. Constance read the note with aclouded brow and silently passed it to Miss Hazel. The news was not soentirely welcome as under other circumstances it would have been. NannieHilliard was both perspicacious and fascinating, and Constance foresawthat her presence would tangle further the already tangled plot of thelittle comedy which was unfolding itself at Villa Rosa. But Miss Hazel, divining nothing of comedies or plots, was thrown into a pleasant flutterby the news. Guests were a luxury which occurred but seldom in the quietmonotony of Valedolmo. 

"We must call on them at once and bring them back to the house. "

"I suppose we must. " Constance agreed with an uncordial sigh. 

Fifteen minutes later they were on their way to the Hotel du Lac, whileElizabetta, on her knees in the villa guest-room, was vigorouslyscrubbing the mosaic floor. 

Gustavo hurried out to meet them. He was plainly in a flutter; somethinghad occurred to upset the usual suavity of his manners. 

"_Si_, signorina, in ze garden--ze two American ladies--having tea. Andyou are acquaint wif ze family; all ze time you are acquaint wif zem, andyou never tell me!" There was mystification and reproach in his tone. 

Constance eyed him with a degree of mystification on her side. 

"I am acquainted with a number of families that I have never told youabout, " she observed. 

"_Scusi_, signorina, " he stammered; and immediately, "Tony, zatdonk'-man, what you do wif him?"

"Oh, he and my father are climbing Monte Brione today. "

"What time zay come home?"

"About seven o'clock, I fancy. "

"Ze signora and ze signorina--zay come two days before zay are expect. "He was clearly aggrieved by the fact. 

Constance's mystification increased; she saw not the slightestconnection. 

"I suppose, Gustavo, you can find them something to eat even if they didcome two days before they were expected?"

The two turned toward the arbor, but Constance paused for a moment andglanced back with a shade of mischief in her eye. 

"By the way, Gustavo, that young man who taught the parrot English hasgone?"

Gustavo rolled his eyes to the sky and back to her face. She understoodnothing; was there ever a muddle like this?

"_Si_, signorina, " he murmured confusedly, "ze yong man is gone. "

Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and with a start which nearlyupset the tea table, came running forward to meet them; while her aunt, Mrs. Eustace, followed more placidly. Nannie was a big wholesome outdoorgirl of a purely American type. She waited for no greetings; she had newsto impart. 

"Constance, Miss Hazel! I'm so glad to see you--what do you think? I'mengaged!"

Miss Hazel murmured incoherent congratulations, and tried not to look asshocked as she felt. In her day, no lady would have made so delicate anannouncement in any such off-hand manner as this. Constance received itin the spirit in which it was given. 

"Who's the man?" she inquired, as she shook hands with Mrs. Eustace. 

[Illustration: "Nannie caught sight of the visitors first, and camerunning forward to meet them"]

"You don't know him--Harry Eastman, a friend of Jerry's. Jerry doesn'tknow it yet, and I had to confide in someone. Oh, it's no secret; Harrycabled home--he wanted to get it announced so I couldn't change my mind. You see he only had a three weeks' vacation; he took a fast boat, landedat Cherbourg, followed us the whole length of France, and caught us inLucerne just after Jerry had gone. I couldn't refuse him after he'dtaken such a lot of trouble. That's what detained us: we had expected tocome a week ago. And now--" by a rapid change of expression she becametragic--"We've lost Jerry Junior!"

"Lost Jerry Junior!" Constance's tone was interested. "What has become ofhim?"

"We haven't an idea. He's been spirited off--vanished from the earth andleft no trace. Really, we're beginning to be afraid he's been captured bybrigands. That head waiter, that Gustavo, knows where he is, but we can'tget a word out of him. He tells a different story every ten minutes. Ilooked in the register to see if by chance he'd left an address there, and what do you think I found?"

"Oh!" said Constance; there was a world of illumination in her tone. "What did you find?" she asked, hastily suppressing every emotion butpolite curiosity. 

"'Abraham Lincoln' in Jerry's hand-writing!"

"Really!" Constance dimpled irrepressibly. "You are sure Jerry wroteit?"

"It was his writing; and I showed it to Gustavo, and what do you think hesaid?"

Constance shook her head. 

"He said that Jerry had forgotten to register, that that was written by aHungarian nobleman who was here last week--imagine a Hungarian noblemannamed Abraham Lincoln!"

Constance dropped into one of the little iron chairs and bowed her headon the back and laughed. 

"Perhaps you can explain?" There was a touch of sharpness in Nannie'stone. 

"Don't ever ask me to explain anything Gustavo says; the man is not to bebelieved under oath. "

"But what's become of Jerry?"

"Oh, he'll turn up. " Constance's tone was comforting. "Aunt Hazel, " shecalled. Miss Hazel and Mrs. Eustace, their heads together over the teatable, were busily making up three months' dropped news. "Do you rememberthe young man I told you about who popped into our garden last week?That was Jerry Junior!"

"Then you've seen him?" said Nannie. 

Constance related the episode of the broken wall--the sequel she omitted. "I hadn't seen him for six years, " she added apologetically, "and Ididn't recognize him. Of course if I'd dreamed--"

Nannie groaned. 

"And I thought I'd planned it so beautifully!"

"Planned what?"

"I suppose I might as well tell you since it's come to nothing. Wehoped--that is, you see--I've been so worried for fear Jerry--" She tooka breath and began again. "You know, Constance, when it comes to gettingmarried, a man has no more sense than a two-year child. So I determinedto pick out a wife for Jerry, myself, one I would like to have for asister. I've done it three times and he simply wouldn't look at them; youcan't imagine how stubborn he is. But when I found we were coming toValedolmo, I said to myself, now this is my opportunity; I will have himmarry Connie Wilder. "

"You might have asked my permission. "

"Oh, well, Jerry's a dear; next to Harry you couldn't find anyone nicer. But I knew the only way was not to let him suspect. I thought you seethat you were still staying at the hotel; I didn't know you'd taken avilla, so I planned for him to come to meet us three days before wereally expected to get here. I thought in the meantime, being strandedtogether in a little hotel you'd surely get acquainted--Jerry's veryresourceful that way--and with all this beautiful Italian scenery about, and nothing to do--"

"I see!" Constance's tone was somewhat dry. 

"But nothing happened as I had planned. You weren't here, he was bored todeath, and I was detained longer than I meant. We got the most patheticletter from him the second day, saying there was no one but the headwaiter to talk to, nothing but an india-rubber tree to look at, and if wedidn't come immediately, he'd do the Dolomites without us. Then finally, just as we were on the point of leaving, he sent a telegram saying:'Don't come. Am climbing mountains. Stay there till you hear from me. 'But being already packed, we came, and this is what we find--" She wavedher hand over the empty grove. 

"It serves you right; you shouldn't deceive people. "

"It was for Jerry's good--and yours too. But what shall we do? He doesn'tknow we're here and he has left no address. "

"Come out to the villa and visit us till he comes to search for you. "

Constance could hear her aunt delivering the same invitation to Mrs. Eustace, and she perforce repeated it, though with the inward hope thatit would be declined. She had no wish that Tony and her father shouldreturn from their trip to find a family party assembled on the terrace. The adventure was not to end with any such tame climax as that. To herrelief they did decline, at least for the night; they could make nodefinite plans until they had heard from Jerry. Constance rose upon thisassurance and precipitated their leave-takings; she did not wish her auntto press them to change their minds. 

"Good-bye, Mrs. Eustace, good-bye, Nannie; we'll be around tonight totake you sailing--provided there's any breeze. "

She nodded and dragged her aunt off; but as they were entering the arbora plan for further complicating matters popped into her head, and sheturned back to call:

"You are coming to the villa tomorrow, remember, whether Jerry Juniorturns up or not. I'll write a note and invite him too--Gustavo can giveit to him when he comes, and you needn't bother any more about him. "

They found Gustavo hovering omnivorously in the courtyard, hungering fornews; Constance summoned him to her side. 

"Gustavo, I am going to send you a note tonight for Mr. Jerymn Hilliard. You will see that it gets to him as soon as he arrives?"

"Meestair Jayreem Ailyar?" Gustavo stared. 

"Yes, the brother of the signorina who came today. He is expectedtomorrow or perhaps the day after. "

"_Scusi_, signorina. You--you acquaint wif him?"

"Yes, certainly. I have known him for six years. Don't forget to deliverthe note; it's important. "

They raised their parasols and departed, while Gustavo stood in thegateway bowing. The motion was purely mechanical; his thoughts werelaboring elsewhere. 

CHAPTER XIV

Constance occupied herself upon their return to Villa Rosa in writing theletter to Jerry Junior. It had occurred to her that this was an excellentchance to punish him, and it was the working philosophy of her life thata man should always be punished when opportunity presented. Tony had beenentirely too unconcerned during the past few days; he needed a lesson. She spent three quarters of an hour in composing her letter and tore uptwo false starts before she was satisfied. It did not contain theslightest hint that she knew the truth, and--considered in this light--itwas likely to have a chastening effect. The letter ran:

 "VILLA ROSA, VALEDOLMO, "LAGO DI GARDA. 

 "DEAR JERRY JUNIOR: I hope you don't mind being called "Jerry Junior, " but "Mr. Hilliard" sounds so absurdly formal, when I have known your sister so long and so well. We are spending the summer here in Valedolmo, and Mrs. Eustace and Nannie have promised to stop with us for a few days, provided you can be persuaded to pause in your mad rush through Europe. Now please take pity on us--guests are such unusual luxuries, and as for _men_! Besides a passing tourist or so, we have had nothing but Italian officers. You can climb mountains with my father--Nan says you are a climber--and we can supply mountains enough to keep you occupied for a month. 

 "My father would write himself, only that he is climbing this moment. 

 "Yours most cordially, "CONSTANCE WILDER. "

 "P. S. I forgot to mention that we are acquainted already, you and I. We met six years ago, and you insulted me--under your own roof. You called me a _kid_. I shall accept nothing but a personal apology. "

Having read it critically, she sealed and addressed it with maliciousdelight; it was calculated to arouse just about the emotions she wouldlike to have Tony entertain. She gave the note to Giuseppe withinstructions to place it in Gustavo's hands, and then settled herselfgaily to await results. 

Giuseppe was barely out of sight when the two Alpine-climbers appeared atthe gate. Constance had been wondering how she could inform Tony that hisaunt and sister had arrived, without unbending from the dignified silenceof the past three days. The obvious method was to announce it to herfather in Tony's presence, but her father slipped into the house by theback way without affording her an opportunity. It was Tony himself whosolved the difficulty. Of his own accord he crossed the terrace andapproached her side. He laid a bunch of edelweiss on the balustrade. 

"It's a peace offering, " he observed. 

She looked at him a moment without speaking. There was a new expressionin her eyes that puzzled Tony, just as the expression in his eyes thatmorning on the water had puzzled her. She was studying him in the lightof Jerry Junior. The likeness to the sophomore, who six years before sangthe funny songs without a smile, was so very striking, she wondered shecould ever have overlooked it. 

"Thank you, Tony; it is very nice of you. " She picked up the flowers andsmiled--with the knowledge of the letter that was waiting for him shecould afford to be forgiving. 

"You discharged me, signorina; will you take me back into your service?"

"I am not going to climb any more mountains; it is too fatiguing. I thinkit is better for you and my father to go alone. "

"I will serve you in other ways. "

Constance studied the mountains a moment. Should she tell him she knew, or should she keep up the pretense a little longer? Her insatiable loveof intrigue won. 

"Are you sure you wish to be taken back?"

"_Si_, signorina, I am very sure. "

"Then perhaps you will do me a favor on your way home tonight?"

"You have but to ask. "

"I wish to send a message to a young American man who is staying at theHotel du Lac--you may have seen him?"

Tony nodded. 

"I have climb Monte Maggiore wif him. You recommend me; I sank you ver'moch. Nice man, zat yong American; ver' good, ver' simpatico. " He leanedforward with a sudden air of anxiety. "Signorina, you--you like zat yongman?"

"I have only met him twice, but--yes, I like him. "

"You like him better zan me?" His anxiety deepened; he hung upon herwords. 

She shook her head reassuringly. 

"I like you both exactly the same. "

"Signorina, which you like better, zat yong American or ze SignorLieutenant?"

"Your questions are getting too personal, Tony. "

He folded his arms and sighed. 

"Will you deliver my message?"

"_Si_, signorina, wif pleasure. " There was not a trace of curiosity inhis expression, nothing beyond a deferential desire to serve. 

"Tell him, Tony, that Miss Wilder will be at home tomorrow afternoon attea time; if he will come by the gate and present a card she will be mostpleased to see him. She wishes him to meet an American friend, a MissHilliard, who has just arrived at the hotel this afternoon. "

She watched him sharply; his expression did not alter by a shade. Herepeated the message and then added as if by the merest chance:

"Ze yong American man, signorina--you know his name?"

"Yes, I know his name. " This time for the fraction of a second shesurprised a look. "His name--" she hesitated tantalizingly--"is SignorAbraham Lincoln. "

"Signor Ab-ra-ham Lin-coln. " He repeated it after her as if committing itto memory. They gazed at each other soberly a moment; then both laughedand looked away. 

Luigi had appeared in the doorway. Seeing no one more important than Tonyabout, he found no reason for delaying the announcement of dinner. 

"_Il pranzo è sulla tavola, signorina. _"

"_Bene_!" said Constance over her shoulder. She turned back to Tony; hermanner was kind. "If you go to the kitchen, Tony, Elizabetta will giveyou some dinner. "

"Sank you, signorina. " His manner was humble. "Elizabetta's dinnersconsist of a plate of garlic and macaroni on the kitchen steps. I don'tlike garlic and I'm tired of macaroni; if it's just the same to you, Ithink I'll dine at home. " He held out his hand. 

She read his purpose in his eye and put her own hands behind her. 

"You won't shake hands, signorina? We are not friends?"

"I learned a lesson the last time. "

"You shake hands wif Lieutenant Count Carlo di Ferara. "

"It is the custom in Italy. "

"We are in Italy. "

"Behave yourself, Tony, and run along home!"

She laughed and nodded and turned away. On the steps she paused to add:

"Be sure not to forget the message for Signor Abraham Lincoln. I shall bedisappointed if he doesn't come. "

CHAPTER XV

Tony returned to the Hotel du Lac, modestly, by the back way. He assuredhimself that his aunt and sister were well by means of an open windowin the rear of the dining-room. The window was shaded by a clump ofcamellias, and he studied at his ease the back of Mrs. Eustace'shead and Nannie's vivacious profile as she talked in fluent andexecrable German to the two Alpinists who were, at the moment, the onlyother guests. Brotherly affection--and a humorous desire to create asensation--prompted him to walk in and surprise them. But saner secondthoughts prevailed; he decided to postpone the reunion until he shouldhave changed from the picturesque costume of Tony, to the soberer garb ofJerry Junior. 

He skirted the dining-room by a wide detour, and entered the court-yardat the side. Gustavo, who for the last hour and a half had been alertlywatchful of four entrances at once, pounced upon him and drew him to acorner. 

"Signore, " in a conspiratorial whisper, "zay are come, ze aunt and zesister. "

"I know--the Signorina Costantina told me so. "

Gustavo blinked. 

"But, signore, she does not know it. "

"Yes, she does--she saw 'em herself. "

"I mean, signore, she does not know zat you are ze brover?"

"Oh, no, she doesn't know that. "

"But she tell me zat she is acquaint wif ze brover for six years. " Heshook his head hopelessly. 

"That's all right. " Tony patted his shoulder reassuringly. "When she knewme I used to have yellow hair, but I thought it made me look too girlish, so I had it dyed black. She didn't recognize me. "

Gustavo accepted the explanation with a side glance at the hair. 

"Now, pay attention. " Tony's tone was slow and distinct. 

"I am going upstairs to change my clothes. Then I will slip out the backway with a suit case, and go down the road and meet the omnibus as itcomes back from the boat landing. You keep my aunt and sister in thecourt-yard talking to the parrot or something until the omnibus arrives. Then when I get out, you come forward with your politest bow and ask meif I want a room. I'll attend to the rest--do you understand?"

Gustavo nodded with glistening eyes. He had always felt stirring withinhim powers for diplomacy, for finesse, and he rose to the occasionmagnificently. 

Tony turned away and went bounding upstairs two steps at a time, chuckling as he went. He, too, was developing an undreamed of appetitefor intrigue, and his capacity in that direction was expanding to meetit. He had covered the first flight, when Gustavo suddenly rememberedthe letter and bounded after. 

"Signore! I beg of you to wait one moment. Here is a letter from zesignorina; it is come while you are away. "

Tony read the address with a start of surprise. 

"Then she knows!" There was regret, disillusionment, in his tone. 

It was Gustavo's turn to furnish enlightenment. 

"But no, signore, she do not comprehend. She sink Meestair Jayreem Ailyaris ze brover who is not arrive. She leave it for him when he come. "

"Ah!" Tony ripped it open and read it through with a chuckle. He read ita second time and his face grew grave. He thrust it into his pocket andstrode away without a word for Gustavo. Gustavo looked after himreproachfully. As a head waiter, he naturally did not expect to read theletters of guests; but as a fellow conspirator, he felt that he wasentitled to at least a general knowledge of all matters bearing on theconspiracy. He turned back down stairs with a disappointed droop to hisshoulders. 

Tony closed his door and walked to the window where he stood staring atthe roof of Villa Rosa. He drew the letter from his pocket and read itfor the third time slowly, thoughtfully, very, very soberly. The reasonwas clear; she was tired of Tony and was looking ahead for fresh worldsto conquer. Jerry Junior was to come next. 

He understood why she had been so complaisant today. She wished thecurtain to go down on the comedy note. Tomorrow, the nameless youngAmerican, the "Abraham Lincoln" of the register, would call--by thegate--would be received graciously, introduced in his proper person tothe guests; the story of the donkey-man would be recounted and laughedover, and he would be politely asked when he was planning to resume histravels. This would be the end of the episode. To Constance, it had beenmerely an amusing farce about which she could boast when she returned toAmerica. In her vivacious style it would make a story, just as her firstmeeting with Jerry Junior had made a story. But as for the play itself, for _him_, she cared nothing. Tony the man had made no impression. Hemust pass on and give place to Jerry Junior. 

A flush crept over Tony's face and his mouth took a straighter line as hecontinued to gaze down on the roof of Villa Rosa. His reflections werepresently interrupted by a knock. He turned and threw the door open witha fling. 

"Well?" he inquired. 

Gustavo took a step backward. 

"_Scusi_, signore, but zay are eating ze dessart and in five--ten minutesze omnibus will arrive. "

"The omnibus?" Tony stared. "Oh!" he laughed shortly. "I was just joking, Gustavo. "

Gustavo bowed and turned down the corridor; there was a look on Tony'sface that did not encourage confidences. He had not gone half a dozensteps, however, when the door opened again and Tony called him back. 

"I am going away tomorrow morning--by the first boat this time--and youmustn't let my aunt and sister know. I will write two letters and you areto take them down to the steward of the boat that leaves tonight. Ask himto put on Austrian stamps and mail them at Riva, so they'll get back heretomorrow. Do you understand?"

Gustavo nodded and backed away. His disappointment this time was too keenfor words. He saw stretching before him a future like the past, monotonously bereft of plots and masquerades. 

Tony, having hit on a plan, sat down and put it into instant execution. Opening his Baedeker, he turned to Riva and picked out the first hotelthat was mentioned. Then he wrote two letters, both short and to thepoint; he indulged in none of Constance's vacillations, and yet in theirway his letters also were masterpieces of illusion. The first wasaddressed to Miss Constance Wilder at Villa Rosa. It ran:

 "HOTEL SOLE D'ORO, "RIVA, AUSTRIA. 

 "DEAR MISS WILDER: Nothing would give me greater pleasure than spending a few days in Valedolmo, but unfortunately I am pressed for time, and am engaged to start Thursday morning with some friends on a trip through the Dolomites. 

 "Trusting that I may have the pleasure of making your acquaintance at some future date, "Yours truly, "JERYMN HILLIARD, JR. "

The second letter was addressed to his sister, but he trusted to luckthat Constance would see it. It ran:

 "HOTEL SOLE D'ORO, "RIVA, AUSTRIA. 

 "DEAR NAN: Who in thunder is Constance Wilder? She wants us to stop and make a visit in Valedolmo. I wouldn't step into that infernal town, not if the king himself invited me--it's the deadest hole on the face of the earth. You can stay if you like and I'll go on through the Dolomites alone. There's an American family stopping here who are also planning the trip--a stunning girl; I know you'd like her. 

 "Of course the travelling will be pretty rough. Perhaps you and Aunt Kate would rather visit your friends and meet me later in Munich. If you decide to take the trip, you will have to come on down to Riva as soon as you get this letter, as we're planning to pull out Thursday morning. 

 "Sorry to hurry you, but you know my vacation doesn't last forever. 

 "Love to Aunt Kate and yourself, "Yours ever, "JERRY. "

He turned the letters over to Gustavo with a five-franc note, leavingGustavo to decide with his own conscience whether the money was intendedfor himself or the steward of the Regina Margarita. This accomplished, heslipped out unobtrusively and took the road toward Villa Rosa. 

He strode along with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the pathuntil he nearly bumped his nose against the villa gate-post. Then hestopped and thought. He had no mind to be ushered to the terrace where hewould have to dissemble some excuse for his visit before Miss Hazel andMr. Wilder. His business tonight was with Constance, and Constance alone. He turned and skirted the villa wall, determined on reconnoitering first. There was a place in the wall--he knew well--where the stones weremissing, and a view was obtainable of the terrace and parapet. 

He reached the place to find Lieutenant Carlo di Ferara already there. Now the Lieutenant's purpose was exactly as innocent as Tony's own; hemerely wished to assure himself that Captain Coroloni was not before him. It was considered a joke at the tenth cavalry mess to detail one or theother of the officers to call on the Americans at the same time thatLieutenant di Ferara called. He was not spying on the family, merely onhis meddling brother officers. 

Tony of course could know nothing of this, and as his eyes fell upon thelieutenant, there was apparent in their depths a large measure ofcontempt. A lieutenant in the Royal Italian Cavalry can afford to begenerous in many things, but he cannot afford to swallow contempt from adonkey-driver. The signorina was not present this time; there was noreason why he should not punish the fellow. He dropped his hand on Tony'sshoulder--on his collar to be exact--and whirled him about. The actionwas accompanied by some vigorous colloquial Italian--the gist of it beingthat Tony was to mind his own business and mend his manners. Thelieutenant had a muscular arm, and Tony turned. But Tony had not playedquarterback four years for nothing; he tackled low, and the next momentthe lieutenant was rolling down the bank of a dried stream that stretchedat their feet. No one likes to roll down a dusty stony bank, much lessan officer in immaculate uniform on the eve of paying a formal call uponladies. He picked himself up and looked at Tony; he was quite beyondspeech. 

Tony looked back and smiled. He swept off his hat with a deferential bow. "_Scusi_, " he murmured, and jumped over the wall into the grounds ofVilla Rosa. 

The lieutenant gasped. If anything could have been more insultinglyinadequate to the situation than that one word _scusi_, it did not at themoment occur to him. Jeering, blasphemy, vituperation, he might haveexcused, but this! The shock jostled him back to a thinking state. 

Here was no ordinary donkey-driver. The hand that had rested for a momenton his arm was the hand of a gentleman. The man's face was vaguely, elusively familiar; if the lieutenant had not seen him before, he had atleast seen his picture. The man had pretended he could not talk Italian, but--_scusi_--it came out very pat when it was needed. 

An idea suddenly assailed Lieutenant di Ferara. He scrambled up the bankand skirted the wall, almost on a run, until he reached the place wherehis horse was tied. Two minutes later he was off at a gallop, headed forthe house of the prefect of police of Valedolmo. 

CHAPTER XVI

Tony jumped over the wall. He might have landed in the midst of a familyparty; but in so much luck was with him. He found the _Farfalla_ bobbingat the foot of the water steps with Mr. Wilder and Miss Hazel alreadyembarked. They were waiting for Constance, who had obligingly run back tothe house to fetch the rainbow shawl (finished that afternoon) as MissHazel distrusted the Italian night breeze. 

Constance stepped out from the door as Tony emerged from the bushes. Sheregarded him in startled surprise; he was still in some slight disarrayfrom his encounter with the lieutenant. 

"May I speak to you, Miss Wilder? I won't detain you but a moment. "

She nodded and kept on, her heart thumping absurdly. He had received theletter of course; and there would be consequences. She paused at the topof the water steps. 

"You go on, " she called to the others, "and pick me up on your way back. Tony wants to see me about something, and I don't like to keep Mrs. Eustace and Nannie waiting. "

Giuseppe pushed off and Constance was left standing alone on the watersteps. She turned as Tony approached; there was a touch of defiance inher manner. 

"Well?"

He came to her side and leaned carelessly against the parapet, his eyeson the _Farfalla_ as she tossed and dipped in the wash of the _ReginaMargarita_ which was just puffing out from the village landing. Constancewatched him, slightly taken aback; she had expected him to be angry, sulky, reproachful--certainly not nonchalant. When he finally brought hiseyes from the water, his expression was mildly melancholy. 

"Signorina, I have come to say good bye. It is very sad, but tomorrow, Itoo--" he waved his hand toward the steamer--"shall be a passenger. "

"You are going away from Valedolmo?"

He nodded. 

"Unfortunately, yes. I should like to stay, but--" he shrugged--"lifeisn't all play, Miss Wilder. Though one would like to be a donkey-manforever, one only may be for a summer's holiday. I am your debtor for aunique and pleasant experience. "

She studied his face without speaking. Did it mean that he had got theletter and was hurt, or did it perhaps mean that he had got the letterand did not care to appear as Jerry Junior? That he enjoyed the play solong as he could remain incognito and stop it where he pleased, but thathe had no mind to let it drift into reality? Very possibly it meant--sheflushed at the thought--that he divined Nannie's plot, and refused alsoto consider the fourth candidate. 

She laughed and dropped into their usual jargon. 

"And the young American man, Signor Abraham Lincoln, will he cometomorrow for tea?"

"Ah, signorina, he is desolated, but it is not possible. He has receiveda letter and he must go; he has stopped too long in Valedolmo. Tomorrowmorning early, he and I togever, we sail away to Austria. " His eyes wentback to the trail of smoke left by the little steamer. 

"And Costantina, Tony. You are leaving her behind?" It took some courageto put this question, but she did not flinch; she put it with a laughwhich contained nothing but raillery. 

Tony sighed--a deep melodramatic sigh--and laid his hand on his heart. 

"Ah, signorina, zat Costantina, she has not any heart. She love one manone day, anozzer ze next. I go away to forget. "

His eyes dropped to hers; for an instant the mocking light died out; aquestioning, wounded look took its place. 

She felt a quick impulse to hold out her hands, to say, "Jerry, don'tgo!" If she only knew! Was he going because he thought that she wished todismiss him, or because he wished to dismiss himself? Was it pique thatbade him carry the play to the end, or was it merely the desire to getout of an awkward situation gracefully?

She stood hesitating, scanning the terrace pavement with troubled eyes;when she raised them to his face the chance was gone. He straightened hisshoulders with an air of finality and picked up his hat from thebalustrade. 

"Some day, signorina, in New York, perhaps I play a little tune underneafyour window. "

She nodded and smiled. 

"I will give the monkey a penny when he comes--good-bye. "

He bowed over her hand and touched it lightly to his lips. 

"Signorina, _addio_!"

As he strode away into the dusky lane of cypresses, she heard himwhistling softly "Santa Lucia. " It was the last stroke, she reflected, angrily; he might at least have omitted that! She turned away and droppeddown on the water steps to wait for the _Farfalla_. The terrace, thelake, the beautiful Italian night, suddenly seemed deserted and empty. Before she knew it was coming, she had leaned her head against thebalustrade with a deep sob. She caught herself sharply. She to sit therecrying, while Tony went whistling on his way!

 * * * * *

As the _Farfalla_ drifted idly over the water, Constance sat in thestern, her chin in her hand, moodily gazing at the shimmering path ofmoonlight. But no one appeared to notice her silence, since Nannie wastalking enough for both. And the only thing she talked about was JerryJunior, how funny and clever and charming he was, how phenomenallygood--for a man; when she showed signs of stopping, Mr. Wilder by aquestion started her on. It seemed to Constance an interminable twohours before they dropped their guests in the garden of the Hotel du Lac, and headed again for Villa Rosa. 

As they approached their own water steps it became apparent thatsomeone--a man--was standing at the top in an attitude of expectancy. Constance's heart gave a sudden bound and the next instant sank deep. Ababble of frenzied greetings floated out to meet them; there was nomistaking Gustavo. Moreover, there was no mistaking the fact that he wasexcited; his excitement was contagious even before they had learned thereason. He stuttered in his impatience to share the news. 

"Signore! _Dio mio_! A calamity has happened. Zat Tony, zat donk'-man! hehas got hisself arrested. Zay say it is a lie, zat he is Americancitizen; he is an officer who is dessert from ze Italian army. Zay say hejust pretend he cannot spik Italian--but it is not true. He knowten--leven words. "

They came hurrying up the steps and surrounded him, Mr. Wilder no lessshocked than Gustavo himself. 

"Arrested--as a deserter? It's an outrage!" he thundered. 

Constance laid her hand on Gustavo's sleeve and whirled him about. 

"What do you mean? I don't understand. Where is Tony?"

Gustavo groaned. 

"In jail, signorina. Four carabinieri are come to take him away. And hefight--_Dio mio_! he fight like ze devil. But zay put--" he indicatedhandcuffs--"and he go. "

Constance dropped down on the upper step and leaning her head against thebalustrade, she laughed until she was weak. 

Her father whirled upon her indignantly. 

"Constance! Haven't you any sympathy for the man? This isn't a laughingmatter. "

"I know, Dad, but it's so funny--Tony an Italian officer! He can'tpronounce the ten--leven words he does know right. "

"Of course he can't; he doesn't know as much Italian as I do. Can'tthese fools tell an American citizen when they see one? I'll teach 'em togo about chucking American citizens in jail. I'll telegraph the consul inMilan; I'll make an international matter of it!"

He fumed up and down the terrace, while Constance rose to her feet andfollowed after with a pretense at pacification. 

"Hush, Dad! Don't be so excitable. It was a very natural mistake for themto make. But if Tony is really what he says he is it will be very easilyproved. You must be sure of your ground though, before you act. I don'tlike to say anything against poor Tony now that he is in trouble, but Ihave always felt that there was a mystery connected with him. For all weknow he may be a murderer or a brigand or an escaped convict in disguise. We only have his word you know that he is an American citizen. "

"His word!" Mr. Wilder fairly exploded. "Are you utterly blind? He'sexactly as much an American citizen as I am. He's--" He stopped andfanned himself furiously. He had sworn never to betray Tony's secret, andyet, the present situation was exceptionable. 

Constance patted him on the arm. 

"There, Dad. I haven't a doubt his story is true. He was born inBudapest, and he's a naturalized American citizen. It's the duty of theUnited States Government to protect him--but it won't be difficult; Idare say he's got his naturalization papers with him. A word in themorning will set everything straight. "

"Leave him in jail all night?"

"But you can't do anything now; it's after ten o'clock; the authoritieshave gone to bed. "

She turned to Gustavo; her tone was reassuring. 

"In the morning we'll get some American war-ships to bombard the jail. "

"Signorina, you joke!" His tone was reproachful. 

She suddenly looked anxious. 

"Gustavo, is the jail strong?"

"Ver' strong, signorina. "

"He can't escape and get over into Austria? We are very near thefrontier, you know. "

"No, signorina, it is impossible. " He shook his head hopelessly. 

Constance laughed and slipped her hand through her father's arm. 

"Come, Dad. The first thing in the morning we'll go down to the jail andcheer him up. There's not the slightest use in worrying any more tonight. It won't hurt Tony to be kept in--er--cold storage for a few hours--Ithink on the whole it will do him good!"

She nodded dismissal to Gustavo, and drew her father, still muttering, toward the house. 

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 forego 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 naïvely 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 traveling. "

"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 post mark. 

"I hadn't thought of that! How could he have found out--unless that beastof a head waiter telegraphed? What does it 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 anyone?"

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, gray eyes, slight scar over left eye brow;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 youmust--it's a pleasant trip--but leave your luggage here. See this youngman in person 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 boyon a 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 anyone 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 today?"

"You don't suppose--" Nannie's voice was tragic--"that he has elopedwith that 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-driverwho 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--"

"Constance!" 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 center of the town; it contains thevillage post, the fountain, the tobacco shop, the washing-trough, and thetwo rival cafès, the "Independenza" and the "Libertà. " 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 andhuxters 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 everyone; the spectacle to her held always freshinterest. An image vendor close at her elbow insisted that she should buya Madonna and Bambina for fifty centesimi, or at least a San Giuseppe fortwenty-five. To her father's disgust she bought them both, and presentedthem to two wide-eyed children who in bashful fascination were doggingtheir 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 acourtesy and the crack widened. 

"Your commands, signorina?"

"We wish to come in. "

[Illustration: "The two mounted the steps of the jail and jerked thebell"]

"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 courtesy. 

"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. 

"_Già_. 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 today. 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 toask for what he wishes. I think--and the Signor-Lieutenant who orderedhis arrest 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 itsbeing 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 wereharboring a deserter. "

Mr. Wilder 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-martialed 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 priori_reasoning, this Angelo Fresi in disguise. Accordingly--" he waved hishand around 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 someoneto identify me, and if he doesn't succeed, I don't see how they can holdme. 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 tomorrow. "

"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 letterI 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 be back later. " He fished inhis pockets and brought up a handful of cigars. "Here's something betterthan lemon jelly, and they're not from the tobacco shop in Valedolmoeither. "

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 gray gloves and a boutonnière 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 ènel giardino. _"

He started ahead toward the garden, looking behind at every third step tomake sure that the gentleman was still following, that he was not merelya figment of his own sleepy senses. Their direction was straight towardthe parapet where, on a historic wash-day, the signorina had sat beside arow 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 visitorand 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 honored; the last time I came you did not invite me to siton 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!"

[Illustration: "Never before had he had such overwhelming reason to doubthis senses"]

"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 had tolet 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 ofits clouds. His gaze followed hers, and for three minutes there wassilence. 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 nor anorphan nor an organ-grinder nor--any of the things he has said he was. Heis 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, theconfused mingling of voices. Constance and Jerry looked too. They foundthe yellow omnibus of the Hotel du Lac, its roof laden with luggage, drawn up at the end of the driveway, and Mrs. Eustace and Nannie on thepoint of descending. The center of the terrace was already occupied byLieutenant di Ferara, who, with heels clicked together and white glovedhands at salute, was in the act of achieving a military bow. Miss Hazelfluttering from the door, in one breath welcomed the guests, presentedthe lieutenant, and ordered Giuseppe to convey the luggage upstairs. Thenshe 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 hometoday. "

The two conspirators scrambled down on the other side; and Mr. Wilderwith a sigh, dutifully stepped forward to greet the guests.