Jerry (15 page)

This sounded reasonable; the door opened farther and they squeezed through. It banged in the faces of the disappointed spectators, who lingered hopefully a few moments longer, and then returned to their bargaining. Inside the big damp stone-walled corridor Constance drew a deep breath and smiled upon the jailoress; the jailoress smiled back. Then as a preliminary skirmish, Constance presented the two-franc piece; and the jailoress dropped a curtsy.

'We have heard that Antonio, our donkey-driver, has been arrested for deserting 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 Antonio very 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 be the deserter they search--I do not know--but if he is not the deserter he is something else. You should have heard him last night, signorina, when they brought him in. The things he said! They were in a foreign tongue; I did not understand, but I
felt
. Also he kicked my husband--kicked him quite hard so that he limps to-day. And the way he orders us about! You would 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 first because it smelt of the cooking. He likes butter with his bread and hot milk with his coffee. He cannot smoke the cigars which my husband bought for him, and they cost three soldi apiece. And this morning'--her voice rose shrilly as she approached the climax--'he called for a bath. It is true, signorina, a
bath
.
Dio mio
, he wished me to carry the entire village 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 to her father; and turned back to the jailoress apologetically.

'My father is very much grieved that the man should have caused you so much trouble. But he says, that if we could see him, we could persuade him to be more reasonable. We talk his language, and can make him understand.'

The woman winked meaningly.

'Eh--he pretends he cannot talk Italian, but he understands enough to ask for what he wishes. I think--and the Signor-Lieutenant who ordered his arrest thinks--that he is shamming.'

'It was a lieutenant who ordered his arrest? Do you remember his name--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's hearing this afternoon, and put it tactfully to our friend the lieutenant that we don't like to have our donkey-man snatched away without our permission.' She turned back to the jailoress. 'And now, where is the man? We should like to speak with him.'

'It is against the orders, but perhaps--I have already permitted the head waiter from the Hotel du Lac to carry him newspapers and cigarettes. He says that the man Antonio is in reality an American nobleman from New York, who merely plays at being a donkey-driver for diversion, and that unless 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 piece was produced as evidence. The jailor with a great show of caution got out a bunch of keys and motioned them to follow. Up two flights and down a long corridor with peeling frescoes on the walls--nymphs and cupids and garlands of roses; most incongruous decorations for a jail--at last they paused before a heavy oak door. Their guide tried two wrong keys, swore softly as each failed to turn, and finally with an exclamation of triumph produced the right one. He swung the door wide and stepped back with a bow.

A large room was revealed, brick-floored and somewhat scanty as to furniture, but with a view--an admirable view, if one did not mind it being checked off into iron squares. The most conspicuous object in the room, however, was its occupant, as he sat, in an essentially American attitude, with his chair tipped back and his feet on the table. A cloud of tobacco smoke and a wide-spread copy of a New York paper concealed him from too impertinent gaze. He did not raise his head at the sound of the opening 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 shade of pink only less vivid than the oleanders. She shook her head sorrowfully.

'I don't need to tell you, Tony, how shocked we are to find you in such a place. Our trust has been rudely shaken; we had not supposed we were harbouring a deserter.'

Mr. Wilder stepped forward and held out his hand; there was a twinkle in his eye, which he struggled manfully to suppress.

'Nonsense, Tony, we don't believe a word of it. You a deserter from the Italian army? It's preposterous! Where are your naturalization papers?'

'Thank you, Mr. Wilder, but I don't happen to have my papers with me--I trust it won't be necessary to produce them. You see'--his glance rested entirely on Mr. Wilder; he studiously overlooked Constance's presence--'this Angelo Fresi, the fellow they are after, got into a quarrel over a gambling debt and struck a superior officer. To avoid being court-martialled he lit out; it happened a month ago in Milan and they've been looking for him ever since. Now last night I had the misfortune to tip Lieutenant Carlo di Ferara over into a ditch. The matter was entirely accidental, and I regretted it very much. I, of course, apologized. But what did the lieutenant do but take it into his head that I, being an assaulter of superior officers, was, by a priori reasoning, this Angelo Fresi in disguise. Accordingly'--he waved his hand around the room--'you see me here.'

'It's an imposition! Depriving an American citizen of his liberty on any such 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 some one to identify me, and if he doesn't succeed, I don't see how they can hold me. In the meantime, I'm comfortable enough.'

Mr. Wilder's eye wandered about the room. 'H'm, it isn't bad for a jail! Got everything you need--tobacco, papers?' What's this, New York
Sun
only ten days old?' He picked it up and plunged into the headlines.

Constance turned from the window and glanced casually at Tony.

'You didn't go to Austria after all?'

'I was detained; I hope to get off to-morrow.'

'Oh, before I forget it.' She removed the basket from her arm and set it on the table. 'Here is some lemon jelly, Tony. I couldn't remember whether one takes lemon jelly to prisoners or invalids--I've never known any 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 glanced apprehensively over her shoulder to see if the jailor were listening. 'If by any chance they
should
identify you as that deserter, just get word to me and I will have Elizabetta bake you a veal pasty with a rope ladder and a file inside. I would have had her bake it this morning, only Wednesday is ironing-day at the villa, and she was so awfully busy----'

'This is your innings,' Tony rejoined somewhat sulkily. 'I hope you'll get all the entertainment you can out of the situation.'

'Thank you, Tony, that's kind. Of course,' she added with a plaintive note in her voice, 'this must be tiresome for you; but it is a pleasant surprise for me. I was feeling very sad last night, Tony, at the thought that you were going to Austria and that I should never, never see you any more.'

'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 and never find another donkey-man who sings such beautiful tenor, who wears such lovely sashes and such becoming earrings. Why, Tony'--she took a step nearer and her face assumed a look of consternation--'you've lost your earrings!'

He turned his back and walked to the window, where he stood moodily staring at the market. Constance watched his squared shoulders dubiously out of the corner of her eye; then she glanced momentarily into the hall where the jailor was visible his face flattened against the bars of an open window; and from him to her father, still deep in the columns of his paper, oblivious to both time and place. She crossed to Tony and stood at his side, peering down at the scene below.

'I don't suppose it will interest you,' she said in an off-hand tone, her eyes still intent on the crowd, 'but I got a letter this morning from a young man who is stopping at the Sole d'Oro in Riva--a very rude letter, I thought.'

He whirled about.

'You know!'

'It struck me that the person who wrote it was in a temper and might afterwards be sorry for having hurt my feelings, and so'--she raised her eyes momentarily to his--'the invitation is still open.'

'Tell me,' there was both entreaty and command in his tone, 'did you know the truth before you wrote that letter?'

'You mean, did I know whom I was inviting? Assuredly! Do you think it would have been dignified to write such an informal invitation to a person 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 read the 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 this afternoon, Tony, I'll make matters lively for 'em, and if there's anything you need, send word by Gustavo--I'll send back later.' He fished in his pockets and brought up a handful of cigars. 'Here's something better than lemon jelly, and they're not from the tobacco shop in Valedolmo either.'

He dropped them on the table and turned toward the door; Constance followed with a backward glance.

'Good-bye, Tony; don't despair. Remember that it's always darkest before the dawn, and that whatever others think, Costantina and I believe in you.
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 in her hand; she hurried back. 'Oh, I forgot! Costantina sent these with her--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 stood staring at the door till he heard the key turn in the lock, then he looked down at the flowers in his hand. A note was tied to the stems; his fingers trembled as he worked with the knot.

'
Caro Antonio mio
,' it commenced; he could read that. '
La sua Costantina
,' it ended; he could read that. But between the two was an elusive, tantalizing hiatus. He studied it and put it in his pocket and took it out and studied it again. He was still puzzling over it half an hour later when Gustavo came to inquire if the signore had need of anything.

Had he need of anything! He sent Gustavo flying to the stationer's in search of an Italian-English dictionary.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon and all the world--except Constance--was taking a siesta. The
Farfalla
, anchored at the foot of the water-steps in a blaze of sunshine, was dipping up and down in drowsy harmony with the lapping waves; she was for the moment abandoned, Giuseppe being engaged with a nap in the shade of the cypress trees at the end of the drive. He was so very engaged that he did not hear the sound of an approaching carriage, until the horse was pulled to a sudden halt to avoid stepping on him. Giuseppe staggered sleepily to his feet and rubbed his eyes. He saw a gentleman descend, a gentleman clothed as for a wedding, in a frock coat and a white waistcoat, in shining hat and pearl grey gloves and a boutonnière of oleander. Having paid the driver and dismissed the carriage, the gentleman fumbled in his pocket for his card-case. Giuseppe hurrying forward with a polite bow, stopped suddenly and blinked. He fancied that he must still be dreaming; he rubbed his eyes and stared again, but he found the second inspection more confounding than the first. The gentleman looked back imperturbably, no slightest shade of recognition in his glance, unless a gleam of amusement far, far down in the depths of his eye might be termed recognition. He extracted 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 friendly though halting conversation. Giuseppe stared again, appealingly, but the gentleman did not help him out; on the contrary he repeated his request in a slightly sharpened tone.

'
Si, signore
,' Giuseppe stammered. '
Prego di verire. La signorina è nel giardino.
'

He started ahead toward the garden, looking behind at every third step to make sure that the gentleman was still following, that he was not merely a figment of his own sleepy senses. Their direction was straight toward the parapet where, on an historic wash-day, the signorina had sat beside a row of dangling stockings. She was sitting there now, dressed in white, the oleander tree above her head enveloping her in a glowing and fragrant shade. So occupied was she with a dreamy contemplation of the mountains across the lake that she did not hear footsteps until Giuseppe paused before her and presented the card. She glanced from this to the visitor, and extended a friendly hand.