Jerry Junior. Джин Уэбстер

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СКАЧАТЬ the English ladies had entered the bounds of that indefinite period when the subject of age must be politely waived.

      “They are tall, signorina, and of a thinness—you would not believe it possible.”

      “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 made a mistake. It would be rather fun, don’t you think, Dad, to have an entertaining young American gentleman about?”

      “Ump!” he grunted. “I thought you were so immensely satisfied with the officers.”

      “Oh, I am,” she agreed with a shrug  which dismissed forever the young American gentleman.

      “Well, Gustavo,” she added in a business-like tone, “I will tell you why we called. The doctor says the Signor Papa is getting too fat—I don’t think he’s too fat, do you? He seems to me just comfortably chubby; but anyway, the doctor says he needs exercise, so we’re going to begin climbing mountains with nails in our shoes like the Germans. And we’re going to begin to-morrow because we’ve got two English people at the villa who adore mountains. Do you think you can find us a guide and some donkeys? We want a nice, gentle, lady-like donkey for my aunt, and another for the English lady and a third to carry the things—and maybe me, if I get tired. Then we want a man who will twist their tails and make them go; and I am very particular about the man. I want him to be picturesque—there’s no use being in Italy if you can’t have things picturesque, is there, Gustavo?”

      “Si, signorina,” he bowed and resumed his attitude of strained attention.

      “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 obliging and cheerful and deferential and speak good Italian—I won’t have a man who speaks only dialect. He must play the mandolin and sing Santa Lucia—I believe that’s all.”

      “And I suppose since he is to act as guide he must know the region?” her father 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 very proficient we’ll climb Monte Maggiore. Do you understand?”

      “Ze signorina desires tree donkeys and   a driver at seven o’clock to-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 had rumbled 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 ground while he ran back for the paste pot and a pile of labels. The two under-waiters, the chamber-maid and the boy who cleaned boots had drifted into the court. It was evident that the American gentleman’s departure was imminent.

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

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

      “Father,” said she reproachfully, “it’s embarrassing enough for him to fee all those people without our staying and watching him do it.”

      “I suppose it is,” he acknowledged regretfully, as he resumed his hat and umbrella and palm leaf fan.

      She paused for a second in the gateway.

      “Addio, Gustavo,” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t forget the earrings.”

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

      Corpo di Bacco! Did he think the boat would wait all day for the sake of one passenger? As it was, they were ten minutes late and would have to gallop every step of the way.

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

      “Take ’em down, Gustavo. Changed my mind; not going to-day—it’s too hot.”

      Gustavo gasped.

      “But, signore, you have paid for your ticket.”

      “True, Gustavo, but there is no law compelling me to use it. To tell the truth I   find that I am fonder of Valedolmo than I had supposed. There is something satisfying about the peace and tranquility of the place—one doesn’t realize it till the moment of parting comes. Do you think I can obtain 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, the surrounding 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? Very well, I will keep the one I have which commands a very attractive view of a rose-colored villa set in a grove of cypress trees.”

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

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

      But—to his astonished relief—the young man appeared to be bearing no malice. He appeared, on the contrary, quite unusually cheerful as he sauntered whistling,   across the court and seated himself in the exact chair the signorina had occupied. He plunged his hand into his pocket suggestively—Gustavo had been the only one omitted in the distribution of silver—and drew forth a roll of bills. СКАЧАТЬ