The Pirate Story Megapack. R.M. Ballantyne

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СКАЧАТЬ will need materials,” says the Don, laying his purse upon the table. “When you return with them, you may rely upon having our lady’s consent to your wishes.”

      The painter took the purse with a bow of acknowledgment, and no more hesitation than one gentleman would show in receiving an obligation from another, and presently left us.

      “Shall we see him again, think ye, Señor?” I asked when we were left to ourselves.

      He nodded, but with such a reflective, sombre air, that I was impelled to ask him if he lacked confidence in the story told us by the painter.

      “His story may be true enough, but whether Signor Dario be an honest man or not is another matter. A painter’s but a man. A ruined gentleman will accommodate his principles to circumstances” (with a side glance that seemed to say, “I am a ruined gentleman”)—“and my mind would be easier if I knew by what curious accident a painter in need should find himself in the heart of Kent, and why fixing on this house to seek employment he should linger to the point of starvation before he can pluck up courage to ask a simple question. We must keep our eyes open, Mr. Hopkins, and,” adds he, dropping his voice, “our mouths shut.”

      I could not sleep that night for thinking of house-breakings and bloody struggles for dear life; for ’tis a matter of common report that this sort of robbers, ere they make attack, do contrive to get one of their number into the house that he may learn where good goods are stowed, which part is easiest of attack, etc. I know not whether these quakings were shared by the Don, but certainly our misgivings never entered Moll’s little head. Nay, rather, her romantic disposition did lead her (when she heard our narration) to conceive that this mysterious Dario might be some wandering genius, whose work upon our ceiling would make the Court for ever glorious. And while in this humour she bade me go to Simon, whose presence she would not tolerate in her house, and make him acquainted with her high displeasure, and furthermore, to command that he should make satisfactory apology to Dario upon his return. So to him I went, and he wringing his hands in anguish deplored that his best endeavours to serve his mistress served only to incense her the more against him. But for his apology he declared that has been made the moment he heard of the gentleman’s release, at the same time that he restored to him his hat and a pocket-book which had fallen from his pocket.

      This did somewhat reassure me, knowing full well that Simon would not have given up this book without first acquainting himself with its contents, and urging that had there been anything in it to incriminate him, he had certainly laid it before his mistress for his own justification.

      A couple of days after this, as Don Sanchez and I were discoursing in the great avenue, Dario presents himself, looking all the better for a decent suit of clothes and a more prosperous condition, and Moll joining us at that moment, he makes her a very handsome obeisance and standing uncovered before her, begs to know if it is her will that he should paint the ceiling of her dining-hall.

      As he spoke, the colour rose on his cheek, and a shaft of sunlight falling on his curling hair, which shone with the lustre of health, made him look as comely a man as ever I did see, and a good five years younger than when he stood before us in the extremity of distress.

      “Sir,” says Moll, “were you my debtor as much as I am yours, I could not ask for better payment.”

      Don Sanchez put an end to this pretty exchange of courtesies—which maybe he considered overmuch as between a lady of Moll’s degree and one who might turn out to be no more than an indifferent painter at the best—by proposing that Dario should point out what disposition he would have made for his convenience in working. So he went within doors, and there Dario gave orders to our gardener, who was a handy sort of Jack-of-all-trades, what pieces of furniture should be removed, how the walls and floor should be protected, and how a scaffold should be set up for him to work on. And the gardener promising to carry out all these instructions in the course of the day, Dario took his leave of us in a very polished style, saying he would begin his business the next morning betimes.

      Sure enough, we were awoke next day by a scraping below, and coming down, we found our painter in a scull-cap and a smock that covered him to his heels, upon his scaffold, preparing the ceiling in a very workmanlike manner. And to see him then, with his face and beard thickly crusted over with a mess of dry plaster and paint, did I think somewhat dispel those fanciful illusions which our Moll had fostered—she, doubtless, expecting to find him in a very graceful attitude and beautiful to look at, creating a picture as if by inchantment. Her mortification was increased later in the day when, we having invited him on her insistence to dine at our table, he declined (civilly enough), saying he had brought his repast with him, and we presently found him seated astride one of his planks with a pocket knife in one hand and a thumb-piece of bread and bacon in the other, which he seemed to be eating with all the relish in the world.

      “Why, he is nought but a common labourer,” says Moll, disgusted to see him regaling himself in this fashion, as we returned to our room. “A pretty picture we are like to get for all this mess and inconvenience!”

      And her idol being broken (as it were), and all her fond fancies dashed, she would not as much as look at him again nor go anigh the room, to be reminded of her folly.

      However, on the third day Dario sent to ask if she would survey his outlines and decide whether the design pleased her or not. For this purpose he had pushed aside his scaffold, and here we saw a perspective done on the ceiling in charcoal, representing a vaulted roof with an opening to the sky in the middle, surrounded by a little balcony with trailing plants running over it, and flowers peeping out betwixt the balusters. And this, though very rough, was most artificial, making the room look twice its height, and the most admirable, masterly drawing that I did ever see.

      And now Moll, who had prepared a courteous speech to cover the contempt she expected to feel for the work, could say nought for astonishment, but stood casting her eyes round at the work like one in a maze.

      “If you would prefer an allegory of figures,” says Dario, misconceiving her silence.

      “Nay,” answers she, “I would have nothing altered. ’Tis wonderful how such effect can be made with mere lines of black. I can scarce believe the ceiling is flat.” And then she drops her eyes upon Dario, regarding him with wonder, as if doubting that such a dirty-looking man could have worked this miracle.

      “You must have seen better designs in Rome,” says he.

      At this I took alarm, not thinking for the moment that he might have picked up some particulars of Judith Godwin’s history from Mrs. Butterby, or the curious servants who were ever prying in the room.

      “’Tis so long ago,” says Moll, readily.

      “I think I have seen something like it in the Holy City,” observes the Don, critically.

      “Probably. Nothing has been left undone in Rome—I am told. It has not been my good fortune to get so far.”

      This was good news; for otherwise he might have put some posers to Moll, which she had found it hard to answer without betraying her ignorance.

      Having Moll’s approval, Dario set to work forthwith to colour his perspective; and this he did with the sure firm hand of one who understands his business, and with such nice judgment, that no builder, whose design is ordered by fixed rule and line, could accomplish his work with greater truth and justice. He made it to appear that the lower part of his vaulted roof was wainscoted in the style of the walls, and to such perfection that ’twould have puzzled a conjurer to decide where the oaken panels ended and the painted ones began.

      And now Moll suffers her fancies to СКАЧАТЬ