Sunrise. Black William

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      "What do you mean?" Lord Evelyn said, in great surprise.

      "Didn't you see? She left the room to keep from crying. That miserable Polish cutthroat—I should like to kick him down-stairs!"

      But at this moment the door opened, and father and daughter entered, arm-in-arm. Natalie's face was a little bit flushed, but she was very gentle and affectionate; they had made up that brief misunderstanding, obviously. And she had brought in her hand a mob-cap of black satin: would Lord Evelyn allow her to try the effect of twisting those beautiful golden threads through it?

      "Natalushka," said her father, with great good-humor, "it is your birthday. Do you think you could persuade Lord Evelyn and Mr. Brand to come to your dinner-party?"

      It was then explained to the two gentlemen that on this great anniversary it was the custom of Mr. Lind, when in London, to take his daughter to dine at some French or Italian restaurant in Regent Street or thereabouts. In fact, she liked to play at being abroad for an hour or two; to see around her foreign faces, and hear foreign tongues.

      "I am afraid you will say that it is very easy to remind yourself of the Continent," said Mr. Lind, smiling—"that you have only to go to a place where they give you oily food and bad wine."

      "On the contrary," said Brand, "I should thing it very difficult in London to imagine yourself in a foreign town; for London is drained. However, I accept the invitation with pleasure."

      "And I," said Lord Evelyn. "Now, must we be off to dress?"

      "Not at all," said Natalie. "Do you not understand that you are abroad, and walking into a restaurant to dine? And now I will play you a little invitation—not to dinner; for you must suppose you have dined—and you come out on the stairs of the hotel, and step into the black gondola."

      She went along to the small table, and sat down to the zither. There were a few notes of prelude; and then they heard the beautiful low voice added to the soft tinkling sounds. What did they vaguely make out from that melodious murmur of Italian?

      Behold the beautiful night—the wind sleeps drowsily—the silent shores slumber in the dark:

      "Sul placido elemento

       Vien meco a navigar!"

      The soft wind moves—as it stirs among the leaves—it moves and dies—among the murmur of the water:

      "Lascia l'amico tetto

       Vien meco a navigar!"

      Now on the spacious mantle—of the already darkening heavens—see, oh, the shining wonder—how the white stars tremble:

      "Ai raggi della luna

       Vien meco a navigar!"

      Where were they? Surely they have passed out from the darkness of the narrow canal, and are away on the broad bosom of the lagoon. The Place of St. Mark is all aglow with its golden points of fire; the yellow radiance spreads out into the night. And that other wandering mass of gold—the gondola hung round with lamps, and followed by a dark procession through the silence of the waters—does not the music come from thence? Listen, now:

      "Sul l'onde addormentate

       Vien meco a navigar!"

      Can they hear the distant chorus, in there at the shore where the people are walking about in the golden glare of the lamps?

      "Vien meco a navigar!

       Vien meco a navigar!"

      Or can some faint echo be carried away out to yonder island, where the pale blue-white radiance of the moonlight is beginning to touch the tall dome of San Giorgio?

      "—a navigar!

       —a navigar!"

      "It seems to me," said Lord Evelyn, when the girl rose, with a smile on her face, "that you do not need to go into Regent Street when you want to imagine yourself abroad."

      Natalie looked at her watch.

      "If you will excuse me, I will go and get ready now."

      Well, they went to the big foreign restaurant; and had a small table all to themselves, in the midst of the glare, and the heat, and the indiscriminate Babel of tongues. And, under the guidance of Mr. Brand, they adventured upon numerous articles of food which were more varied in there names than in their flavor; and they tasted some of the compounds, reeking of iris-root, that the Neapolitans call wine, until they fell back on a flask of Chianti, and were content; and they regarded their neighbors, and were regarded in turn. In the midst of it all, Mr. Lind, who had been somewhat preoccupied, said suddenly.

      "Natalie, can you start with me for Leipsic to-morrow afternoon?"

      She was as prompt as a soldier.

      "Yes, papa. Shall I take Anneli or not?"

      "You may if you like."

      After that George Brand seemed to take very little interest in this heterogeneous banquet: he stared absently at the foreign-looking people, at the hurrying waiters, at the stout lady behind the bar. Even when Mr. Lind told his daughter that her black satin mob-cap, with its wonderful intertwistings of Venetian chain, looked very striking in a mirror opposite, and when Lord Evelyn eagerly gave his friend the credit of having selected that birthday gift, he did not seem to pay much heed. When, after all was over, and he had wished Natalie "Bon voyage" at the door of the brougham, Lord Evelyn said to him,

      "Come along to Clarges Street now and smoke a cigar."

      "No, thanks!" he said. "I think I will stroll down to my rooms now."

      "What is the matter with you, Brand? You have been looking very glum."

      "Well, I have been thinking that London is a depressing sort of a place for a man to live in who does not know many people. It is very big, and very empty. I don't think I shall be able to stand it much longer."

CHAPTER VII.

       Table of Contents

IN SOLITUDE.

       Table of Contents

      A blustering, cold morning in March; the skies lowering, the wind increasing, and heavy showers being driven up from time to time from the black and threatening south-west. This was strange weather to make a man think of going to the seaside; and of all places at the seaside to Dover, and of all places in Dover to the Lord Warden Hotel, which was sure to be filled with fear-stricken foreigners, waiting for the sea to calm. Waters, as he packed the small portmanteau, could not at all understand this freak on the part of his master.

      "If Lord Evelyn calls, sir," he said at the station, "when shall I say you will be back?"

      "In a few days, perhaps. I don't know."

      He СКАЧАТЬ