as turning out
as he had planned. He had not counted on the officers or her predilection
for Italian. He had not counted on chasing donkeys in person while she
stood and looked on--Beppo was to have attended to that. He had not
counted on anything quite so absurd as his heroic capture of Fidilini.
Since she must let the donkey run away with her, why, in the name 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 bridle instead of the
tail? And above all, why could she not have fallen into his arms, instead
of on top of him?
The stage scenery was set for romance, but from the moment the curtain
rose the play had persisted in being farce. However, farce or romance, it
was all one to him so long as he could play leading-man; what he
objected to was the minor part. The fact was clear that sash and earrings
could never compete with uniform and sword and the Italian language. His
mind was made up; he would withdraw to-night before he was found out, and
leave Valedolmo to-morrow morning by the early boat. Miss Constance
Wilder should never have the satisfaction of knowing the truth.
He was engaged in framing a dignified speech to Mr. Wilder--thanking him
for his generosity, but declining to accept a reward for what had been
merely a matter of duty--when his reflections were cut short by the sound
of 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 centred on the
view; she looked entirely over Tony. It was not until he rose to his feet
that she realized his presence with a start.
'Dear me, is that you, Tony? You frightened me! Don't get up; I know you
must be tired.' This with a sweetly solicitous smile.
Tony smiled too and resumed his seat; it was the first time since morning
that she had condescended to consider his feelings. She sauntered over to
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 the other
direction; he too could play at indifference.
Constance finished with her view first, and crossing over, she seated
herself in the deep embrasure of a window close beside Tony's parapet. He
rose again at her approach, but there was no eagerness in the motion; it
was merely the necessary deference of a donkey-dr
|