Puck — November 27, 1878 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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his questioners, to whom he vouchsafed no re- ply whatever. Probably, as an ex-hussar and a sprig of nobility, he may have held his head a little above those of his present brother- officers, and preferred disregarding their fami- liarity to resenting it, as he might have done if it had come from men whom he considered on a footing of equality with himself. Such, at least, was my impression; and it was confirmed by the friendly advances which he made to- wards me, from that day forth, and by the per- sistency with which he sought my society. I thought he wished for some companion whose ideas had not been developed exclusively in barrack atmosphere; and I, on my side, was not unwilling to listen to the chatter of a lively, good-natured young fellow, at intervals, during my long, idle days. It was at the end of a week, I think, or there- abouts, that he honored me with his full confi- dence. We had been out sea-fishing in a small open boat which he had purchased, and which he managed without assistance—that is to say, that we had provided ourselves with what was requisite for the pursuit of that engrossing sport, and that the young Count had gone through the form of dropping his line over the side and pulling it up, baitless and fishless, from time to time, while I had dispensed with even this shallow pretense of employment, and had stretched myself out full length upon the cush- ions which I had thoughtfully brought w:th mae, inhaling the salt-laden breeze, and luxuriating in perfect inaction, till such time as it had be- come necessary for us to think of returning homewards. My companion had been sighing portentously every now and again all through the afternoon, and had repeatedly given vent to a sound as though he had been about to say something, and had as often checked himself, and fallen back into silence. So that I was in a great measure prepared for the disclosure that fell from him at length as we slipped be- fore the wind, across the broad lagoon, towards the haze and blaze of sunset which was glori- fying the old city of Doges. ‘Do you know,” said he suddenly, “that I am desperately in love?” 1 said 1 had con- jectured as much; and he seemed a good deal surprised at my powers of divination. “Yes,” he resumed, “I am in love; and with an Italian lady too, unfortunately. Her name is Bianca—the Signorina Bianca Mari- nelli—and she is the most divinely beautiful creature the sun ever shown upon.” “ That,” said I, “ is of course.” “Te is the truth; and when you have seen her, you will acknowledge that I do not exag- gerate. I have known her nearly two months now. I became acquainted with her accident- ally—she dropped her handkerchief in a shop, and I took-it to her, and so we got to be upon speaking terms, and~-and—but I need not give you the whole history. We have discov- ered that we are all the world to one another; we have sworn to remain faithful to each other all our lives long; and we renew the oath when- ever we meet: But that, unhappily, is very sel- dom! for her father, the Marchese Marinelli, scarcely ever lets her out of his sight; and he is a sour, na:row-minded old fellow, as proud as he is poor, an intense hater of all Austrians, and, if he were to discover our attachment, I shudder to think of what the consequences might be.” “And your own father—the stern old Gene- ral of whom you told me—what would he say to it all?” “Oh! he, of course, would not hear of such a marriage fora moment. He detests and de- spises the Venetians as cordially as the Mar- chese abhors the Zedeschi; and, as I am en- tirely dependent upon him, I should not dream of saying a word.to him about the matter until I was married, and nothing could be done to separate me from Bianca.” “So that, upon the whole, you appear to stand a very fair chance of starvation, if every- thing turns out according to your wishes. And pray in what way do you imagine that I can as- sist you towards this desirable end? For I take it for granted that you have some reason for letting me into your secret.” Von Rosenau laughed good-humoredly. “You form conclusions quickly,” he said. “Well, I will confess to you that I have thought lately that you might be of great service to me without inconveniencing yourself much. The other day, when you did me the honor to in- troduce me to your sister, I was very nearly telling her all, She has such a kind counte- nance; and I felt sure that she would not refuse to let my poor Bianca visit her sometimes. The old Marchese, you see, would have no objec- tion to leaving his daughter for hours under the care of an English lady; and I thought that perhaps when Miss Jenkinson went out to work at her painting—I might come in.” “Fortunate indeed is it for you,’ I said, “ that your confidence in the kind countenance of my sister Anne did not carry you quite to the point of divulging this precious scheme to her. 1, who know her pretty well, can tell you exactly the course she would have pursued if you had. Without one moment's hesitation, she would have found out the address of the young lady’s father, hurried off thither, and told him all about it. Anne is a thoroughly good creature; but she has little sympathy with love-making, still less with surreptitious love- making, and she would assoon think of accept- ing the part you are so good as to assign to her as of forging a check.” He sighed, and said he supposed, then, that they must continue to meet as they had been in the habit of doing; but that it was rather unsatisfactory. “Tt says something for your ingenuity, that you contrive to meet at all,” I remarked. “Well, yes, there are considerable difficul- ties, becayse the old man’s movements are so uncertain; and there is some risk too, for, as you heard the other day, we have been seen together. Moreover, I have been obliged to tell everything to my servant Johann, who way- lays the Marchese’s housekeeper at market in the mornings, and finds out from her when and where I can have an opportunity of meeting Bianca. I would rather not have trusted him; but I could think of no other plan.” “At any rate, I should have thought you might have selected some more retired rendez- vous than the most frequented church in Ve- nice.” He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I wish you would suggest one within reach,” he said. “There are no retired places in this accursed town. But, in fact, we see one another very seldom. Often for days together the only way in which I can get a glimpse of her is by loi- tering about in my boat in front of her father's house, and watching till she shows herself at the window. We are in her neighborhood now, and it is close upon the hour at which I can generally calculate upon her appearing. Would you mind my making a short detour that way before I set you down at your hotel?” We had entered the Grand Canal while von Rosenau had been relating his love-tale, and some minutes before, he had lowered his sail, and taken to the oars. He now slewed his boat’s head round abruptly, and we shot into a dark and narrow water-way, and so, after sun- dry twistings and turnings, arrived before a grim, time-worn structure, so hemmed in by the surrounding buildings that it seemed as if no ray of sunshine could ever penetrate within its walls. “That is the Palazzo Marinelli," said my companion, ‘‘ The greater part of it is let to different tenants, The family has long been much too poor to inhabit the whole of it, and now the old man only reserves himself four rooms on the third floor. Those are the win- dows, in the far corner; and there—no!—yes! there is Bianca.” I brought my eye-glass to bear upon the point indicated just in time to catch sight of a female head, which was thrust out through the open window for an instant, and then with- drawn with great celerity. “Ah!” sighed the Count, ‘it is you who have driven her away. I ought to have remem- bered that she would be frightened at see- ing a stranger. And now she will not show herself again, I fear. Come; I will take you home. Confess now—is she not more beautiful than you expected ? “My dear sir, I had hardly time to see whe- ther was a man or a woman; but 1 am she willing to take your word for it that there never was anybody like her.” “If you would like to wait a little longer— half an hour orso—she migh¢ put her head out again,” said the young man wistfully. “Thank you very much; but my sister will be wondering why I do not come to take her down to the table-d’héte. And besides, as I am not in love myself, I may perhaps be ex- cused for saying that I want my dinner,” “As you please,” answered the Count, look- ing the least bit in the world affronted; and so he pulled back in silence to the steps of the hotel, where we parted. I don’t know whether von Rosenau felt aggrieved by my rather unsympathetic receo- tion of his confidence, or whether he thought it useless to discuss his projects further with one who could not or would not assist him in carrying them out; but although we continued to meet daily, as before, he did not recur to the interesting subject, and it was not for me to take the initiative in doing so. Curiosity, I confess, led me to direct my gondolier more than once to the narrow canal over which the Palazzo Marinelli towered; and on each occa- sion I was rewarded by descrying, from the depths of the miniature mourning-coach which concealed me, the faithful Count, seated in his boat and waiting in patient faith, like another Ritter Toggenburg, with his eyes fixed upon the corner window; but of the lady I could see no sign. Iwas rather disappointed at first, as day after day went by and my young friend showed no disposition to break the silence in which he had chosen to wrap himself; for I had nothing to do in Venice, and I thought it would have been rather amusing to watch the progress of this incipient romance, By de- grees, however, I ceased to trouble myself about it; and at the end of a fortnight I had other things to think of, in the shape of plans for the summer, my sister Anne having by that time satisfied herself that, all things considered, Titian’s “Assumption” was a little too much for her. ; It was Captain Janovicz who informed me casually one evening that von Rosenau was go- ing away in a few days on leave, and that he wonld probably be absent for a considerable time. “ For my own part,” remarked my inform- ant, ‘I shall be surprised if we see him back in the regiment at all. He was only sent to us as a soit of punishment for having been a naughty boy, and I suppose now he will be forgiven, and restored to the hussars.”” “So much for undying love,” thinks I with acynical chuckle. “If there is any gratitude in man, that young man ought to be showering blessings on me for having refused to hold the noose fur him to thrust his head into.” (To be continued.) comicbooks.com