Puck — December 4, 1878 — page 11: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

PUCK. It her and had really scarcely noticed whether she was pretty or plain till we were more than half way to Mestre. But when we had hoisted our sail, and were running before a fine fresh breeze towards the land, and our four men had shipped their oars and were chattering and laughing under their breath in the bows, and the first perils of our enterprise seemed to have been safély surmounted, my equanimity began to return to me, and I stole a glance at the partner of my flight, who had lifted her veil, and showed a pretty, round, childish face, with a clear, brown complexion, and a pair of the most splendid dark eyes it has ever been my good fortune to behold. There were no tears in them now; but a certain half-frightened, half-mischievous light instead, as if she rather enjoyed the adventure, in spite of its inauspi- cious opening. A very little encouragement induced her to enter into conversation, and ere long she was prattling away as unrestrain- edly as if we had been friends all our lives, She asked me a great many questions. What was I doing in Venice? Had | known Alberto long? Was I very fond of him? Did I think that the old Count von Rosenau would be very angry when he heard of his son’s marriage? I answered her as best I could, feeling very sorry for the poor little soul, who evidently did not in the least realize the serious nature of the step which she was about to take; and she grew more and more communicative. In the course of a quarter of an hour I had been put in pos- session of all the chief incidents of her un- eventful life. I had heard how she had lost her mother when she was still an infant; how she had been educated partly by two maiden aunts, partly in a convent at Verona; how she had latterly led a life of almost complete seclusion in the old Venctian palace; how she had first met Alberto; and how, after many doubts and misgivings, she had finally been prevailed upon to sacrifice all for his sake, and to leave her father, who, stern, severe and suspicious, though he had al- ways been generous to her, had tried to give her such small pleasures as his means and habits would permit. She had a likeness of him with her, she said—perhaps I might like to see She dived into her traveling-bag as she spok: and produced from thence a full-length pho- tograph of a tall, well-built gentleman of sixty or thereabouts, whose gray hair, black mus- tache, and intent, frowning gaze made up an ensemble more striking than attractive. “Is he not handsome— poor papa?” she asked. I said the Marchese was certainly avery fine- looking man, and inwardly thanked my stars that he was safely at Padua; for looking at the breadth of his chest, the length of his arm, and the somewhat forbidding cast of his features, I could not help perceiving that poor papa was precisely one of those persons with whom a prudent man prefers to keep friends than to quarrel. And so, by the time that we reached Mestre, we had become quite friendly and intimate, and had half forgotten, | think, the absurd re- lation in which we stood to one another. We had rather an awkward moment when we left the boat and entered our traveling-carriage; for I need scarcely say that both the boatmen and the grinning vetturino took me for the bridegroom, whose place I temporarily occu- pied, and they were pleased to be facetious in a manner which was very embarrassing to me, but which I could not very well check. More- over, I felt compelled so far to sustain my as- sumed character as to be specially generous in the matter of a duvona mano to those four jolly watermen, and, for the first few miles of our drive, | could not help remembering this cir- cumstance with some regret, and wondering whether it would occur to von Rosenau to re- imburse me. Probably our coachman thought that, having a runaway couple to drive, he: ought to make some pretense at least of fearing pursuit; for he set off at such a furious pace that our four half-starved horses were soon beat, and we had to perform the remainder of the long, hot, dusty journey at a foot’s pace. I have forgot- ten how we made the time pass. I think we slept a good deal. I know we were both very tired, and a trifle cross, when in the evening we reached Longarone,a small, poverty-stricken village, on the verge of that Dolomite region which, in these latter days, has become so fre- quented by summer tourists, Tourists usually leave in their wake some of the advantages as well as the drawbacks of civilization; and probably there is now a re- spectable hotel at Longarone. I suppose, therefore, that I may say, without risk of lay- ing myself open to an action for slander, that a more filthy den than the osteria before which my charge and I alighted no imagination, how- ever disordered, could conceive. It was a vast, dismal building which had doubtless been the palace of some rich citizen of the Repub- lic in days of yore, but which had_now fallen into a dishonored old age. Its windows and shutters were tightly closed, and had been so ap- parently from time immemorial; a vile smell of rancid oil and garlic pervaded it in every part; the cornices of its huge, bare rooms were fes- tooned with blackened cobwebs; and the dust and dirt of ages had been suffered to accumu- late upon the stone floors of its corridors. The Signorina tucked up her petticoats as she picked her way along the passages to her bed- room, while I remained behind to order dinner of the sulky, black-browed padrona, to whom Thad already had to explain that my compa- nion and I were not man and wife, and who, I fear, had consequently conceived no very high opinion of us. Happily the priest had already been warned by telegram that his service would not be required until the morrow; so I was spared the nuisance of an interview with him. After a time we sat down to our éefe-a-tete dinner, Such a dinner! Even after the lapse of all these years I am unable to think of it without a shudder. Half famished though we were, we could not do much more than look at the greater part of the dishes which were set before us; and the climax was reached when we were served with an astonishing compote, made up, so far as I was able to judge, of equal proportions of preserved plums and mustard, to which vinegar and sugar had been super- added. Both the Signorina and I partook of this horrible mixture, for it really looked as if it might be rather nice; and when, after the first mouthful, each of us looked up, and saw the other's face of agony and alarm, we burst into a simultaneous peal of laughter. Up to that moment we had been very solemn and de- pressed; but the laugh did us good, and sent us to bed in somewhat better spirits; and the malignant compote at least did us the service of effectually banishing our appetite. I forbear to enlarge upon the horrors of the night. Mosquitoes, and other insects, which, for some reason or other, we English seldom mention, save under a modest pseudonym, worked their wicked will upon me till daybreak set me free, and I presume that the fair Bianca was no better off; for when the breakfast hour arrived, I received a message from her to the effect that she was unable to leave her room, I was sitting over my dreary little repast, wondering how I should get through the day, and speculating upon the possibility of my re- lease before night-fall, and I had just concluded that I must make up my mind to face another night with the mosquitoes and their hardy al- lies, when, to my great joy, a slatternly serving- maid came lolloping into the room, and an- nounced that a gentleman styling himself ‘Il Conte di Rosenau” had arrived and demanded to see me instantly. Here was a piece of un- looked-for good fortune! I jumped up, and flew to the door to receive my friend, whose footsteps I already heard on the threshold. “ My dear, good soul!” I cried, “this is too delightful! How did you manage—” The remainder of my sentence died away upon my lips; for, alas! it was not the missing Alberto whom I had nearly embraced, but a stout, red-faced, white-mustached gentleman, who was in a violent passion, judging by the terrific salute of Teutonic expletives with which he greeted my advance. ‘Then he, too, desisted as suddenly as I had done, and we both fell back a few paces, and stared at one another blankly, The new comer was the first to re- cover himself. “This is some accursed mistake,” said he, in German. Evidently,” said I. “ But they told me that you and an Italian young lady were the only strangers in the house.” “Well, sir,” I said, “I can’t help it if we are. The house is not of a kind likely to at- tract strangers; and I assure you that, if I could consult my own wishes, the number of the guests would soon be reduced by one.” He appeared to be a very choleric old per- son, “Sir,” said he, “ you seem disposed to carry things off with a high hand; but I sus- pect that you know more than you choose to reveal. Be so good as to tell me the name of the lady who is staying here.” “T think you are forgetting yourself,” I an- swered, with dignity. “1 must decline to grat- ify your curiosity.” He stuck his arms akimbo, and planted him- self directly in front of me, frowning ominously, «Let us waste no more words,” he said. “If T have made a mistake, I shall be ready to offer you a full apology. If not—but that is nothing to the purpose, I am Lieutenant-General Graf von Rosenau, at your service, and I have rea- son to believe that my son, Graf Albrecht von Rosenau, a lieutenant in his Imperial and Royal Majesty's 99 Croat regiment, has made a run- away match with a certain Signorina Bianca Marinelli of Venice. Are you prepared to give me your word of honor as a gentleman and an Englishman that you are not privy to this affair ?' At these terrible words I felt my blood run cold. I may have lost my presence of mind; but I don’t know how I could have got out of the dilemma even if I had preserved it. “Your son has not yet arrived,” I stam- mered, He pounced upon me like a cat upon a mouse, and gripped both my arms above the elbow. “Is he married?” he hissed, with his red nose a couple of inches from mine. “No,” I answered, “he is not. Perhaps I had better say at once that if you use personal violence I shall defend myself in spite of your age.” . Upon this he was kind enough to relax his hold. “And pray, sir,” he resumed, in a somewhat more temperate tone, after a short period of reflection, ‘‘ what have you to do with all this?” [To be concluded.) Twenty-six new—we had almost said amateur —doctors were turned loose upon an unprotected community this week, and yet people wonder at the depreciation of real estate in this vicin- ity. Perhaps facts like these will afford new light as to the cause of the constant increase of suicides on this coast. In these hard times it is every way cheaper to ki News-Letter, comicbooks.com