The Argosy — page 136: what you’re looking at

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

The Perplextties of Captain Freramosca. I2I <‘ He is going to be married himself, and he knows Clelia is—-—” ‘‘ How does he know it ?” interrupted the Signora Maria, suspi- ciously. “Of course, Enrico would mention it to him,” replied Teresa, adroitly ; then resumed: ‘As I was saying, things are in this posi- tion, and yet he can try to carry on a clandestine flirtation with Clelia.” ‘What do you mean?” blazed out Enrico. Upon which Teresa, with some embellishment, related the birth- day gift of flowers, and the impassioned message which had accom- panied it. ‘He dared to insult us in this way!” cried the lieutenant; and before his mother, alarmed at his violence, could put in a word, he had clattered down stairs like a train of artillery. Once in the street, however, he began to reflect. Perhaps, after all, old Don Giacomo’s news was a mistake. Fieramosca had always written to him as though he loved Clelia, and Clelia alone. It was, in fact, these letters of his friend’s which had brought Enrico to Venice. On the other hand, the old priest was not likely to have invented all his facts; and, supposing any of them to be true, what but love could take Fieramosca to Mrs. Walford’s? ‘The notion that anybody could be in that lady’s company for five minutes without adoring her, apparently never entered the unhappy muser’s mind. Revolving these questions with the wearisome iteration of one ab- sorbing feeling, he paced up and down in front of the widow’s win- dows, wishing that he might go up to her, and yet, for reasons of his own, not daring. All at once, who among the sons of men should issue from the house but—Fieramosca? And, to make matters worse, simultane- ously with his apparition below, Mrs. Walford stepped out upon the balcony. ‘The Captain looked up at her; she looked down upon the Captain ; they exchanged a smile, a wave of the hand; Mrs. Walford said, “This evening, then!” and vanished. Vanished without see- ing the other watcher, whose heart was in his mouth, and whose livid face and flaming eyes confronted the startled Fieramosca on his turning. ‘Enrico !” cried the latter; and, Italian fashion, would have em- braced his friend. But Enrico stood like the image of the Com- mendatore, and further increased his resemblance to that personage by nodding portentously. ‘‘It is myself,” he said, with the solem- nity of concentrated rage. ** Heavens above!” exclaimed Fieramosca. ‘What has hap- pened? Why do you look like that? Is—is your sister ill ?” *¢T will thank you not to mention her,” replied the other. ‘“ And, since you seem desirous of further information, I have the pleasure to tell you that I consider you a blackguard. Moreover, I shall be happy to afford you satisfaction for my candour, not later than three CONnRICLOOKS.EO