'Good afternoon,' she nodded politely to the young man.

He bowed with his hand on his heart.

'_Addio_, Gustavo.'

He bowed until his napkin swept the ground.

'_Addio_, Costantina,' she waved her hand toward her namesake.

The washer-woman laughed again, and her earrings flashed in the sunlight.

Giuseppe raised the yellow sail; they caught the breeze, and the _Farfalla_ floated away.

CHAPTER X

Half-past six on Friday morning, and Constance appeared on the terrace; Constance in fluffy, billowy, lacy white with a spray of oleander in her belt--the last costume in the world in which one would start on a mountain climb. She cast a glance in pa.s.sing toward the gateway and the stretch of road visible beyond, but both were empty, and seating herself on the parapet, she turned her attention to the lake. The breeze that blew from the farther sh.o.r.e brought fresh Alpine odours of flowers and pine trees. Constance sniffed it eagerly as she gazed across toward the purple outline of Monte Maggiore. The serenity of her smile gradually gave place to doubt; she turned and glanced back toward the house, visibly changing her mind.

But before the change was finished, the quiet of the morning was broken by a clatter of tiny scrambling obstinate hoofs and a series of e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns, both Latin and English. She glanced toward the gate, where Fidilini was visible, plainly determined not to come in. Constance laughed expectantly and turned back to the water, her eyes intent on the fishing-smacks that were putting out from the little _marino_. The sounds of coercion increased; a command floated down the driveway in the English tongue. It sounded like: 'You twist his tail, Beppo, while I pull.'

Apparently it was understood in spite of Beppo's slight knowledge of the language. An eloquent silence followed; then an outraged grunt on the part of Fidilini, and the cavalcade advanced with a rush to the kitchen door. Tony left Beppo and the donkeys, and crossed the terrace alone. His bow swept the ground in the deferential manner of Gustavo, but his glance was far bolder than a donkey-driver's should have been. She noted the fact and tossed him a nod of marked condescension. A silence followed, during which Constance studied the lake; when she turned back, she found Tony arranging a spray of oleander that had dropped from her belt in the band of his hat. She viewed this performance in silent disfavour. Having finished to his satisfaction, he tossed the hat aside and seated himself on the bal.u.s.trade. Her frown became visible. Tony sprang to his feet with an air of anxiety.

'_Scusi_, signorina. I have not meant to be presumptious. Perhaps it is not fitting that any one below the rank of lieutenant should sit in your presence?'

'It will not be very long, Tony, before you are discharged for impertinence.'

'Ah, signorina, do not say that! If it is your wish I will kneel when I address you. My family, signorina, are poor; they need the four francs which you so munificently pay.'

'You told me that you were an orphan; that you had no family.'

'I mean the family which I hope to have. Costantina has extravagant tastes, and coral earrings cost two-fifty a pair.'

Constance laughed and a.s.sumed a more lenient air. She made a slight gesture which might be interpreted as an invitation to sit down; and Tony accepted it.

'By the way, Tony, how do you talk to Costantina, since she speaks no English and you no Italian?'

'We have no need of either Italian or English; the language of love, signorina, is universal.'

'Oh!' she laughed again. 'I was at the Hotel du Lac yesterday; I saw Costantina.'

'You saw Costantina!--Ah, signorina, is she not beautiful? Ze mos'

beautiful in all ze world? But ver' unkind, signorina. Yes, she laugh at me; she smile at ozzer men, at soldiers wif uniforms.' He sighed profoundly. 'But I love her just ze same, always from ze first moment I see her. It was wash-day, signorina, by ze lac. I climb over ze wall and talk wif her, but she make fun of me--ver' unkind. I go away ver' sad. No use, I say, she like dose soldiers best. But I see her again; I hear her laugh--it sound like angels singing--I say, no, I can not go away; I stay here and make her love me. Yes, I do everysing she ask--but everysing! I wear earrings; I make myself into a fool just to please zat Costantina.'

He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. A slow red flush crept over Constance's face, and she turned her head away and looked across the water.

Mr. Wilder, in full Alpine regalia, stepped out upon the terrace and viewed the beauty of the morning with a prophetic eye. Miss Hazel followed in his wake; she wore a lavender dimity. And suddenly it occurred to Tony's slow moving masculine perception that neither lavender dimity nor white muslin were fabrics fit for mountain climbing.

Constance slipped down from her parapet and hurried to meet them.

'Good morning, Aunt Hazel. Morning, Dad! You look beautiful! There's nothing so becoming to a man as knickerbockers--especially if he's a little stout.--You're late,' she added with a touch of severity.

'Breakfast has been waiting half an hour and Tony fifteen minutes.'

She turned back toward the donkey-man, who was standing, hat in hand, respectfully waiting orders. 'Oh, Tony, I forgot to tell you; we shall not need Beppo and the donkeys to-day. You and my father are going alone.'

'You no want to climb Monte Maggiore--ver' beautiful mountain.' There was disappointment, reproach, rebellion in his tone.

'We have made inquiries and my aunt thinks it too long a trip. Without the donkeys you can cross by boat, and that cuts off three miles.'

'As you please, signorina.' He turned away.

Constance looked after him with a shade of remorse. When this plan of sending her father and Tony alone had occurred to her as she sailed homeward yesterday from the Hotel du Lac, it had seemed a humorous and fitting retribution. The young man had been just a trifle too sure of her interest; the episode of the hotel register must not go unpunished.

But--it was a beautiful morning, a long empty day stretched before her, and Monte Maggiore looked alluring; there was no pursuit, for the moment, which she enjoyed as much as donkey-riding. Oh yes, she was spiting herself as well as Tony; but considering the circ.u.mstances the sacrifice seemed necessary.

When the _Farfalla_ drifted up ready to take the mountain-climbers, Miss Hazel suggested (Constance possessed to a large degree the diplomatic faculty of making other people propose what she herself had decided on) that she and her niece cross with them. Tony was sulky, and Constance could not forgo the pleasure of baiting him further.

They put in at the village, on their way, for the morning mail; Mr.

Wilder wished his paper, even at the risk of not beginning the ascent before the sun was high. Giuseppe brought back from the post, among other matters, a letter for Constance. The address was in a dashing, angular hand that pretty thoroughly covered the envelope. Had she not been so intent on the writing herself, she would have noted Tony's astonished stare as he pa.s.sed it to her.

'Why!' she exclaimed, 'here's a letter from Nannie Hilliard, postmarked Lucerne.'

'Lucerne!' Miss Hazel echoed her surprise. 'I thought they were to be in England for the summer?'

'They were--the last I heard.' Constance ripped the letter open and read it aloud.

'DEAR CONSTANCE: You'll doubtless be surprised to hear from us in Switzerland instead of in England, and to learn further, that in the course of a week, we shall arrive at Valedolmo _en route_ for the Dolomites. Jerry Junior at the last moment decided to come with us, and you know what a _man_ is when it comes to European travel.

Instead of taking two months comfortably to England, as Aunt Kate and I had planned, we did the whole of the British Isles in ten days, and Holland and France at the same breathless rate.

'Jerry says he holds the record for the Louvre; he struck a six-mile pace at the entrance, and by looking neither to the right nor the left he did the whole building in forty-three minutes.

'You can imagine the exhausted state Aunt Kate and I are in after travelling five weeks with him. We simply struck in Switzerland and sent him on to Italy alone. I had hoped he would meet us in Valedolmo, but we have been detained here longer than we expected, and now he's rushed off again--where to, goodness only knows; we don't.

'Anyway, Aunt Kate and I shall land in Valedolmo about the end of the week. I am dying to see you; I have some beautiful news that's too complicated to write. We've engaged rooms at the Hotel du Lac--I hope it's decent; it's the only place starred in Baedeker.

'Aunt Kate wishes to be remembered to your father and Miss Hazel.

'Yours ever, 'NAN HILLIARD.

'P.S.--I'm awfully sorry not to bring Jerry; I know you'd adore him.'

She returned the letter to its envelope and looked up.

'Now isn't that abominable?' she demanded.

'Abominable!' Miss Hazel was scandalized. 'My dear, I think it's delightful.'

'Oh, yes--I mean about Jerry Junior; I've been trying for six years to get hold of that man.'