He would have liked it still better if he had been able to see the younger sister alone; but that was impossible, for the sisters were inseparable. One evening, however, the Don offered to take them to the cathedral to see some ceremony. Ida declined, but the other eagerly accepted.

So b.u.t.tons for the first time in his life found himself alone with the maid of his heart. It was a solemn season.

Both were much embarra.s.sed. b.u.t.tons looked as though he had something dreadful to tell; the Senorita as though she had something dreadful to hear. At length b.u.t.tons began to tell the story of his many searches, pursuits, wanderings, etc., in search of her, and particularly his last search at Florence, in which he had grown disheartened, and had made up his mind to follow her to Spain.

At last he came to the time when he caught up to them on the road.

He had seen them first. His heart told him that one of the ladies was Ida. Then he had lost all control of himself, and had leaped down to rescue her.

The Spanish nature is an impetuous, a demonstrative, a fiery nature. The Senorita was a Spaniard. As b.u.t.tons told all this in pa.s.sionate words, to which his ardent love gave resistless eloquence, her whole manner showed that her heart responded. An uncontrollable excitement filled her being; her large, l.u.s.trous eyes, bright with the glow of the South, now beamed more luminously through her tears, and--in short: b.u.t.tons felt encouraged--and ventured nearer--and, almost before he knew it himself, somehow or other, his arm had got round a slender waist!

While the Senorita trembled--timidly drew back--and then all was still!--except, of course, whisperings--and broken sentences--and soft, sweet......Well, all these were brought to an abrupt close by the return of the Don and his sister.

As they entered the room they saw b.u.t.tons at one end, and the Senorita at the other. The moonbeams stole in softly through the window.

"Why did you not call for a light?"

"Oh, it is so pleasant in the moonshine!"

At the end of a few weeks there came the great, the unlooked-for, the unhoped-for news--the Peace of Villafranca! So war was over.

Moreover, the road was open. They could go wherever they wished.

b.u.t.tons was now strong enough to travel. d.i.c.k and the Senator were as well as ever. The news of the Peace was delightful to the travellers.

Not so, however, to the Bolognese. They railed at Napoleon. They forgot all that he had done, and taunted him with what he had neglected to do. They insulted him. They made caricatures of him. They spread scandalous reports about him. Such is the way of the world.

CHAPTER XLIX.

CROSSING INTO THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY.--CONSTERNATION OF THE CUSTOM-HOUSE OFFICERS.

The journey was a pleasant one. The Spaniards were an agreeable addition to the party in the estimation of others than b.u.t.tons.

The Senator devoted himself particularly to the elder sister. Indeed, his acquaintance with _La Cica_, as he afterward confessed, had given him a taste for foreign ladies. He carried on little conversations with the Senorita in broken English. The Senorita's English was pretty, but not very idiomatic. The Senator imitated her English remarkably well, and no doubt did it out of compliment. He also astonished the company by speaking at the very top of a voice whose ordinary tone was far stronger than common.

[Ill.u.s.tration: b.u.t.tons In Bliss.]

The journey from Bologna to Ferrara was not diversified by any incident. b.u.t.tons was rapidly regaining his gayety and his strength.

He wore his arm in a sling, it is true, but thought it better to have a broken arm with the Senorita than a sound one without her. It must be confessed, however, that his happiness was visible not so much in lively conversation as in his flushed cheek, glistening eye, and general air of ecstasy. Moreover, Ida could not speak English much--a conversation in that language was difficult, and they would not be so rude to the Senator as to talk Spanish in his presence. The consequence was that the conversation flagged, and the Senator was by far the most talkative member of the company, and laid out all his strength in broken English.

Ferrara was reached at last, and they put up at a hotel which boasted of having entertained in its day any quant.i.ty of kings, emperors, and n.o.bles of every European nation. It is an astonishing town. Vast squares, all desolate; great cathedrals, empty; proud palaces, neglected and ruinous; broad streets, gra.s.s-grown and empty; long rows of houses, without inhabitants; it presents the spectacle of a city dying without hope of recovery. The Senator walked through every street in Ferrara, looked carelessly at Ta.s.so's dungeon, and seemed to feel relieved when they left the city.

On arriving at the Po. which forms the boundary between this district and Venetia, they underwent some examination from the authorities, but crossed without accident. But on the other side they found the Austrian officials far more particular. They asked a multiplicity of questions, opened every trunk, scanned the pa.s.sports, and detained them long. The ladies were annoyed in a similar manner, and a number of Roman and Neapolitan trinkets which had pa.s.sed the Italian _doganas_ were now taken from them.

d.i.c.k had a valise, both compartments of which were strapped down carefully. Under a cairn exterior he concealed a throbbing heart, for in that valise was the Doctor's pistol, upon which he relied in antic.i.p.ation of future dangers. The officials opened the valise. It was apparently a puzzle to them. They found but little clothing. On the contrary, a very extensive a.s.sortment of articles wrapped in paper and labelled very neatly. These they opened one by one in the first compartment, and found the following:

1, Six collars; 2, a brick; 3, lump of lime; 4, pebbles; 5, plaster; 6, ashes; 7, paper; 8, another brick; 9, a chip; 10, more plaster; 11, more ashes; 13, an ink bottle; 13, three pair stockings; 14, more ashes; 15, more ashes; 16, a neck-tie; 17, a bit of wood; 18, vial; 19, some gra.s.s; 20, bone; 21, rag; 22, stone; 23, another stone: 24, some more gra.s.s; 25, more pebbles; 26, more bones; 27, pot of blacking; 28, slippers; 29, more stones; 30, more stones.

The officials started up with an oath apiece. Their heavy German faces confronted d.i.c.k with wrath and indignation, and every separate hair of their warlike mustaches stood out. However, they swallowed their rage, and turned to the others. d.i.c.k drew a long breath of relief. The pistol was safe. It had been taken apart and each piece wrapped in paper and labelled. Had he carried it about with him it would have been taken.

The Senator thought it was better to have three battles with brigands than one encounter with custom-house officials. He had a little store of specimens of Italian manufactures, which were all taken from him.

One thing struck him forcibly, and that was the general superiority of the Austrian over the Roman side.

There was more thrift neatness, and apparent prosperity. His sentiments on this subject were embodied in a letter home, which he wrote from Padua on a dreary evening which they spent there before starting for Venice:

"If this part of Italy is oppressed by Austria, then all I can say is, that the pressure has squeezed an immense amount of vegetation out of the soil. Pa.s.sing from the Roman territories into the Austrian is like going from darkness into light, or from Canada into the United States. What kind of people are they who do better under foreign rule than Native? In my opinion, the territories of the Pope are worse than those of other rulers in Italy. A Spanish friend of mine tells me that it is because the thoughts of the Pope's subjects are set not on things below, but on things on high. He tells me that we've got to choose between two masters--Christianity on the one hand, and Mammon on the other. Whoever chooses the latter will be dest.i.tute of the former. He gives as examples of this France, England, and America, which countries, though possessed of the highest material blessings, are yet a prey to crime, scepticism, doubt, infidelity, heresy, false doctrine, and all manner of similar evils. Those nations which prefer religion to worldly prosperity present a different scene; and he points to Spain and Italy--poor in this world's goods, but rich in faith--the only evils which afflict them being the neighborhood of unbelieving nations."

CHAPTER L.

VENICE AND ITS PECULIAR GLORY.--THE DODGE CLUB COME TO GRIEF AT LAST.

--UP A TREE.--IN A NET, ETC.

Few sensations are so singular as that which the traveller experiences on his first approach to Venice. The railway pa.s.ses for miles through swamps, pools, ponds, and broken mud banks, till at length, bursting away altogether from the sh.o.r.e, it pushes directly out into the sea. Away goes the train of cars over the long viaduct, and the traveller within can scarcely understand the situation. The firm and even roll and the thunder of the wheels tell of solid ground beneath; but outside of the windows on either side there is nothing but a wide expanse of sea.

At length the city is reached. The train stops, and the pa.s.senger steps out into the station-house. But what a station-house! and what a city! There is the usual shouting from carriers and cabmen, but none of that deep roar of a large city which in every other place drones heavily into the traveller's ear.

Going out to what he thinks is a street, the traveller finds merely a ca.n.a.l. Where are the carriages, cabs, caliches, hand-carts, barouches, pony-carriages, carryalls, wagons, hansoms, hackneys, wheelbarrows, broughams, dog-carts, buggies? Where are the horses, mares, dogs, pigs, ponies, oxen, cows, cats, colts, calves, and livestock generally?

Nowhere. There's not a wheeled carriage in the place. It may be doubted if there is a dog. There certainly is not a cow. The people use goats' milk. The horse is as unknown as the pterodactyl, icthyosaurus, dodo, iguanodon, mastodon, great awk. How do they go about? Where are the conveniences for moving to and fro?

Then, at the platform of the station, a score or two of light gondolas await you. The gondolier is the cabman. He waits for you, with his hand toward you, and the true "Keb, Sir!" tone and smile.

A double-sized gondola is here called an "omnibus," and the name is painted on the side in huge letters. And these are the subst.i.tutes for wheeled vehicles.

[Ill.u.s.tration: d.i.c.k's Luggage.]

Now after entering one of these you go along smoothly and noiselessly. The first thing one notices in Venice is the absence of noise. As the boat goes along the only sound that is heard is the sharp cry from the boatman as he approaches a corner. At first the novelty interests the mind, afterward it affects the spirits. In three days most people leave the city in a kind of panic. The stillness is awful. A longer stay would reduce one to a state of melancholy madness. A few poets, however, have been able to endure, and even to love, the sepulchral stillness of the city. But to appreciate Venice one must be strongly poetical.

There are many things to be seen. First of all there is the city itself, one grand curiosity, unique, with nothing on earth that bears a distant approach to it. Its ca.n.a.ls, gondolas, antique monuments, Byzantine architecture, bridges, mystery: its pretty women with black lace veils, the true glory of Venice--though Murray says nothing about them.

For Murray, in what was meant to be an exhaustive description of Venice, has omitted all mention of that which makes it what it is.

Whereas if it had been Homer instead of Murray he would have rolled out the following epithets: [Transcriber's Note: Greek transliteration] euplokamoi, apalai, choroetheis, eukomoi, rodopechees, erateinai, kalliplokamoi, elkechitones, kuanopides, imeroessai, bathukolpoi, ligumolpoi: k. t. l. [/end Greek]

The travellers visited the whole round of sights. They remained in company and went about in the same gondola. The Senator admired what he saw as much as any of them, though it appeared to be out of his particular line. It was not the Cathedral of St. Mark's, however, nor the Doge's Palace, nor the Court of the Inquisition, nor the Bridge of Sighs, nor the Rialto, that interested him, but rather the spectacle of all these magnificent edifices around him, with all the ma.s.sive masonry of a vast city, built up laboriously on the uncertain sand. He admired the Venetians who had done this. To such men, he thought, the commerce of the world might well have belonged.

In discussing the causes of the decline of Venice he summed up the subject in a few words, and in the clearest possible manner.