Vestigia Volume I Part 9

Then she looked at Dino tranquilly. 'I have heard the Marchese Gasparo speak of you; he takes an interest in you. It would be a pity if you should disappoint him,' she added, and moved away slowly with a careless bend of her head.

Dino stood as she had left him for a long moment, holding his hat in his hand, the wind just ruffling the thick hair on his forehead, gazing fixedly out to sea. He stood like a man under the influence of some spell. Then, as he looked up and caught the curious glance of the Countess' companion fixed full upon him, he hastily replaced his hat and turned away.

Just outside the gate he came upon Valdez with a roll of music in his hand, going about his work. Dino nodded to him; he would not stop to speak. The older man slackened his pace, looking at him rather sadly, as if he were sorry for something, then pa.s.sed on. Afterwards it struck Dino that they had never happened to pa.s.s one another in this silent way before. He stopped, looking down the long street at the old familiar figure. But what had they to say to each other now, even if he should turn and overtake him? Dino was like a man under sentence of death; all the minor obligations of life seemed annulled and suspended; where they clung still it was by force of habit, like the withering tendrils of a vine cut down at the root.

A great impatience of trouble had fallen upon him: he wanted no more emotion, no more effort. There was a clear fortnight, perhaps three weeks, before--before he would be sent to Rome. Well! he wanted that time to himself, and he intended to have it, he intended to be happy.

The first great shock of the surprise was over: his nature had already re-adjusted itself to these new conditions with the supple strength of youth. And in this fixed interval of quiet--this interval, which seemed all the longer by very reason of its being fixed,--all the light, joy-loving instincts of his age were alert within him, making music in his heart, like the rapturous song of birds between two storms. The habit of life, its careless young incredulity of the end, had never been more strong upon him; he had never felt more irresponsible; had never looked, perhaps had never been more like his father, than on that morning, as he turned down from the broad sunny Pa.s.seggiata towards old Drea's house on the quay.

CHAPTER VII.

ITALIA.

Seen by daylight, the entrance to Drea's house was not unlike the entrance of a cave. The house itself was in a corner of the ca.n.a.l, flush with the water, below the level of the street, and consisted of two rooms--the long, large entrance room where the table had been laid for the birthday supper, and another much smaller chamber beyond, which belonged to Italia, and was lighted by a very small round window like the port-hole of a s.h.i.+p, which looked out upon the water on the other side of the bridge. The whole place indeed had been originally designed for a Government boat-house and store-house, and was sunk in the thickness of the ma.s.sive stone pier.

On a sunny morning like this, when the door was thrown wide open, any painter pa.s.sing that way would have been charmed by the mysterious look of the interior, the dark raftered ceiling, the smoke-embrowned fireplace, above which a row of bright bra.s.s plates made round spots of light in the darkness, and then the heavy coils of rope and the spare oars, arranged with all a sailor's habit of neatness, against the whitewashed wall. At dusk, and when the fire was burning, it was like looking at an interior of Rembrandt's to watch the play of light and shadow over the rich ruddy brown tones of the room; but on this particular morning the fire had been allowed to sink to a mere handful of red embers, and the room was full of the fresh smell of the sea air and the brightness of the March suns.h.i.+ne.

At the foot of the stone steps leading down from the street before Drea's door there was a narrow strip of stone pavement, and a floating wooden stage where the boat was moored. In the corner there, where the angle of the great granite b.u.t.tress made a sheltered spot, was Italia's favourite seat. By sitting well back in the shadow one was entirely out of sight, unless indeed some especially adventurous spirit bethought himself to take the trouble to lean bodily over the parapet of the bridge overhead. But it was too busy a part of Leghorn for much idling: all day long the tramp, tramp of hurrying feet, and the hollow rumbling of the weighted carts rolling towards the lading s.h.i.+ps, made a dull, continuous ba.s.s, which effectually covered any sound of voices.

Italia could sing there by the hour over her work, sure of never being heard, save perhaps by some taciturn weather-beaten fisherman poling his flat-bottomed boat into the quieter water of the ca.n.a.l. It was Drea's own landing-stage, and he was jealous of his rights to it, giving but few boats the privilege of mooring there for an hour. Since the building of the railway, now that the ca.n.a.l has ceased to be of use for the heavier traffic between Leghorn and Pisa, a quieter spot than this could scarcely be imagined. For even the supposit.i.tious idler would scarcely be tempted to look this way when, just across the bridge, by leaning over the opposite bal.u.s.trade, one could look down upon all the hurry and interest of the Old Port, and watch the slow heaving of the anchors, the puffing excitement of the blackened vessels getting up steam, or the continual come-and-go of the little boats among the s.h.i.+pping.

The noise and the hurry pa.s.sed like an unheeded stream around Italia's sheltered corner. Dino had compared her once to an enchanted princess, and her quaint rooms, with the silent, sunny platform in front of them, to a strip of enchanted ground set apart from the disturbing commonplaces of life. The remembrance of the old fancy brought a smile upon his lips as he ran lightly down the steps that morning. Drea was not there, and the old boat was not at her mooring, but Italia was sitting just where he had expected to find her. She held a book in her hand, but she was not reading, she was looking dreamily at the lazy lapping of the water against the old wooden stage. She wore the same blue cotton dress as on the previous night, but she had taken off her beads and clasp, and tied a scarlet handkerchief about her neck. Her hat was lying on the ground beside her; Dino picked it up, and his first greeting was one of playful reproof.

'Bareheaded in this March suns.h.i.+ne, my Italia? _Pazzarella_! Your father was right indeed when he said it required two of us to look after you.'

'Dino _mio_!'

She looked up at him with a wide, dreamy glance, which suddenly grew bright and loving. The hot colour rushed to her cheeks, and she put up her little brown hands as if to hide them, while she laughed and shook her head.

'_Marzo pazzo_, ah, yes, I know it. But indeed, Dino, this is much more likely to drive me to distraction.' She opened the book on her lap, and turned over half a dozen pages. 'I have really tried to learn it, really. But it is so difficult; you have no idea how difficult it is, Dino.'

'Poor little thing! It is a shame to give it such hard lessons,' said Dino in a caressing tone, looking down at the rough brown hair. He threw himself down on the pavement in the shadow at her feet, and put up his hand for the book.

'Here! let me have a look at it, and see if I can't do something to make it easier for you. What is it? Arithmetic? Oh! but this is what I gave you to do long ago. No wonder you find it difficult; you have had time to forget all my explanations. Let me see now; have you a pencil?'

'Yes; but you can't write with it. I've broken the point.'

'Give it here, then, you helpless baby!'

He took a knife out of his pocket, and picking up the pencil began to sharpen it while she sat watching him, her dark eyes full and bright with such an expression of unquestioning content as one is not accustomed to expect on faces which have outgrown their first childish calm. The water of the ca.n.a.l was as blue that morning as the stainless sky which it reflected, and it seemed almost as still; only now and then the faintest ripple breaking against the step with a weak splash and stir which made the sunbeams sparkle under the wooden platform.

Beyond the dark archway of the bridge the white-sailed boats came and went; her glance followed their movement with a vague sense of happy peace. She was realising for the first time the ideal of all loving-natured women: she was feeling her happiness depend upon the will of the man she trusted. When Dino looked up at her inquiringly she started, as if indeed awakened from a dream.

'Have you understood? Is that plain enough? Oh, Italia! Italia! for shame! Is that the way to treat a learned professor? You have not been looking at the book after all,' he said laughing, but shaking his head with mock severity.

The colour rushed back to her cheeks. 'Oh! I am so sorry, Dino; I forgot.'

'Now, if I were your father I should tell you that one does not carry flowers to the mill when what one wants is bread; and the quickest way to become an arithmetician is not to sit watching for the boat. By the way, speaking of the boat, Sor Drea must have gone out early this morning.'

'Yes; he went at daybreak; he woke me up to tell me he was going. He took Maso with him to help with the nets.'

'Ah! I wish I had known,' said Dino quickly.

'Father thought of going for you; then he said you would be tired--you had a hard day yesterday. And Sora Catarina would not know yet of your arrangement; she would have been frightened if you had been fetched away suddenly in the middle of the night.'

She glanced quickly at him, and added, 'I am glad they did not go for you; you look so tired this morning, Dino, as if you had not slept.'

'I did not sleep--much,' he said absently.

He threw his arm up and laid his head against it. His face was almost on a level now with the blue ripple of the water. There was a handful of loose straw floating about among the piles: he watched it come and go as the current sucked in under the landing-stage. What was the good of thinking--of remembering? Why had Italia alluded to last night?

Was he never to forget it for five minutes?

He sat up abruptly, brus.h.i.+ng the hair out of his eyes; but as he moved she spoke.

'Won't you give me the book now, Dino?' She bent her head down over it: 'I did not mean to vex you; I did not mean to tease you when you are so tired.'

She looked so like a child submitting to some half-understood reproof that Dino could scarcely restrain the impulse of mingled tenderness and adoration which made him long to take her in his arms and kiss her.

But he forced himself to answer lightly: 'What nonsense, little one; as if anything you did could vex me!' He looked about him: 'I suppose I ought to be going now. There is no telling when Sor Drea will be in if he has taken the nets; but I wish you would sing to me--just one song before I go.' He took the book away from her and closed it gently.

'After all, you are right; it is better to have music than to do one's lesson on such a morning. Sums are made for different weather, are they not, Italia _mia_? For days when the _libeccio_ blows, and one does not mind wasting a whole morning over one terrible bit of multiplication.'

'Oh, but even I am not quite so bad as that,' said Italia quickly. 'I had only just brought out my book when you came; before then I had been talking to the signor Padrone.'

'What!' said Dino, in quite an altered voice. He noticed the change himself, but he could not prevent it; it was all he could do to ask the question quietly, 'Has--has the Marchese Gasparo been here?'

'Surely,' said Italia, looking at him with some surprise; 'he came here about an hour ago to speak about the boat to my father. He wants to take a party of his friends out for a sail.' She added: 'I thought you knew he had been here; he told me he had met you.'

'No, I did not know it,' said Dino, speaking between his teeth.

All the radiant sweetness of the day seemed blotted out before him. It was very well for that child there innocently to accept this fiction about the boat; but did not he, Dino, understand Gasparo better? A dozen stories of the handsome Captain's powers of fascination flashed back across him. He thought of the woman to whom he had carried the letter that very morning. The letter! It was a trick to get him out of the way; that was why Gasparo had turned that friendly smiling face upon him, and talked of 'old times,' of 'days when they were boys together,' and all the while he was planning this visit to Italia--d.a.m.n him!

He forgot all about Italia's presence. With a sudden prophetic feeling he seemed looking straight ahead into the future. He could see exactly what would happen, such an old, old story; and to think that such misery could even come near Italia, his little playfellow, his little girl. If he had only known in time; if he had warned that strange lady when he spoke to her this morning, that would indeed have been fighting Gasparo with his own weapons! And then he remembered the tone of her voice when she spoke to him; to him, a man, not a girl, thrown upon her mercy. 'When the waves beat too fiercely against the sh.o.r.e the rock breaks them,' she said. And he was to go away, he had sworn it, and it was in such hands that he was to leave the future of Italia!

He had been silent so long that she thought him very tired. Perhaps he was depressed, too, about this sudden change in his fortunes. His mother might have been finding fault with him; Italia was always a little afraid of the Sora Catarina, who was a.s.sociated in her mind with dark reproving looks and a generally grave and joyless view of life.

It was always a matter of secret wonder to her when she heard her father allude to the days when Dino's mother had been a young and handsome girl. In her heart Italia could never imagine her looking otherwise than imperious and miserable. It seemed quite probable now that she should be the cause of Dino's look of unhappiness.

'I think you would be pleased to hear one thing,' she said gently.

'Signor Gasparo was talking to me this morning about my father. You know the old Marchese always used to say that he should leave my father something in his will because of the service he did that night when the steamer was wrecked. You know, Dino; when we were children. And Signor Gasparo says that since his father forgot to put it into his will in writing, it makes no difference at all. He is going to speak to the lawyers and to the Signora Marchesa about it, and my father will have the money just the same. It is a great deal of money, three hundred francs, in gold. Father can buy a new boat with it--dear father! Are you not glad, Dino?' She was silent for a moment, and then, for the first time, a shadow came across her face. 'I thought you would be so glad. That was half the pleasure of it,--the telling you,' she said rather wistfully.

'I _am_ glad,' Dino answered, in a harsh mechanical voice.

And then the blank look of disappointment on the sweet face bending over him struck him like a pang. He sat up, rubbing both hands over his head, and ruffling up his thick curly hair. 'My Italia, you must know without my telling you if I am glad to hear of any good fortune coming to you or to Drea. But you must be patient with me this morning, _carina_. I have things to vex me; and I am very weary.'

'Poor Dino! It is my fault for tiring you. But I will sing to you now. That will rest you better than anything else,' she said soothingly, gazing down at him with frank loving eyes.

Dino smiled faintly. This sudden reawakening of thought was like the clutch of a physical pain. 'Sing to me with your guitar. That is more formal. It is more like making a stranger of me,' he said, answering her look. As she moved away he shut his eyes, and buried his face again on his folded arm. The last hope was gone. After this what would be the use of warning Drea? The simple loyal-hearted old man was as incapable of tempering his grat.i.tude for a gift, with a criticism of the giver's motives as the veriest child. His little store of wisdom held no formula for such a case. It would be next to impossible to make him believe in any form of treachery connected with the handsome open-handed young master; and, even if it were possible, Dino foresaw only too clearly what would be the first--the immediate result. For had he not pledged himself to care for and protect Italia? And what more natural than that her father should turn to him in this emergency?

He lay so quiet that Italia believed him to be half asleep. She looked down at him two or three times as she sat there tuning her guitar; but as he did not move she did not speak to him. Presently she began to sing.

She sang song after song; odds and ends of old ballads; love-catches such as the peasants sing to themselves while the sheep are grazing; full rythmical s.n.a.t.c.hes of modern Greek she had learned from wandering sailors. She sang softly, _a mezza voce_, with an exquisite liquid tenderness in her voice, like the lowest notes of a brooding bird.