"And content themselves this time with giving you warning."
"Very much obliged; but tell your Government not to be alarmed. I won't hurt them."
Upon this the two visitors took their leave.
Walking Spanish.
[Illustration: Walking Spanish.]
The Senator informed his two friends about the visit, and thought very lightly about it; but the recollection of one thing rankled in his mind.
That spy! The fellow had humbugged him. He had dogged him, tracked him, perhaps for weeks, had drawn him into conversation, asked leading questions, and then given information. If there was any thing on earth that the Senator loathed it was this.
But how could such a man be punished! That was the thought. Punishment could only come from one. The law could do nothing. But there was one who could do something, and that one was himself. Lynch law!
"My fayther was from Bosting,
My uncle was Judge Lynch,
So, darn your fire and roasting,
You can not make me flinch."
The Senator hummed the above elegant words all that evening.
He thought he could find the man yet. He was sure he would know him. He would devote himself to this on the next day. The next day he went about the city, and at length in the afternoon he came to Pincian Hill. There was a great crowd there as usual. The Senator placed himself in a favorable position, in which he could only be seen from one point, and then watched with the eye of a hawk.
He watched for about an hour. At the end of that time he saw a face. It belonged to a man who had been leaning against a post with his back turned toward the Senator all this time. It was _the face_! The fellow happened to turn it far enough round to let the Senator see him. He was evidently watching him yet. The Senator walked rapidly toward him. The man saw him and began to move as rapidly away. The Senator increased his pace. So did the man. The Senator walked still faster. So did the man. The Senator took long strides. The man took short, quick ones. It is said that the fastest pedestrians are those who take short, quick steps. The Senator did not gain on the other.
By this time a vast number of idlers had been attracted by the sight of these two men walking as if for a wager. At last the Senator began to run. So did the man!
The whole thing was plain. One man was chasing the other. At once all the idlers of the Pincian Hill stopped all their avocations and turned to look. The road winds down the Pincian Hill to the Piazza del Popolo, and those on the upper part can look down and see the whole extent. What a place for a race! The quick-eyed Romans saw it all.
"A spy! yes, a Government spy!"
"Chased by an eccentric Englishman!"
A loud shout burst from the Roman crowd. But a number of English and Americans thought differently. They saw a little man chased by a big one. Some cried "Shame!" Others, thinking it a case of pocket-picking, cried "Stop thief!" Others cried "Go it, little fellow! Two to one on the small chap!"
Every body on the Pincian Hill rushed to the edge of the winding road to look down, or to the paved walk that overlooks the Piazza. Carriages stopped and the occupants looked down. French soldiers, dragoons, guards, officers--all staring.
And away went the Senator. And away ran the terrified spy. Down the long way, and at length they came to the Piazza del Popolo. A loud shout came from all the people. Above and on all sides they watched the race. The spy darted down the Corso. The Senator after him.
The Romans in the street applauded vociferously. Hundreds of people stopped, and then turned and ran after the Senator. All the windows were crowded with heads. All the balconies were filled with people.
Down along the Corso. Past the column of Antonine. Into a street on the left. The Senator was gaining! At last they came to a square. A great fountain of vast waters bursts forth there. The spy ran to the other side of the square, and just as he was darting into a side alley the Senator's hand clutched his coat-tails!
The Senator took the spy in that way by which one is enabled to make any other do what is called "Walking Spanish," and propelled him rapidly toward the reservoir of the fountain.
The Senator raised the spy from the ground and pitched him into the pool.
The air was rent with acclamations and cries of delight.
As the spy emerged, half-drowned, the crowd came forward and would have prolonged the delightful sensation.
Not often did they have a spy in their hands.
Dick Thinks It Over.
[Illustration: Dick Thinks It Over.]
CHAPTER XXXV
.
DICK MAKES ANOTHER EFFORT, AND BEGINS TO FEEL ENCOURAGED.
Pepita's little visit was beneficial to Dick. It showed him that he was not altogether cut off from her. Before that he had grown to think of her as almost inaccessible; now she seemed to have a will, and, what is better, a heart of her own, which would lead her to do her share toward meeting him again. Would it not be better now to comply with her evident desire, and leave Rome for a little while? He could return again. But how could he tear himself away? Would, it not be far better to remain and seek her? He could not decide. He thought of Padre Liguori. He had grossly insulted that gentleman, and the thought of meeting him again made him feel blank. Yet he was in some way or other a protector of Pepita, a guardian, perhaps, and as such had influence over her fortunes. If he could only disarm hostility from Padre Liguori it would be undoubtedly for his benefit. Perhaps Padre Liguori would become his friend, and try to influence Pepita's family in his favor. So he decided on going to see Padre Liguori.
The new turn which had been given to his feelings by Pepita's visit had benefited him in mind and body. He was quite strong enough for a long walk. Arriving at the church he had no difficulty in finding Liguori. The priest advanced with a look of surprise.
"Before mentioning the object of my visit," said Dick, bowing courteously, "I owe you an humble apology for a gross insult. I hope you will forgive me."
The priest bowed.
"After I left here I succeeded in my object," continued Dick.
"I heard so," said Liguori, coldly.
"And you have heard also that I met with a terrible punishment for my presumption, or whatever else you may choose to call it."
"I heard of that also." said the priest, sternly. "And do you complain of it? Tell me. Was it not deserved?"
"If their suspicions and yours had been correct, then the punishment would have been well deserved. But you all wrong me. I entreat you to believe me. I am no adventurer. I am honest and sincere."
"We have only your word for this," said Liguori, coldly.
"What will make you believe that I am sincere, then?" said Dick. "What proof can I give?"
"You are safe in offering to give proofs in a case where none can be given."
"I am frank with you. Will you not be so with me? I come to you to try to convince you of my honesty, Padre Liguori. I love Pepita as truly and as honorably as it is possible for man to love. It was that feeling that so bewildered me that I was led to insult you. I went out in the midst of danger, and would have died for her. With these feelings I can not give her up."
"I have heard sentiment like this often before. What is your meaning?"
"I am rich and of good family in my own country; and I am determined to have Pepita for my wife."
"Your wife!"
"Yes," said Dick, resolutely. "I am honorable and open about it. My story is short. I love her, and wish to make her my wife."
The expression of Liguori changed entirely.
"Ah! this makes the whole matter different altogether. I did not know this before. Nor did the Count. But he is excusable. A sudden passion blinded him, and he attacked you. I will tell you"--and at each word the priest's manner grew more friendly--"I will tell you how it is, Signore. The Giantis were once a powerful family, and still have their title. I consider myself as a kind of appanage to the family, for my ancestors for several generations were their _maggiordomos_. Poverty at last stripped them of every thing, and I, the last of the family dependents, entered the Church. But I still preserve my respect and love for them. You can understand how bitterly I would resent and avenge any base act or any wrong done to them. You can understand Luigi's vengeance also."
"I thought as much," said Dick. "I thought you were a kind of guardian, and so I came here to tell you frankly how it is. I love her. I can make her rich and happy. To do so is the desire of my heart. Why should I be turned away? Or if there be any objection, what is it?"
"There is no objection--none whatever, if Pepita is willing, and you sincerely love her. I think that Luigi would give his consent."
"Then what would prevent me from marrying her at once?"
"At once!"
"Certainly."
"You show much ardor; but still an immediate marriage is impossible. There are various reasons for this. In the first place, we love Pepita too dearly to let her go so suddenly to some one who merely feels a kind of impulse. We should like to know that there is some prospect of her being happy. We have cherished her carefully thus far, and will not let her go without having some security about her happiness."
"Then I will wait as long as you like, or send for my friends to give you every information you desire to have; or if you want me to give any proofs, in any way, about any thing, I'm ready."
"There is another thing," said Lignori, "which I hope you will take kindly. You are young and in a foreign country. This sudden impulse may be a whim. If you were to marry now you might bitterly repent it before three months were over. Under such circumstances it would be misery for you and her. If this happened in your native country you could be betrothed and wait. There is also another reason why waiting is absolutely necessary. It will take some time to gain her brother's consent. Now her brother is poor, but he might have been rich. He is a Liberal, and belongs to the National party. He hates the present system here most bitterly. He took part in the Roman Republican movement a few years ago, and was imprisoned after the return of the Pope, and lost the last vestige of his property by confiscation. He now dresses coarsely, and declines to associate with any Romans, except a few who are members of a secret society with him. He is very closely watched by the Government, so that he has to be quiet. But he expects to rise to eminence and power, and even wealth, before very long. So you see he does not look upon his sister as a mere common every-day match. He expects to elevate her to the highest rank, where she can find the best in the country around her. For my own part I think this is doubtful; and if you are in earnest I should do what I could to further your interest. But it will take some time to persuade the Count."
"Then, situated as I am, what can I do to gain her?" asked Dick.
"Are your friends thinking of leaving Rome soon?"
"Yes, pretty soon."
"Do not leave them. Go with them. Pursue the course you originally intended, just as though nothing had happened. If after your tour is finished you find that your feelings are as strong as ever, and that she is as dear to you as you say, then you may return here."
"And you?"
"I think all objections may be removed."
"It will take some weeks to finish our tour."
"Some weeks! Oh, do not return under three months at least."
"Three months! that is very long!"
"Not too long. The time will soon pass away. If you do not really love her you will be glad at having escaped; if you do you will rejoice at having proved your sincerity."
Some further conversation passed, after which Dick, finding the priest inflexible, ceased to persuade, and acceded to his proposal.
CHAPTER XXXVI
.
SHOWING HOW DIFFICULT IT IS TO GET A LAUNDRESS, FOR THE SENATOR WANTED ONE, AND NOT KNOWING THE LANGUAGE GOT INTO A SCRAPE, NOT BY HIS OWN FAULT, FOR HE WAS CAREFUL ABOUT COMMITTING HIMSELF WITH THE LADIES; BUT PRAY, WAS IT HIS FAULT IF THE LADIES WOULD TAKE A FANCY TO HIM?
Signora Mirandolina Rocca, who was the landlady of the house where the Club were lodging, was a widow, of about forty years of age, still fresh and blooming, with a merry dark eye, and much animation of features. Sitting usually in the small room which they passed on the way to their apartments, they had to stop to get their keys, or to leave them when they went out, and Buttons and Dick frequently stopped to have a little conversation. The rest, not being able to speak Italian, contented themselves with smiles; the Senator particularly, who gave the most beaming of smiles both on going and on returning. Sometimes he even tried to talk to her in his usual adaptation of broken English, spoken in loud tones to the benighted but fascinating foreigner. Her attention to Dick during his sickness increased the Senator's admiration, and he thought her one of the best, one of the most kind-hearted and sympathetic of beings.
One day, toward the close of their stay in Rome, the Senator was in a fix. He had not had any washing done since he came to the city. He had ran through all his clean linen, and came to a dead stand. Before leaving for another place it was absolutely necessary to attend to this. But how? Buttons was off with the Spaniards; Dick had gone out on a drive. No one could help him, so he tried it himself. In fact, he had never lost confidence in his powers of making himself understood. It was still a fixed conviction of his that in cases of necessity any intelligent man could make his wants known to intelligent foreigners. If not, there is stupidity somewhere. Had he not done so in Paris and in other places?
So he rang and managed to make the servant understand that he wished to see the landlady. The landlady had always shown a great admiration for the manly, not to say gigantic charms of the Senator. Upon him she bestowed her brightest smile, and the quick flush on her face and heaving breast told that the Senator had made wild work with her too susceptible heart.
So now when she learned that the Senator wished to see her, she at once imagined the cause to be any thing and every thing except the real one. Why take that particular time, when all the rest were out? she thought. Evidently for some tender purpose. Why send for her? Why not come down to see her? Evidently because he did not like the publicity of her room at the Conciergerie.
The Senator In A Bad Fix.
[Illustration: The Senator In A Bad Fix.]
She arrayed herself, therefore, in her brightest and her best charms; gave an additional flourish to her dark hair that hung wavingly and luxuriantly, and still without a trace of gray over her forehead; looked at herself with her dark eyes in the glass to see if she appeared to the best advantage; and finally, in some agitation, but with great eagerness, she went to obey the summons.
Meantime the Senator had been deliberating how to begin. He felt that he could not show his bundle of clothes to so fair and fine a creature as this, whose manners were so soft and whose smile so pleasant. He would do any thing first. He would try a roundabout way of making known his wishes, trusting to his own powers and the intelligence of the lady for a full and complete understanding. Just as he had come to this conclusion there was a timid knock at the door.
"Come in," said the Senator, who began to feel a little awkward already.
"_Epermesso_?" said a soft sweet voice, "_se puo entrare_?" and Signora Mirandolina Rocca advanced into the room, giving one look at the Senator, and then casting down her eyes.
"_Umilissia serva di Lei, Signore, mi commandi_."
But the Senator was in a quandary. What could he do? How begin? What gesture would be the most fitting for a beginning?
The pause began to be embarrassing. The lady, however, as yet was calm--calmer, in fact, than when she entered.
So she spoke once more.
"_Di che ha Ella bisogna, Illustris simo_?"
The Senator was dreadfully embarrassed. The lady was so fair in his eyes. Was this a woman who could contemplate the fact of soiled linen? Never.
"Ehem!" said he.
Then he paused.
"_Servo, devota_," said Signora Mirandolina. "_Che c'e, Signore_."
Then looking up, she saw the face of the Senator all rosy red, turned toward her, with a strange confusion and embarrassment in his eye, yet it was a kind eye--a soft, kind eye.
"_Egli e forse innamorato di me_," murmured the lady, gathering new courage as she saw the timidity of the other. "_Che grandezza_!" she continued, loud enough for the Senator to hear, yet speaking as if to herself. "_Che bellezza_! _un galantuomo, certamente--e quest' e molto piacevole_."
She glanced at the manly figure of the Senator with a tender admiration in her eye which she could not repress, and which was so intelligible to the Senator that he blushed more violently than ever, and looked helplessly around him.
"_E innamorato di me, senza dubio_," said the Signora, "_vergogna non vuol che si sapesse_."
The Senator at length found voice. Advancing toward the lady he looked at her very earnestly and as she thought very piteously--held out both his hands, then smiled, then spread his hands apart, then nodded and smiled again, and said--
"Me--me--want--ha--hum--ah! You know--me--gentleman--hum--me --Confound the luck," he added, in profound vexation.
"_Signore_," said Mirandolina, "_la di Lei gentelezza me confonde_."
The Senator turned his eyes all around, everywhere, in a desperate half-conscious search for escape from an embarrassing situation.
"_Signore noi ci siamo sole, nessuno ci senti_," remarked the Signora, encouragingly.
"Me want to tell you this!" burst forth the Senator. "Clothes--you know--washy--washy." Whereupon he elevated his eyebrows, smiled, and brought the tips of his fingers together.
"_Io non so che cosa vuol dir mi. Illustrissimo_," said the Signora, in bewilderment.
"You--you--you know. Ah? Washy? Hey? No, no," shaking his head, "not washy, but _get_ washy."
The landlady smiled. The Senator, encouraged by this, came a step nearer.
"_Che cosa? Il cuor me palpita. Io tremo_," murmured La Rocca.
She retreated a step. Whereupon the Senator at once fell back again in great confusion.
"Washy, washy," he repeated, mechanically, as his mind was utterly vague and distrait.
"_Uassi-Uuassi_?" repeated the other, interrogatively.
"Me--"
"_Tu_" said she, with tender emphasis.
"Wee mounseer," said he, with utter desperation.
The Signora shook her head. "_Non capisco. Ma quelle, balordaggini ed intormentimente, che sono si non segni manifesti d'amore_?"
"I don't understand, marm, a single word of that."
The Signora smiled. The Senator took courage again.
"The fact is this, marm," said he, firmly; "I want to get my clothes washed somewhere. Of course you don't do it, but you can tell me, you know. Hm?"
"_Non capisco_."
"Madame," said he, feeling confident that she would understand that word at least, and thinking, too, that it might perhaps serve as a key to explain any other words which he might append to it. "My clothes--I want to get them washed--laundress--washy--soap and water--clean 'em all up--iron 'em--hang 'em out to dry. Ha?"
While saying this he indulged in an expressive pantomine. When alluding to his clothes he placed his hands against his chest, when mentioning the drying of them he waved them in the air. The landlady comprehended this. How not? When a gentleman places his hand on his heart, what is his meaning?
"_O sottigliezza d'amore_!" murmured she. "_Che cosa cerca_," she continued, looking up timidly but invitingly.
The Senator felt doubtful at this, and in fact a little frightened. Again he placed his hands on his chest to indicate his clothes; he struck that manly chest forcibly several times, looking at her all the time. Then he wrung his hands.
The Senator In A Worse Fix.
[Illustration: The Senator In A Worse Fix.]
"_Ah, Signore_," said La Rocca, with a melting glance, "_non e d'uopo di desperazione_."
"Washy, washy--"
"_Eppure, se Ella vuol sposarmi, non ce difficolta_," returned the other, with true Italian frankness.
"Soap and water--"
"_Non ho il coraggio di dir di no_."