I knew the carriage was already ordered, but thinking it might not have started, I scribbled a line in pencil to Brown, and enclosed the telegram. Aunt Mary is such a coward in thunderstorms; but it was silly of her, for it couldn't have gone on thundering all night. I was rather cross, but I had to laugh when I thought of Jimmy. He must have been wild.
If I'd known in time, perhaps I should have stayed ignominiously in my bedroom, but I wouldn't make a change then; it seemed such a tempest in a teapot. So when I was ready I went down as if nothing had happened, and looked around for Brown where I'd told him to meet me at half-past eight, in the hall. My goodness! Iwassurprised when I saw him in evening dress-a jolly dinner-jacket and a black tie. He might have been a prince. I wouldn't have said a word if I'd stopped to think; but I exclaimed on the impulse, and was dreadfully ashamed of myself, for he got rather red. He said quite humbly that he hadn't wished to discredit me, since I'd done him the honour of allowing him to serve me in a somewhat different capacity this evening (that was a nice way of putting it, wasn't it?), so he had decided to wear a suit of clothes which Mr. John Winston had left him; and he hoped I wasn't displeased.
After all, why should I have been when you come to think of it? So we dined at a little table all to ourselves, with pretty shaded candles and some lovely flowers. People were already beginning to leave theroom, and nobody noticed anything strange about us as a couple; we appeared just like everybody else, only rather better looking, if I do say it myself. I had a very interesting talk with Brown, and he told me several things about his life, though I had todrawthem out, as he is more modest than Jimmy Payne. He is far above his work, though he does it so well. I wish so much you could do something nice for him. Can't you?
This is the next morning, and I am writing in my room, waiting for the car to arrive. Aunt Mary and Jimmy will come in it; they've telegraphed again.
I am looking forward to the Riviera now, but I have such a queer, unsettled feeling-sort of half sad, without knowing why, which is stupid, as I'm having a splendid time. I suppose it's my wrist which has made me nervous.
Your lovingMolly.
Grand Hotel, Toulon,December 19.
My good Montie,
It is getting on towards eleven o'clock at night, and as Payne has treated us to a smashup and I have walked some miles carrying I don't know how many pounds of luggage, you might think that I would be more inclined for bed than letter-writing. But, on the contrary, I have no desire for sleep. A change has come o'er my spirit. I am happy. I have dined alone with my Goddess. I almost took your advice and the opportunity to make a clean breast of things, but not quite. Presently I will tell you why, and ask if you don't think I was right in the circumstances.
The said circumstances I owe indirectly to Payne-also a lump on the back of my head; but that is a detail. I am in too blissful a frame of mind to-night to dwell on it or any other detail belonging to the accident, though maybe I'll give you the history of the affair in a future letter. Suffice it to say, before getting on to pleasanter things, that the car reposes in a lonesome meadow below a steep embankment about a dozen miles away, where it isperfectly safe till I can get back to its succour early to-morrow; Aunt Mary and Jimmy Sherlock are enjoying each other's society at a country inn rather nearer; Miss Randolph and I are here. She came on because she had to have a sprained wrist treated by a competent doctor; I came to buy new parts for the car; naturally we joined forces. The others were to have a carriage sent back to them from Toulon, but Aunt Mary funked the long drive on account of a furious storm. Miss Randolph could get no private sitting-room, and as, with a disabled wrist, she didn't care to face the ordeal of asalle à mangeralone, she suggested that I should attend her at dinner. Not as a servant, mind, but "for this occasion only" as an equal.
For an instant I was doubtful, for her sake; but to have put a thought of impropriety into her sweet mind would have been coarse. Besides, the request from mistress to man was equivalent to a royal command. I hope, however, that had there been any fear of unfortunate consequences to her, I should have been strong enough to resist temptation.
I told her that, if she thought it best to condescend to my companionship, I should be highly honoured. And I added that I had with me a decent suit of black. We then parted; I went to find a doctor for Miss Randolph, and to see about a carriage to go back for the others to the village of Le Beausset. It also occurred to me that it would be nice to have a few flowers with which to deck the table for the happiest dinner of my life. The shops were not yet all closed, and at one not far from the hotel I selectedsome exquisite La France roses and a dozen sprays of forced white lilac, which I had once heard Miss Randolph say was among her favourite flowers. When I came to pay the bill, however-three francs a spray for the lilac, and a franc for each of the twelve roses-there were only a few coppers in my pocket. I remembered then that I had spent my last franc in Marseilles, without attaching any importance to the matter, as I'd wired for remittances to arrive at Cannes, and my "screw" due to-night would see me through till then. Now the situation was a bit awkward. I wanted to take the flowers with me and give them to the head waiter to place on the table where Miss Randolph and I would dine. I could not have them sent over and ask the hotel people to settle, because then they would appear on her bill to-morrow morning, as now she would certainly not pay my wages this evening. I couldn't bear to give up the bouquet; besides, I would need more ready money to-night. I had visions of ordering first-rate wine, and letting the Goddess suppose it wasvin compriswith thetable d'hôtedinner. I therefore confessed my pennilessness to the shopman, and asked if I should be likely to find amont-de-piétéstill open. He replied that the pawnshops did their busiest trade in the evening about this time, told me where I could find the best, and agreed to keep the flowers until my return.
The one thing of value I had with me was my monogrammed gold repeater, which my father gave me when I went up to Oxford, and I didn't much like parting with it, especially as I can't get it backto-morrow, but will have to send back the ticket for it from Cannes, when I'm in funds. However, I had no choice, so I put my poor turnip up the spout, and got a tenner for it. With this in French money I retraced my steps to the florist's, and bore off my fragrant spoils in triumph to the hotel. Hardly had I given the flowers to the head waiter, ordered an extra dish or two on themenuand a bottle of Mumm to be iced, when a pencilled note from Miss Randolph was handed to me. It contained a wire from Aunt Mary, saying that she and Jimmy would not leave their present quarters, on account of the storm. I sent word to have the carriage stopped, and luckily for the driver the message was just in time. Then it struck me that in the circumstances I had better put up at another hotel for the night. I made all arrangements, had my bag taken over to a little commercial sort of house near by, and left myself just twenty minutes to bathe and change. Gladstone could do it in five, I've been told. But it was all I could manage in fifteen, for I had decided to do myself well, not to shame my dinner-companion.
Thanks to my little trick of going to a different hotel from the party when we are stopping anywhere longer than one night, I can always indulge in civilised garb of an evening therefore in the dressing-case, which is my little all on the car, I carry something decent. Our mutual tailor, Montie, is not to be despised; and when I'd got into my pumps and all my things, I don't think there was much amiss.
I arrived at our rendezvous-the hall of the hotel-justone minute before the appointed time; and five minutes later I saw Her coming downstairs.
I have sometimes caught a glimpse of her in the evenings, dressed for dinner at good hotels, and her frocks are like herself, always the most perfect. To-night she had no luggage except a bag I had carried, nevertheless she had somehow achieved a costume in which she was a vision. Perhaps if I were a woman I should have seen that she had on her day-skirt, with an evening bodice, but being merely a man over his ears in love, I can only tell you that the effect was dazzling. In admiration of her I forgot my own transformation until I saw her pretty eyebrows go up with surprise.
I felt my heart thump behind my rather jolly white waistcoat. On the second step from the bottom she stopped and exclaimed, "Why, Brown, how nice you look! You're exactly like a--" There she stopped, getting deliciously pink, as if she'd been a naughty child pinched by a "grown-up" in the midst of a malapropos remark. I could fill up the blank for myself, and was highly complimented by her opinion that I was "exactly like a gentleman." I explained that the clothes were Mr. Winston's, and had been donned with a highly laudable motive. It was evident that she approved both cause and effect; and we went in to dinner together.
I can't describe to you, my boy, the pure delight of that moment; the pride I felt in her beauty, the new and intoxicating sense of possession born of thetête-à-têteBut if you could have seen the lovely shadow her eyelashes made on her cheeks as she satthere opposite to me at our daintily appointed little table, you might partly understand.
Fortunately there was a small bunch of flowers on each table, so that ours was not conspicuous, save in superiority. She admired it, took out a spray of lilac and tucked it into the neck of her dress, the stem lying close against her white satin skin. Then, as she ate thehors d'œuvres, she sat silent and apparently thoughtful. It was not until we had begun with the soup that she spoke again.
"I do hope you won't think me rude or inquisitive, Brown," was her curiosity-provoking preface. "I don't mean to be either. But, you know, you interest me a good deal. In America we haven't precisely a middle class. It's all top and bottom with us, just like a tart with the inside forgotten. There, one wouldn't-wouldn't be apt to meet anyone quite like you. I-oh, I don't know how to put it. I'm afraid I began to say something that I can't finish. But-let me see, whatshallI say? Isn't it a pity that with your intelligence and-and manners, and all you've learned, you can't get a position which would-would give you-er-better opportunities?"
At the moment I thought that no position could give me a better opportunity than I had; in fact, as I began to tell you in the first few lines of this letter, I was inclined to believe it sent by Providence as an unexpected way out of my difficulties. Here we were together in no danger of being disturbed by outsiders (one doesn't count a waiter); here was she in a benignant mood, interested in me, and inclined tokindness. In another second I would have blurted out the whole truth, when a voice seemed to say inside of me, "No, she is alone in this hotel to-night with you. She is, in a way, at your mercy. You will be doing an unchivalrous thing if, when she is practically deserted by her people and thrown upon your protection, you proclaim yourself a lover in place of a servant." That voice was right. Even you can't say it wasn't.
I swallowed my confession with a spoonful of soup, and nearly choked over the combination.
"The fact is," I said desperately yet cautiously, "since you are kind enough to take an interest, that I-er-am not exactly what I seem to-day. My parents were gentlefolk, in a humble way." (I didn't go beyond the truth there, did I? And as for the "humble way," why, everything goes by comparison, from a king down to a mere viscount.) "They gave me an education" (they did, bless them!), "but owing to-er-strong pressure of circumstances" (the effect of Her beauty, seen in a Parisgarage) "I decided to make use of my mechanical knowledge in the way I am doing at present."
"I suppose," commented my Goddess, with the sweetest sympathy, "that you had lost your money."
"Well," I said, thinking of my late penniless condition and my watch at the pawnshop, "I have a great deal less money now than I was brought up to expect."
"That is very sad," she sighed.
"And yet," I remarked, "it has its compensations. I consider my place with you a very good one."
"It can't be better than many others you have had," said she.
"In some ways it is much the best I have ever enjoyed," I responded.
"At all events, it isn't half as good as you deserve," the Angel cried warmly. "I should like to see you in one far more desirable."
"Thank you," said I meekly "So should I, of course, though I should wish it still to be in your service."
"If that could be," she murmured, with a slight blush and a flattering air of regret. "I don't quite see how it could. But if you wouldn't mind going to America, perhaps my father might help you to something really worth while."
"Nothing could be better for me than to have his help in obtaining what I want," said I boldly, knowing she wouldn't suspect the double meaning. "You are very good. I can't thank you enough."
"Wait till I have done something to be thanked for," said she. "I will write to my father. But even if anything comes of it, it can't be for some time. Meanwhile, I suppose you will be taking Mr. Winston's car back to England, when we part at Cannes."
"Part at Cannes!" The words were a knell "You aren't thinking, then, of going further for a trip into Italy?" I ventured.
"No, I haven't thought of it," she said.
"It does seem a pity, with Italy next door, so to speak," said I. "Unless, of course, you're tired ofmotoring and would like to settle down and have some gaiety."
"I'm not tired of motoring," she exclaimed, "and I'm not pining for gaiety. I think this sort of free, open-air life, with big horizons round one, spoils one for dancing and dressing and flir-and all that. I should love just to have a glimpse of the Riviera, and then go on. But I hadn't thought of it, and I'm not sure if it could be managed. I'd have to reflect upon the idea a little, and cable my father to see if he were willing. Not that there'd be much trouble about that. He trusts me, and almost always lets me do what I like. But supposing-justsupposingI changed my plans-would Mr. Winston be willing to let me keep his car longer?"
"As much longer as you choose," said I eagerly. "He doesn't want it in England till next summer. I'm certain of that."
"Well, then, I must think it over," she answered. "Oh, it would be glorious! Yet-I don't know. Anyway, we must take Lady Brighthelmston, Mr. Winston's mother, a drive on her son's car when we get to Cannes. She is staying there."
"Oh, is she?" I said aloud. And inwardly I prayed that I might see the lady in question in private before that invitation was given. But perhaps she will have flitted. I wonder?
Well, I have given you the principal points of our conversation enough to show you why I am happy to-night. But if you could have seen me cutting up the Goddess'sfilet mignon! I could have shed tears of joy on it.
Now I must be off to my own hotel, and to-morrow I shall be up with the dawn in search of a mechanic and new parts for the car.
Good-bye, old man. Wish me luck.
Yours ever,Jack Winston.
Hotel Angst, Bordighera,December 25.
Merry Christmas, my dear Santa Klaus, merry Christmas! This morning I sent you a long cable, expressing my sentiments. It does seem strange to think that by this time you have it. A thousand thousand thanks for your letter and the enclosure at Cannes. You are the dearest Dad!
Our first Christmas apart! and may it be the last. Christmas isn't Christmas without you and a stocking to hang up, and I'm awfully homesick. Still, if one can't be spirited away home on a magic carpet, this is the sweetest place to spend Christmas in you can imagine.
Speaking of magic carpets recalls theArabian Nights, and gives me a simile. For a whole week I've been realising what Aladdin must have felt when the Genie took him into the wonderful Cave of Jewels. Oh, the Riviera! But you know it, dear. You spent your honeymoon with the beautiful little mother whom I never knew in the Riviera and in Italy. That is one reason why I want to see Italy-why I sent that question to you by cable the other day. Your one journey abroad, dear, dear old Dad! I can guess now why you have never been keen tocome again, though you have always pretended you preferred Wall Street to all Europe. Now I am seeing these fairy-like places I know how you have wished to keep the memory unspoiled; for they would never, never be the same if you saw them for the second time, even with me, though you do love me dearly, don't you? It'sfirsttimes that are so thrilling; and I'm having my first times now, though they're different from yours. I don't suppose I shall ever have such a love in my life as you had, or if I do, it will be sad and broken. Either the man I could care for would be divided from me by an impassable barrier, or something else horrid will happen. I feel that. I shall never write like this again, but I can't help it to-night. There! I won't go on about your past and my future any more; but just about the "winged present." And, oh, its wings are of rainbows!
Elderly people I've talked to at hotels during the last few days tell me the "Riviera is being ruined." You would say so too perhaps; but it seems heaven to me, from Hyères to Bordighera-as far as we've gone. Just here I must stop and thank you for your answer to my cable and saying "Italy by all means." If it hadn't been for that, we shouldn't be here.
I thought that we couldn't see anything more beautiful than on the other side of Marseilles; but the Riviera is a thing apart. I'm gratefully glad to have come into such an enchanted land of sunshine and flowers on an automobile instead of a stuffy train. There's nothing in the world to equal travellingon a motor-car. You can go fast or slow; you can stop where you like and as long as you like; with a little luggage on your car you're as independent as a bird; and like a bird you float through the open air, with no thought for time-tables. When will the poet come who will sing the song of the motor-car? Maeterlinck has sung it in prose, but the song was too short.
Of course, after that horrid affair the other side of Toulon I couldn't let Jimmy drive any more. He realised that I distrusted him and rather sulkily resigned the wheel, blaming the car for the accident and declaring that it could not have happened to his Panhard, which, of course, is silly. So Brown took the helm again, and Jimmy sat in thetonneauwith Aunt Mary, where they whispered and chuckled a good deal together, appearing to have a real live mystery up their sleeves, which I suppose had something to do with the promised surprise at Cannes.
It was quite late in the day before the steering-gear was mended and we could take the road again, and then we all thought it a pity to run through the dark to Cannes, so we decided to stay a second night in Toulon, at the same hotel where I had dinner with Brown; he, poor fellow, being this time banished to some invisible lower region, or another hotel, for Aunt Mary and Jimmy would have had fits if I had proposed that he should make a fourth at our table. I thought the people of the hotel and the head waiter looked curiously at me; for one night they saw me dine with a gentleman who the next night drives to the door as mychauffeur(I assure you,Dad, it's no stretch of language to speak of Brown as a "gentleman," and you really must get him a gentleman's berth, even if it's way off in Klondyke).
Early next morning we started for what proved to be the most beautiful drive we have yet had, as warm as summer, and sparkling with sunshine. We bowled along at a gentle pace through a fairyland of flowers and rivers, with billowy blue mountains rising into the sky, and showing here and there a distant ethereal peak of snow. Very soon we passed through Hyères, which Brown called the gate of the Riviera, and I should have liked to turn aside for a peep at Costebelle, which Brown thinks one of the loveliest places of all. But Aunt Mary and Jimmy both opposed me, saying that we ought to get on as soon as possible to Cannes-"to Cannes" was their constant cry.
Beyond Hyères the road became more and more superb. We were travelling now along the mountains of the Moors, gliding through groves of oak and woods of shimmering grey-green olives, with glimpses of the glittering sea on our right hand. Presently the way dipped to the verge of the sea as far as Fréjus, from which place it rose again to wind up and up into the heart of the Esterels. Though we mounted many hundreds of feet, the road was so well engineered that gradients were not very trying. Our agreeable Napier, at any rate, made nothing of them, but simply flew up at twelve or fourteen miles an hour. And the descent on the other side! My heart comes into my mouth when I think of it. "It's quite safe," said Brown; but itlooked the most breakneck thing in the world, and my very toes seemed to curl up, not with fear, but with a kind of awful joy. I think when a bird takes its great swoops through the air it must feel like we felt that day. The car bounded down the long lengths of looped road, slowed up a little at the turns (where we all had to throw our bodies sideways, like sailors hanging over the gunwale of a racing yacht), bounded forward again so that the wind rushed by our ears like a hurricane, slowed up once more, and so by a series of these magnificent bird-like swoops reached the level ground. It was a fine piece of driving on Brown's part, needing nerve, judgment, and a perfect knowledge of the capabilities of his car. I had scarcely recovered from the tingling joy of this wild mountain descent when we were in Cannes, driving up an avenue to our hotel.
It was a charming house, and I fell in love with Cannes at first sight; but would you believe it? Jimmy's wonderful surprise never came off at all!-and he wouldn't even tell me what it was. Aunt Mary wanted to; but he got quite red, and said, "No, Miss Kedison, it may make me a great deal of trouble if you say anything-at present. The whole position is changed." I think mysteries are silly.
By the way, you remember my telling you about the nice Lady Brighthelmston I met in Paris, on her way to the Riviera-the mother of the Honourable John who owns our Napier? She was going to stay at this very hotel, and I thought it would be rathernice to see her again. I meant to ask, when we arrived at the hotel, if she were there; but to my surprise Aunt Mary remembered to do it before I did, and she and Jimmy both seemed eager to find out. We had hardly got into the big, beautiful hall, when they began to ply the manager with questions, and Jimmy looked quite crestfallen when he was told that she had just gone on to Rome. Heisrather fond of what he calls "swells," but I hadn't fancied from what he said before that he knew Lady Brighthelmston very well, or cared particularly about meeting her.
"Most annoying!" he exclaimed crossly, glaring at the manager as if it were his fault. "And has the Honourable John Winston, her son, been here also?"
"No," said the manager. "Lady Brighthelmston was with friends, an old gentleman and his daughter. But I understood that her ladyship's son was expected and that she was disappointed he did not arrive before she and her party went away. Lady Brighthelmston left a letter for Mr. Winston," and he pointed to a letter in the rack close by the office addressed in a large handwriting to the Honourable John Winston.
I was quite frightened when I heard that the owner of my car was expected to arrive in Cannes, for Brown was so certain that he was in England; yet here he might walk in at any moment to say that he'd changed his mind and wanted back his Napier. Just as I was thinking of going on to Italy in it, too! Why, the very thought that maybe Ishould have to lose the car made me long to keep it all the more.
I was gazing reproachfully at the letter and wondering if we hadn't better hurry away from Cannes before the H. J. turned up, when I saw Aunt Mary lay her hand on Jimmy's arm in a warning kind of way, as if she wanted to keep him from saying something he had begun to say. At that moment I found that Brown was at my elbow, though whether Aunt Mary's warning to Jimmy had anything to do with him or not I don't know. I don't see why it should, but she did look rather funny. Brown had come in to bring me my dear little gold-netted purse with my monogram in rubies and diamonds that you gave me just before I started. I'd dropped it off my lap when I got out of the car, so you see I'm as bad about that as ever. I thanked Brown, and then drawing him aside a little, I told him about Mr. Winston and what I was afraid of. He was as sure as ever that his old master wouldn't turn up to spoil sport, though I pointed out the letter; and it's a funny thing that the Hon. J.'s ex-chauffeurshould be kept more in touch with his movements than his own mother. However, that's not my business.
That afternoon Aunt Mary, Jimmy, and I had a lovely walk in Cannes by the sea. We had tea at a fascinating confectioner's called Rumpelmayer, and a long time afterwards dined at a perfect dream of a little restaurant built out into the sea-the Restaurant de la Réserve, something like the one in Marseilles. I wonder if they were here in your day,Dad? There are pens in the water built up with walls, and lobsters and other creatures are swimming unsuspectingly about in them. You select your own fish, and in a few minutes the poor thing, so happy a little while ago, is on the table exquisitely cooked with its own appropriate sauce. It seems sad. Still, one does give them honourable burial, and they couldn't expect to live for ever. I let Jimmy choose mine, though, and while he and Aunt Mary discussed thelangousteI leaned on the railing looking out over the bay. You will remember that scene-all the twinkling lights of the town, and the tumbled mass of the Esterel mountains, sombre and strange, across the sea.
At dinner I began to hint to Aunt Mary about going on to Italy, but I was rather sorry I'd said anything, for Jimmy caught me up like a flash, and exclaimed that if we did make up our minds to such a trip, he would like to keep us company on his Panhard, which he should no doubt find waiting for him at Nice. Aunt Mary asked if we should be likely to meet Lord Lane, as she had heard Jimmy talk so often of his friend Montie that she quite longed to know him. She loves a lord, poor Aunt Mary, and her face fell several inches when Jimmy answered that Montie was a very retiring chap, shy with ladies, and might make a point of keeping out of the way. When we got home to the hotel I had such a start. The Honourable John's letter was gone out of the rack. I made sure that all would now be over between the Napier and me, unless I could get so far away with it that he'd sooner hire another thanfollow up his; and anyway, if we disappeared he wouldn't know where to find us. I suppose that was very bad and sly of me, wasn't it? I sent word to Brown that we'd start at nine o'clock next morning; and wasn't it a joke on me, after we'd been on the road for a while I told him what had happened, and it turned out thathe'dtaken the letter to re-address to his master?
Just before we started Jimmy said he'd had a wire from Lord Lane that his car was waiting for him at thegaragein the Boulevard Gambetta at Nice, and we went there after our splendid drive from Cannes, as Brown knew about the place, and thought it would be convenient to leave our Napier there.
We sent our luggage by cab to our hotel, lunched at a delightful restaurant, and in the afternoon, said Jimmy gaily, "I'll race you to Monte and back with my Panhard." I knew in a minute what he meant, but Aunt Mary thought he was talking about his everlasting Lord Lane, and was so disappointed to find it was only Monte Carlo.HisMontie, he explained, was seedy and confined to bed but he hoped we wouldn't mention this before Brown, as Lord Lane didn't want his friend Jack Winston to hear that he had come to the Riviera without letting him know.
So after lunch we started away from glittering, flowery blue and white and golden Nice by the most glorious coast road for Monte Carlo. But you know it well, dear Dad. I suppose there can be nothing more beautiful on earth. And Monte Carlo is beautiful; but somehow its beauty doesn't seem real andwholesome and natural, does it? It's like a magnificently handsome woman who is radiant at night, and doesn't look suitable to morning light, because then you see that her hair and eyelashes are dyed and her complexion cleverly made up. If Monte Carlo could be concentrated and condensed into the form of a real woman, I think she would be the kind who uses lots of scent and doesn't often take a bath.
We wandered about among the shops and saw the most lovely things, but somehow I didn't "feel to want" any of them, as my nurse used to say. I couldn't help associating all the smart hats and dresses and jewels in the windows with the terrible hawk faces painted to look like doves, which kept passing us in the streets or the Casino gardens, instead of thinking whether the things would be pretty on me.
Jimmy knows "Monte" very well, and was inclined to swagger about his knowledge. There's one thing which I am compelled to admit that he can do-order a dinner. He took us to a restaurant, led aside the head waiter, talked with him for a few minutes, and announcing that dinner would be ready when we wanted it, pioneered us across to "the rooms." I'd seen so many pictures of the Casino that it didn't come upon me as a surprise. The first thing that struck me was the overpowering deadness of the air, which felt as if generations of people had breathed all the oxygen out of it, and the ominous, muffled silence, broken only by the sharp chink! chink! of the croupiers' rakes as they pulled in the money.
Jimmy insisted on staking a louis for me and another for Aunt Mary, who was enraptured when, she won thirteen louis, and would have given up dinner to go on playing if she hadn't lost her winnings and more besides.
When we sat down to our table at the restaurant she was quite depressed, but everything was so bright and gay that she soon cheered up. Our tablecloth was strewn all over with roses and huge bluey-purple violets, and the dinner waspluperfect. There was a great coming and going of overdressed women and rather loud young men, which amused me, but I think it would soon pall. I can't imagine any feeling of rest or peace at Monte Carlo, not even in the gardens. To stop long in the place would be like always breathing perfume or eating spice.
We had finished dinner, and Jimmy was paying the bill (I couldn't help seeing that it was of enormous length), when the scraping of chairs behind us advertised that a new party had arrived at the table back of ours. A noisy, loud-talking party it was-all men, by the voices, and one of those voices sounded remotely familiar. The owner of it seemed to be telling an amusing story, which had been interrupted by entering the restaurant and taking seats. "Well, she simply jumped at it like a trout at a mayfly," the man was saying, as I sat wondering where I'd heard the voice before. "I couldn't help feeling a bit of a beast to impose on Yankee innocence. But all's fair in love and motor-cars. This was the most confounded thing ever designed;a kind of ironmonger's shop on wheels. And the girl was deuced pretty--"
The word "motor-car" brought it all back, and in a flash I crossed Europe from the restaurant in Monte Carlo to the village hotel at Cobham. I looked round and into the face of Mr. Cecil-Lanstown.
Aunt Mary looked too, for the bill was paid, and we were getting up to go. Our eyes met in the midst of his sentence; the man half rose, but dropped down again with a silly smile, and I gave him one of those elaborate glances that begin with a person's boots and work slowly up to the necktie. Just as we were sweeping past Aunt Mary said in a loud aside to me, "Did you everseesuch a creature? And I took him for a duke." I think he heard.
In the Casino gardens we saw the moon rise out of the sea, and never shall I forget the glory of it. But just the very beauty of everything made me feel sad. So stupid of me. I really don't think I can be well lately. I must take a tonic or a nerve pill. We went back to Nice for the night, and next morning we drove to Mentone, where I decided that I would rather stay for a long time than anywhere else on the Riviera. It is just the sweetest, dearest little picture-place, with the natural, country peacefulness that others lack, and yet there's all the gaiety and life of a town. We drove to it along the upper road, which is almost startlingly magnificent. I asked Brown to go slowly, so that we might sip the scenery instead of bolting it. Though the Napier could have gone romping up the steep road out of Nice to the Observatory, and on to quaint La Turbie,I chose a pace of six or seven miles an hour, often stopping at picturesque corners to drink in sapphire draughts of sea and sky. Coming this way from Nice to Mentone we skipped Monte Carlo altogether, only looking down from La Turbie on its roofs, on the glittering Casino, and the gloomy, rock-set castle of Monaco.
And, oh, by the way, Jimmy wasn't with us on that drive, nor has he joined us yet, though he threatens to (if that word isn't too ungracious) a little farther on in Italy. He stayed behind in Nice to take care of Lord Lane. Aunt Mary thinks that shows such a sweet disposition; but I'm not sure. I believe that Montie is a marquis.
We stopped near Mentone, at Cap Martin, which of course you don't know, as it's rather new. And it was lovely there, up high on a hill, among sweet-smelling pines. It was pleasant to be alone with Aunt Mary again, and I was nicer to her than I have been, I'm afraid, since Pau and Jimmy. I should have loved to stay a long while (and it would be jolly to come back for the carnival, though I don't suppose we shall), but there was such a thrill in the thought of Italy being near that I grew restless. Italy! Italy! I heard the name ringing in my ears like the "horns of elfland."
Now we are in it-Italy, I mean, not elfland, though it seems much the same to unsophisticated me for mystery and colour; and it is good to have warm-hearted Christmas for ourfirstday. The one jarring note in the Italian "entrance music" was at the frontier. I think I wrote you how, when welanded at Dieppe from England, about a hundred years ago, I had to pay a deposit to the custom-house for the right to take my car into France. That money I should have got back at Mentone on leaving the country if the late-lamented Dragon had still been in existence, but as it vanished in smoke and flame the money has vanished too. Brown, however (or, rather, Brown's master), paid a similar deposit on the Napier, and passing the French custom-house on the outskirts of Mentone, the Lightning Conductor asked my permission to stop, that he might present Mr. Winston's papers and get the money back to send to England.
So far, so good; but it was dusk when we left the Cap Martin (as we'd spent the day in exploring Mentone), and the custom-house people have detained us some time; it was dark, cloudy, and windy when we moved on again towards Italy. Adouaniermounted by Brown's side (I was with Aunt Mary in thetonneau) to conduct us to the last French post, where we dropped him; and in few yards farther we were in Italy. Maybe you remember that the frontier is marked by a wild chasm, cleft in the high mountains which hurl themselves down to the very margin of the sea. Over the splendid chasm is the Pont St. Louis, and through the very middle of the stone bridge runs the invisible "frontier line."
I thought I saw a sentry box on the Italian side, but it was too dark to be sure; and one has to go a good way up the steep mountain road before one reaches the office of thedouane. Here Brown pulled up, as two slouching men in blue-grey overcoats,with rifles slung over their backs, came forward to meet us. Our Lightning Conductor is always very courteous in dealing with foreign officials. He says it "smooths things"; and now, seeing that the men intended to stop us, he politely expressed the wish to pass, offering to pay whatever deposit was demanded. Though I have only the smallest smattering of Italian, I could understand pretty well what followed. The men refused to let us pass. Brown argued the matter; he produced a passport, which the two men inspected by the light of a lantern. They appeared impressed, but still refused us passage, saying that the office was closed for the night, that the chief had gone, and that there was no one who could make out the necessary papers. "But it is monstrous!" cried Brown. "Is this Italian hospitality? Do you suggest that the ladies should remain here on the road till morning?" Thedouaniersshrugged their shoulders. "There are plenty of good hotels in Mentone," said one. "Go back there."
"No," said Brown, "I will not go back. Where does the chief of the bureau live?" Thedouaniersrefused to tell. Clearly they did not want a "wigging" for letting loose an imperious Englishman upon their chief, reposing after his dinner. By this time an interested crowd of ten or twelve persons had assembled, their shadowy forms seeming to rise out of the ground. I heard a voice in French whisper into my ear, "I am of France, and all these Italians are pigs. Thechef de douanelives in Mortola, the first village up the road"; and beforeI could look round to thank him, the friendly Frenchman was swallowed up in darkness. I called Brown and gave him the news. He asked if we minded being left alone while he went to fetch the chief, saying we should be quite safe in charge of thedouaniers;and on our agreeing strode off up the steep road, one of the guards immediately padding silently after him. We sat and waited perhaps half an hour on the threshold of Italy, our lamps casting their rays into the country we were forbidden to enter, when I heard Brown's voice and the sound of footsteps. By some persuasion he had induced thechef de douaneto return with him. The office doors were thrown open, the gas was lighted, the necessary papers were made out, the deposit paid, and then, at Brown's invitation, the agreeable official mounted into the car, and we ran quickly up the hill to his house.
It was a thrilling drive from the frontier to Bordighera. A great wind coming salt off the sea was moaning along the face of the mountains, completely drowning the comforting hum of our motor. The road mounted up and up, terrific gusts striking the car as it came out into exposed places. Far below we heard the thunder of mighty waves dashing on the rock. Then we began to descend a steep and twisting road that led up presently to low ground, not much above the sea, where the wind shrieked down the funnel of a river-bed. Then up again along another face of cliff under cyclopean walls of masonry, and down a sudden shoot between houses into the old, old town of Ventimiglia; across a riverand a plain, to be pulled up presently by a very dangerous obstacle-a huge beam of wood, unlighted, and swung across the road to guard a level crossing. Our great acetylene eye, glaring ahead, gave Brown ample warning, and we slowed down, then stopped, while a train thundered past. Very deliberately a signalman presently came to push the barrier aside, and we darted on through a long, straggling village, turned away from the sea, found a large iron gate with a lamp over it, standing hospitably open, and twisting through a fairy-like garden studded with gigantic palms, drew up in a flood of light that poured from the door of a large white hotel. To walk into the big, bright hall, to hear pleasant English voices, to see nice men and pretty girls dressed for dinner and waiting for the stroke of the gong, was an extraordinary contrast to the roaring blackness of the night outside. Everyone turned to stare at us as we came in masked and goggled like divers.
This morning I waked up and looked out of my window a little before seven. It was just sunrise and the wind had died. Under my eyes lay the garden, lovely as Eden, garlands of roses looped from orange trees to palms; banks of heliotrope, and sweetness unutterable. Then, a waving sea of palms, with here and there the glow of a scarlet roof, and beyond the sea. The rising sun shone on it and on the curved line of coast, with Monte Carlo and Mentone gleaming like pearl. Floating up on the horizon I saw a shadowy blue shape of an island, hovering like a ghost, and as I looked it vanished suddenly as a broken bubble, leaving the sea blank.I thought it must have been a mirage; but by-and-by a soft-speaking, fawn-eyed maid called Apollonia told me it was Corsica, which only shows itself sometimes early in the morning when the sun is at a certain height and usually after a storm.
We breakfasted in our sitting-room, with delicious honey for our crisp rolls, and afterwards, when I went downstairs to send your cable, I found the hall smelling like a forest of balsam firs. It was decorated for Christmas, and the whole hotel seemed full of a sort of joyous, Christmas stir, so that it was more like a jolly, big country-house than a hotel.
Then I found out that this hotel is famous for its Christmas celebration. Everyone stopping there was supposed to be the landlord's guest at a wonderful dinner, a regular feast, with dozens of courses, ending up with crackers, which we all pulled. Last of all the dining-room was darkened, and a long procession of waiters glided in bearing illuminated ices-green, crimson, gold, and rose. We clapped our hands and laughed, just like children, and the landlord had to make a little speech. Altogether everything was so friendly and Christmasy that the most gloomy misanthrope could not have felt homesick. I supposed when dinner was over that the special festivities were at an end. But no, quite the contrary. Everyone trooped into a huge picture-panelled recreation-room, which had been the scene of secret preparation all day, and there was a giant Christmas-tree, sparkling with pretty decorations, and heavy with presents for each person in the hotel, all provided by the landlord. We drew them withnumbers, and I got a charming inlaid box with a secret opening; Aunt Mary had a little silver vase. There was music, too; harps and violins. Iwassorry that poor Brown was cut off from all the fun. But I did give him a present. You know he refuses tips, so I couldn't offer him money; but the other day at Cannes he was looking rather worried, and it turned out that something-I didn't understand exactly what, for he was rather vague in his answers-had happened to his watch. I didn't say much then, but in Monte Carlo I bought him quite a decent one for fifty dollars (he really does deserve it), and gave it to him this morning with a "merry Christmas." You've no idea how pleased he was. He seemed quite touched.
There! a bell somewhere is striking midnight. Good-bye, dearest. My thoughts have been full of you all day.
YourMolly.
Grand Hotel, Rome,December 27.
Dear Mr. Randolph,
I find myself in a difficult position, but I am going to take the bull by the horns and write to you of certain things which seem to me of importance. I trust to your friendship and your knowledge of my feelings and desires towards Molly to excuse me if you consider that I am being officious. You will understand when I have explained that I cannot hope to make her see the matter in its true light; but you, as a man and her father, will do so, and will comprehend that my motive is for her protection.
I have thanked you already for answering my letter, in which I begged that you would let me know in which part of Europe Molly was travelling, and she has told me that she wrote you of our meeting at Pau. I reached there a couple of days sooner than she and Miss Kedison did. In fact, I saw their arrival in the famous automobile of whose adventures you must have heard much. The minute my eyes lighted upon thechauffeurI felt an instinctive distrust of the man, and I have learned through experience not to disregard the warningsof my instinct. It has served me more than one good turn in the street when the markets were wobbling. Now I have been a good deal chaffed about a resemblance to Sherlock Holmes, the great detective of fiction, but I acknowledge and am proud of that resemblance. I venture to think that it is not wholly confined to externals. A certain detective instinct was born in me. It began to show itself when I was a little boy at school, and since then I have trained and cultivated it, as a kind of higher education of the brain. In several instances I have been able to expose frauds, which, but for the purely impersonal, scientific interest I took in the affairs, might have remained undetected. In these experiments I have made enemies of course; but what matter?
The interest I feel in the case I am about to lay bare to you is not, I confess, purely impersonal. But I hope under the circumstances you will think none the less of me for that.
My first distant glimpse of the man Brown created, as I have said, an unfavourable impression upon my mind. I thought that he had a swaggering air of conceit and self-importance extremely unbecoming in a man of his class. He had the air of thinking himself equal to his betters, which is a dangerous thing in a person entrusted with the care of ladies. My impression was confirmed by some of the tales which Molly told me of her automobile experiences, not only quite unconscious that they militated against herchauffeur, but apparently believing them to his credit. I began to fear that the fellow was oneto take advantage of the trust placed in him by two unprotected women, whom he doubtless has guessed to be well provided with money. My definite suspicions went at first no further than this, though there was a kind of detective premonition in my mind that more might remain to be found out. I might have confined myself to tacit disapproval, however, or a word of advice to Molly, and perhaps one stern warning to the man, had I not gone into the golf club at Pau on our last day there. To my intense astonishment I saw Brown on the links attempting to get members to play with him by passing himself off as a gentleman. He wore good clothes, and acted his part fairly well-well enough, perhaps to deceive the unobservant. But he is not the sort of person I should ever mistake for a gentleman. I went up to him, and very quietly ordered him off the links, threatening to expose him publicly. But he whined for mercy, and I, in a moment of weak good nature, let him off, on his promise to go at once. I inquired, however, of the steward what name he had given on seeking admittance, and was startled to find that he had passed himself off as the Honourable John Winston, his late master and the owner of the car which Molly is now using. As I had bound myself to keep silence, I did not betray him, but the fact just discovered confirmed my distrust of the man as a dangerous and unscrupulous person.
For Molly's sake I felt that I must begin investigation, so as to be able in the end to expose Brown and let her see him in his real character;but for several reasons not necessary to trouble you with it was essential to proceed with extreme caution.
It was unbearable to me, knowing even the little I did know at that time of the man's character to allow Molly and Miss Kedison to go wandering over the country alone with him. I feared that he might compromise them in some way, or even resort to blackmail, and with this danger before my mind, I offered to accompany the ladies on their car to the Riviera. I made the suggestion to Miss Kedison, not to Molly, and hinted to her something concerning my motives, cautioning her at the same time that silence was vitally important until I could give her leave to speak. You may think that I was taking a good deal on myself; but I have a great regard for you, as well as an unfortunately deep affection for Molly, and as I have made many intimate friends among the highest in the land, all over the Continent, as in England, I felt that my presence in the car might be especially helpful.
During the first day or two of our journey I caught Brown in several audacious lies. He was insolent to me, evidently afraid that I meant to lose him his berth, and inclined to be so familiar with the ladies, Molly particularly, that my suspicions of him were roused to fever heat. I began to see that his ambitions tended higher than I had at first supposed, and-I hope you will forgive my frankness-I should not be surprised if some day before long Molly should have a startling awakening.
I questioned her carefully as to what Brown hadsaid to her of his late master's movements, and it appeared that, according to thechauffeur, the Honourable John Winston had returned to England, leaving Brown to hire out and drive his automobile. This seemed strange to me, and I asked myself if it were possible that the fellow could have contrived to steal the car, and be using it for his own purposes, taking the money derived from its hire for himself. One thing which encouraged this deduction was the extremely low rent asked for the vehicle and the small wages demanded by Brown. But it was at Toulon that a still more sinister idea was forced into my mind by a startling incident to which I will draw your attention.
You will very likely have heard from Molly that owing to a side-slip which might have happened to anyone in driving an automobile, we had an upset by the roadside, and in common politeness I was compelled to obey Miss Kedison's request to remain with her at a small village, some miles from Toulon, while Molly went on to see a doctor about an injury to her wrist, Brown being her attendant. When Miss Kedison and I arrived at Toulon on the car next day, it was decided to stay the night there rather than go on so late. I saw Brown, who was working outside the hotel at the automobile, take money out of his pocket to pay a man who had been helping him with the repairs. Something small dropped on the ground as he did so, unknown to Brown. When he had moved away, I stooped and picked it up. It was a French pawn-ticket for a pledged watch, dated the previous night. I determined,in the interest of my investigations, to visit the pawnbroker's, which I did; and giving up the ticket, said I had called to redeem the pledge. Imagine my sensations when I saw a magnificent gold repeater, with the monogram "J. W." upon it in small diamonds. The conclusion was obvious, for the watch was not one which would be given by a master even to the most valued servant. I paid something like two hundred and sixty francs to redeem the repeater, and justified such a proceeding to myself by the argument that the watch had assuredly been stolen, and that my action was the most certain way of preserving it for the owner and earning that owner's gratitude,if he still existed. Those last four words, which I have underscored, will enlighten you as to the doubts now materialising in my mind. In fact, I believe thischauffeura mancapable of anything
On returning to the hotel, with the Honourable Mr. Winston's watch in my pocket, I made a few inquiries as to Brown's behaviour the night before; I learned that he had appeared in thesalle à mangerfor dinner, in an irreproachable evening suit whichin some wayhe must have obtained from his master. Perhaps I ought not to repeat what else I learned, as I do not like to tell tales out of school, but I think it is only right you should know that Molly allowed this impostor to sit at the table with her, as if he had been an equal instead of a servant.
I positively dared not let Miss Kedison into the secret of what had happened, but I hinted to her that I had had good reason to think less well ofBrown even than before. It was arranged that we should induce Molly to hurry on to Cannes, where Lady Brighthelmston (pronounced "Brighton"), the mother of my friend the Honourable John Winston, was supposed to be staying. I wished to find out from her when she had last heard from her son, and if she were absolutely assured of his present safety. I also intended to show her the watch, and put her in possession of all the deductions and details I had been able to pick up. This once done, Brown's exposure by Lady Brighthelmston and subsequent dismissal by Molly would be only a question of hours.
Unfortunately, however, Lady Brighthelmston had left Cannes for Rome when we arrived; nevertheless, one more proof of thechauffeur'sduplicity came into my hands there. A letter which had been left in the rack for the Honourable John Winston, by his mother, was secretlytaken out by Brown. And the fact that Lady Brighthelmston was expecting her son to join her on his automobile does not look as if poor Jack were in England and had voluntarily left his car with thechauffeur.
Altogether the affair appears ominous for my friend, and the thought that Molly and Miss Kedison are perpetually at the mercy of this unscrupulous wretch, in a strange country, is maddening to me as it will be to you when you receive this letter. When they left the Riviera for Italy, I was obliged to remain behind for a day with a sick friend, but followed as soon as possible on my Panhard. Owing, however, to unforeseen events and one or twosmall accidents, I was delayed, and unable to catch them up as I had intended. Finally, as Brown was probably hurrying on with the express intention of making it impossible for me to overtake the party, I determined to abandon my car and proceed by rail to Rome, their destination. My idea was to reach that city before they could do so, and see Lady Brighthelmston as I had planned to do at Cannes, so that the police could be ready if necessary to arrest Brown immediately on his arrival. I arrived on the day expected and called at the hotel to which Lady Brighthelmston's letters were to be forwarded from Cannes. But on account of the unusual cold and bad weather, she had suffered from neuralgia, and had gone on with her friends, after less than a week's stay, to Naples, with the idea that she might visit Sicily later.
Having gone so far, I am not to be turned back. I love Molly far too well to desert her, and some day, when she finds out all I have done for her sake, perhaps she will appreciate me better than she has up to the present. I cannot tell her myself, but it may be that you will think fit to let her know. I mean to follow Lady Brighthelmston to Naples, or even farther if it be necessary, for writing the information I have to give might do more harm than good to everyone concerned. I must be on the spot; but very unluckily I cannot be there for some days to come. The weather in Rome is really awful, and I have contracted something which I am afraid is influenza. With the best intentions, I cannot go to the rescue until the doctor gives me leave. I shallprobably still be here when Molly arrives. Meanwhile, my dear Mr. Randolph, I have thought best to put you on your guard.
Yours faithfully and sincerely,J. F. Payne.
Hotel de Russie, Rome,January 2.
Darling Dad,
Forgive me for that inadequate little note written yesterday to wish you a Happy New Year; but short as it was, there was enough love in it to make the letter double postage. We have been working so hard at pleasure since that I haven't had time for anything except the various cables which from day to day I have flung to you from our chariot of fire as we sped half-way down the long leg of Italy-that's pink on my schoolroom map at home. Somehow, I've always thought of Italy as being pink, ever since I first hunted it out on the map; and it is still gloriouslycouleur de roseto the eyes of my body and mind.
How splendid it is not to be disappointed in something that you've looked forward to all your life, isn't it? But I don't think I am the kind of girl who is disappointed inrealthings-nature's real things, I mean. People have often said to me, "Oh, you will be disappointed in Europe, if you look forward to it so much." But I believe such creatures have no imagination. With imagination you have the glamourof the past and all the wonderful things that have happened in a place, as well as the mere beauty of the present. But then, without imagination one must just expect to have one's poor little soul go bare, and to live on all the "cold pieces" of life, never to taste the nectar and ambrosia of the gods; never to know the thrill of sympathy, or any other thrill that isn't purely physical.
I'm intoxicated with all I have seen and am seeing-which must excuse the harangue. And I'm intoxicated with the joy of driving the car. Lately I have been rivalling the Lightning Conductor, for my wrist is quite well again. The microbe of automobilism has entered into my blood. Yes, I'm speaking literally; I'm sure there's such a microbe, and that he's a brave beast. I should like to see him in your big microscope. Perhaps I'll bring him home for the purpose.
It has become the greatest joy I have ever known to get all I possibly can out of noble Balzac; to urge Balzac uphill as fast as I can; to drive Balzac downhill as fast as I dare; to manœuvre Balzac in and out of traffic with all my skill and nerve. But you mustn't be a bit uneasy about me. Brown is always at my elbow to "warn, to comfort, to command," and I know that he won't let me do anything I oughtn't or let any harm come of it if I did.
The worst of driving an automobile yourself, when you've really got that microbe in your blood, is that you don't see quite as much of the country as you would otherwise, and that you hate to stop, even when there are wonderful things to see. But then itused to be almost the same in both ways when one lived, breathed, and moved for bicycles. Do you remember how I would talk of nothing else, and made "bike slang" answer for all human nature's daily needs? Youwereannoyed one night when I took your arm as we were walking together, and told you you were "geared too high for me."
If my life depended now on giving accurate details of the country through which we've been driving, I should have to resign myself to die. I only know that I've never been so happy, or seen half so much that was beautiful and (as that Mrs. Bennett, who wanted to marry you so badly, was always saying) "soul-satisfying."
Well, we left Bordighera the day after Christmas. Brown called it "Boxing Day," but I didn't understand what he meant till he explained. We went spinning along the Riviera di Ponente, towards Genoa la Superba, where we were to halt for the night. Perhaps-just perhaps-a true critic of beauty, whose blood had cooled with much experience, would say that the Italian Riviera road wasn't quite equal to the French between Cannes and Mentone. But it's Italy, Italy! And there's the difference of charm between the two (as I said to Brown) that there is between a magnificent young French Duchesse, confident of her own charms, with generations of breeding and wealth behind her, and a lovely, peach-tinted, simple-hearted Italian peasant girl. How rich the colour is everywhere!-and yet it never seems to dazzle the eye. I suppose it's the wonderful atmosphere that harmonises everything. Andthen the lovely, softening effect of the years; the moss, the lichen; the endearing dilapidation! So many things appeal to yourheartas you pass through Italy. Oh I don't know how to describe it; but luckily you've been here, and we generally feel things alike, you and I; so you'll know what I mean. Poor little pathetic houses, painted red, blue, or yellow! You laugh at them, and want to cry over them, and love them, too. And the reds, yellows, and blues are like no other reds, yellows, and blues in the world. Fancy, if we had houses like that in our new land! How frightful they would be! We would want the painters to be put in prison for their crime.
I can tell you this: That first day of ours was like hurrying through a whole gallery of Turner's paintings. I love Turner, and I often wonder ifmyworld isn't as different from many people's old grey worlds as his was!
Another thing, we had become phenomenal. That is, we were in a motor-car-less region. Ours was the only car, whereas on the other side of Mentone we met a rival every ten minutes. I do get cause and effect so mixed up. Aren't there many automobiles in Italy because there are such lots of places where you can't buy petrol; or can't you buy petrol because people won't go in automobiles?
We went flashing along past pretty little Ospedaletti, with its big white casino, and into gay and colourful San Remo, where we bought inferior petrol and paid twice as much for it as in France. I wonder if any small watering-place ever had as many attractive-looking hotels in it as San Remo? If Iwere staying there, I should weep because I couldn't live in them all at once. But one would be obliged to have about thirty astral bodies to go round, and each one would have to be a well-dressed astral body. That would come expensive; or do astral bodies exude frocks, so to speak?
I insisted on stopping for a few moments within sight of Taggia, because a great friend of mine lived there, or rather, the author of his being. His name was "Doctor Antonio," and he existed in the pages of a book written by a famous Italian, John Ruffini. Brown gave me the book for a Christmas present, apologising for the liberty; but, you see, it was all about Bordighera, and he thought I would like to have it. So I did, for it is one of the most enchanting stories I have ever read, though written in an old-fashioned style, and also with a pretty little heroine who was so old-fashionedly meek I could have shaken her. I sat up nearly all night reading the book, and oh, how I cried! There never was such a splendid fellow in real life as Doctor Antonio, except, of course, you. And, do you know, if Brown had been born a gentleman I thinkhemight have turned out something like that. I liked Taggia for Doctor Antonio's sake; and I admired Porto Maurizio on its haughty promontory. It towers in my recollection just as the real Porto Maurizio towers above the indigo-blue sea, out of which it seems to grow.
If it hadn't been for Brown, I'm ashamed to say I shouldn't have known much about the Ligurian Alps. Do you. Dad? They're frightfully interesting,a sort of "bed rock" of Italian history. Dear me, how ignorant one can be, when all the while one is quite pleased with oneself as an Educated Person, with a capital E and P.
Alassio I thought a dear little place. You stopped there when you were coaching, in your honeymoon days. How little you dreamed then that your daughter would go tearing through on a motor? It has a nicer beach than any of the rival towns we saw; no wonder the Italians love to bathe there! Brown told me interesting stories about the enormous, lofty brick towers of Albenza, that seemed to nod so drowsily over the narrow, shadowed streets; Savona was too much modernised to please me, though the name had chimed alluringly in my ears; and with Prà we were treading on the trailing skirts of Genoa. Jimmy Payne had told Aunt Mary that it was nicer to stay all night in Pegli than in Genoa, because there were large gardens and a splendid view; but Brown said, if we would trust him, he would take us to a hotel in the midst of Genoa, with a large garden and a splendid view. So we did trust him-at least I did. And oh, Dad, I had my first experience in driving through real, enormous city traffic in Genoa! Iwouldtry it; and I succeeded beyond my dreams. I have got things to a fine point now, so that I manipulate the clutch and throttle (don't they sound murderous?) almost automatically; and there's something quite magical in the ease with which one can bring the car instantly down to a crawling walk, which wouldn't disconcert a tortoise, behind a string of carts, or at a touch dartahead of the string, and leave the swiftest horse as if he were standing still.
There must be comparatively few automobiles in Genoa, or else ours beat the record for beauty; for people in the long, straight, narrow old streets lined with palaces, or the wide, stately, newer streets of splendid shops (where they showed everything on earth except the Genoa velvet I had always yearned to see on its native heath) turned to stare at us. But oh, perhaps it was only because a girl was driving! Anyway, the girl didn't disgrace herself. You would have been proud to see her daringly steer down an old sloping causeway into the Garden of Eden-I mean, the garden of our hotel. Anyway, the girl was proud of herself when the Lightning Conductor said, "Brava! No one could have done that better."
Brown was quite right about coming on to Genoa. It was a lovely hotel, with quite a tropical garden that had a sort of private Zoo of its own; jolly little beasts and birds in cages, which Aunt Mary and I fed next morning, when we'd had a delicious rest after a long day. After an early breakfast we went sight-seeing; and isn't the Campo Santo the very quaintest thing you ever saw? I don't think I could have helped laughing at some of the extraordinary marble ladies (with hoop skirts and bustles, and embroidered granite ruffles, and stone roses in their bonnets, kissing the hands of angel husbands with mutton-chop whiskers and elastic-sided boots; or knocking at the doors of forbidding-looking tombs, with Death as a sort of unliveried footman saying,"Not at home") if it hadn't been for the mourners coming to visit their dead. Oh, the pathos of them, with their sad, dark eyes, their heavy black draperies, and the flowers they were bringing to tell their loved ones that they were never forgotten! Instead of laughing, I came near crying. But the two moods are often so near together that one makes mistakes in their identity. The only fine and simple thing in the huge, strange place was the tomb of Mazzini.
I was tremendously impressed with the harbour at Genoa. It seemed so proud, as if Italy need have no shame to be represented by it, in the presence of all the crowding ships from all the ports of the world.
The morning was still young and fair when we rushed away along the Riviera di Levante; and even Aunt Mary was congratulating herself that we were on an automobile and not a train. For a while our road ran side by side with the rail; and whenever the coast was at its most exquisite, with some jutting headland over which we could skim like a bird, the wretched train had to go burrowing through the earth like a mole, all the glory and beauty shut out in murky darkness. I counted about fifty tunnels between Genoa and Spezzia. When we'd escaped from the suburbs of Genoa, and the last tall houses which made you afraid it might be their day to fall, we came upon visions as lovely as any we had seen in the French Riviera. Those gleaming towns set on curving bays of sapphire will always seem like dream-towns to me, unless I go back and prove their reality; especially Rapallo, which was the most beautiful of all. Jennie Harborough and her motherspent all one winter there, I remember their telling me, and were sorry to go at the end. They went because it was rather cheap, but stayed because it was more lovely than the expensive places. From Rapallo, through Zoagli to Chiavari, we were high above the sea, winding through ravine after ravine, but at Chiavari the best of the coast was behind us; and at Sestri, much to our disgust, we had to turn our backs on the sea. Still, it was delicious mounting up among the foothills of the Apennines by the Col di Baracca, and running down to Spezzia, lying like a pretty, lazy woman, looking out upon the green gulf named after it. We had lunch in a cool, agreeable hotel to which I felt grateful because of its pretty name-the Croce di Malta. I did want to go and see Shelley's house at Lerici, but-well, I saw its photograph instead; for there was our Napier "sleeping with one valve open," luring us on, on under the shadow of the Apennines. Onedoesfeel a wretch always "going on" instead of lingering, but that microbe I told you about gives one a fever. Think of running through Lucca! But, if we did what we planned in the day we must sacrifice something, so we sacrificed Lucca to Pisa. The very name, before our arrival, made me a child again, looking through the big stereoscope in your study at the Leaning Tower, or at the steel engraving in Finden'sLandscape AnnualBut from the moment I saw it, like a carving in ivory, reclining gracefully on the bosom of a golden cloud, I forgot the stereoscope and theAnnual. In future I shall always see it against that cloud of rosy sunset-gold.