LITMIR.BIZ

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and watching him do it.’

      ‘I suppose it is,’ he acknowledged regretfully, as he resumed his hat and umbrella and palm-leaf fan.

      She paused for a second in the gateway.

      ‘Addio, Gustavo,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Don’t forget the earrings.’

      Gustavo bowed twice and turned back with a dazed air to direct the business in hand. The boot-boy, reappearing, shook his head. No, the gentleman was not to be found in the garden. The omnibus driver leaned from his seat and swore.

      Corpo di Bacco! Did he think the boat would wait all day for the sake of one passenger? As it was, they were ten minutes late and would have to gallop every step of the way.

      The turmoil of ejaculation and gesture was approaching a climax; when suddenly, who should come sauntering into the midst of it but the young American man himself! He paused to light a cigarette, then waved his hand aloft toward his leather belongings.

      ‘Take ’em down, Gustavo. Changed my mind; not going to-day—it’s too hot.’

      Gustavo gasped.

      ‘But, signore, you have paid for your ticket.’

      ‘True, Gustavo, but there is no law   compelling me to use it. To tell the truth I find that I am fonder of Valedolmo than I had supposed. There is something satisfying about the peace and tranquillity of the place—one doesn’t realize it till the moment of parting comes. Do you think I can obtain a room for a—well, an indefinite period?’

      Gustavo saw a dazzling vista of silver lire stretching into the future. With an all-inclusive gesture he placed the house, the lake, the surrounding mountains, at the disposal of the American.

      ‘You shall have what you wish, signore. At dis season ze Hotel du Lac–’

      ‘Is not crowded, and there are half a hundred rooms at my disposal? Very well, I will keep the one I have, which commands a very attractive view of a rose-coloured villa set in a grove of cypress trees.’

      The others had waited in a state of suspension, dumbfounded at what was going on. But as soon as the young man dipped into his pocket and fished out a handful of silver, they broke into smiles; this at least was intelligible. The silver was distributed, the luggage was hoisted down, the omnibus was dismissed. The courtyard resumed its former quiet; just the American gentleman, Gustavo and the parrot were left.

      Then suddenly a frightful suspicion dawned upon Gustavo—it was more than a suspicion; it was an absolute certainty   which in his excitement he had overlooked. From where had the American gentleman dropped? Not the sky, assuredly, and there was no place else possible, unless the door of the summer-house. Yes, he had been in the summer-house, and not sleeping either. An indefinable something about his manner informed Gustavo that he was privy to the entire conversation. Gustavo, a picture of guilty remorse, searched his memory for the words he had used. Why, oh why, had he not piled up adjectives? It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and he had wantonly thrown it away.

      But—to his astonished relief—the young man appeared to be bearing no malice. He appeared, on the contrary, quite unusually cheerful as he sauntered, whistling, across the court and seated himself in the exact chair the signorina had occupied. He plunged his hand into his pocket suggestively—Gustavo had been the only one omitted in the distribution of silver—and drew forth a roll of bills. Having selected five crisp five-lire notes, he placed them under the sugar bowl, and watched his companion while he blew three meditative rings of smoke.

      ‘Gustavo,’ he inquired, ‘do you suppose you could find me some nice, gentle, lady-like donkeys, and a red sash and a pair of earrings?’

      Gustavo’s fascinated gaze had been   fixed upon the sugar bowl and he had only half caught the words.

      ‘Scusi, signore, I no understand.’

      ‘Just sit down, Gustavo, it makes me nervous to see you standing all the time. I can’t be comfortable, you know, unless everybody else is comfortable. Now pay strict attention and see if you can grasp my meaning.’

      Gustavo dubiously accepted the edge of the indicated chair; he wished to humour the signore’s mood, however incomprehensible that mood might be. For half an hour he listened with strained attention while the gentleman talked and toyed with the sugar bowl. Amazement, misgiving, amusement, daring, flashed in succession across his face; in the end he leaned forward with shining eyes.

      ‘Si, si,’ he whispered after a conspiratorial glance over his shoulder, ‘I will do it all; you may trust to me.’

      The young man rose, removed the sugar bowl, and sauntered on toward the road. Gustavo pocketed the notes and gazed after him.

      ‘Dio mio,’ he murmured as he set about gathering up the glasses, ‘zese Americans!’

      At the gate the young man paused to light another cigarette.

      ‘Addio, Gustavo,’ he called over his shoulder, ‘don’t forget the earrings!’

      CHAPTER IV

      The table was set on the terrace; breakfast was served and the company was gathered. Breakfast consisted of the usual caffè-latte, rolls and strained honey, and—since a journey was to the fore and something sustaining needed—a soft-boiled egg apiece. There were four persons present, though there should have been five. The two guests were an Englishman and his wife, whom the chances of travel had brought over night to Valedolmo.

      Between them, presiding over the coffee machine, was Mr. Wilder’s sister, ‘Miss Hazel’—never ‘Miss Wilder’ except to the butcher and baker. It was the cross of her life, she had always affirmed, that her name was not Mary or Jane or Rebecca. ‘Hazel’ does well enough when one is eighteen and beautiful, but when one is fifty and no longer beautiful, it is little short of absurd. But if any one at fifty could carry such a name gracefully, it was Miss Hazel Wilder; her fifty years sat as jauntily as Constance’s twenty-two. This morning she was very business-like in her short skirt, belted jacket, and green felt Alpine hat with a feather in the side. No one would mistake her for a cyclist or a golfer or a motorist or anything in the world but an Alpine climber; whatever Miss Hazel was or was not, she was always game.

      Across from Miss Hazel sat her brother in knickerbockers, his Alpine stock at his elbow and also his fan. Since his domicile in Italy, Mr. Wilder’s fan had assumed the nature of a symbol; he could no more be separated from it than St. Sebastian from his arrows or St. Laurence from his gridiron. At Mr. Wilder’s elbow was the empty chair where Constance should have been—she who had insisted on six as a proper breakfast hour, and had grudgingly consented to postpone it till half-past out of deference to her sleepy-headed elders. Her father had finished his egg and hers too, before she appeared, as nonchalant and smiling as if she were out the earliest of all.

      ‘I think you might have waited!’ was her greeting from the doorway.

      She advanced to the table, saluted in military fashion, dropped a kiss on her father’s bald spot, and possessed herself of the empty chair. She too was clad in mountain-climbing costume, in so far as blouse and skirt and leather leggings went, but above her face there fluttered the fluffy white brim of a ruffled sun hat with a bunch of pink rosebuds set over one ear.

      ‘I am sorry not to wear my own Alpine hat, Aunt Hazel; I look so deliciously German in it, but I simply can’t afford to burn all the skin off my nose.’

      ‘You can’t make us believe that,’ said   her father. ‘The reason is, that Lieutenant di Ferara and Captain Coroloni are going with us to-day, and that this hat is more becoming than the other.’

      ‘It’s one reason,’ Constance agreed imperturbably, ‘but, as I say, I don’t wish to burn the skin off my nose, because that is unbecoming too. You are ungrateful, Dad,’ she added as she helped herself to honey with a liberal hand, ‘I invited them solely on your account because you like to hear them talk English. Have the donkeys come?’

      ‘The donkeys are at the back door nibbling the buds off the rose bushes.’

      ‘And

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