DOLORES.--AN ITALIAN MAID LEARNS ENGLISH.--A ROMANTIC ADVENTURE.--A
MASQUERADE, AND WHAT BEFELL THE SENATOR.--A CHARMING DOMINO.--A
MOONLIGHT WALK, AND AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY.
The lodgings of Buttons and Dick were in a remarkably central part of
Naples. The landlord was a true Neapolitan; a handsome, gay, witty,
noisy, lively, rascally, covetous, ungrateful, deceitful, cunning,
good-hearted old scoundrel, who took advantage of his guests in a
thousand ways, and never spoke to them without trying to humbug them.
He was the father of a pretty daughter who had all her parent's nature
somewhat toned down, and expanded in a feminine mould.
Buttons had a chivalrous soul, and so had Dick; the vivacity of this
very friendly young lady was like an oasis in the wilderness of
travel. In the evening they loved to sit in the sunshine of her smile.
She was singularly unconventional, this landlord's daughter, and made
many informal calls on her two lodgers in their apartment.
An innocent, sprightly little maid--name Dolores--age seventeen--
complexion olive--hair jet black--eyes like stars, large, luminous,
and at the same time twinkling--was anxious to learn English,
especially to sing English songs; and so used to bring her guitar and
sing for the Americans. Would they teach her their national song? "Oh
yes happy beyond expression to do so."
The result, after ten lessons, was something like this:
"Anty Dooda tumma towna
By his sef a po-ne
Stacca fadda inna sat
Kalla Maccaroni."
She used to sing this in the most charming manner, especially the last
word in the last line. Not the least charm in her manner was her
evident conviction that she had mastered the English language.
"Was it not an astonishing thing for so young a Signorina to know
English?"
"Oh, it was indeed!" said Buttons, who knew Italian very well, and had
the lion's share of the conversation always.
"And they said her accent was fine?"
"Oh, most beautiful!"
"Bellissima! Bellissima!" repeated little Dolores, and she would laugh
until her eyes overflowed with delighted vanity.
"Could any Signorina Americana learn Italian in so short a time?"
"No, not one. They had not the spirit. They could never equal her most
beautiful accent."
"Ah! you say all the time that my accent is most beautiful."
One day she picked up a likeness of a young lady which was lying on
the table.
"Who is this?" she asked, abruptly, of Buttons.
"A Signorina."
"Oh yes! I know; but is she a relative?"
"No."
"Are you married?"
"No."
"Is this your affianced?"
"Yes."
"Ah, how strange! What will you bet?--a soldier or an advocate?"
"Neither. I will be a priest."
"A priest! Signor, what is it that you tell me? How can this be your
affianced lady?"
"Oh! in our country the priests all marry, and live in beautiful
little cottages, with a garden in front."
This Dolores treated with the most contemptuous incredulity. Who ever
heard of such a thing? Impossible! Moreover, it was so absurd. Buttons
told her that he was affianced five years ago.
"An eternity!" exclaimed Dolores. "How can you wait? But you must have
been very young."
"Young? Yes, only sixteen."
"Blessed and most venerable Virgin! Only sixteen! And is she the most
beautiful girl you know?"
"No."
"Where have you seen one more so?"
"In Naples."
"Who is she?"
"An Italian."
"What is her name?"
"Dolores."
"That's me."
"I mean you."
This was pretty direct; but Dolores was frank, and required
frankness from others. Some young ladies would have considered this
too coarse and open to be acceptable. But Dolores had so high an
opinion of herself that she took it for sincere homage. So she half
closed her eyes, leaned back in her chair, looked languishingly at
Buttons, and then burst into a merry peal of musical laughter.
"I think I am the most beautiful girl you ever saw."
It was Buttons's turn to laugh. He told Dolores that she was quite
right, and repeated her favorite word, "Belissima!"
One evening when Dick was alone in the room a knock came to the door.
"Was he disengaged?"
"Oh, quite."
"The Signora in the room next--"
"Yes."
"Would be happy to see him."
"Now?"
"Yes, as soon as he liked."
[Illustration: I Kiss Hands.]
The Signora did not have to wait long. In less time than it takes to
tell this Dick stood with his best bow before her. How he
congratulated himself on having studied Italian! The lady reclined on
a sofa. She was about thirty, and undeniably pretty. A guitar lay at
her feet. Books were scattered around--French novels, and manuals of
devotion. Intelligence beamed from her large, expressive eyes. How
delightful! Here was an adventure, perhaps a fair conquest.
"Good-evening, Signor!"
"I kiss the hands to your ladyship," said Dick, mustering a sentence
from Ollendorff.
"Pardon me for this liberty."
"I assure you it gives me the greatest happiness, and I am wholly at
your service."
"I have understood that you are an American."
"I am, Signora."
"And this is your first visit to Naples?"
"My first, Signora."
"How does Naples please you?"
"Exceedingly. The beautiful city, the crowded streets, the delightful
views--above all, the most charming ladies."
A bow--a slight flush passed over the lady's face, and Dick whispered
to himself--
"Well put, Dick, my boy--deuced well put for a beginner."
"To come to the point," said the lady, with sigh.--("Ah, here we have
it!" thought Dick--the point--blessed moment!)--"I would not have
ventured to trouble you for any slight cause, Signor, but this nearly
concerns myself."--(Keep down--our heart, murmured Dick--cool, you
dog--cool!)--"My happiness and my tenderest feelings--"(Dick's
suffused eyes expressed deep sympathy.)--"I thought of you--"
"Ah, Signora!"
"And not being acquainted with you--"(What a shame!--_aside_)--I
concluded to waive all formality"--(Social forms are generally a
nuisance to ardent souls--_aside_)--"and to communicate at once with
you."
"Signora, let me assure you that this is the happiest moment in my
life."
The Signora looked surprised, but went on in a sort of preoccupied
way:
"I want to know if you can tell me any thing about my brother."
"Brother!"
"Who is now in America."
Dick opened his eyes.
"I thought that perhaps you could tell me how he is. I have not heard
from him for two years, and feel very anxious."
Dick sat for a moment surprised at this unexpected turn. The lady's
anxiety about her brother he could see was not feigned. So he
concealed his disappointment, and in his most engaging manner informed
her that he had not seen her brother; but if she could tell him his
name, and the place where he was living, he might be able to tell
something about him.
[Illustration: The Young Hussar.]
"His name," sighed the lady, "is Giulio Fanti."
"And the place?"
"Rio Janeiro."
"Rio Janeiro?"
"Yes," said the lady, slowly.
Dick was in despair. Not to know any thing of her brother would make
her think him stupid. So he attempted to explain:
"America," he began, "is a very large country--larger, in fact, than
the whole Kingdom of Naples. It is principally inhabited by savages,
who are very hostile to the whites. The whites have a few cities,
however. In the North the whites all speak English. In the South they
all speak Spanish. The South Americans are good Catholics, and
respect the Holy Father; but the English in the North are all
heretics. Consequently there is scarcely any communication between
the two districts."
The lady had heard somewhere that in the American wars they employed
the savages to assist them. Dick acknowledged the truth of this with
candor, but with pain. She would see by this why he was unable to tell
her any thing about her brother. His not knowing that brother was now
the chief sorrow of his life. The lady earnestly hoped that Rio
Janeiro was well protected from the savages.
"Oh, perfectly so. The fortifications of that city are impregnable."
Dick thus endeavored to give the lady an idea of America. The
conversation gradually tapered down until the entrance of a gentleman
brought it to a close. Dick bowed himself out.
"At any rate," he murmured, "if the lady wanted to inspect me she had
a chance, and if she wanted to pump me she ought to be satisfied."
***
One evening Buttons and Dick came in and found a stranger chatting
familiarly with the landlord and a young hussar. The stranger was
dressed like a cavalry officer, and was the most astounding fop that
the two Americans had ever seen. He paced up and down, head erect,
chest thrown out, sabre clanking, spurs jingling, eyes sparkling,
ineffable smile. He strode up to the two youths, spun round on one
heel, bowed to the ground, waved his hand patronizingly, and welcomed
them in.
"A charming night, gallant gentlemen. A bewitching night. All Naples
is alive. All the world is going. Are you?"
The young men stared, and coldly asked where?
"Ha, ha, ha!" A merry peal of laughter rang out. "Absolutely--if the
young Americans are not stupid. They don't know me!"
"Dolores!" exclaimed Buttons.
"Yes," exclaimed the other. "How do you like me? Am I natural?--eh?
military? Do I look terrible?"
And Dolores skipped up and down with a strut beyond description,
breathing hard and frowning.
"If you look so fierce you will frighten us away," said Buttons.
"How do I look, now?" she said, standing full before him with folded
arms, _à la_ Napoleon at St. Helena.
"Bellissima! Bellissima!" said Buttons, in unfeigned admiration.
"Ah!" ejaculated Dolores, smacking her lips, and puffing out her
little dimpled cheeks. "Oh!" and her eyes sparkled more brightly with
perfect joy and self-contentment.
"And what is all this for?"
"Is it possible that you do not know?"
"I have no idea."
"Then listen. It is at the Royal Opera-house. It will be the greatest
masquerade ball ever given."
"Oh--a masquerade ball!--and you?"
"I? I go as a handsome young officer to break the hearts of the
ladies, and have such rare sport. My brave cousin, yonder gallant
soldier, goes with me."
The brave cousin, who was a big, heavy-headed fellow, grinned in
acknowledgment, but said nothing.
The Royal Opera-house at Naples is the largest, the grandest, and the
most capacious in the world. An immense stage, an enormous pit all
thrown into one vast room, surrounded by innumerable boxes, all
rising, tier above tier--myriads of dancers, myriads of masks,
myriads of spectators--so the scene appeared. Moreover, the Neapolitan
is a born buffoon. Nowhere is he so natural as at a masquerade. The
music, the crowd, the brilliant lights, the incessant motion are all
intoxication to this impressible being.
The Senator lent the countenance of his presence--not from curiosity,
but from benevolent desire to keep his young friends out of trouble.
He narrowly escaped being prohibited from entering by making an
outrageous fuss at the door about some paltry change. He actually
imagined that it was possible to get the right change for a large coin
in Naples.
The multitudes of moving forms made the new-comers dizzy. There were
all kinds of fantastic figures. Lions polked with sylphs, crocodiles
chased serpents, giants walked arm in arm with dwarfs, elephants on
two legs ran nimbly about, beating every body with hope probosces of
inflated India rubber. Pretty girls in dominos abounded; every body
whose face was visible was on the broad grin. All classes were
represented. The wealthier nobles entered into the spirit of the scene
with as great gusto as the humblest artisan who treated his obscure
sweet-heart with an entrance ticket.
[Illustration: A Perplexed Senator.]
Our friends all wore black dominos, "just for the fun of the thing."
Every body knew that they were English or American, which is just
the same; for Englishmen and Americans are universally recognizable by
the rigidity of their muscles.
A bevy of masked beauties were attracted by the colossal form of the
Senator. To say that he was bewildered would express his sensations
but faintly. He was distracted. He looked for Buttons. Buttons was
chatting with a little domino. He turned to Dick. Dick was walking off
with a rhinoceros. To Figgs and the Doctor. Figgs and the Doctor were
exchanging glances with a couple of lady codfishes and trying to look
amiable. The Senator gave a sickly smile.
"What'n thunder'll I do?" he muttered.
Two dominos took either arm. A third stood smilingly before him. A
fourth tried to appropriate his left hand.
"Will your Excellency dance with one of us at a time," said No. 4,
with a Tuscan accent, "or will you dance with all of us at once?"
The Senator looked helplessly at her.
"He does not know how," said No 1. "He has passed his life among the
stars."
"Begone, irreverent ones!" said No. 3. "This is an American prince.
He said I should be his partner."
"Boh! malidetta!" cried No. 2. "He told me the same; but he said he
was a Milor Inglese."
No. 4 thereupon gave a smart pull at the Senator's hand to draw him
off. Whereupon No. 2 did the same. No. 3 began singing "Come e bello!"
and No. 1 stood coaxing him to "Fly with her." A crowd of idlers
gathered grinningly around.
"My goodness!" groaned the Senator. "Me! The--the representative of a
respectable constituency; the elder of a Presbyterian church; the
president of a temperance society; the deliverer of that famous Fourth
of July oration; the father of a family--me! to be treated thus! Who
air these females? Air they countesses? Is this the way the foreign
nobility treat an American citizen?"
But the ladies pulled and the crowd grinned. The Senator endeavored to
remonstrate. Then he tried to pull his arms away; but finding that
impossible he looked in a piteous manner, first at one, and then at
the other.
[Illustration: Exit Senator.]
"He wants, I tell you, to be my partner," said No. 1.
"Bah!" cried No. 2, derisively; "he intends to be mine. I understand
the national dance of his country--the famous jeeg Irelandese."
"MRS.!!!"
The Senator shouted this one word in a stentorian voice. The ladies
dropped his arms and started.
"I say, Mrs.!" cried the Senator. "Look here. Me no speeky
_I_talian--me American. Me come just see zee fun, you know--zee
spaort--you und-stand? Ha? Hum!"
The ladies clapped their hands, and cried "Bravo!"
Quite a crowd gathered around them. The Senator, impressed with the
idea that, to make foreigners understand, it was only necessary to
yell loud enough, bawled so loudly that ever so many dancers stopped.
Among these Buttons came near with the little Domino. Little Domino
stopped, laughed, clapped her hands, and pointed to the Senator.
The Senator was yelling vehemently in broken English to a large crowd
of masks. He told them that he had a large family; that he owned a
factory; that he was a man of weight, character, influence,
popularity, wealth; that he came here merely to study their manners
and customs. He disclaimed any intention to participate in their
amusements just then, or to make acquaintances.--He would be proud to
visit them all at their houses, or see them at his apartments, or--or
--in short, would be happy to do any thing if they would only let him
go in peace.
The crowd laughed, chattered, and shouted "Bravo!" at every pause. The
Senator was covered with shame and perspiration. What would have
become of him finally it is impossible to guess; but, fortunately, at
this extremity he caught sight of Buttons. To dash away from the
charming ladies, to burst through the crowd, and to seize the arm of
Buttons was but the work of a moment.
"Buttons! Buttons! Buttons! Help me! These confounded _I_talian
wimmin! Take them away. Tell them to leave me be. Tell them I don't
know them--don't want to have them hanging round me. Tell them _I'm
your father_!" cried the Senator, his voice rising to a shout in his
distraction and alarm.
About 970 people were around him by this time.
"Goodness!" said Buttons; "you are in a fix. Why did you make yourself
so agreeable? and to so many? Why, it's too bad. One at a time!"
"Buttons," said the Senator, solemnly, "is this the time for joking?
For Heaven's sake get me away."
"Come then; you must run for it."
He seized the Senator's right arm. The little Domino clung to the
other. Away they started. It was a full run. A shout arose. So arises
the shout in Rome along the bellowing Corso when the horses are
starting for the Carnival races. It was a long, loud shout, gathering
and growing and deepening as it rose, till it burst on high in one
grand thunder-clap of sound.
Away the Senator went like the wind. The dense crowd parted on either
side with a rush. The Opera-house is several hundred feet in length.
Down this entire distance the Senator ran, accompanied by Buttons and
the little Domino. Crowds cheered him as he passed. Behind him the
passage-way closed up, and a long trail of screaming maskers pressed
after him. The louder they shouted the faster the Senator ran. At
length they reached the other end.
"Do you see that box?" asked Buttons, pointing to one on the topmost
tier.
"Yes, yes."
"Fly! Run for your life! It's your only hope. Get in there and hide
till we go."
The Senator vanished. Scarcely had his coat-tails disappeared through
the door when the pursuing crowd arrived there. Six thousand two
hundred and twenty-seven human beings, dressed in every variety of
costume, on finding that the runner had vanished, gave vent to their
excited feelings by a loud cheer for the interesting American who had
contributed so greatly to the evening's enjoyment.
Unlucky Senator! Will it be believed that even in the topmost box his
pursuers followed him? It was even so. About an hour afterward
Buttons, on coming near the entrance, encountered him. His face was
pale but resolute, his dress disordered. He muttered a few words about
"durned _I_talian countesses," and hurried out.
Buttons kept company with the little Domino. Never in his life had he
passed so agreeable an evening. He took good care to let his companion
know this. At length the crowd began to separate. The Domino would go.
Buttons would go with her. Had she a carriage? No, she walked. Then he
would walk with her.
Buttons tried hard to get a carriage, but all were engaged. But a walk
would not be unpleasant in such company. The Domino did not complain.
She was vivacious, brilliant, delightful, bewitching. Buttons had been
trying all evening to find out who she was. In vain.
"Who in the world is she? I must find out, so that I may see her
again." This was his one thought.
They approached the Strada Nuova.
"She is not one of the nobility at any rate, or she would not live
here."
They turned up a familiar street.
"How exceedingly jolly! She can't live far away from my lodgings."
They entered the Strada di San Bartolomeo.
"Hanged if she don't live on the same street!"
A strange thought occurred. It was soon confirmed. They stopped in
front of Buttons's own lodgings. A light gleamed over the door.
Another flashed into the soul of Buttons. That face, dimpled, smiling,
bewitching; flashing, sparking eyes; little mouth with its rosy lips!
"_Delores_!"
"Blessed Saints and Holy Virgin! Is it possible that you never
suspected?"
"Never. How could I when I thought you were dressed like a dragoon?"
"And you never passed so happy an evening; and never had so
fascinating and charming a partner; and you never heard such a voice
of music as mine; and you can never forget me through all life; and
you never can hope to find any one equal to me!" said Dolores, in her
usual laughing volubility.
"Never!" cried Buttons.
"Oh dear! I think you must love me very much."
And a merry peal of laughter rang up the stairs as Dolores, evading
Buttons's arm, which that young man had tried to pass about her
waist, dashed away into the darkness and out of sight.