BUTTONS A MAN OF ONE IDEA.--DICK AND HIS MEASURING TAPE.--DARK EYES.
--SUSCEPTIBLE HEART.--YOUNG MAIDEN WHO LIVES OUT OF TOWN.--GRAND
COLLISION OF TWO ABSTRACTED LOVERS IN THE PUBLIC STREETS.
Too much blame can not be given to Buttons for his behavior at this
period. He acted as though the whole motive of his existence was to
find the Francias. To this he devoted his days, and of this he dreamed
at night. He deserted his friends. Left to themselves, without his
moral influence to keep them together and give aim to their efforts,
each one followed his own inclination.
Mr. Figgs spent the whole of his time in the Café Nuovo, drawing out
plans of dinners for each successive day. The Doctor, after sleeping
till noon, lounged on the Pincian Hill till evening, when he joined
Mr. Figgs at dinner. The Senator explored every nook and corner of
Rome. At first Dick accompanied him, but gradually they diverged
from one another in different paths. The Senator visited every place
in the city, peered into dirty houses, examined pavements,
investigated fountains, stared hard at the beggars, and looked
curiously at the Swiss Guard in the Pope's Palace. He soon became
known to the lower classes, who recognized with a grin the tall
foreigner that shouted queer foreign words and made funny gestures.
Dick lived among churches, palaces, and ruins. Tired at length of
wandering, he attached himself to some artists, in whose studios he
passed the greater part of his afternoons. He became personally
acquainted with nearly every member of the fraternity, to whom he
endeared himself by the excellence of his tobacco, and his great
capacity for listening. Your talkative people bore artists more
than any others.
"What a lovely girl! What a look she gave!"
Such was the thought that burst upon the soul of Dick, after a
little visit to a little church that goes by the name of Saint
Somebody _ai quattri fontani_. He had visited it simply because he
had heard that its dimensions exactly correspond with those of each
of the chief piers that support the dome of Saint Peter's. As he
wished to be accurate, he had taken a tape-line, and began stretching
it from the altar to the door. The astonished priests at first stood
paralyzed by his sacrilegious impudence, but finally, after a
consultation, they came to him and ordered him to be gone. Dick looked
up with mild wonder. They indignantly repeated the order.
Dick was extremely sorry that he had given offense. Wouldn't they
overlook it? He was a stranger, and did not know that they would be
unwilling. However, since he had begun, he supposed they would kindly
permit him to finish.
--"They would kindly do no such thing," remarked one of the priests,
brusquely. "Was their church a common stable or a wine-shop that he
should presume to molest them at their services? If he had no
religion, could he not have courtesy; or, if he had no faith himself,
could he not respect the faith of others?"
Dick felt abashed. The eyes of all the worshipers were on him, and it
was while rolling up his tape that his eyes met the glance of a
beautiful Italian girl, who was kneeling opposite. The noise had
disturbed her devotions, and she had turned to see what it was. It was
a thrilling glance from deep black lustrous orbs, in which there was
a soft and melting languor which he could not resist. He went out
dazzled, and so completely bewildered that he did not think of
waiting. After he had gone a few blocks he hurried back. She had gone.
However, the impression of her face remained.
He went so often to the little church that the priests noticed him;
but finding that he was quiet and orderly they were not offended. One
of them seemed to think that his rebuke had awakened the young
foreigner to a sense of higher things; so he one day accosted him
with much politeness. The priest delicately brought forward the claims
of religion. Dick listened meekly. At length he asked the priest if
he recollected a certain young girl with beautiful face, wonderful
eyes, and marvellous appearance that was worshiping there on the day
that he came to measure the church.
"Yes," said the priest, coldly.
Could he tell her name and where she lived?
"Sir," said the priest, "I had hoped that you came here from a higher
motive. It will do you no good to know, and I therefore decline
telling you."
Dick begged most humbly, but the priest was inexorable. At last Dick
remembered having heard that an Italian was constitutionally unable
to resist a bribe. He thought he might try. True, the priest was a
gentleman; but perhaps an Italian gentleman was different from an
English or American; so he put his hand in his pocket and blushing
violently, brought forth a gold piece of about twenty dollars value.
He held it out. The priest stared at him with a look that was
appalling.
"If you know--" faltered Dick--"any one--of course I don't mean
yourself--far from it--but--that is--"
"Sir," cried the priest, "who are you? Are there no bounds to your
impudence? Have you come to insult me because I am a priest, and
therefore can not revenge myself? Away!"
The priest choked with rage. Dick walked out. Bitterly he cursed
his wretched stupidity that had led him to this. His very ears
tingled with shame as he saw the full extent of the insult that he
had offered to a priest and a gentleman. He concluded to leave Rome
at once.
But at the very moment when he had made this desperate resolve he
saw some one coming. A sharp thrill went through his heart.
It was SHE! She looked at him and glanced modestly away. Dick at
once walked up to her.
"Signorina," said he, not thinking what a serious thing it was to
address an Italian maiden in the streets. But this one did not
resent it. She looked up and smiled. "What a smile!" thought Dick.
"Signorina," he said again, and then stopped, not knowing what to
say. His voice was very tremulous, and the expression of his face
tender and beseeching. His eyes told all.
"Signore," said the girl, with a sweet smile. The smile encouraged
Dick.
"Ehem--I have lost my way. I--I--could you tell me how I could get
to Piazza del Popolo? I think I might find my way home from there."
The girl's eyes beamed with a mischievous light.
"Oh yes, most easily. You go down that street; when you pass four
side-streets you turn; to the left--the left--remember, and then you
keep on till you come to a large church with a fountain before it,
then you turn round that, and you see the obelisk of the Piazza del
Popolo."
Her voice was the sweetest that Dick had ever heard. He listened as
he would listen to music, and did not hear a single word that he
comprehended.
"Pardon me," said he, "but would you please to tell me again. I can
not remember all. Three streets?"
The girl laughed and repeated it
Dick sighed.
"I'm a stranger here, and am afraid that I can not find my way. I left
my map at home. If I could find some one who would go with me and
show me."
He looked earnestly at her, but she modestly made a movement to go.
"Are you in a great hurry?" said he.
"No, Signore," replied the girl, softly.
"Could you--a--a--would you be willing--to--to--walk a little part
of the way with me, and--show me a very little part of the way--only
a very little?"
[Illustration: Away!]
The girl seemed half to consent, but modestly hesitated, and a faint
flush stole over her face.
"Ah do!" said Dick. He was desperate.
"It's my only chance," thought he.
The girl softly assented and walked on with him.
"I am very much obliged to you for your kindness," said Dick. "It's
very hard for a stranger to find his way in Rome."
"But, Signore, by this time you ought to know the whole of our city."
"What? How?"
"Why, you have been here three weeks at least."
"How do you know?" and the young man blushed to his eyes. He had been
telling lies, and she knew it all the time.
"Oh, I saw you once in the church, and I have seen you with that tall
man. Is he your father?"
"No, only a friend."
"I saw you," and she shook her little head triumphantly, and her
eyes beamed with fun and laughter.
"Any way," thought Dick, "she ought to understand."
"And did you see me when I was in that little church with a measuring
line?"
The young girl looked up at him, her large eyes reading his very soul.
"Did I look at you? Why, I was praying."
"You looked at me, and I have never forgotten it."
Another glance as though to assure herself of Dick's meaning. The
next moment her eyes sank and her face flushed crimson. Dick's heart
beat so fast that he could not speak for some time.
"Signore," said the young girl at last, "when you turn that corner
you will see the Piazza del Popolo."
"Will you not walk as far as that corner?" said Dick.
"Ah, Signore, I am afraid I will not have time."
"Will I never see you again?" asked he, mournfully.
"I do not know, Signore. You ought to know."
A pause. Both had stopped, and Dick was looking earnestly at her, but
she was looking at the ground.
"How can I know when I do not know even your name? Let me know that,
so that I may think about it."
"Ah, how you try to flatter! My name is Pepita Gianti."
"And do you live far from here?"
"Yes. I live close by the Basilica di San Paolo fuori le mure."
"A long distance. I was out there once."
"I saw you."
Dick exulted.
"How many times have you seen me? I have only seen you once before."
"Oh, seven or eight times."
"And will this be the last?" said Dick, beseechingly.
"Signore, if I wait any longer the gates will be shut."
"Oh, then, before you go, tell me where I can find you to-morrow. If
I walk out on that road will I see you? Will you come in to-morrow?
or will you stay out there and shall I go there? Which of the houses
do you live in? or where can I find you? If you lived over on the
Alban Hills I would walk every day to find you."
Dick spoke with ardor and impetuosity. The deep feeling which he
showed, and the mingled eagerness and delicacy which he exhibited,
seemed not offensive to his companion. She looked up timidly.
"When to-morrow comes you will be thinking of something else--or
perhaps away on those Alban mountains. You will forget all about
me. What is the use of telling you? I ought to go now."
"I'll never forget!" burst forth Dick. "Never--never. Believe me.
On my soul; and oh, Signorina, it is not much to ask!"
[Illustration: Pepita.]
His ardor carried him away. In the broad street he actually made a
gesture as though he would take her hand. The young girl drew back
blushing deeply. She looked at him with a reproachful glance.
"You forget--"
Whereupon Dick interrupted her with innumerable apologies.
"You do not deserve forgiveness. But I will forgive you if you leave
me now. Did I not tell you that I was in a hurry?"
"Will you not tell me where I can see you again?"
"I suppose I will be walking out about this time to-morrow."
"Oh, Signorina! and I will be at the gate."
"If you don't forget."
"Would you be angry if you saw me at the gate this evening?"
"Yes; for friends are going out with me. Addio, Signore."
The young girl departed, leaving Dick rooted to the spot. After a
while he went on to the Piazza del Popolo. A thousand feelings
agitated him. Joy, triumph, perfect bliss, were mingled with countless
tender recollections of the glance, the smile, the tone, and the
blushes of Pepita. He walked on with new life. So abstracted was his
mind in all kinds of delicious anticipations that he ran full against
a man who was hurrying at full speed and in equal abstraction in the
opposite direction. There was a recoil. Both fell. Both began to make
apologies. But suddenly:
"Why, Buttons!"
"Why, Dick!"
"Where in the world did you come from?"
"Where in the world did you come from?"
"What are you after, Buttons?"
"Did you see a carriage passing beyond that corner?"
"No, none."
"You must have seen it."
"Well, I didn't."
"Why, it must have just passed you."
"I saw none."
"Confound it!"
Buttons hurriedly left, and ran all the way to the corner, round which
he passed.