If Susannah and her mother were an American invention, the Younger
began to take as much pleasure in them as if he had invented them
himself. And indeed, in a way, he had. Hitherto his acquaintance with
them had been less cordial, if anything, than his acquaintance with the
Elder. If Susannah had maintained an armed truce, as it were, because
they were both strangers in a strange land, he had cultivated Susannah
merely as a type. There was a lack, all around, of personalities. But
now that he had lightly thrown Susannah to the lions he experienced
a more particular interest in her case. He promised himself from the
reaction of his two types some such entertainment as one might expect
from the encounter of an irresistible force with an immovable obstacle.
He was not long re-established in Florence before the Elder repaired
one day to the Younger’s studio.
“It is all arranged,” he announced importantly. “I am going to marry
her.”
The Younger, it must be confessed, was a little surprised that Susannah
should have fallen so soon. But he kept his guard.
“My dear marquis, let me congratulate you! Have you set the day?”
“O, the details have yet to be arranged. But I have spoken to her
mother.”
A light began to break upon the Younger.
“And The General is favourable?”
“The General is favourable--most favourable. She could not be
favourable enough.”
I have not explained that Susannah’s parent, in virtue of a striking
resemblance to the Father of her Country, and of certain military
qualities which she possessed, was known among her fellow exiles as The
General.
“I hope Susannah was equally favourable,” the Younger lightly threw out.
“She was not there. But after the mother has given her assurance----”
The Younger began incontinently to laugh.
“My poor marquis! Didn’t you know?”
“Know what?” demanded that nobleman uneasily.
“That the mother has nothing to do with it?”
“How has she nothing to do with it? She has everything to do with it.
Isn’t Susannah her daughter?”
“I have no reason to suspect the contrary. But in our country--you
know----”
“Well, what about this extraordinary country of yours?”
“Why, in our country”--the Younger put it as gently as he could--“we
don’t ask the mother.”
“What in the world do you do then? Is it like the Rape of the Sabines,
_par exemple_! Do you ride in and carry them off?”
“O, not a bit! Sometimes they ride in and carry us off. But we--we are
more discreet. We go in very softly and ask them if they’ll come.”
“Without waking the mother up? I see! It’s another invention.” The
Elder was visibly annoyed.
“Come!” cried the Younger: “You needn’t be so fierce. I didn’t invent
it. You had better be congratulating yourself that The General didn’t
gobble you up on the spot--for herself.”
The marquis looked very blank.
“Then I have done nothing?” he asked at last.
“_Caro marchese_,” began the Younger soothingly, “to have gained a
friend is always to have done something. It is very well to have The
General on your side. It will make her all the more amenable when you
come to the matter of settlements. For I must warn you before it is too
late that----”
“What?” The Elder braced himself as for another blow.
“That we don’t make settlements.”
It was as if suddenly the Elder had seen a mountain slide into the sea.
“What the devil do you make then?”
“We,” replied the Younger with a particular inflection, “make love!”
“Oh!” ejaculated the Elder.
And he turned on his heel.