Harlequin politely.
Coviello looked at him doubtfully.
“It will be to your advantage if you will listen to me,” said
Harlequin; and he chinked the gold in his pocket.
An expression of greed came into Coviello’s heavy eyes.
“Well,” he repeated. “What do you want?”
“Is there no place where we can talk more secretly than here?” asked
Harlequin. “What I have to say is not for every one’s ears.”
Coviello rose to his feet.
“Come this way,” he said, and led Harlequin up a narrow lane at the
side of the palace. “No one will interrupt us here--though I warn you
that if you mean mischief there are a dozen stout friends of mine
within call.”
“I mean you no mischief,” laughed Harlequin. “On the contrary, it is a
service which I propose to do you. Tell me, does Lelio pay you well?”
“Not badly, I suppose,” said Coviello grudgingly, “as things go.”
“But you have to work for your money, I warrant,” said Harlequin.
“I should think I did,” cried Coviello. “It is nothing but fetch and
carry all day long, and often all night too. It is a dog’s life, I can
tell you.”
“In short,” said Harlequin, “if you could have the pay without the
work, you would find life more to your liking.”
“Who wouldn’t?” said Coviello.
“Why,” Harlequin answered, “I am not sure that I should. In fact, I
have a fancy to serve your master Lelio. Will you let me take your
place?”
Coviello gazed at him in amazement.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“What I say,” replied Harlequin. “Let me wear your clothes and do your
work, and you shall do nothing from morn to night--and have twice the
money that Lelio pays you into the bargain.”
He showed Coviello a handful of gold pieces. The lackey gazed at them
eagerly.
“But Lelio would never mistake you for me,” he said, scratching his
head.
“I should think not,” cried Harlequin, eyeing the other’s clumsy figure
with disdain. “Nor need he. I will tell him that sudden business has
called you away, and that I, your cousin, have come to take your place
during your absence.”
“What business should the likes of me have?” said Coviello.
“I will say that you have been summoned to your grandmother’s funeral,”
said Harlequin.
“But I have no grandmother living,” Coviello objected.
“Of course she is not living,” replied Harlequin, “or she could not be
having a funeral.”
Such reasoning was altogether beyond Coviello. Again he scratched his
head, looking Harlequin dubiously up and down.
“If you are to wear my clothes,” he asked at last, “do you expect me to
wear yours?”
“Certainly not,” said Harlequin decidedly. The mere idea of his
beautiful suit on Coviello’s back made him shudder. “But you shall have
a brand new suit at my expense.”
“You seem to have plenty of money,” said Coviello. “I hope it was
honestly come by.”
“Little you care about that,” retorted Harlequin, “so long as some of
it finds its way into your pocket.”
“That is true enough,” Coviello admitted.
“Then let us find a tailor’s shop,” said Harlequin.
Coviello took him to one, and there a smart new suit was purchased;
into which the delighted lackey changed on the spot, while Harlequin
donned the blue and silver livery. His own clothes he kept on
underneath it, for he felt he would hardly be Harlequin without them.
His mask he put in his pocket. “I should suppose it was the first time
any one disguised himself by _taking off_ a mask,” he thought.
“Now how am I to come to Lelio?” he asked Coviello.
“He will send for you fast enough when he wants you,” Coviello replied.
“You had best go back to the steps and wait.”
So, leaving Coviello to spend his easily earned money, Harlequin
returned to the palace. Several of the other lackeys, seeing him in
their livery, stared at him; but they were too lazy or too intent on
their own affairs to ask questions. Harlequin sat down on the bottom
step, and presently a page came to the door and shouted for Coviello.
Harlequin rose and mounted the steps.
“But you are not Coviello,” said the page.
“That is no business of yours, my lad,” said Harlequin. “Show me the
way to your master.”
He followed the page through the vast and sumptuously furnished
entrance hall, up many stairs, and along several passages. Outside a
closed door the page stopped.
“This is Lelio’s room,” said the page.
Harlequin opened the door and boldly entered. He found himself in a
beautiful bedroom, of which the walls were hung with Lelio’s colours of
blue and silver, and the ceiling was painted blue and powdered with
silver stars. At the far end of the room was a silver bed with curtains
of blue damask; in which, propped against a great pillow, wearing a
frilled nightshirt of the finest cambric, with a brightly-coloured
night-cap on his head and a little cup of steaming chocolate in his
delicate hand, reclined the most aristocratic-looking gentleman whom
Harlequin had ever seen.
[Illustration]
“Ah, Coviello!” said Lelio in a languid voice, as the dancer
approached. When he realised that it was not Coviello, he uttered an
exclamation of surprise.
Harlequin hastened to explain about Coviello’s grandmother, and how he
had come to take his place.
“Upon my soul!” cried Lelio. “You don’t mean to say that Coviello has a
grandmother? How extraordinary! I suppose the fellow will be claiming a
coat of arms next. What is your name, by the way?”
“Truffaldino, sir,” said Harlequin.
“And have you a grandmother, too?” Lelio asked.
“Certainly not, sir,” replied Harlequin promptly.
“And yet you are Coviello’s cousin,” said Lelio, looking puzzled.
“Only in a manner of speaking, sir,” said Harlequin.
“So much the better,” said Lelio, “if qualities, as they say, run in
families. For Coviello was the worst servant I ever had. Had I not been
so lazy I should have got rid of the oaf long ago. I hope you will do
better, Truffaldino.”
“It is my devoutest wish, sir,” said Harlequin, bowing low, “to give
you perfect satisfaction.”
“Well,” said Lelio, “you may as well set about it.” And he got out of
bed.
Coviello had given Harlequin some hints as to his new duties; and
the dancer, being naturally quick-witted, even on this first day
was far less at a loss than might have been expected. He dressed
Lelio and shaved him, and afterwards waited on him at breakfast; and
Lelio, liking his light touch and graceful movements after Coviello’s
clumsiness, had by the evening made up his mind to take him permanently
into his service, and to leave Coviello to mourn for his grandmother,
if he chose, for the rest of his life.
_Harlequin Sees Columbine Once More_
Harlequin waited impatiently for the day when Lelio would visit
Columbine, or send him to her with a message; but Lelio, though he
really intended to marry the Doctor’s daughter, felt it beneath his
dignity to go too often to so humble a house as Pantaloon’s. He saw
no cause to press his suit, for, coldly as Columbine always welcomed
him, he could not believe that she would refuse a husband of his rank
and elegance. He admired her the more for her reserve. In his view, a
courtship should be a slow and dignified business. Harlequin’s methods
would have deeply shocked him.
About a week after the dancer had entered his service, however, he
decided that the time was come for another visit; and he set out for
Pantaloon’s house, Harlequin walking behind him with a great bouquet of
flowers which Lelio was going to present to Columbine. Harlequin was
in high hopes of once more setting eyes on his beloved. He wondered
whether she would recognise him under his disguise. Great was his
disgust when, on arriving at their destination, Lelio entered the house
alone and left him to kick his heels in the street. He did not even
get a chance of speaking to Pierrot, to whom he had intended to make
himself known. “If this is how things are to be,” he thought, “I might
as well have stayed at Burattino’s.”
But Harlequin was not easily defeated. While he waited for Lelio,
he set his nimble wits to work; and that evening, as his master sat
yawning over his wine, he asked him whether he would like to see him
dance.
From any other of his servants, Lelio would have considered such a
suggestion a great impertinence, but “Truffaldino” was already high in
his favour. Being a true Venetian he liked, above all things, to be
amused; and Coviello’s cousin was certainly an amusing fellow.
“Can you dance, Truffaldino?” he asked.
“A little,” said Harlequin modestly.
“Go on, then,” said Lelio. “Let me see what you can do.”
What his new servant could do in the way of dancing amazed him. Since
he had jilted Isabella for Columbine, Lelio went very little into the
world, and so it chanced that he had never seen the mandoline-player
and the dancer whose performances were so popular in fashionable
Venice.
“I must confess that you dance very well, Truffaldino,” he said, taking
a pinch of snuff. “Where did you learn the art?”
“I was born dancing,” said Harlequin, “and I daresay I shall die
dancing.”
“Then I hope it will be with your feet on the ground,” laughed Lelio.
Seeing his master in so good a humour, Harlequin thought that he might
venture a little further.
“I wonder if I might take a great liberty, sir,” he said.
“I will tell you that when you have taken it,” replied Lelio. “You do
it at your own risk, remember.”
“Well, sir,” said Harlequin, “is it not possible that my dancing might
afford some entertainment to the lady whom you visited this morning?
Ladies are often very partial to dancing.”
Lelio frowned, and Harlequin feared that he had angered him. But Lelio
was not angry: he was only thinking.
“That is not a bad idea,” he said at length. “I noticed that she seemed
rather out of spirits this morning. Perhaps your dancing would divert
her. Yes, Truffaldino, you shall come with me next time I visit her.”
Harlequin had difficulty in restraining himself from showing his joy.
As for Lelio, he also was pleased; for the notion of going courting
attended by a dancer--and so good a dancer as “Truffaldino”--struck him
as extremely elegant.
Thus it was that Harlequin again saw his beautiful Columbine. He was
very much grieved to observe how pale she was and how unhappy she
looked; but he could not help being gratified by the listless air with
which she accepted Lelio’s well-turned compliments.
[Illustration:]
It was clear that at first she did not recognise her lover; but when,
at Lelio’s command, he began to dance, he saw a puzzled look come into
her face--and then she blushed--and then she trembled a little. She
knew him!
Harlequin got no chance of speaking to her alone that day. But little
by little, as his position with Lelio grew more and more privileged, he
managed to contrive means of going without his master to the Doctor’s
house. He would suggest, so tactfully that Lelio thought that the idea
was his own, that it would be a graceful thing to send a present of
sweetmeats or flowers, or even a jewel, to Columbine. And Lelio liked
always to act gracefully.
Harlequin insisted on delivering the presents into Columbine’s own
hands. He said that it was his master’s desire, and Pantaloon, so
churlish with every one else, was all complaisance to Lelio’s lightest
whim. It is true that he was usually present at the lovers’ meetings,
but one who had the honour to wear Lelio’s livery was, in the Doctor’s
eyes, a person worthy to be trusted; and when, as sometimes happened,
a patient called while the dancer was in the house, Pantaloon quite
happily left “Truffaldino” with his daughter. Pierrot, too, whom
Columbine had told who the pretended lackey really was, became quite
clever at inventing reasons to get his master out of the way.
So once more Harlequin and Columbine enjoyed some happy moments, and
the roses returned to Columbine’s cheeks. But they were very short
moments and they did not occur very often; and the lovers, who were
both more in love than ever, were far from being satisfied. Nothing,
indeed, would content them but that they should run away together--and
how were they to do that, when it was impossible to leave the house,
to draw the creaking bolts and loosen the clanking chains, without
Pantaloon hearing them?
Harlequin, on his way back to the palace, sometimes called at
Burattino’s, but though Violetta and Scaramouche were always glad to
see him, they had no new suggestions to make.
As Harlequin became better acquainted with his master’s private
affairs, however, he got to know certain things which set him thinking.
One was that Lelio, though he was as devoted to Columbine as so languid
a gentleman was capable of being, was not a little inclined to regret
his break with Isabella. A marriage between himself and the great
heiress would have been so fitting a match. Their wedding might have
been the most splendid ever seen in Venice. He did not propose to have
very much ceremony when he married Columbine; for he was afraid that
his friends would only come to laugh at him, and he did not at all
relish the notion of being laughed at.
Naturally the Lady Isabella’s name was not very often spoken in Lelio’s
presence, but when by chance it was, Harlequin noticed that his master
was far more interested than he pretended to be, and that when any one
was mentioned as paying court to her, he could scarcely conceal his
annoyance. Isabella had many suitors, though she gave them but little
encouragement.
Another thing which the observant Harlequin discovered was that,
although Lelio was acknowledged to be the finest gentleman in Venice,
there was a certain Leandro who ran him a close second. There had,
indeed, been an ardent rivalry between the two young men as to which
of them should be the leader of fashion, and though hitherto the palm
had always gone to Lelio, now that he was seen so little Leandro was
beginning to usurp his place. Lelio sometimes thought seriously of
reasserting himself, but he dare not go much into society for fear of
meeting Isabella. When he heard, however, of some new triumph of his
rival’s--some particularly delightful entertainment which he had given
or some specially exquisite suit which he had worn--he almost wished
that he had never seen the fascinating Columbine.
[Illustration]
These feelings Harlequin did all he could to foster. From his fellow
servants and the servants of the other great houses whom he met in the
taverns he heard many stories of what was happening in the fashionable
world, and such stories he would repeat to his master while he was
dressing him. Nor did they lose in the repetition.
One day, when he thought the time was ripe, Harlequin said to Lelio: “I
wonder, sir, whether you have heard the latest news.”
“What is it?” asked Lelio.
“Why, sir,” said Harlequin, in a very innocent voice, “that there is
likely soon to be a great wedding in Venice.”
“Indeed,” said Lelio, “between whom?”
“Between the Lord Leandro and the Lady Isabella,” said Harlequin.
Lelio, who was being shaved, started from his chair so violently that
he gashed his chin badly on the razor in his servant’s hand. But he was
far too excited to notice the fact, though the blood quite ruined his
beautiful shirt.
“Nonsense!” he cried. “It is impossible!”
“I only tell you what I have heard, sir,” said Harlequin. “I had it
from one of the Lord Leandro’s own servants.”
Lelio was in a fume. If Leandro and Isabella married, and their two
great houses were united, his own proud position would be gone for ever.
“You must find out more of this, Truffaldino,” he cried; and then,
realising how much beneath his dignity it was to talk in this strain to
a mere lackey, he added more calmly: “I have a special and important
reason for wishing to have certain knowledge in this matter.”
“I will do my best, sir,” said Harlequin, deftly applying a piece of
cotton-wool to his master’s chin.
_Pantaloon’s Dinner Party_
“I think I see a way out of our troubles at last, my dear,” said
Harlequin next time he was alone with Columbine.
“Oh, Harlequin!” cried Columbine. “How?”
Harlequin told her what was in his mind, and she listened with eager
attention.
“But it sounds dreadfully dangerous,” she said, when he had finished.
“Don’t you think it is worth the risk?” Harlequin asked.
“Yes, yes,” cried Columbine, “of course I do. Oh!--to be away with my
Harlequin--to have him all to myself--what happiness!”
Harlequin kissed her tenderly. When he had left her, he went to the inn
and had a long and earnest conversation with Scaramouche and Violetta.
“Good luck to you, Harlequin,” cried the innkeeper’s daughter, as he at
last took his departure. “So noble a plot deserves to succeed.”
“I suppose I must wish you good luck, too,” growled the musician, “but
I think you would have done far better to stay with me.”
Pantaloon, now that he believed that Harlequin had gone away for good,
was treating Columbine with less severity; but he was none the less
determined that she should marry Lelio, and was very vexed that she
showed as little inclination as ever to comply with his wishes. His
manner towards her, therefore, if not actually cruel, was far from
affectionate, and usually there was but little conversation between
father and daughter.
So the old Doctor was greatly surprised when that evening after supper
the girl came to him and perched herself upon his knee.
“I am afraid, Papa,” she said timidly, “that you do not think that I am
a very good daughter to you.”
Pantaloon, who was really very fond of his child, and believed that
the way he treated her was only for her good, was quite moved by this
display of affection.
“Nay, my dear,” he said, patting her hand, “except on one point you are
the best of daughters.”
“Ah!” said Columbine, “but you consider that one point the most
important of all, do you not?”
“Why, of course,” said Pantaloon. “There are few doctors’ daughters
who are sought in marriage by lords. I cannot think how you can be so
foolish as to scorn such good fortune.”
“But if I do not love him, Papa?” said Columbine.
“Love!” replied Pantaloon scornfully. “What is love compared with a
position like Lelio’s? Besides, you will come to love him in time--so
handsome and gallant a gentleman.... I hope, Columbine”, he went on,
more sternly, “that you are not still thinking of that scoundrelly
dancer?”
“Oh, no, Papa,” said Columbine, blushing. “I see now how wrongly I
behaved, and to make amends for my naughtiness, I have determined to
marry Lelio ...”
“You have?” cried Pantaloon in delight.
“... When he asks for me,” Columbine went on demurely. “He has not
asked for me yet, you know.”
“Not in so many words,” said the Doctor. “But he will soon enough, if
you will only smile on him. You are always so cold to him, and he is
far too proud to care to risk the rejection of his suit.”
“I will try to smile on him,” said Columbine meekly. “Do you not think,
Papa, that it would be a good idea to ask him to dinner? One feels so
much more friendly at dinner-time.”
“Ask Lelio to dine at my humble table!” exclaimed Pantaloon. “What a
notion! Where is my plate? What wine have I fit for him to drink? Who
would wait upon him?”
“If Lelio really loves me,” Columbine replied, “he will not mind eating
off porcelain for once in his life, while as for wine, I daresay
that Violetta, when she hears who is to be our guest, would persuade
Burattino to let us have some good wine at a cheap rate. And Pierrot
can wait at table.”
“A pretty mess he would make of it,” cried Pantaloon; but he was in
such good humour that Columbine had little difficulty in persuading him
to comply with her wish.
So Pierrot was despatched to the palace with a letter inviting Lelio
to dine at the Doctor’s house on the morrow.
Lelio laughed when he read it.
“What is the world coming to?” he cried. “Pantaloon invites me,
Lelio, to dine with him. I suppose he thinks that since his daughter
pleases me, he is my equal in rank! I see that if I marry Columbine
I shall have to pay her father to live at the other end of the
country--otherwise I shall be plagued out of my life with his
impertinences.”
At first, to Harlequin’s concern, he was for refusing the invitation.
Then it occurred to him that it would be a new and perhaps amusing
experience to dine at such a house as the Doctor’s, and he decided to
accept it. The pleasure of seeing Columbine did not seem to enter into
his consideration, but Harlequin knew that he was so much worried by
what he had heard about Leandro and Isabella that he had little thought
for anything else.
When the time came to dress his master for the dinner-party, Harlequin
presented himself with a very solemn expression on his face.
“How now, Truffaldino?” said Lelio. “What is the matter?”
“I have just heard something which I think will interest you, sir,” he
said. “The Lord Leandro has invited the Lady Isabella to accompany him
this evening in his gondola, and she has consented.”
“A gondola party?” Lelio asked.
“No, sir,” replied Harlequin. “I am told they are to be alone.”
“Good heavens!” cried Lelio. “This is too much! This must be stopped!”
“He fetches her within the half-hour,” said Harlequin.
“Then there is no time to lose,” said Lelio.
“You have not forgotten, sir,” said Harlequin, “that you dine with
Doctor Pantaloon?”
“I can’t go!” cried the excited young nobleman. “I won’t go! You must
take a message. Say--oh! say what you will. But first order my gondola
to be prepared immediately.”
[Illustration]
“Yes, sir,” said Harlequin, and he bowed and went out. When he
returned, he found his master muffled to the eyes in a great cloak and
examining his sword. He conducted him to his gondola, saw him start
down the canal in the direction of Isabella’s palace, and then hurried
back to Lelio’s room.
Harlequin changed into one of his master’s richest suits, and he, too,
donned a cloak which hid his face.
Lelio’s coach was at the door, with the coachman on the box and the
footman in attendance. Harlequin, copying his master’s languid air
to the life, got into the coach, and the coachman, who had already
received his instructions from “Truffaldino,” whipped up the horses.
As they bowled along, Harlequin took from his pocket a little phial
containing a white powder, examined it carefully, and replaced it in
his pocket.
The first thing that happened when the coach had stopped at Pantaloon’s
was an accident. As Harlequin stepped on to the street, the Doctor,
who had long been on the watch for his distinguished guest, ran from
the house with words of effusive welcome. These Harlequin acknowledged
by raising his hat with so magnificent a gesture that the brim of it
swept Pantaloon’s spectacles from his nose. Harlequin darted forward to
pick them up, but in so doing he unluckily trod on them, grinding the
glasses to a thousand atoms.
“My dear Pantaloon,” cried Harlequin, in what was not at all a bad
imitation of Lelio’s voice. “How careless of me! How intolerably
clumsy! Can you forgive me?”
“It does not matter at all,” said Pantaloon. He spoke as though the
greatest favour had been conferred on him. But for the rest of the
evening he saw very little of what was going forward.
Nevertheless, the dinner was a great success. Pantaloon was surprised
at his guest’s liveliness; for usually Lelio had not very much to say
for himself. The food, which Columbine had prepared with Violetta’s
assistance, was really excellent; the wine from Burattino’s was good
enough for Lelio’s own table; and even Pierrot, though he did spill
some soup on Lelio’s coat, at which the affable gentleman laughed
heartily, acquitted himself not nearly so ill as Pantaloon had
feared. Columbine, it is true, was almost silent, but this her father
attributed to a becoming modesty.
The Doctor was therefore in high good humour when his guest rose and,
in happily chosen words, proposed the health of his charming hostess.
“This is a toast,” he concluded, turning to Pantaloon, “to drink which
you and I must exchange our glasses--in token of the closer bond which
I hope will ere very long unite us.”
As he spoke he quickly drew the little phial from his pocket and
emptied its contents into his glass. Then, taking Pantaloon’s in
exchange, he handed the glass to his host, who, blind but beaming,
raised it aloft and drained it at a draught.
Pantaloon’s last thought was that it was his turn now to make a speech.
He tried to rise to his feet; instead of which, he fell heavily
forward, his head sunk upon the table, and so he stayed.