“Grand country!” I splashed.
Then she lay down in the stream and got wet all over as follows:
“It's so wonderful! I love the churches and their music, and mosaics and
statues, and the palaces and the nobility,” Mrs. Fraley chanted. “These
well-bred Italians look so aristocratic!”
“And they act so aristocratic--nothing to do but eat and drink and sleep
and dance and get married!” was my answer. “We're rather careless about
those things in America. A real aristocrat always gets married very
carefully and so rescues himself from the curse of toil if need be. We
don't take any pains with our marrying. We marry in the most offhand,
reckless fashion just to gratify our emotions.”
“We forget that a dollar married is better than two dollars earned,”
said Betsey.
“And isn't soiled by perspiration,” I said. “In this room are some of
the shrewdest marryers in the world--men who by careful attention to
the business have amassed fortunes. Here, too, are some of the most
promising young marryers in Italy. They are sure to make their mark.”
“Indeed! You must tell me of them,” said the good soul.
“I shall tell you of one only--not now but before I leave you,” I
answered.
There was a high, moral purpose back of this remark, but it seemed to
get me into trouble, for I had no sooner finished it than the frog gave
a swift leap, broke his halter, and landed on me. I suppose that he
was an Italian frog. Possibly he had only slipped his halter--I never
learned the precise facts. Anyhow, he had got on the edge of the bowl
unobserved, and picked out a partner. He could not have chosen a worse
place to land, for he struck my shirt with a noisy thud just under my
necktie, and bounded into a dish of French dressing and out of it. I saw
him bracing, and was about to seize him when he fetched a leap that took
him over the head of the lumber king. The frog landed with a wet thump
on the bare back of the sockless princess--who sat close behind Mr.
Pike--and tumbled into her train. He was not much of a bareback-rider,
that's a sure thing. The princess gave a rebel yell and jumped to her
feet and in honest Wisconsin English wanted to know what in God's name
it was. The frog had got his toe-nails caught in some lace, and was
captured by a waiter. Ladies who had not spoken the American language in
years used it freely.
The princess left the room with her friends and a quantity of French
dressing on her back. The diplomat looked at me and smiled and said:
“The princess is in hard luck, and I can't help speaking of it. If a
meteor should fall into Italy it would land on the princess. Her husband
gets drunk now and then and beats her up. I believe that he has worn
out several canes on her person. I saw her once when she had been beaten
black and blue. She decided then to leave him.”
“But didn't?” I asked.
“No; her husband made love to her again, and she couldn't resist him.
He's a great love-maker. Two or three times she has been on the point of
going back to her people, but hasn't. Poor thing! She's too proud to go
home and acknowledge the truth--that she has been a fool and her husband
a brute.”