We left the dining-room, and I took Mrs. Fraley to a seat in the
corridor and told her of the knight-like temperament of the young Count
Carola, and of his high rank as a discoverer of wealth and beauty.
She showed no surprise, but said: “We had heard that he was engaged to
Miss Norris, but the count says that the report is untrue. He has
not really asked my niece to marry him yet, but he calls her the most
beautiful woman he ever saw. Do you blame him?”
“Not a bit, although your niece is the second girl to whom he has
awarded the first premium within three days. There may be others, but
that is going some.”
All this had no effect on the armor-clad, brain-proof lady to whom it
was addressed.
“It's his natural chivalry,” she said, as I rose to go.
“And discovering the most beautiful woman in the world is his daily
habit,” was my answer; and we bade each other good night.
When Betsey and I were going home she gave me an account of her talk
with Mrs. Rantone. The young woman's father had been a successful
Minnesota grocer. The family came to Italy on a Cook's tour. The young
man fell in love with the grocer's daughter, and they met him everywhere
they went. He followed them to Minnesota, and the two were married
there. Mrs. Rantone had said that he was a fine man and an excellent
doctor, but that his friends would have nothing to do with her because
she was the daughter of a tradesman of moderate means. They had supposed
that every American who traveled abroad was rich, as indeed such
travelers ought to be. After living nearly eight years in Rome she
had only three Italian friends. She naturally felt that she was a
dead weight on the shoulders of her husband; that she could contribute
nothing to his success and she was most unhappy.
“Are your parents still living in Minnesota?” Betsey asked.
“They're all alone in the old home,” said the poor expatriate.
“They must miss you terribly.”
“Well, why did they bring me here?” was her pathetic answer.
I could see that Betsey was recovering from the fascinations of the
marriage market.
“The 'devil-_op_-ments' of this night should have some effect on the
price of Romeos,” I remarked.
“And the insanity of Juliets,” said Betsey. “I'm going to spring this on
Gwen and her mother. But they won't believe it.”
When we arrived at our hotel its porter gave me a note from Norris which
said:
“Please come to my room on receipt of this.”