GOOD-BY TO FLORENCE
Mr. Fairfield was not at all displeased to learn that the two girls
had gone to the Royal Palace with the Italian men, for he trusted to
Carlo’s notions of propriety, and was quite willing to abide by his
decisions. But Snippy was less agreeable about it, and declared that
hereafter she should go with Miss Flo wherever she went, headache or no
headache.
“Now don’t be stuffy, Snip,” said Flo, in reply. “In the first place I
don’t care tuppence for those two native gallants, for I can’t talk to
them, and when I do, they misunderstand me.”
But the two young Italians seemed much attracted by the whole Fairfield
party, and nearly every day after that they dropped in to tea, or
invited them to go on little excursions, or brought small gifts to Nan
and the girls.
By degrees, too, Patty and Flo picked up a few Italian phrases, and
after a time were able to make some slight attempts at conversation,
which greatly delighted the two men.
So really they added not a little to the pleasures of the Fairfields’
stay in Florence, and when the time came for them to leave the Italian
gentlemen were quite inconsolable.
As a parting favour they begged that the whole Fairfield party would
lunch with them on their last day in Florence. This invitation was
accepted, and a delightful excursion was arranged to the Cascine. Mr.
Fairfield stipulated for an early luncheon, as their train left for
Venice at four, and he did not wish to be hurried at the last moment.
“I hate to take an afternoon train, anyway,” he said to Nan. “I like to
start in the morning, and reach our destination in the afternoon. But
leaving Florence at four, we won’t reach Venice until ten or after.”
“Well, it doesn’t really matter,” said Nan, “and the girls are so
anxious to go to this fête of Signor Grimaldi’s.”
The proprietor of the hotel also reassured Mr. Fairfield.
“You are going to the Royal Danieli Hotel, in Venice,” he said, “and
have your rooms engaged. Well, they will meet you on your arrival,
not only with gondolas, but with motorboats and steam launches, and I
assure you, you will have not the least care or responsibility. Also,
the whole place will be as bright as day.”
So it was arranged, and the day before the party Flo and Patty packed
their trunks and had everything in readiness. Also, on the day before
the party, Nan received a telegram from a friend of hers, who was
passing through Venice, and who urged her to come on that day, in order
that they might meet.
Nan was greatly disappointed not to see her friend, but she positively
refused to let them all leave a day earlier, and thus deprive Flo and
Patty of their anticipated pleasure.
Patty insisted that they should do this, but Nan wouldn’t agree, and at
last Patty said:
“Well, I’ve an idea. You and father go on to Venice to-day, by the noon
train. Then we’ll stay here for the party to-morrow, and Snippy can
take us to Venice quite well afterward.”
This sounded plausible, but Mr. Fairfield said: “Here’s a better plan
still. Let Snippy and Nan go to Venice to-day, thus travelling by
daylight, and I’ll stay here with you two girls, and take you to Venice
after your luncheon party to-morrow. If any of us are to travel after
dark in an unknown country, I prefer to look after the trip.”
This was more sensible, as Snippy and Nan could easily catch the noon
train that day, and so give Nan an opportunity to see her friend.
Hotel arrangements were made by telegraph, and Mr. Fairfield put the
two ladies on the train, knowing his wife had a safe and pleasant
escort in the grim but capable Englishwoman.
“We ought to do something extra gay to-night, Daddy,” said Patty, “to
console you for Nan’s absence. It was awfully good of her to arrange it
all this way, rather than disappoint Flo and me.”
“Yes, I think it was,” agreed Mr. Fairfield, “and I shall expect you to
entertain me hilariously.”
“I think,” said Patty, “the most fun would be just to go for a drive,
and shop somewhere and eat ices off those funny little tables that
stand out on the sidewalk.”
“That is indeed a daring proposition,” said her father, smiling, “but
I’ll take you. Get your hats and wraps.”
Flo and Patty were soon ready, and away they went for a drive round
Florence by night.
“It isn’t as brilliant as Broadway,” said Patty, looking about at the
fairly-well lighted streets.
“It’s lighter than London at night, though,” said Flo.
“Yes, or London by day, either,” said Patty, who knew Flo never
resented good-natured chaff.
Then to Patty’s delight they stopped at a sidewalk café, and ate ices
and little cakes, while they enjoyed the novel scenes all about.
Often whole families would be gathered round the tables, and little
children would sit contentedly nibbling at buns or pastry.
“It’s lovely,” said Patty, with a little sigh, as she finished her ice;
“I wouldn’t live here for anything, but I do enjoy seeing it all.”
“So do I,” said Flo. “But I’m ’most sure I’ll like Venice better than
Florence. Shan’t you, Patty?”
“Yes, I expect so. I like Rome better, too; but still, Florence is a
lovely city. You ought to love it best, Flo, as it’s named after you.”
“Oh, it’s pretty enough, but I’ve always been just crazy to see Venice.”
The girls chatted away, and Mr. Fairfield smoked a cigar, and then said
they must go back to the hotel and to bed, as they had a busy day
ahead of them, with their party first, and the journey to Venice after.
“And I thank you, gracious ladies,” he added, “for giving me a most
pleasant evening.”
“Glad you enjoyed it,” said Patty; “I’ve had lots of fun, watching the
people and noticing their funny ways.”
On the way home they stopped at one or two shops that were still open,
and bought a few more of the delightful bits of bric-à-brac in which
Florence abounds.
“I’m simply overburdened now, with little boxes, and carved things, and
mosaics, and plaster casts, but I must have this head of Dante.”
“I’ve seven heads of Dante already, so I won’t get one,” said Flo.
“He must have been a hydra-headed monster,” said Patty; “I think it
fairly rains heads of Dante in Florence. But I’ve so many people at
home who’ll be glad to have one, that we’re sending a lot.”
* * * * *
The next day was fair and beautiful for their little excursion. Their
two Italian hosts came for them in an imposing equipage, and they drove
out to the park, or Cascine, as it is called.
Patty had been here before, but she always enjoyed the lovely place,
and was glad to pay it a farewell visit. The conversation was rather
limited, but they were used to that now, and laughs and gestures often
made up what they could not express in words.
Mr. Fairfield liked the two young men, and endeavoured to make himself
entertaining, so far as his slight knowledge of Italian would allow.
The festival ended rather abruptly, as the travellers must run no risk
of losing their train, and the girls had to change their pretty, light
dresses for travelling garb.
“Why are you carrying your furnished handbag?” said Flo to Patty, as
they left the hotel. “We won’t be on the train over night.”
“No; but there isn’t room in my trunk for it, and, too, it’s convenient
to have brushes and things. We don’t reach Venice till after ten
o’clock, and I propose to take a nap in the evening hours. I’m awfully
tired now.”
“So am I. Those natives tired me out.”
“Well, we’ve seen the last of them now.”
“I don’t know. They talk of going to Venice.”
“Oh, I hope not. Mr. Homer and Floyd Austin are to meet us there, and
I don’t want those smiling popinjays bothering around.”
“No, I don’t, either.”
The train was a comfortable one, and the party were soon comfortably
settled in it.
Mr. Fairfield had not been able to secure an entire compartment for
themselves, and as they occupied but three seats, an elderly Italian
couple came in with them.
This left one vacant seat, into which the girls piled their wraps and
some magazines and also some candy and flowers, which their gallant
admirers had sent them as a parting souvenir.
They had previously asked the Italian dame, by smiles and signs, if
she cared to use this vacant seat, but as she kept on her queer little
bonnet, and cape, she signed that she had no use for it. Mr. Fairfield
put all their bags and hats in the upper racks and they settled down
for a long, but not unpleasant ride.
For a time the girls chatted, and then Patty looked over some magazines
and papers, while Flo crocheted lace, which was a favourite occupation
of hers. The elderly Italian gentleman was immersed in a newspaper, and
his amiable-looking wife nodded as she alternately dozed and wakened.
“I think,” said Mr. Fairfield, as he at last folded up his own paper,
“I think I can leave you two girls for half an hour while I go to the
smoking car. That kind-faced, motherly lady will do for chaperon, even
if you can’t talk much to each other.”
“Of course,” said Patty, “go ahead. There’s nothing to chaperon us
about, but I just adore that old lady’s looks. She has the air of
mothering the whole world.”
“That’s true,” said Mr. Fairfield, looking at the lady, whose eyes were
closed for the moment. “She’s one of the best types of Italian matron.
Well, then I’ll run away for a bit. The guard has punched our tickets,
so you won’t be bothered, and if any luggage official speaks to you,
refer him to me. They can always understand English.”
He went away, and Patty hoped her father would find some one in the
smoker with whom he could talk, and so while away the time.
The Italian lady looked up as Mr. Fairfield left the compartment, and
at his smiling gestures of adieu, and his nod toward the girls, she
quite understood that she was to lend them her chaperonage, and nodded
assent with a beaming face.
“Amerika,” she said, smiling kindly at Patty.
“Si, Signora,” said Patty, in her pretty, polite way. “Amerique?” she
asked, pointing to Flo.
“Non, non,” said the dame; “Engleesh signorina.”
“Si,” agreed Patty, and there the conversation stopped, much to Patty’s
regret, for she wanted to talk to her new-found friend.
“I shall study Italian before I come again,” she said to Flo; “it
isn’t necessary for travelling purposes,--I mean guards and hotel
clerks,--but it is if you want to converse with your fellow travellers.”
“Yes,” agreed Flo; “but it’s awfully hard to learn.”
In about an hour Mr. Fairfield returned, and then they all went to the
dining-car for dinner. The Italian couple went too, but they did not
sit at a table near the Fairfields.
“She’s lovely,” announced Patty. “I call her Signora Orsini, because I
feel sure she descended from that noble family.”
“In that case, it would be her husband who was of noble descent,”
suggested her father.
“Oh, yes, so it would. Well, it makes no difference. They’re Orsinis.
He’s as nice as she is, only he seems a very quiet man. They scarcely
talk at all.”
After dinner they returned to the compartment in the other car, and
found the Orsinis, as Patty called them, already there. The place
had been lighted up, and presented the appearance of a cosy little
sitting-room.
“These trains are most pleasantly arranged,” said Mr. Fairfield. “And
now I’ll leave you again for a short time, and have an after-dinner
smoke, then I’ll come back, and before we know it, the evening will fly
by, and we’ll be in Venice.”
“Stay as long as you like,” said Patty. “I feel as if I had lived with
Madame Orsini all my life, and I have a feeling she’s fond of me.”
“That’s the beauty of her not being able to understand you,” teased Mr.
Fairfield, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Oh, go along! If she _could_ talk to me, and understand me, she’d love
me so she’d want to adopt me.”
“She can’t have you!” cried Mr. Fairfield, in mock alarm. “Don’t come
to so much of an understanding as that!”
“No, I won’t. I’m not ready to leave you yet. Now, go, Daddy, and have
a calm, pleasant smoke with yourself.”
“Madame Orsini” bowed and smiled, and wagged her head protectingly at
the girls, as Mr. Fairfield went away.
“Now,” said Patty, “I just must see where we are at. I have a fine
railroad map of Italy, and I’m going to investigate it.”
She spread the map out before her and she and Flo traced their route.
“You see,” said Patty, “here’s Florence; we left that and followed this
mark to Pistoja; I remember we passed through there while we were at
dinner. It’s too dark now to see the names of the places, but Bologna
is the next stop, and from there we go straight along this line to
Venice. Oh, here we are at Bologna.”
The train stopped and waited quite a time in the station. Patty and
Flo were greatly interested in looking from their windows at the
bustling crowd on the platform. It was brightly lighted, and travellers
were hurrying about, jostled now and then by vendors with trays or
push-carts.
“Stop that boy,” cried Patty, “let’s buy some grapes.”
They called the boy, who came to the train window and sold them great
bunches of delicious grapes, which Patty laid aside for an evening
repast.
“Why do they stay here so long?” asked Flo.
“I don’t know,” replied Patty, “unless they are taking on a load of
sausages. Isn’t this the place where they make Bologna sausages?”
“No, you goose, of course it isn’t.”
“Oh, I think it is,” and Patty turned questioningly to the Italian lady.
“Bologna? Sausages?” she said, with an inquiring smile.
“Bologna, si,” returned the dame, but “sausages” she could not
understand, so Patty gave it up.
At last the train started on again, and for a short time the trip was
uneventful. Then the Italian gentleman looked at his watch, spoke to
his wife, and rising, began to get his bags and coat from the rack.
“Why, they’re going to get out,” exclaimed Patty to Flo.
“So they are,” said Flo. “I don’t know why, but I somehow thought
they were going all the way through to Venice. Well, I shall always
remember the old lady’s pleasant face.”
The train was slowing down at a station, and the Italians shook hands
with the girls in farewell.
“Signor?” said the old lady, looking at Patty, with a doubtful
expression; “ritorno?”
“Oh, yes,” said Patty; “he’ll return. Si, si, signor ritorno soon.”
It was not entirely intelligible, but the train had stopped, and the
guard had flung the door open.
He announced some official information, which was as so much Greek
to the two girls, then, with a final nod of good-by, the old lady
clambered down the steps after her husband, and the guard slammed the
door again.
“Parma,” said Flo, reading the name on the station sign; “I suppose
they are going after violets, don’t you, Patty?”
“Yes, probably they’ll pick big bunches along the roadside. But, Flo,
we’ve lost our chaperon. It isn’t at all the thing for two correct
young ladies to be all alone in a railroad train at night.”
“Well, your father will be back in a few minutes.”
“Yes, of course he will. I’m not a bit afraid, but I know daddy won’t
like it. Still, it’s his own fault. We couldn’t help it, if our friend
_would_ get out to pick Parma violets.”
“’Course we couldn’t,” said Flo.