A mountain ascended by these children of the forcible Isle, is a
mountain to be captured, and colonized, and absolutely occupied for
a term; so that Vittoria soon found herself and her small body of
adherents observed, and even exclaimed against, as a sort of intruding
aborigines, whose presence entirely dispelled the sense of romantic
dominion which a mighty eminence should give, and which Britons expect
when they have expended a portion of their energies. The exclamations
were not complimentary; nevertheless, Vittoria listened with pleased
ears, as one listens by a brookside near an old home, hearing a music
of memory rather than common words. They talked of heat, of appetite, of
chill, of thirst, of the splendour of the prospect, of the anticipations
of good hotel accommodation below, of the sadness superinduced by the
reflection that in these days people were found everywhere, and poetry
was thwarted; again of heat, again of thirst, of beauty, and of chill.
There was the enunciation of matronly advice; there was the outcry
of girlish insubordination; there were sighings for English ale, and
namings of the visible ranges of peaks, and indicatings of geographical
fingers to show where Switzerland and Piedmont met, and Austria held her
grasp on Lombardy; and “to this point we go to-night; yonder to-morrow;
farther the next day,” was uttered, soberly or with excitement, as
befitted the age of the speaker.
Among these tourists there was one very fair English lady, with long
auburn curls of the traditionally English pattern, and the science of
Paris displayed in her bonnet and dress; which, if not as graceful
as severe admirers of the antique in statuary or of the mediaeval in
drapery demand, pleads prettily to be thought so, and commonly succeeds
in its object, when assisted by an artistic feminine manner. Vittoria
heard her answer to the name of Mrs. Sedley. She had once known her as
a Miss Adela Pole. Amidst the cluster of assiduous gentlemen surrounding
this lady it was difficult for Vittoria's stolen glances to discern her
husband; and the moment she did discern him she became as indifferent
to him as was his young wife, by every manifestation of her sentiments.
Mrs. Sedley informed her lord that it was not expected of him to care,
or to pretend to care, for such scenes as the Motterone exhibited; and
having dismissed him to the shade of an umbrella near the provision
baskets, she took her station within a few steps of Vittoria, and
allowed her attendant gentlemen to talk while she remained plunged in a
meditative rapture at the prospect. The talk indicated a settled scheme
for certain members of the party to reach Milan from the Como road.
Mrs. Sedley was asked if she expected her brother to join her here or in
Milan.
“Here, if a man's promises mean anything,” she replied languidly.
She was told that some one waved a handkerchief to them from below.
“Is he alone?” she said; and directing an operaglass upon the slope of
the mountain, pursued, as in a dreamy disregard of circumstances: “That
is Captain Gambier. My brother Wilfrid has not kept his appointment.
Perhaps he could not get leave from the General; perhaps he is married;
he is engaged to an Austrian Countess, I have heard. Captain Gambier did
me the favour to go round to a place called Stresa to meet him. He has
undertaken the journey for nothing. It is the way with all journeys
though this” (the lady had softly reverted to her rapture) “this is too
exquisite! Nature at least does not deceive.”
Vittoria listened to a bubbling of meaningless chatter, until Captain
Gambier had joined Mrs. Sedley; and at him, for she had known him
likewise, she could not forbear looking up. He was speaking to Mrs.
Sedley, but caught the look, and bent his head for a clearer view of
the features under the broad straw hat. Mrs. Sedley commanded him
imperiously to say on.
“Have you no letter from Wilfrid? Has the mountain tired you? Has
Wilfrid failed to send his sister one word? Surely Mr. Pericles will
have made known our exact route to him? And his uncle, General Pierson,
could--I am certain he did--exert his influence to procure him leave for
a single week to meet the dearest member of his family.”
Captain Gambier gathered his wits to give serviceable response to the
kindled lady, and letting his eyes fall from time to time on the broad
straw hat, made answer--“Lieutenant Pierson, or, in other words, Wilfrid
Pole--”
The lady stamped her foot and flushed.
“You know, Augustus, I detest that name.”
“Pardon me a thousandfold. I had forgotten.”
“What has happened to you?”
Captain Gambier accused the heat.
“I found a letter from Wilfrid at the hotel. He is apparently kept on
constant service between Milan, and Verona, and Venice. His quarters are
at Verona. He informs me that he is to be married in the Spring; that
is, if all continues quiet; married in the Spring. He seems to fancy
that there may be disturbances; not of a serious kind, of course. He
will meet you in Milan. He has never been permitted to remain at Milan
longer than a couple of days at a stretch. Pericles has told him that
she is in Florence. Pericles has told me that Miss Belloni has removed
to Florence.”
“Say it a third time,” the lady indulgently remarked.
“I do not believe that she has gone.”
“I dare say not.”
“She has changed her name, you know.”
“Oh, dear, yes; she has done something fantastic, naturally! For my
part, I should have thought her own good enough.”
“Emilia Alessandra Belloni is good enough, certainly,” said Captain
Gambier.
The shading straw rim had shaken once during the colloquy. It was now a
fixed defence.
“What is her new name?” Mrs. Sedley inquired.
“That I cannot tell. Wilfrid merely mentions that he has not seen her.”
“I,” said Mrs. Sedley, “when I reach Milan, shall not trust to Mr.
Pericles, but shall write to the Conservatorio; for if she is going
to be a great cantatrice, really, it will be agreeable to renew
acquaintance with her. Nor will it do any mischief to Wilfrid, now that
he is engaged. Are you very deeply attached to straw hats? They are
sweet in a landscape.”
Mrs. Sedley threw him a challenge from her blue eyes; but his reply to
it was that of an unskilled youth, who reads a lady by the letters of
her speech:--“One minute. I will be with you instantly. I want to have a
look down on the lake. I suppose this is one of the most splendid views
in Italy. Half a minute!”
Captain Gambier smiled brilliantly; and the lady, perceiving that
polished shield, checked the shot of indignation on her astonished
features, and laid it by. But the astonishment lingered there, like the
lines of a slackened bow. She beheld her ideal of an English gentleman
place himself before these recumbent foreign people, and turn to talk
across them, with a pertinacious pursuit of the face under the bent
straw hat. Nor was it singular to her that one of them at last should
rise and protest against the continuation of the impertinence.
Carlo Ammiani, in fact, had opened matters with a scrupulously-courteous
bow.
“Monsieur is perhaps unaware that he obscures the outlook?”
“Totally, monsieur,” said Captain Gambier, and stood fast.
“Will monsieur do me the favour to take three steps either to the right
or to the left?”
“Pardon, monsieur, but the request is put almost in the form of an
order.”
“Simply if it should prove inefficacious in the form of a request.”
“What, may I ask, monsieur, is your immediate object?”
“To entreat you to behave with civility.”
“I am at a loss, monsieur, to perceive any offence.”
“Permit me to say, it is lamentable you do not know when you insult a
lady.”
“I have insulted a lady?” Captain Gambier looked profoundly incredulous.
“Oh! then you will not take exception to my assuming the privilege to
apologize to her in person?”
Ammiani arrested him as he was about to pass.
“Stay, monsieur; you determine to be impudent, I perceive; you shall not
be obtrusive.”
Vittoria had tremblingly taken old Agostino's hand, and had risen to her
feet. Still keeping her face hidden, she walked down the slope, followed
at an interval by her servant, and curiously watched by the English
officer, who said to himself, “Well, I suppose I was mistaken,” and
consequently discovered that he was in a hobble.
A short duologue in their best stilted French ensued between him and
Ammiani. It was pitched too high in a foreign tongue for Captain Gambier
to descend from it, as he would fain have done, to ask the lady's name.
They exchanged cards and formal salutes, and parted.
The dignified altercation had been witnessed by the main body of the
tourists. Captain Gambier told them that he had merely interchanged
amicable commonplaces with the Frenchman,--“or Italian,” he added
carelessly, reading the card in his hand. “I thought she might be
somebody whom we knew,” he said to Mrs. Sedley.
“Not the shadow of a likeness to her,” the lady returned.
She had another opinion when later a scrap of paper bearing one
pencilled line on it was handed round. A damsel of the party had picked
it up near the spot where, as she remarked, “the foreigners had been
sitting.” It said:--
“Let none who look for safety go to Milan.”