CORONETS FOR SALE
According to Italian etiquette, strangers must leave cards within
twenty-four hours upon every person to whom they have been introduced.
Therefore the afternoon of the day following the ball was necessarily
spent by Nina in three hours of steady driving from house to house.
Finally, as she and the princess were alighting at the Palazzo
Sansevero, Count Tornik drove into the courtyard, and together they
mounted to the apartments used by the family.
Nina settled herself in the corner of a sofa, pulling off her gloves.
Tornik dropped into a loose-jointed heap in a big chair opposite.
Suddenly he sat up straight, his eyebrows lifted.
"I did not know!" he said. "May I felicitate you, mademoiselle?"
"On what?" she asked, puzzled.
"Since you wear a ring, it is evident that your engagement is to be
announced. Will you tell me who is the fortunate man?"
She saw that he was gazing at the emerald she wore on her little finger.
"Is there reason to think I am engaged--because of _this_?"
"Certainly, what else? A young girl's wearing a ring can mean but one
thing."
"On my little finger? How ridiculous! My father gave it to me.
Sometimes, at home, I wear several rings. Does that mean I am engaged to
several men?"
"Then you are still free?"
He hesitated as though under an impulse to say something sentimental,
then apparently changed his mind, and relapsed into his habitually
detached indifference of manner.
"They have curious customs in your country," he said casually. "A friend
of mine was in America last year. He told me many things!"
"Did he? What, for instance?"
"He said that the women sat in chairs that balanced back and forth----"
"Chairs that----" she interrupted. "Oh, you mean rocking-chairs! That's
true, you don't have them over here, do you? I did not mean to
interrupt. You said we rock----"
"Not you, it's the older women who balance all day on verandas, and let
their daughters do whatever they please! In an American family, I am
told, the young girl is supreme ruler. Is that true?"
Nina, laughing, shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know--I never thought
about it! But over here I suppose a girl does not count at all? Tell me,
according to your ideas, what her place should be."
"Oh, I do not say _should_. I merely state the fact: over here, a young
girl plays a very small rôle. But then, for the matter of that, most
people belong naturally in the background, and very few, whether they
are women or men, have their names on the program."
"And you? What part do you play?"
For a moment his eyes gleamed. "That depends upon whether fate shall
cast me to support a _diva_ or to occupy an empty stage."
"And if fate allowed you to choose, I could easily imagine that you
would prefer a part with very little action and as few lines as
possible."
"You are quite wrong. I do not object to saying all that a part calls
for, and, above all, I like action."
"That's true; I had forgotten! You are a soldier! I wonder why you went
into the army?"
"It is the only career open to me."
Nina was thinking of Giovanni and his point of view as she asked, "Why
are you not content to be merely Count Tornik?"
"You mean that I, like Carpazzi, should live on the illustriousness of
my name? If I were very poor, perhaps I should."
"How curious!" Nina exclaimed. "Does not a career mean making money?"
"On the contrary, it means spending it! One must have a great deal of
money to go to any height in diplomacy."
"Then you are rich?" Nina already had acquired a brutal frankness of
direct interrogation through her Italian sojourn.
"Not exactly." He looked bored again. "But I have a little--though
perhaps not enough for my ambition. If only there were a serious war,
I'd have a good chance." Then he added simply, "I am a good soldier!"
The princess, who had been summoned to the telephone, now returned and
seated herself beside Nina on the sofa. "I have just been talking with
the Marchesa Valdeste, and she told me that the Queen said most gracious
things of you, dear; called you the 'charming little American.'" The
prince entered while the princess was speaking. He kissed his wife's
hand and began, at great length, to tell her exactly where and how he
had spent the afternoon. After a while, however, as one or two other
friends dropped in, Sansevero talked aside with Tornik.
"You were not at Savini's last night, were you?" he asked.
Tornik looked interested. "No," he said, "but I hear they had a very
high game."
"Yes. Young Allegro was practically cleaned out."
"Who won?"
"Who, indeed, but Scorpa! He has the luck, that man!"
"Were you there? I thought you never played any more; have you taken it
up again?"
Sansevero, glancing apprehensively at his wife, answered quickly, "I
never play." Fortunately, just then the dangerous conversation was ended
by the arrival of the Contessa Potensi. She smiled graciously upon the
prince as he pressed her hand to his lips, and bestowed the left-over
remnant of the same smile, upon Tornik. She also kissed the air on
either side of the princess with much affection, and shook hands
cordially with two other ladies who were present, but she directed
toward Nina the barest glance.
She and Nina, by the way, furnished at the moment a typical illustration
of the difference in appearance between European and American women.
The contessa was wearing an untrimmed, black tailor-made costume with a
very long train, a little fur toque to match a small neck piece, and a
little sausage-shaped muff. Her diamond earrings were enormous, but not
very good stones. Nina's dress was of raspberry cloth, cut in the latest
exaggeration of fashion--her skirt was short and skimp as her hat was
huge. Her muff of sables as big and soft as a pillow--she could easily
have buried her arms in it to the shoulder. The elaborateness of Nina's
clothes filled the contessa with satisfaction, for she thought them
barbarously inappropriate, and she knew that Giovanni was a martinet so
far as "fitness" went.
Presently, in spite of her more than rude greeting, she coolly sat down
beside Nina. "Will you make me a cup of tea? I like it without sugar
and with very little cream." She did not smile, and she did not say
"please." Her bearing was a fair example of the cold, impersonal
insolence of which Italian women of fashion are capable when
antagonistic.
After a time she leaned over and scrutinized Nina's watch, as though it
were in a show case. "Do many young girls in America wear jewels?"
Nina found herself congealing; instead of answering, she handed the
contessa her tea, and expressed a hope that she had not put in too much
cream.
Taking no notice of Nina's evasion, the contessa, talking
indiscriminately about people, arrived finally at the subject of
Giovanni. In her opinion, the Marchese di Valdo ought to marry money!
Unfortunately, however, she feared he had loved too many women to be
capable now of caring for one alone. From this she went to generalities.
A man had but one grand passion in a lifetime, didn't Nina think so?
Nina's thoughts were very hazy, indeed, about grand passions, which were
associated dimly in her mind with the seven deadly sins--in the category
of things one didn't speak of. So she answered vaguely, feeling like a
stupid child being cross-examined by the school commissioner.
"Still, he is very attractive, don't you find? Of course, he says the
same things to all of us--but then no one understands how to make love
as well as he, so what does it matter whether he means it or not? It
takes a woman of great experience," insinuated the contessa, "to parry
Giovanni's fencing with the foils of love."
Nina was goaded into answering. "You seem to know a great deal about his
love-making," she said at last, with the breathy calm of controlled
temper.
Half shutting her eyes, the contessa replied: "It is common hearsay. One
has only to follow the list of his conquests to know that he must be a
past master in the art of making women care for him. That he is fickle
is evident; he is constantly changing his attentions from one woman to
another, and leaving with a crisis of the heart her whom he has lately
adored. I am sorry for the woman he marries--still, perhaps she would
not know the difference! He might even be devoted, from force of habit."
Nina, furious, told herself that she did not believe one word that this
spiteful woman was saying, but it made an impression all the same, which
was, of course, exactly what the contessa wanted.
"Tornik, too, needs a fortune badly," Maria Potensi went on piercing
neatly. "It is hard, over here with us, that men acquire fortunes only
by marriage. In America, it must be better, for there they can earn
their money, and marry for love."
Nina felt her cheeks burn as she listened, but there was nothing she
could say. She knew only too well how hard it would be to believe
herself loved.
But not all of the women were like the Contessa Potensi, and by the time
Nina had been a month in Rome, she had, with the responsiveness of
youth, formed several friendships that were rapidly drifting into
intimacies, though she chose as her associates, for the most part, young
married women rather than girls. Her particular friend was Zoya Olisco,
really six months younger than herself, but of a precocious worldly
experience that gave her at least ten years' advantage.
The young girls were to Nina quite incomprehensible. Their curiously
negative behavior in public, their self-conscious diffidence, seemed to
her stupid; but their education filled her with envy and shame. Nearly
all spoke several languages, not in her own fashion of broken French,
broken German, and baby-talk Italian, but with perfect facility and
correctness of grammar. Nearly all were thoroughly grounded in
mathematics, history, literature, and science. And yet their whole
attitude toward life seemed out of balance; they were like pedagogues
never out of the schoolroom--one moment discoursing learnedly, the next
prattling like little children. The end and aim of life to them was
marriage. Each talked of her dot and of what it might buy her in the way
of a husband, very much as girls in America might plan the spending of
their Christmas money.
In spite of the unusual liberty allowed Nina, as an American, it seemed
to her that she was very restricted. She had, for instance, suggested
that they ask Carpazzi to dine with them alone and go to the opera. But
the princess had said, "Impossible. Carpazzi, finding no one but the
family, would naturally suppose we wish to arrange a marriage between
you."
Marry Carpazzi! It was ridiculous; she never had heard of such customs!
"Well, then, why not ask Tornik?" she suggested. "He is not an Italian."
The princess demurred. It might be possible to ask Tornik--still it was
better not. Unless Nina wanted to marry Tornik? Apparently there was
little use in pursuing this subject further, so she laughed and gave it
up.
They were in the princess's room, at the time, and Nina, dressed for the
street, was pulling on new gloves of fawn-colored _suède_. Her brown
velvet and fox furs, her big hat with a fox band fastened with an
osprey, were all that the modeste's art could achieve.
The princess fastened a little yellow mink collar around her throat over
her black cloth dress, selected the better of two pairs of cleaned white
kid gloves, picked up her hard, round, little yellow muff, and then went
over and sat on the sofa beside Nina. "By the way, darling, I have
something to say to you. The Marchese Valdeste has approached your
uncle in regard to a marriage between his son Carlo and you. Not being
an Italian, I suppose you want to give your answer yourself. What do you
say?"
"What do I say!" Nina's eyes and mouth opened together. "Why, I have
never seen the man!"
The princess smiled. "The offer is made in the same way in which it
would be if you were an Italian. Your parents not being here, I ask you
in their stead--or as I might ask you if you were a widow. To begin,
then,--no, I am perfectly in earnest--I am authorized to offer you a
young man of unquestionable birth. He has in his own right three
castles. Two will need a great deal of repair, but one is in excellent
condition and contains three hundred rooms, more than half of which are
furnished. He has an annual income of twenty thousand _lire_ and
no--debts! That he is fairly good-looking, medium-sized, has black hair
and brown eyes, and is said to have a very amiable disposition, are
details."
As the princess concluded, Nina added: "And he has also a most charming
mother. My answer is--my regret that I cannot marry her instead."
"You are sure you do not care to consider this offer?"
Nina looked steadily into her aunt's eyes. "I am sure you married Uncle
Sandro through no such courtship as this!"
"I did not think you would accept, my dear child; yet such marriages
often turn out for the best--at least it was my duty to ask for your
answer. You have given it--and now let us go out. The carriage has been
waiting some time."
Shortly afterward they were in the Pincio--for the custom still prevails
among Roman ladies and gentlemen of slowly driving up and down or
standing for a chat with friends. The dome of St. Peter's looked like a
globe of gold set in the center of the celebrated frame of the Pincio
trees, but as the sun went down it grew chilly, and the Sansevero landau
rolled briskly up the Corso. At Nina's suggestion they stopped at a tea
shop.
No sooner were they seated at a little table when they were joined by
the Duchess Astarte. The duchess had most graceful manners, but she
talked to the princess across Nina, and about her, as though she were an
article of furniture, or at least a small child who could not understand
what was said. She spoke frankly of Nina's suitors. Scorpa's was an
excellent title, but Scorpa was a widower and no longer young. Then she
begged the princess to consider her nephew, the young Prince Allegro.
It would be a brilliant match, for he was one of the mediatized princes
and ranked with royalty. But his properties took such an immense amount
of money to keep up that an added fortune would be a great relief to the
whole family. Her consummate naturalness did away with much of the
bluntness of her speech; but even so, this was too much for Nina's
calmness.
"But, Duchessa," she broke in, "have the Prince Allegro and I nothing to
do with the arranging of our own future?"
The duchess observed her in as much astonishment as though a baby of six
months had broken into the conversation. A moment or two elapsed before
she said smoothly: "Oh, the Prince is enchanted at the idea. He danced
with you at Court and finds you _molto simpatica_. It is a great name,
my dear, that he has to offer you----" and then with a condescension,
yet a courteousness that prevented offense: "We shall all be willing,
nay, delighted, to receive you with open arms. Your position will be in
every way as though you had been born into the nobility."
"Thank you," said Nina quietly, "but I don't think I am quite used to
the European marriage of arrangement."
"Ah, but it need not be a marriage of arrangement. If you will permit
Allegro to pay his addresses to you, he will consider himself the most
fortunate of men. May I tell him?"
"Please not!" said Nina. Quite at bay, she longed wildly for some means
of escape. To her relief, two Americans whom she knew, young Mrs. Davis
and her sister, entered the shop. Nina rose abruptly, apologizing to the
duchess, and ran to them. How long had they been in Rome? Where were
they stopping? What was the news from New York? They told her all they
could think of. The Tony Stuarts had a son--they thought it the only
baby that had ever been born; and as for old Mr. Stuart, he was nearly
insane with joy. Billy Rivers had lost every cent of his money; and
then--but, of course, Nina had heard about John Derby.
In her fear that some accident had happened to him, Nina's heart seemed
to miss two beats. But Mrs. Davis merely meant his success in mining. By
the way, she had seen him in New York, as she was driving to the
steamer. He was striding up Fifth Avenue, and was "too good-looking for
words."
The princess was leaving the shop and, as Nina followed her into the
carriage, her mind was full of Derby. It was very strange--she had had a
letter the day before from Arizona, in which John had said nothing about
going to New York. Then she remembered that her father had hinted at a
possibility that John might be sent to Italy later in the winter. Her
pulse quickened at the thought, but with no consciousness of sentiment
deepened or changed by absence.
Arrived at the palace, she found a note from Zoya Olisco, who was coming
to spend the next day with her. Nina handed the note to the princess. "I
thought we could go out in the car and lunch somewhere. Or is it not
allowed?" Her eyes twinkled as she questioned.
"That depends," the princess answered in the same spirit, "upon whether
you are counting upon including me. I am a very disagreeable tyrant when
it comes to being left out of a party."
The automobile in question was Nina's. She had wanted one, and with her
"to want" meant "to get." Nearly every one thought it belonged to the
princess, as it would not have occurred to many in Rome to suppose it
was owned by a young girl.
That night another extravagance of Nina's came to light. In the morning
they had been at an exhibition of furs brought to Rome by a Russian
dealer. Among them was a set of superb sables, and Nina, throwing the
collar around her aunt's shoulders, had exclaimed at their becomingness.
The princess unconsciously stroked the furs as she put them down. "I
have never seen anything more lovely," she said wistfully, and with no
idea that she had sighed. A sable collar and muff had been one of the
desired things of her life, but it was utterly impossible now to think
of so much as one skin, and in the piece and muff in question there were
more than thirty.
That evening, upon their return, the princess found the furs in her room
when she went to dress. At first she felt that they were too much to
accept, but when Nina's hazel eyes implored, and her lips begged her
aunt to take "just one present to remember her by," the princess for
once gave free reign to her emotions and was as wildly delighted as a
child.
The very next afternoon, however, Scorpa saw the sables, and on a slip
of paper made the following note:
Sables 80,000 lire
60 H. P. motor car 30,000 lire
With a smile that would have done no discredit to his Satanic Majesty,
he put the paper in his pocket.