FAVORITA DRIVES A BARGAIN
As the winter progressed, Favorita's temper showed so little improvement
that those whose duty brought them in contact with her at the theatre
were on the verge of resigning their posts. Her dresser had a thoroughly
cowed expression; her manager consumed more black cigars than were good
for him; the _corps de ballet_ had hysterics singly and indignation
councils _en masse_. In fact, the call-boy, who seemed to enjoy
tormenting her, was the only member of the company who took her rages
cheerfully.
Finally even Giovanni became uneasy; a well-bred woman could be counted
on in given circumstances to do thus and so, but Favorita was of lowest
peasant birth: her people were of the mountain districts, so primitive
in thought and habit that her early training had taught her obedience to
nothing higher than impulse. Superficially, she submitted to the
dictates of civilization, just as a half-wild animal submits to the
control of his trainer. And in a very real sense Giovanni occupied, in
relation to her, the trainer's position. He was the force that held her
in check; but though to the audience of the world he appeared perfectly
at ease, a definite apprehensiveness underlay his seeming composure.
Matters at last came to a crisis. Giovanni was about to leave the palace
one morning a day or two after the Masco dinner, when a neatly dressed
woman passed him on the grand stairway. She was wearing a thick veil,
but he had an eye for outline and he knew that there was only one woman
in Rome with just that half-floating lightness of movement. At once he
blocked her way.
She was forced to halt; but her feet did not stand quite still, and
there was an effect of briefly suspended motion in her attitude, as
though she sought a chance to dart past him.
"Good-morning, signorina!" Giovanni's urbanity was for the benefit of
the footmen. For a few seconds there was a straightening of her figure;
poised for flight, she held her head a little to one side as she swiftly
scanned his face.
Giovanni dropped his voice. "I was just on my way to see you. Come,
_cara mia_," he said persuasively. "I have something I want to talk over
with you--it is impossible here with lackeys listening to everything we
may say. Come, dear."
She looked at him a moment, wavering, then shrugged her shoulders. "Very
well," she said, and descended the stairs at his side. They crossed the
wide hall, and she stopped to gaze about it in wonder and curiosity,
even though she did not appreciate the splendor of its proportions. The
great _baldachino_, of blue and silver, surmounting the Sansevero arms,
held her attention.
"Do the broken silver chains in your coat of arms represent mercy or
weakness?" she asked.
"Both, probably," he answered grimly, as he caught the sound of an
automobile chugging in the courtyard. Feeling sure that it was Nina's
car, he slipped his arm through Favorita's to urge her forward,
whereupon she grew suspicious and lagged purposely. She looked
deliberately about, as though she were a tourist intent upon finding
every object starred in Baedeker. To his inward rage and chagrin,
Giovanni realized his mistake in having attempted to hurry her, and now
changed his tactics. Although his every nerve was strained to catch the
sound of Nina's approaching footfall, he went into a long, prosy
dissertation upon the history of the ceiling, dwelling purposely upon
the dullest facts he could think of, until his tormentor was glad enough
to leave.
Once outside the building, Giovanni breathed more freely, although the
sight of the automobile confirmed his apprehension. Hailing a cab, he
put Favorita into it and got in after her. They had not gone more than
five hundred yards when Nina, alone in the car, passed them. Giovanni
had stooped over quickly so that she might not recognize him; but
Favorita took no notice of this, or anything else, and they drove on in
a silence broken only by occasional and casual remarks. It was not
until they were safely within her apartment that he demanded:
"And now, Fava, perhaps you will have the goodness to explain to me what
you were doing at the Palazzo Sansevero when I saw you, and how you got
past the _portiere_?"
"At least it shows you that what I try to do I accomplish," she retorted
with an air of bravado. She leaned her elbows on a little table, looking
across at Giovanni, her lips parted, her eyes dancing. "Do you wish to
hear? Very well. I have a friend who gives the American heiress lessons
in Italian. She says it is easy--one has only to talk Italian and make
her talk, and tell her when she makes mistakes. My friend is sick. She
sent a letter, which I intercepted, and I went in her place. Why not?"
Then suddenly her little teeth locked tightly, and she spoke between
them savagely--"I'd be a teacher worth employing. I could talk Italian
to her that she would never forget! Nor would she forget _me_, either!"
Giovanni's teeth locked quite as tightly as hers. "Will you hush? You
must be insane! I told you from the beginning that I would not advertise
myself with you. I told you also that if you made a scene, or if you
ever tried to interfere with my family or my private life, at that
moment all would end between us." As he spoke, Favorita looked
frightened, but in a flash her manner changed completely. Long
association with him had not been without its lessons, and she answered
as sweetly as though no disagreement had ever come between them; as
though there were no incongruity between their suspended discussion and
her interrupting sentence. "Giovannino," she cooed, "I have had a great
offer, an astounding offer from Vienna."
He saw his opportunity. His manner therefore, changed as rapidly as hers
had done, and with every appearance of sympathy and interest he asked
for her news. She told him with triumph the details of her offer from
the manager of a Viennese theatre for a ten weeks' engagement at a
stupendous salary.
"You must accept--by all means!" Not a trace of the relief he felt crept
into his expression; he looked sad, but thoroughly resigned. "It is
time," he added cleverly, "that you should make a name for yourself that
is cosmopolitan and not alone of Italy."
So far they had been sitting on either side of a small table, but now
Favorita arose and went around to him. Pushing the table away, she sat
on his knee, and, with one arm about his neck, held up his chin with her
other hand. Then, deliberately, she looked into his eyes with that
level, determined steadiness which makes no compromise. She spoke very
quietly, so quietly that he was more than ever uneasy. Her turbulence
was annoying, but this calmness was ominous.
"I shall accept the offer on one condition:--you go to Vienna with me!"
Giovanni looked quite as though the gates of Paradise were opening
before him. Even Favorita believed his enthusiasm genuine as he
exclaimed, "Ah, that would be charming!" Then he seemed to be
considering the matter eagerly. "That I _want_ to go with you--of that
there can be no doubt! I am merely wondering how it can be managed."
Now that she seemed to be getting her own way, and her jealousy was
allayed, Favorita was soft, and sweet, and affectionate as a little
black cat. "Rosso is going to Hungary," she purred. "You can easily say
you are going with him on his trip, whereas you can really be in
Vienna!"
"That sounds perfect!" he returned gayly; "at least you can accept the
manager's offer!"
"Do you promise to go with me? You must swear it!" He hesitated as he
rapidly turned the situation over in his mind. Now that he had
determined to marry Nina, the main thing was to keep Favorita away, for,
should she have an opportunity to unburden her heart to the heiress,
that would be the end of his matrimonial chances. But if he could get
the dancer to Vienna, and keep her there, then find an excuse for at
least a short absence from her, he could come back to Rome, win Nina, be
married at once--and then let come what would! An independent American
girl would throw him over, he knew that; but a wife would be different!
A wife would have to forgive.
"Will you promise?" repeated Favorita.
"Yes, I promise," he said. "Come, we will fill in the contract!"