"Her Excellency,--will she have the politeness," said Daphne slowly,
reading from a tiny Italian-English phrase-book, "the politeness
to"--She stopped helpless. Old Giacomo gazed at her with questioning
eyes. The girl turned the pages swiftly and chose another phrase.
"I go," she announced, "I go to make a walk."
Light flashed into Giacomo's face.
"Si, si, Signorina; yes, yes," he assented with voice and shoulders and
a flourish of the spoon he was polishing. "Capisco; I understand."
Daphne consulted her dictionary.
"Down there," she said gravely, pointing toward the top of the great
hill on whose side the villa stood.
"Certainly," answered Giacomo with a bow, too much pleased by
understanding when there was no reason for it to be captious in regard
to the girl's speech. "The Signorina non ha paura, not 'fraid?"
"I'm not afraid of anything," was the answer in English. The Italian
version of it was a shaking of the head. Then both dictionary and
phrase-book were consulted.
"To return," she stated finally, "to return to eat at six hours." Then
she looked expectantly about.
"Assunta?" she said inquiringly, with a slight shrug of her shoulders,
for other means of expression had failed.
"Capisco, capisco," shouted Giacomo in his excitement, trailing on the
marble floor the chamois skin with which he had been polishing the
silver, and speaking in what seemed to his listener one word of a
thousand syllables.
"The-Signorina-goes-to-walk-upon-the-hills-above-the-villa-because-
it-is-a-most-beautiful-day.-She-returns-to-dine-at-six-and-wishes-
Assunta-to-have-dinner-prepared.-Perhaps-the-Signorina-would-
tell-what-she-would-like-for-her-dinner?-A-roast-chicken,-yes?-
A-salad,-yes?"
Daphne looked dubiously at him, though he had stated the case with
entire accuracy, and had suggested for her solitary meal what she most
liked. There was a slight pucker in her white forehead, and she
vouchsafed no answer to what she did not understand.
"Addio, addio," she said earnestly.
"A rivederla!" answered Giacomo, with a courtly sweep of the chamois
skin.
The girl climbed steadily up the moist, steep path leading to the deep
shadow of a group of ilex trees on the hill. At her side a stream of
water trickled past drooping maidenhair fern and over immemorial moss.
Here and there it fell in little cascades, making a sleepy murmur in
the warm air of afternoon.
Halfway up the hill Daphne paused and looked back. Below the yellow
walls of the Villa Accolanti, standing in a wide garden with
encompassing poplars and cypresses, sketched great grassy slopes and
gray-green olive orchards. The water from the stream, gathered in a
stone basin at the foot of the hill, flowed in a marble conduit through
the open hall. As she looked she was aware of two old brown faces
anxiously gazing after her. Giacomo and Assunta were chattering
eagerly in the doorway, the black of his butler's dress and the white
of his protecting apron making his wife's purple calico skirt and red
shoulder shawl look more gay. They caught the last flutter of the
girl's blue linen gown as it disappeared among the ilexes.
"E molto bello, very beautiful, the Signorina," remarked Assunta. "What
gray eyes she has, and how she walks!"
"But she knows no speech," responded her husband.
"Ma che!" shouted Assunta scornfully, "she talks American. You
couldn't expect them to speak like us over there. They are not Romans
in America."
"My brother Giovanni is there," remarked Giacomo. "She could have
learned of him."
"She is like the Contessa," said Assunta. "You would know they are
sisters, only this one is younger and has something more sweet."
"This one is grave," objected Giacomo as he polished. "She does not
smile so much. The Contessa is gay. She laughs and sings and her
cheeks grow red when she drinks red wine, and her hair is more yellow."
"She makes it so!" snapped Assunta.
"I have heard they all do in Rome," said Giacomo. "Some day I would
like to go to see."
"To go away, to leave this girl here alone with us when she had just
arrived!" interrupted Assunta. "I have no patience with the Contessa."
"But wasn't his Highness's father sick? And didn't she have to go?
Else they wouldn't get his money, and all would go to the younger
brother. You don't understand these things, you women." Giacomo's
defense of his lady got into his fingers, and added much to the
brightness of the spoons. The two talked together now, as fast as
human tongues could go.
Assunta. She could have taken the Signorina.
Giacomo. She couldn't. It's fever.
Assunta. She could have left her maid.
Giacomo. Thank the holy father she didn't!
Assunta. And without a word of language to make herself understood.
Giacomo. She can learn, can't she?
Assunta. And with the cook gone, too! It's a great task for us.
Giacomo. You'd better be about it!... Going walking alone in the
hills! And calling me "Excellency." There's no telling what Americans
will do.
Assunta. She didn't know any better. When she has been here a week
she won't call you "Excellency"! I must make macaroni for dinner.
Giacomo. Ma che! Macaroni? Roast chicken and salad.
Assunta. Niente! Macaroni!
Giacomo. Roast chicken! You are a pretty one to take the place of the
cook!
Assunta. Roast chicken then! But what are you standing here for in
the hall polishing spoons? If the Contessa could see you!
Assunta dragged her husband by the hem of his white apron through the
great marble-paved dining-room out into the smoke-browned kitchen in
the rear.
"Now where's Tommaso, and how am I going to get my chicken?" she
demanded. "And why, in the name of all the saints, should an American
signorina's illustrious name be Daphne?"