Our Own Set Part 8

CHAPTER X.

It is Shrove Tuesday. The sorriest jade of the wretchedest _botta_ has a paper rose stuck behind his ear, though during the hours sacred to the carnival they are pariahs and outcasts from the Corso. Two-horse carriages are dressed in garlands and the horses have plumes on their heads. The Piazza di Spagna is alive with pedlars and hawkers, selling flowers and little tapers (_moccoli_), and with buyers of every nation doing their best to cheapen them. Baskets full of violets, roses, anemones, snowflakes--baskets full of indescribable bunches of greenery--the ammunition of the mob which have already done duty for two or three days and are like nothing on earth but the wisps of rushes with which the boards are rubbed in some parts of Austria. The sellers of coral and tortoise-sh.e.l.l cry out to you to buy--"_e carnevale_...."

and in the side streets--for misery dares not show its head in the main thoroughfares to-day--the beggars crowd more closely than ever round the pedestrian with their perpetual cry: "_muojo di fame_."

The houses on the Corso wear their gay carnival trappings to-day for the last time. A smart dress flutters on every balcony, several stands have been erected and all the window-sills are covered, some with colored chintz and some with gold brocade. All Thursday, Sat.u.r.day, and Monday Zinka and Gabrielle had driven unweariedly up and down the Corso with Count Truyn, flinging flowers at all their acquaintances and at a good many strangers. To-day, however, they had agreed to look on from the windows of the Palazzo Vulpini, for the close of the carnival is apt to be somewhat riotous. Every one who lives on the Corso seizes the opportunity of paying long owing debts of civility and offers a place in a window to as many friends as can possibly be squeezed in.

There was a large party at the Vulpinis', for the most part Italians and relations of the prince's. Madame de Gandry and Mrs. Ferguson had invited themselves, and Zinka, with Gabrielle Truyn, was to see the turmoil in the Corso from the balcony of the palazzo. The baroness had "tic douloureux" which kept her at home,--and which no one regretted.

At six o'clock, before the beginning of the _moccoli_, all the company were to go to the '_Falcone_,' a well-known and especially Roman restaurant where they would dine more comfortably and easily than at home. From thence they were to adjourn to the _Teatro Costanzi_. Prince Vulpini had drawn up this thoroughly carnival programme for the special benefit of the Countess Schalingen who had a pa.s.sion for "local color,"

and who was enchanted. The princess was resigned; local color had no interest for her and she was somewhat prejudiced against Italian native dishes and masked festivities of all kinds.

It was three o'clock. Baskets of flowers and whole heaps of sweet little sugar-plum boxes were ready piled in the windows for ammunition.

The little Vulpinis, who entirely filled the large centre window, and their shy English governess in her black gown, had just come into the room, skipping about and pulling each other's hair for sheer impatience and excitement; and when their governess reproved them for behaving so roughly "_ma e carnevale_" is thought sufficient excuse; the company laughed and the English girl said no more. All the party had a.s.sembled. Madame de Gandry and Mrs. Ferguson were both looking pretty and picturesque; the former had stuck on a fez, and the other a quaintly-folded handkerchief of oriental stuff, in honor of the carnival, when eccentricity of costume is admissible and conventional head-gear are contemned.

From the windows down to the carriages, from the carriages up to the windows the war was eagerly waged; bunches of flowers, and bonbonnieres from Spillman's and Nazzari's fly in all directions and sc.r.a.ps of colored paper fall like snow through the air. Then the blare and pipe of a military band came up from the Piazza di Venezia and the maskers crowded in among the carriages. One of the liveliest groups along the Corso was certainly that where the Vulpini children were grouped, with Zinka in their midst, she having undertaken the charge of them at their own earnest entreaty. She and Gabrielle were both laughing with glee, but at the height of their fun they remembered to pay all sorts of little civilities to the half-scared English governess and had stuck a splendid bunch of lilies of the valley in front of her camphor-scented black silk dress. What especially interested the children was watching for Norina's carriage, for they not only recognized the prince who was driving, but knew all his party: Truyn, Siegburg, Sempaly, and as it pa.s.sed with its four bays the little Vulpinis jumped with delight and chirped and piped like a tree full of birds; the gentlemen waved their hands, smiled, and gallantly aimed bouquets without end at the windows of the palazzo. But all the finest flowers that day were, beyond a doubt, aimed at Zinka. The floor all round her was heaped with snowflakes, and violets, and roses. In her hand she had caught a huge bunch of roses flung up to her by Sempaly.

"Oh, oh!" cried Madame de Gandry, retiring from the window to rest for a few minutes and refresh herself with a sip of wine. "Ah, mademoiselle!" glancing enviously at the ma.s.s of blossoms strewn round Zinka, "you have as many bouquets as a prima donna!" Zinka nodded; then, contemplating her hat, which she had thrown off in her excitement, with a whimsical air of regret and pulling the feather straight she said with a mockery of repentance:

"My poor hat will be glad to rest on Ash Wednesday."

"It is perfect, Marie, really perfect, this Roman carnival--a thing never to be forgotten!" exclaimed the Countess Schalingen, coming in from the window. She was a genuine Austrian, always ready to go into ecstasies of enthusiasm.

"It is horrid," answered the princess impatiently. "Under the new government it is nothing but an amus.e.m.e.nt for the strangers and street boys."

The _Barberi_ have rushed past, and the procession has once more begun to move on but its interest and excitement are over; the crowd in the road begins to thin, and Sempaly, Truyn, Norina, Siegburg, and the general have come in, as agreed, to escort the ladies to the 'Falcone,'

The children have all been kissed and sent off to their dinner at home; Gabrielle somewhat ill-pleased at not being allowed to go with the elder party and Truyn himself not liking to part with his little companion. Zinka wishes to comfort Gabrielle by remaining with the little ones, but this was not to be heard of.

"Only too many of us would wish to follow your example," whispers Princess Vulpini, to whom this dinner at a Roman restaurant is detestable.

They are to go on foot, but they are so long getting ready after this little delay that the one peaceful half-hour before the _moccoli_ is lost; by the time they sally into the street the crowd, which had dispersed, is getting denser every minute. The darkness comes on rapidly, like a grey curtain let down suddenly from the skies; the gaudy hangings are being taken in from the windows lest they should catch fire; the carnival is putting on its ball-dress. Now the first twinkling tapers are seen here and there, like glow-worms in the dusk, and are instantly pelted with _mazetti_ and bunches of greenery, mostly picked up from the pavement "_Fuori! fuori!_" is the monotonous cry on every side, and presently: "_senza moccolo, vergogna!_"--the death cries of the carnival.

The Austrian gentlemen find their position anything rather than pleasant, for it is impossible to protect the ladies effectually against being jostled and pushed, still less against hearing much rough jesting. At last they are out of the Corso and have divided in the narrow streets; some having turned into the Via Maddalena, while others have crossed the Piazza Capranica to the Piazza della Rotunda; but at last they are all met after various small adventures at the '_Falcone_.' The ladies' toilets have suffered a little and Princess Vulpini looks very unhappy.

The '_Falcone_' is a very unpretending restaurant where the waiters wear white jackets; the tariff is moderate and the _risotto_ celebrated. Vulpini orders a thoroughly Italian dinner in an upper room.

Suddenly Truyn exclaims in dismay: "What has become of Zinka and Sempaly?"

"They have lingered talking on the way," says Madame de Gandry with pinched lips as she leans back in her chair and pulls off her gloves.

"People always walk slowly when they have so much to say to each other."

Truyn frowned. "I am afraid they have got entangled in the crowd and have not been able to make their way out. I have hated this expedition from the first. I cannot imagine, Marie, what could have put such a plan into your head...."

"Mine!" says his sister in an undertone and with a meaning glance. But she says no more. He knows perfectly well that she is as innocent of the scheme as the angels in heaven.

"Why, what on earth is the matter?" asks Vulpini pouring huge quant.i.ties of grated cheese into his soup, while Mrs. Ferguson complains that she is dying of hunger, which is singular, considering the enormous number of bonbons she has eaten in the course of the day.

Madame de Gandry asks for a series of French dishes which the '_Falcone_' has never heard of Countess Schalingen is loud in her praises of the Italian cookery and is only sorry that she has no appet.i.te.

Truyn and the general sat gazing at the door in growing anxiety; Zinka and Sempaly do not make their appearance--Truyn can hardly conceal his alarm.

"I certainly cannot understand what you are so uneasy about," says Madame de Gandry with a perfidious smile; "if Fraulein Zinka has been mobbed and hindered Sempaly is in the same predicament and will take good care of her. If she were with any one less trustworthy, less competent, with whom she was less intimate ... then I could understand...." Truyn pa.s.ses his hand over his grey hair in extreme perplexity and mutters in his mother tongue: "This woman will be the death of me!" and then he again blames his sister.

Yet another quarter of an hour; though the waiters are not nimble they have got to the dessert and still no signs of Sempaly and Zinka.

"I am beginning to feel very anxious," says Marie. "I only hope the child has not fainted in the crowd."

Madame de Gandry makes a meaning grimace. "It is perhaps the cleverest thing she could have done," she says. Truyn hears and bites his lip.

The door just now opens and Zinka and Sempaly come in; she calm and sweet, he dark and scowling.

"Thank G.o.d!" cries Truyn.

"What in the world has happened?" asks the princess, while Truyn draws a chair to the table for Zinka, next to himself. "What has happened?"

repeated Sempaly. "The most obvious thing in the world. We got into the thick of the mob and could not get through."

"I cannot understand how that should have occurred," says Madame de Gandry. "We all came through."

"You may perhaps recollect that we were the last of the party, countess; we had hardly gone twenty yards when the crowd had become a compact ma.s.s, we pressed on, determined to get through at any cost--alone I could have managed it--but with a lady--suddenly we were in the thick of a furious squabble--curses, blows, and knives. I cannot tell you how miserable I was at finding myself out in the street with a lady--a young girl...."

"Fraulein Sterzl seems to take it all much more coolly than you do.

Count Sempaly," interposes Madame de Gandry spitefully; "she does not appear to have been at all terrified by the adventure."

"Fraulein Zinka was very brave," replied Sempaly.

"Goodness me! what was there to be afraid of;" says Zinka with the simplicity of childish innocence. "The responsibility was Count Sempaly's not mine."

The French woman laughs sharply. "We must be moving now," she says, "if we mean to go to Costanzi's," and there is a clatter of chairs and a little scene of confusion in which no one can find the right shawl or wrap for each lady.

But Princess Vulpini makes no attempt to move: "I am going nowhere else this evening," she says with unwonted determination. "I will not take Zinka to Constanzi's. I will wait till she has eaten her beef-steak and then I will take her home. I hope you will all enjoy yourselves."

Zinka eats her beef-steak with the greatest calmness and an unmistakably good appet.i.te; she is perfectly sweet and docile and natural; she has no suspicion that her name will to-morrow morning be in every mouth. Truyn is as pale as death; he has heard Madame de Gandry's whisper to her friend: "After this he must make her an offer."

PART II.

LENT.

CHAPTER I.

"I am glad to have found you," cried Truyn next morning as he entered Sempaly's room in the Palazzo di Venezia, and discovered him sipping his coffee after his late breakfast, with a book in his hand.