Jerry | Page 7

signore.'
'Er--no--I'll take the second.'
'Si, signore. At half-past ten.'
CHAPTER III
It was close upon ten when Jerymn Hilliard, Jr., equipped for travel in
proper blue serge, appeared in the doorway of the Hotel du Lac. He
looked at his watch and discovered that he still had twenty minutes
before the omnibus meeting the second boat was due. He strolled
across the courtyard, paused for a moment to tease the parrot, and
sauntered on to his favourite seat in the summer-house. He had barely
established himself with a cigarette when who should appear in the
gateway but Miss Constance Wilder, of Villa Rosa, and a middle-aged
man--at a glance the Signor Papa. Jerymn Hilliard's heart doubled its
beat. Why, he asked himself excitedly, why had they come?

The Signor Papa closed his green umbrella, and having dropped into a
chair--obligingly near the summer-house--took off his hat and fanned
himself. He had a tendency toward being stout, and felt the heat. The
girl, meanwhile, crossed the court and jangled the bell; she waited
two--three--minutes, then she pulled the rope again.
'Gustavo! Oh, Gustavo!'
The bell might have been rung by any one--the fisherman, the
omnibus-driver, Suor Celestina from the convent asking her everlasting
alms--and Gustavo took his time. But the voice was unmistakable; he
waited only to throw a clean napkin over his arm before hurrying to
answer.
'Buon giorno, signorina! Good morning, signore. It is beautiful wea-thir,
but warm. Già, it is warm.'
He bowed and smiled and rubbed his hands together. His moustaches,
fairly bristling with good will, turned up in a half-circle until they
caressed his nose on either side. He bustled about placing table and
chairs, and recklessly dusting them with the clean napkin. The
signorina laid her fluffy white parasol on one chair and seated herself
on another, her profile turned to the summer-house. Gustavo hovered
over them, awaiting their pleasure, the genius itself of respectful
devotion. It was Constance who gave the order--she, it might be
noticed, gave most of the orders that were given in her vicinity. She
framed it in English out of deference to Gustavo's pride in his
knowledge of the language.
'A glass of vino santo for the signore and limonata for me. I wish to put
the sugar in myself, the last time you mixed it, Gustavo, it was all sugar
and no lemon. And bring a bowl of cracked ice--fino--fino--and some
pine nut cakes if you are sure they are fresh.'
'Sank you, signorina. Subitissimo!'
He was off across the court, his black coat-tails, his white napkin
streaming behind, proclaiming to all the world that he was engaged on

the Signorina Americana's bidding; for persons of lesser note he still
preserved a measure of dignity.
The young man in the summer-house had meanwhile dropped his
cigarette upon the floor and noiselessly stepped on it. He had also--with
the utmost caution lest the chair creak--shifted his position so that he
might command the profile of the girl. The entrance to the summer
house was fortunately on the other side, and in all likelihood they
would not have occasion to look within. It was eavesdropping of course,
but he had already been convicted of that yesterday, and in any case it
was not such very bad eavesdropping. The courtyard of the Hotel du
Lac was public property; he had been there first, he was there by rights
as a guest of the house; if anything, they were the interlopers. Besides,
nobody talked secrets with a head waiter. His own long conversations
with Gustavo were as open and innocent as the day; the signorina was
perfectly welcome to listen to them as much as she chose.
She was sitting with her chin in her hand, eyeing the flying coat-tails of
Gustavo, a touch of amusement in her face. Her father was eyeing her
severely.
'Constance, it is disgraceful!'
She laughed. Apparently she already knew or divined what it was that
was disgraceful, but the accusation did not appear to bother her much.
Mr. Wilder proceeded grumblingly.
'It's bad enough with those five deluded officers, but they walked into
the trap with their eyes open and it's their own affair. But look at
Gustavo; he can scarcely carry a dish without breaking it when you are
watching him. And Giuseppe--that confounded Farfalla with its yellow
sails floats back and forth in front of the terrace till I am on the point of
having it scuttled as a public nuisance; and those three washer-women
and the post-office clerk and the boy who brings milk, and Luigi
and--every man, woman and child in the village of Valedolmo!'
'And my own dad as well?'

Mr. Wilder shook his head.
'I came here at your instigation for rest and relaxation--to get rid of
nervous worries, and here I find