To Be Read At Dusk | Page 4

IS
dead at the moment - what do you call that?'
'Or when the blood of San Gennaro liquefies at the request of the clergy - as all the world
knows that it does regularly once a-year, in my native city,' said the Neapolitan courier
after a pause, with a comical look, 'what do you call that?'

'THAT!' cried the German. 'Well, I think I know a name for that.'
'Miracle?' said the Neapolitan, with the same sly face.
The German merely smoked and laughed; and they all smoked and laughed.
'Bah!' said the German, presently. 'I speak of things that really do happen. When I want to
see the conjurer, I pay to see a professed one, and have my money's worth. Very strange
things do happen without ghosts. Ghosts! Giovanni Baptista, tell your story of the
English bride. There's no ghost in that, but something full as strange. Will any man tell
me what?'
As there was a silence among them, I glanced around. He whom I took to be Baptista was
lighting a fresh cigar. He presently went on to speak. He was a Genoese, as I judged.
'The story of the English bride?' said he. 'Basta! one ought not to call so slight a thing a
story. Well, it's all one. But it's true. Observe me well, gentlemen, it's true. That which
glitters is not always gold; but what I am going to tell, is true.'
He repeated this more than once.
Ten years ago, I took my credentials to an English gentleman at Long's Hotel, in Bond
Street, London, who was about to travel - it might be for one year, it might be for two. He
approved of them; likewise of me. He was pleased to make inquiry. The testimony that he
received was favourable. He engaged me by the six months, and my entertainment was
generous.
He was young, handsome, very happy. He was enamoured of a fair young English lady,
with a sufficient fortune, and they were going to be married. It was the wedding-trip, in
short, that we were going to take. For three months' rest in the hot weather (it was early
summer then) he had hired an old place on the Riviera, at an easy distance from my city,
Genoa, on the road to Nice. Did I know that place? Yes; I told him I knew it well. It was
an old palace with great gardens. It was a little bare, and it was a little dark and gloomy,
being close surrounded by trees; but it was spacious, ancient, grand, and on the seashore.
He said it had been so described to him exactly, and he was well pleased that I knew it.
For its being a little bare of furniture, all such places were. For its being a little gloomy,
he had hired it principally for the gardens, and he and my mistress would pass the
summer weather in their shade.
'So all goes well, Baptista?' said he.
'Indubitably, signore; very well.'
We had a travelling chariot for our journey, newly built for us, and in all respects
complete. All we had was complete; we wanted for nothing. The marriage took place.
They were happy. I was happy, seeing all so bright, being so well situated, going to my
own city, teaching my language in the rumble to the maid, la bella Carolina, whose heart
was gay with laughter: who was young and rosy.

The time flew. But I observed - listen to this, I pray! (and here the courier dropped his
voice) - I observed my mistress sometimes brooding in a manner very strange; in a
frightened manner; in an unhappy manner; with a cloudy, uncertain alarm upon her. I
think that I began to notice this when I was walking up hills by the carriage side, and
master had gone on in front. At any rate, I remember that it impressed itself upon my
mind one evening in the South of France, when she called to me to call master back; and
when he came back, and walked for a long way, talking encouragingly and affectionately
to her, with his hand upon the open window, and hers in it. Now and then, he laughed in a
merry way, as if he were bantering her out of something. By-and-by, she laughed, and
then all went well again.
It was curious. I asked la bella Carolina, the pretty little one, Was mistress unwell? - No.
- Out of spirits? - No. - Fearful of bad roads, or brigands? - No. And what made it more
mysterious was, the pretty little one would not look at me in giving answer, but WOULD
look at the view.
But, one day she told me the secret.
'If you must know,' said Carolina, 'I