Part 10 (1/2)
”Honest, beautiful, and economical!” exclaimed Beatrice. ”He does not say anything about charm, you see. I think his description is extremely good and to the point. Bravo, Ruggiero!”
His eyes met hers and gleamed rather fiercely for an instant.
”And how about charm, Ruggiero?” asked Beatrice mischievously.
”I do not speak French, Excellency,” he answered.
”You should learn, because charm is a word one cannot say in Italian. I do not know how to say it in our language.”
”Let me talk about flowers to him,” said San Miniato. ”I will make him understand. Which do you like better, Ruggiero, camelias or violets?”
”The camelia is a more lordly flower, Excellency, but for me I like the violets.”
”Why?”
”Who knows? They make one think of so many things, Excellency. One would tire of camelias, but one would never be tired of violets. They have something--who knows?”
”That is it, Ruggiero,” said San Miniato, delighted with the result of his experiment. ”And charm is the same thing in a woman. One is never tired of it, and yet it is not honesty, nor beauty, nor economy.”
”I understand, Excellency--e la femmina--it is the womanly.”
”Bravo, Ruggiero!” exclaimed Beatrice again. ”You are a man of heart.
And if you found a woman who was honest and beautiful and economical and 'femmina,' as you say, would you love her?”
”Yes, Excellency, very much,” answered Ruggiero. But his voice almost failed him.
”How much? Tell us.”
Ruggiero was silent a moment. Then his eyes flashed suddenly as he looked down at her and his voice came ringing and strong.
”So much that I would pray that Christ and the sea would take her, rather than that another man should get her! Per Dio!”
There was such a vibration of strong pa.s.sion in the words that Beatrice started a little and San Miniato looked up in surprise. Even the Marchesa vouchsafed the sailor a glance of indolent curiosity. Beatrice bent over to the Count and spoke in a low tone and in French.
”We must not tease him any more. He is in love and very much in earnest.”
”So am I,” answered San Miniato with a half successful attempt to seem emotional, which might have done well enough if it had not come after Ruggiero's heartfelt speech.
”You!” laughed Beatrice. ”You are never really in earnest. You only think you are, and that pleases you as well.”
San Miniato bit his lip, for he was not pleased. Her answer augured ill for the success of the plan he meant to put into execution that very evening. He felt strongly incensed against Ruggiero, too, without in the least understanding the reason.
”You will find out some day, Donna Beatrice, that those who are most in earnest are not those who make the most pa.s.sionate speeches.”
”Ah! Is that true? How strange! I should have supposed that if a man said nothing it was because he had nothing to say. But you have such novel theories!”
”Is this discussion never to end?” asked the Marchesa, wearily lifting her hand as though in protest, and letting it fall again beside the other.
”It has only just begun, mamma,” answered Beatrice cheerfully. ”When San Miniato jumps into the sea and drowns himself in despair, you will know that the discussion is over.”
”Beatrice! My child! What language!”
”Italian, mamma carissima. Italian with a little Sicilian, such as we speak.”