Part 18 (1/2)

'I shall never speak to you again. You can climb as many mountains as you wish with my father, but you can't have anything more to do with me.'

'_Scusi_, signorina. I--I did not mean to. It was just an accident, signorina.'

Constance turned her back and stared at the road.

'It was not my fault. Truly it was not my fault. I did not wish to kiss you--no nevair. But I could not help it. You put your head too close.'

She raised her eyes and studied the mountain-top.

'Signorina, why you treat me so cruel?'

Her back was inflexible.

'I am desolate. If you forgive me zis once I will nevair again do a sing so wicked. Nevair, nevair, nevair.'

Constance continued her inspection of the mountain-top. Tony leaned forward until he could see her face.

'Signorina,' he whispered, 'jus' give me one li'l' smile to show me you are not angry for ever.'

The stage had stopped and Mr. Wilder was climbing down, but Constance's gaze was still fixed on the sky, and Tony's eyes were on her.

'What's the matter, Constance, have you gone to sleep? Aren't you going to get out?'

She came back with a start.

'Are we here already?'

There was a suspicion of regret in her tone which did not escape Tony.

At the Villa Rosa gates he wished them a humbly deferential good night, but with a smile hovering about the corners of his mouth. Constance made no response. As he strode off, however, she turned her head and looked after him. He turned too and caught her. He waved his hand with a laugh, and took up his way, whistling Santa Lucia in double time.

CHAPTER XIII

Three days pa.s.sed in which Mr. Wilder and Tony industriously climbed, and in which nothing of consequence pa.s.sed between Constance and Tony. If she happened to be about when the expeditions either started or came to an end (and for one reason or another she usually was) she ignored him entirely; and he ignored her, except for an occasional mockingly deferential bow. He appeared to extract as much pleasure from the excursions as Mr. Wilder, and he asked for no extra compensation by the way.

It was Tuesday again, just a week and a day since the young American had dropped over the wall of Villa Rosa asking for the garden of the prince.

Tony and Mr. Wilder were off on a trip; Miss Hazel and Constance on the point of sitting down to afternoon tea--there were no guests to-day--when the gardener from the Hotel du Lac appeared with a message from Nannie Hilliard. She and her aunt had arrived half an hour before, which was a good two days earlier than they were due. Constance read the note with a clouded brow and silently pa.s.sed it to Miss Hazel. The news was not so entirely welcome as under other circ.u.mstances it would have been. Nannie Hilliard was both perspicacious and fascinating, and Constance foresaw that her presence would tangle further the already tangled plot of the little comedy which was unfolding itself at Villa Rosa. But Miss Hazel, divining nothing of comedies or plots, was thrown into a pleasant flutter by the news. Guests were a luxury which occurred but seldom in the quiet monotony of Valedolmo.

'We must call on them at once and bring them back to the house.'

'I suppose we must.' Constance agreed with an uncordial sigh.

Fifteen minutes later they were on their way to the Hotel du Lac, while Elizabetta, on her knees in the villa guest-room, was vigorously scrubbing the mosaic floor.

Gustavo hurried out to meet them. He was plainly in a flutter; something had occurred to upset the usual suavity of his manners.

'_Si_, signorina, in ze garden--ze two American ladies--having tea. And you are acquaint wif ze family; all ze time you are acquaint wif zem, and you never tell me!' There was mystification and reproach in his tone.

Constance eyed him with a degree of mystification on her side.