Part 83 (1/2)
”This is a mere pa.s.sing depression, my dear Maitland. All things seem sad-colored to you now. Wait till tomorrow, or wait till there be a moment of danger, and you will be yourself again.”
”As for that,” said Maitland, bitterly, ”I am terribly myself just now. The last eight or ten years of my life were the dream; now is the awakenment. But cheer up, my old friend. I will stand by _you_, though I care very little for the cause you fight for. I will still serve on the Staff, and play out my part to the fall of the curtain.”
”What a strange scene that council was this morning!” said Caffarelli, half wis.h.i.+ng to draw him from the personal theme.
”What a strange thing to call a council, where not merely men walked in and out unbidden, but where a chance traveller could sit down amongst the King's advisers, and give his opinion like a servant of the crown!
Do you even know his name?”
”I'm not sure that I do; but it sounded like Tchernicheff. He distinguished himself against the Turks on the Danube.”
”And because he routed some ill-disciplined hordes with others a mere shade more civilized, he comes here to impose his opinion on our councils, and tell us how we are to defend ourselves!”
”I did not hear him utter a word.”
”No, but he handed in a paper drawn up by himself, in which he recommends the King to withdraw all the forces in front of Capua, and meet these marauders, where they will less like to fight, in the open. The advice was good, even though it came from a barbarian. In street-fighting your buccaneer is as good as, if not better than, a regular. All the circ.u.mstances of the ground favor him. Take him, however, where he must move and manouvre,--where he will have to form and re-form, to dress his line under fire, and occasionally change his flank,--then all the odds will be against him. So far the Scythian spoke well. His only miscalculation was to suppose that we will fight anywhere.”
”I declare, Maitland, I shall lose temper with you. You can't surely know what insulting things you say.”
”I wish they could provoke any other than yourself, _mio caro_. But come away from this. Let us walk back again. I want to have one more look at those windows before I go.”
”And are you really in love?” asked the other, with more of astonishment in his voice than curiosity.
”I wish I knew how to make _her_ believe it, that's all,” said he, sadly; and, drawing his arm within his friend's, moved on with bent-down head and in silence.
”I think your friends are about the only travellers in Naples at this moment, and, indeed, none but English would come here at such a season.
The dog-days and the revolution together ought to be too much even for tourist curiosity.”
Caffarelli went on to describe the arrival of the three heavy-laden carriages with their ponderous baggage and their crowd of servants, and the astonishment of the landlord at such an apparition; but Maitland paid him no attention,--perhaps did not even hear him.
Twice or thrice Caffarelli said something to arouse notice Or attract curiosity, even to pique irritability, as when he said: ”I suppose I must have seen your beauty, for I saw two,--and both good-looking,--but neither such as would drive a man distracted out of pure admiration. Are you minding me? Are you listening to me?”
”No, I have not heard one word you were saying.”
”Civil, certainly; but, seriously, Maitland, is there not something more pressing to do at this moment than to loiter along the Chiaja to catch a glimpse of the closed curtains within which some blond angel may be taking her tea?”
”Go home, and I will join you later on. I have given orders about the horses. My man will have all in readiness by daybreak. You seem to me most terribly eager to have your head smashed. The King ought to reward your valor. It will be the only 'Cross' he will have to bestow.”
Caffarelli turned impatiently from him, and walked away.
Maitland looked after him for a moment, and then continued his way. He sauntered on, rather like one seeking to kill time than to reach a goal, and once or twice he stopped, and seemed to reflect whether he would go on. At last he reached a spot where a broad path of light streamed across the street, and extended till it was lost in the thick foliage-of the garden on the sea-side, and, looking suddenly up, he saw he was in front of the great hotel of Naples, ”L'Universo.” The drawing-room windows were open on a long balcony, and Maitland could see in the well-lighted room certain figures which he persuaded himself he could recognize even through the muslin curtains, which slightly moved and waved in the faint night-air. As he still strained his eyes to mark the scene, two figures approached the window, and pa.s.sed out upon the balcony. There could be no mistake,--they were Alice and her sister; and so perfect was the stillness of the air, and so thin withal, that he could hear the sound of their voices, though not trace their words.
”Is it not delicious here, Alice?” said Bella. ”These are the glorious nights of Italy Maitland used to tell us of,--so calm, so balmy, and so starry.”
”What was that Skeffy was saying to you about Maitland as you came upstairs?” asked Alice, sharply.
”Oh, it was a rumor he mentioned that Maitland had quarrelled with the Court party. He had advised something, or rejected something; in fact, I paid little attention, for I know nothing of these Italian plots and schemes, and I like Maitland much better when he does not speak of them.”
”Is he here now, do you know?”