Part 7 (1/2)

”Dear me, yes!” exclaimed Leonora. ”Life is not all roses, you know.”

She therewith a.s.sumed a thoughtful expression and looked away.

”I should not have supposed there were many thorns in your path, Marchesa. Would it be indiscreet to inquire of what nature they may be?”

Leonora was silent, and put up her gla.s.s to examine the proceedings on sh.o.r.e.

Batis...o...b.., who had come out that day with the sworn determination not to say or do anything to increase the interest he felt in the Marchesa, found himself wondering whether she were unhappy. The first and most natural conclusion was that she had been married to Marcantonio by designing parents, and that she did not care for him. Society said it had been a love-match, but what will society not say? ”Poor thing,” he thought, ”I suppose she is miserable!”

”Forgive me,” he said, in a low voice. ”I did not know you were in earnest.”

Leonora blushed faintly and glanced quickly at him. He had the faculty of saying little things to women that attracted their attention.

”What lots of poetry one might make about a launch,” he said laughing,--for it was necessary to change the subject,--”s.h.i.+p--dip; ocean--motion; keel--feel; the rhymes are perfectly endless.”

”Yes,” said Leonora; ”you might make a sonnet on the spot. Besides, there is a great deal of sentiment about the launching of a great man-of-war. The voyage of life--and that sort of thing--don't you know?

How hot it is!”

”I will have another awning up in a minute,” and he directed the sailors, helping to do the work himself. He stood upon the gunwale to do it.

”I am sure you will fall,” said Leonora, nervously. ”Do sit down!”

”If I had a millstone round my neck there would be some object in falling,” said Batis...o...b... ”As it is, I should not even have the satisfaction of drowning.”

”What an idea! Should you like to be drowned?” she said, looking up to him.

”Sometimes,” he answered, still busy with the awning. Then he sat down again.

”You should not say that sort of thing,” said Leonora. ”Besides, it is rude to say you should like to be drowned when I am your guest.”

”Great truths are not always pretty. But how could any man die better than at your feet?” He laughed a little, and yet his voice had an earnest ring to it. He had judged rightly when he foresaw that he must fall in love with Leonora.

Marcantonio, who did not understand English, was watching the proceedings on sh.o.r.e.

”Ah! it is magnificent!” he cried, with great enthusiasm. The royal personage who was to christen the s.h.i.+p had just broken the bottle of wine, and the little crowd of courtiers, officers, and maids of honour clapped their hands and grinned. They all looked hot and miserable and exhausted, but they grinned right n.o.bly, like so many Ches.h.i.+re cats.

There was a sound of knocking and hammering, a final shout of warning from the dock officers, a slight trembling of the great hull, and then the s.h.i.+p began to move, slowly at first, and ever more quickly, till with a mighty rush and a plunge and a swirl she was out in the water.

The people yelled till they were hoa.r.s.e, the boatmen cursed each other by all the maledictions ever invented to meet the exigencies of a lost humanity, the royal personages stood together on their platform looking like a troupe of marionettes in a toy theatre, and congratulating each other furiously as though they had done it all themselves; everything was noise and suns.h.i.+ne and tepid water; Marcantonio was flouris.h.i.+ng his hat, and Leonora waved a little lace handkerchief, while Batis...o...b.. sat looking at her and wondering why he had never thought her beautiful before. Indeed, she was superb in her simple, raw silk gown, with fresh-cut roses at her waist.

”It seems to me, Marchese, that you are very enthusiastic,” said Batis...o...b.. to Marcantonio.

”Mon Dieu!” exclaimed the other, shrugging his shoulders, ”one cheers these things as one would cheer fireworks, or a race. It signifies nothing.”

”Oh, of course,” said Leonora; ”and besides, it is so pretty.”

”I think it is horrible,” said Batis...o...b.., suddenly.

”Why--what?”

”To see a nation squandering money in this way, when the taxes on land are at sixty per cent. and more, and the people emigrating by the s.h.i.+pload because they cannot live in their own homes.”