Part 8 (1/2)

”Perhaps there is truth in it,” said Batis...o...b.., ”but it is not my habit I can a.s.sure you. The origin of the saying lies in the good old custom of doctoring other people's draughts. The man who drank water at a feast two hundred years ago was either afraid of being poisoned himself, or was engaged in poisoning his neighbours.”

”Oh, the dear, good old time!” exclaimed Leonora, eating her salad daintily.

”Do you wish it were back again?” asked Batis...o...b... ”Are there many people you would like to poison?”

”Oh, not that exactly,” and she laughed. ”But life must have been very exciting and interesting then.”

”Enfin,” remarked Marcantonio, ”I am very well pleased with it as it is.

There was no opera, no election, no launching of war-s.h.i.+ps; and when you went out you had to wear a patent safe on your head, in case anybody wanted to break it for you. And then, there was generally some one who did. Yes, indeed, it must have been charming, altogether ravis.h.i.+ng.

Allez! give me the nineteenth century.”

”I a.s.sure you, Marchesa,” said Batis...o...b.., ”life can be exceedingly exciting and interesting now.”

”I dare say,” retorted Leonora, ”for people who go round the world in boats in search of adventures, and write books abusing their enemies.

But we--what do we ever do that is interesting or exciting? We stay at home and pour tea.”

”And in those days,” answered Batis...o...b.., ”the ladies stayed at home and knit stockings, or if they were very clever they worked miles and miles of embroidery and acres of tapestry. About once a month they were allowed to look out of the window and see their relations beating each other's brains out with iron clubs, and running each other through the body with pointed sticks. As the Marchese says, it was absolutely delightful, that kind of life.”

”You are dreadfully prejudiced,” said Leonora.

”But I am sure it was very nice.”

And so they talked, and the men smoked a little, till they decided that they had had enough of it, and the oars plashed in the water together, sending the boat out again into the bright sun. In five minutes they were at the landing belonging to the Carantoni villa. There was a deep cleft in the cliffs just there, and the descent wound curiously in and out of the rock, so that in many places you could only trace it from below by the windows hewn in the solid stone to give light and air to the pa.s.sage. The rocks ran out a little at the base, and there were steps carved for landing. There are few places so strikingly odd as this landing to the Carantoni villa. Leonora said it was ”eerie.”

When it came to parting, the young couple were profuse in their thanks to Mr. Batis...o...b.. for the enchanting trip.

”I hope,” said Marcantonio, ”that you will come and dine with us very soon, and change your mind about the water-drinking, and give us another opportunity of thanking you.”

”I have enjoyed it very, very much,” said Leonora, giving Batis...o...b.. her hand. Their eyes met, and for the first time she noticed the curious light in his glance. But he bowed very low and very elaborately, so to say.

”You will keep your promise,” he said, ”and use the boat again?”

”Thanks so very much. But of course we will have a boat of our own now, and so I should not think of asking you.”

She smiled a little at him. Somehow he understood perfectly that he could nevertheless induce her to accept his offer. He stood hat in hand on the rocks as they disappeared into the dark stairway. Then he sprang into the boat, and the men pulled l.u.s.tily away.

He leaned back in the stern with his hand on the tiller and his eyes half closed. In the bottom of the boat were the luncheon baskets, and one of Leonora's roses had fallen from the stem and lay withering in the hot July sun. Batis...o...b.. picked it up, looked at it, pulled a leaf or two, and threw it overboard, with a half sneer of dissatisfaction.

”They have forgotten the baskets, though,” he thought to himself. ”If they had asked me to go up with them, as they should have done, I would have had them carried up. As it is I will--I will wait till they write for them. I could hardly take them myself.” And he lighted a cigarette.

As Leonora mounted the stairway, leaning on her husband's arm, she turned to get a glimpse of the boat gliding away in the distance. She could just see it through one of the windows in the rock.

”Why did you not ask him to come up?” she inquired.

”Why did you not ask him, my angel?” returned Marcantonio.

”I thought you might not like it,” she answered.