Tony on the other.
"We are well chaperoned," he grumbled, as they jolted out of the piazza. "I always did think that the Church interfered too much with the rights of individuals."
Constance, in a spirit of friendly expansiveness, proceeded to pick up an acquaintance with the nuns, and the four black heads were presently bobbing in unison, while Tony, in gloomy isolation at his end of the seat, folded his arms and stared at the road. The driver had passed through many villages that day and had drunk many glasses of famous wine; he cracked his whip and sang as he drove. They rattled in and out of stone-paved villages, along open stretches of moonlit road, past villas and olive groves. Children screamed after them, dogs barked, Constance and her four nuns were very vivacious, and Tony's gloom deepened with every mile.
They had covered three quarters of the distance when the diligence was brought to a halt before a high stone wall and a solid barred gate. The nuns came back to the present with an excited cackling. Who would believe they had reached the convent so soon! They made their adieus and ponderously descended, their departure accelerated by Tony who had become of a sudden alertly helpful. As they started again he slid along into the Mother Superior's empty seat.
"What were we saying when the diligence interrupted?" he inquired.
"I don't remember, Tony, but I don't want to talk any more; I'm tired."
"You tired, signorina? Lay your head on my shoulder and go to sleep."
"Tony, please behave yourself. I'm simply too tired to make you do it."
He reached over and took her hand. She did not try to withdraw it for two--three minutes; then she shot him a sidewise glance.
"Tony," she said, "don't you think you are forgetting your place?"
"No, signorina, I am just learning it."
"Let go my hand."
He gazed pensively at the moon and hummed Santa Lucia under his breath.
"Tony! I shall be angry with you."
"I shall be ver' sorry for zat, signorina. I do not wish to make you angry, but I sink--perhaps you get over it."
"You are behaving abominably today, Tony. I shall never stay alone with you again."
"Signorina, look at zat moon up dere. Is it not ver' bright? When I look at zat moon I have always beautiful toughts about how much I love Costantina."
An interval followed during which neither spoke. The driver's song was growing louder and the horses were galloping. The diligence suddenly rounded a curved cliff on two wheels. Constance lurched against him; he caught her and held her. Her lips were very near his; he kissed her softly.
She moved to the far end of the seat and faced him with flushed cheeks.
"I thought you were a gentleman!"
"I used to be, signorina; now I am only poor donkey-man."
"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 forever."
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
"We are well chaperoned," he grumbled, as they jolted out of the piazza. "I always did think that the Church interfered too much with the rights of individuals."
Constance, in a spirit of friendly expansiveness, proceeded to pick up an acquaintance with the nuns, and the four black heads were presently bobbing in unison, while Tony, in gloomy isolation at his end of the seat, folded his arms and stared at the road. The driver had passed through many villages that day and had drunk many glasses of famous wine; he cracked his whip and sang as he drove. They rattled in and out of stone-paved villages, along open stretches of moonlit road, past villas and olive groves. Children screamed after them, dogs barked, Constance and her four nuns were very vivacious, and Tony's gloom deepened with every mile.
They had covered three quarters of the distance when the diligence was brought to a halt before a high stone wall and a solid barred gate. The nuns came back to the present with an excited cackling. Who would believe they had reached the convent so soon! They made their adieus and ponderously descended, their departure accelerated by Tony who had become of a sudden alertly helpful. As they started again he slid along into the Mother Superior's empty seat.
"What were we saying when the diligence interrupted?" he inquired.
"I don't remember, Tony, but I don't want to talk any more; I'm tired."
"You tired, signorina? Lay your head on my shoulder and go to sleep."
"Tony, please behave yourself. I'm simply too tired to make you do it."
He reached over and took her hand. She did not try to withdraw it for two--three minutes; then she shot him a sidewise glance.
"Tony," she said, "don't you think you are forgetting your place?"
"No, signorina, I am just learning it."
"Let go my hand."
He gazed pensively at the moon and hummed Santa Lucia under his breath.
"Tony! I shall be angry with you."
"I shall be ver' sorry for zat, signorina. I do not wish to make you angry, but I sink--perhaps you get over it."
"You are behaving abominably today, Tony. I shall never stay alone with you again."
"Signorina, look at zat moon up dere. Is it not ver' bright? When I look at zat moon I have always beautiful toughts about how much I love Costantina."
An interval followed during which neither spoke. The driver's song was growing louder and the horses were galloping. The diligence suddenly rounded a curved cliff on two wheels. Constance lurched against him; he caught her and held her. Her lips were very near his; he kissed her softly.
She moved to the far end of the seat and faced him with flushed cheeks.
"I thought you were a gentleman!"
"I used to be, signorina; now I am only poor donkey-man."
"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 forever."
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
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