The Dodge Club Part 11

The Senator vanished. Scarcely had his coat-tails disappeared through the door when the pursuing crowd arrived there. Six thousand two hundred and twenty-seven human beings, dressed in every variety of costume, on finding that the runner had vanished, gave vent to their excited feelings by a loud cheer for the interesting American who had contributed so greatly to the evening's enjoyment.

Unlucky Senator! Will it be believed that even in the topmost box his pursuers followed him? It was even so. About an hour afterward b.u.t.tons, on coming near the entrance, encountered him. His face was pale but resolute, his dress disordered. He muttered a few words about "durned _I_talian countesses," and hurried out.

b.u.t.tons kept company with the little Domino. Never in his life had he pa.s.sed so agreeable an evening. He took good care to let his companion know this. At length the crowd began to separate. The Domino would go.

b.u.t.tons would go with her. Had she a carriage? No, she walked. Then he would walk with her.

b.u.t.tons tried hard to get a carriage, but all were engaged. But a walk would not be unpleasant in such company. The Domino did not complain.

She was vivacious, brilliant, delightful, bewitching. b.u.t.tons had been trying all evening to find out who she was. In vain.

"Who in the world is she? I must find out, so that I may see her again." This was his one thought.

They approached the Strada Nuova.

"She is not one of the n.o.bility at any rate, or she would not live here."

They turned up a familiar street.

"How exceedingly jolly! She can't live far away from my lodgings."

They entered the Strada di San Bartolomeo.

"Hanged if she don't live on the same street!"

A strange thought occurred. It was soon confirmed. They stopped in front of b.u.t.tons's own lodgings. A light gleamed over the door.

Another flashed into the soul of b.u.t.tons. That face, dimpled, smiling, bewitching; flas.h.i.+ng, sparking eyes; little mouth with its rosy lips!

"_Delores_!"

"Blessed Saints and Holy Virgin! Is it possible that you never suspected?"

"Never. How could I when I thought you were dressed like a dragoon?"

"And you never pa.s.sed so happy an evening; and never had so fascinating and charming a partner; and you never heard such a voice of music as mine; and you can never forget me through all life; and you never can hope to find any one equal to me!" said Dolores, in her usual laughing volubility.

"Never!" cried b.u.t.tons.

"Oh dear! I think you must love me very much."

And a merry peal of laughter rang up the stairs as Dolores, evading b.u.t.tons's arm, which that young man had tried to pa.s.s about her waist, dashed away into the darkness and out of sight.

CHAPTER VIII.

ADVENTURES AND MISADVENTURES.--A WET GROTTO AND A BOILING LAKE.--THE TWO FAIR SPANIARDS, AND THE DONKEY RIDE.

The Grotto of Posilippo is a most remarkable place, and, in the opinion of every intelligent traveller, is more astonis.h.i.+ng than even the Hoosac Tunnel, which n.o.body will deny except the benighted Bostonian.

The city of Pozzuoli is celebrated for two things; first, because St.

Paul once landed there, and no doubt hurried away as fast as he could; and, secondly, on account of the immense number of beggars that throng around the unhappy one who enters its streets.

The Dodge Club contributed liberally. The Doctor gave a cork-screw; the Senator, a bladeless knife; d.i.c.k, an old lottery ticket; b.u.t.tons, a candle-stump; Mr. Figgs, a wild-cat banknote. After which they all hurried away on donkeys as fast as possible.

The donkey is in his glory here. Nowhere else does he develop such a variety of forms--nowhere attain such an infinity of sizes--nowhere emit so impressive a bray. It is the Bray of Naples. "It is like the thunder of the night when the cloud bursts o'er Cona, and a thousand ghosts shriek at once in the hollow wind."

There is a locality in this region which the ancient named after a certain warm region which no reined person ever permits himself to mention in our day. Whatever it may have been when some Roman t.i.tyrus walked pipe in mouth along its sh.o.r.e, its present condition renders its name singularly appropriate and felicitous. Here the party amused themselves with a lunch of figs and oranges, which they gathered indiscriminately from orchards and gardens on the road-side.

There was the Lake Lucrine. Averno and the Elysian Fields were there.

The ruins of Caligula's Bridge dotted the surface of the sea. Yet the charms of all these cla.s.sic scenes were eclipsed in the tourists' eyes by those of a number of pretty peasants girls who stood was.h.i.+ng clothes in the limpid waters of the lake.

It was in this neighborhood that they found the Grotto of the c.u.maean Sibyl. They followed the intelligent cicerone, armed with torches, into a gloomy tunnel. The intelligent cicerone walked before them with the air of one who had something to show. Seven stoat peasants followed after. The cavern was as dark as possible, and extended apparently for an endless distance.

After walking a distance of about two miles, according to the Senator's calculation, they came to the centre of interest. It was a hole in the wall of the tunnel. The Americans were given to understand that they must enter here.

"But how?"

"How? Why on the broad backs of the stout peasants, who all stood politely offering their humble services." The guide went first.

b.u.t.tons, without more ado, got on the back of the nearest Italian and followed. d.i.c.k came next; then the Doctor. Mr. Figgs and the Senator followed in the same dignified manner.

They descended for some distance, and finally came to water about three feet deep. As the roof was low, and only rose three feet above the water, the party had some difficulty, not only in keeping their feet out of the water, but also in breathing. At length they came to a chamber about twelve feet square. From this they pa.s.sed on to another of the same size. Thence to another. And so on.

Arriving at the last, Bearer No. 1 quietly deposited b.u.t.tons on a raised stone platform, which fortunately arose about half an inch above the water. Three other bearers did the same. Mr. Figgs looked forlornly about him, and, being a fat man, seemed to grow somewhat apoplectic. d.i.c.k beguiled the time by lighting his pipe.

"So this is the Grotto of the c.u.maean Sibyl, is it?" said b.u.t.tons.

"Then all I can say is that--"

What he was going to say was lost by a loud cry which interrupted him and startled all. It came from the other chamber.

"The Senator!" said d.i.c.k.

It was indeed his well-known voice. There was a splash and a groan.

Immediately afterward a man staggered into the room. He was deathly pale, and tottered feebly under the tremendous weight of the Senator.

The latter looked as anxious as his trembling bearer.

"Darn it! I say," he cried. "Darn it! Don't! Don't!"

"Diavo-lo!" muttered the Italian.

And in the next instant plump went the Senator into the water. A scene then followed that baffles description. The Senator, rising from his unexpected bath, foaming and sputtering, the Italian praying for forgiveness, the loud voices of all the others shouting, calling, and laughing.

The end of it was that they all left as soon as possible, and the Senator indignantly waded back through the water himself. A furious row with the unfortunate bearer, whom the Senator refused to pay, formed a beautifully appropriate termination to their visit to this cla.s.sic spot. The Senator was so disturbed by this misadventure that his wrath did not subside until his trowsers were thoroughly dried.

This, however, was accomplished at last, under the warm sun, and then he looked around him with his usual complacency.

The next spot of interest which attracted them was the Hall of the Subterranean Lake. In this place there is a cavern in the centre of a hill, which is approached by a pa.s.sage of some considerable length, and in the subterranean cavern a pool of water boils and bubbles. The usual crowd of obliging peasantry surrounded them as they entered the vestibule of this interesting place. It was a dingy-looking chamber, out of which two narrow subterranean pa.s.sages ran. A grimy, sooty, blackened figure stood before them with torches.