The Dodge Club Part 25

"Your bill."

"My bill?"

"Yes, Signore."

"Yes," repeated Dolores, waving her little hand at b.u.t.tons.

Something menacing appeared in the att.i.tude and tone of Dolores. Had she changed? Had she joined the enemy? What did all this mean?

"What did you say you would ask for this room when I came here?"

b.u.t.tons at length asked.

"I don't recollect naming any price," said the landlord, evasively.

"I recollect," said Dolores, decidedly. "He didn't name any price at all."

"Good Heavens!" cried b.u.t.tons, aghast, and totally unprepared for this on the part of Dolores, though nothing on the part of the landlord could have astonished him. In the brief s.p.a.ce of three weeks that worthy had been in the habit of telling him on an average about four hundred and seventy-seven downright lies per day.

"You told me," said b.u.t.tons, with admirable calmness, "that it would be two piastres a week."

"Two piastres! Two for both of you! Impossible! You might as well say I was insane."

"Two piastres!" echoed Dolores, in indignant tones--"only think! And for this magnificent apartment! the best in the house--elegantly furnished, and two gentlemen! Why, what is this that he means?"

"Et tu Brute!" sighed b.u.t.tons.

"Signore!" said Dolores.

"Didn't he, d.i.c.k?'"

"He did," said d.i.c.k; "of course he did."

"Oh, that _uomicciuolo_ will say any thing," said Dolores, contemptuously snapping her fingers in d.i.c.k's face.

"Why, Signore. Look you. How is it possible? Think what accommodations! Gaze upon that bed! Gaze upon that furniture!

Contemplate that prospect of the busy street!"

"Why, it's the most wretched room in town," cried b.u.t.tons. "I've been ashamed to ask my friends here."

"Ah, wretch!" cried Dolores, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes. "You well know that you were never so well lodged at home. This miserable! This a room to be ashamed of! Away, American savage! And your friends, who are they?

Do you lodge with the lazaroni?"

"You said that you would charge two piastres. I will pay no more; no, not half a carline. How dare you send me a bill for eighteen piastres?

I will pay you six piastres for the three weeks. Your bill for eighteen is a cheat. I throw it away. Behold!"

And b.u.t.tons, tearing the paper into twenty fragments, scattered them over the floor.

"Ah!" cried Dolores, standing before him, with her arms folded, and her face all aglow with beautiful anger; "you call it a cheat, do you?

You would like, would you not, to run off and pay nothing? That is the custom, I suppose, in America. But you can not do that in this honest country."

"Signore, you may tear up fifty bills, but you must pay," said the landlord, politely.

"If you come to travel you should bring money enough to take you along," said Dolores.

"Then I would not have to take lodgings fit only for a Sorrento beggar," said b.u.t.tons, somewhat rudely.

"They are too good for an American beggar," rejoined Dolores, taking a step nearer to him, and slapping her little hands together by way of emphasis.

"Is this the maid," thought b.u.t.tons, "that hung so tenderly on my arm at the masquerade? the sweet girl who has charmed so many evenings with her innocent mirth. Is this the fair young creature who--"

"Are you going to pay, or do you think you can keep us waiting forever?" cried the fair young creature, impatiently and sharply.

"No more than six piastres," replied b.u.t.tons.

"Be reasonable, Signore. Be reasonable," said the landlord, with a conciliatory smile; "and above all, be calm--be calm. Let us have no contention. I feel that these honorable American gentlemen have no wish but to act justly," and he looked benignantly at his family.

"I wish I could feel the same about these Italians," said b.u.t.tons.

"You will soon feel that these Italians are determined to have their due," said Dolores.

"They shall have their due and no more."

"Come, b.u.t.tons," said d.i.c.k, in Italian, "let us leave this old rascal."

"Old rascal?" hissed Dolores, rus.h.i.+ng up toward d.i.c.k as though she would tear his eyes out, and stamping her little foot. "Old rascal!

Ah, piccolo Di-a-vo-lo!"

"Come," said the landlord; "I have affection for you. I wish to satisfy you. I have always tried to satisfy and please you."

"The ungrateful ones!" said Dolores. "Have we not all been as friendly to them as we never were before? And now they try like vipers to sting us."

"Peace, Dolores," said the landlord, majestically. "Let us all be very friendly. Come, good American gentlemen, let us have peace. What now _will_ you pay?"

"Stop!" cried Dolores. "Do you bargain? Why, they will try and make you take a half a carline for the whole three weeks. I am ashamed of you. I will not consent."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Two Piastres!]

"How much will you give?" said the landlord, once more, without heeding his daughter.

"Six piastres," said b.u.t.tons.

"Impossible!"

"When I came here I took good care to have it understood. You distinctly said two piastres per week. You may find it very convenient to forget. I find it equally convenient to remember."

"Try--try hard, and perhaps you will remember that we offered to take nothing. Oh yes, nothing--absolutely nothing. Couldn't think of it," said Dolores, with a mult.i.tude of ridiculous but extremely pretty gestures, that made the little witch charming even in her rascality.--"Oh yes, nothing"--a shrug of the shoulders --"we felt so honored"--spreading out her hands and bowing.--"A great American!--a n.o.ble foreigner!"--folding her arms, and strutting up and down.--"Too much happiness!"--here her voice a.s.sumed a tone of most absurd sarcasm.--"We wanted to entertain them all the rest of our lives for nothing"--a ridiculous grimace--"or perhaps your sweet conversation has been sufficient pay--ha?" and she pointed her little rosy taper finger at b.u.t.tons as though she would transfix him.