The Cardinal's Snuff-Box Part 15

"Fa niente," he instructed her. "Cows and Englishmen, and all such sentimental cattle, including Germans, are Germanic. Italians are Latin--with a touch of the Goth and Vandal. Lions and tigers growl and fight because they're Mohammedans. Dogs still bear without abuse the grand old name of Sycophant. Cats are of the princely line of Persia, and wors.h.i.+p fire, fish, and flattery--as you may have noticed. Geese belong indifferently to any race you like--they are cosmopolitans; and I've known here and there a person who, without distinction of nationality, was a duck. In fact, you're rather by way of being a duck yourself: And now," he perorated, "never deny again that I can talk nonsense with an aching heart."

"All the same," insisted Marietta, "it is very comical to see a cow weep."

"At any rate," retorted Peter, "it is not in the least comical to hear a hyaena laugh."

"I have never heard one," said she.

"Pray that you never may. The sound would make an old woman of you. It's quite blood-curdling."

"Davvero?" said Marietta.

"Davvero," he a.s.sured her.

And meanwhile the cow stood there, with her head on his shoulder, silently weeping, weeping.

He gave her a farewell rub along the nose.

"Good-bye," he said. "Your breath is like meadowsweet. So dry your tears, and set your hopes upon the future. I 'll come and see you again to-morrow, and I 'll bring you some nice coa.r.s.e salt. Good-bye."

But when he went to see her on the morrow, she was grazing peacefully; and she ate the salt he brought her with heart-whole bovine relish--putting out her soft white pad of a tongue, licking it deliberately from his hand, savouring it tranquilly, and crunching the bigger grains with ruminative enjoyment between her teeth. So soon consoled! They were companions in misery no longer. "I 'm afraid you are a Latin, after all," he said, and left her with a sense of disappointment.

That afternoon Marietta asked, "Would you care to visit the castle, Signorino?"

He was seated under his willow-tree, by the river, smoking cigarettes--burning superfluous time.

Marietta pointed towards Ventirose.

"Why?" said he.

"The family are away. In the absence of the family, the public are admitted, upon presentation of their cards."

"Oho!" he cried. "So the family are away, are they?"

"Yes, Signorino."

"Aha!" cried he. "The family are away. That explains everything.

Have--have they been gone long?"

"Since a week, ten days, Signorino."

"A week! Ten days!" He started up, indignant. "You secretive wretch! Why have you never breathed a word of this to me?"

Marietta looked rather frightened.

"I did not know it myself, Signorino," was her meek apology. "I heard it in the village this morning, when the Signorino sent me to buy coa.r.s.e salt."

"Oh, I see." He sank back upon his rustic bench. "You are forgiven." He extended his hand in sign of absolution. "Are they ever coming back?"

"Naturally, Signorino."

"What makes you think so?"

"But they will naturally come back."

"I felicitate you upon your simple faith. When?"

"Oh, fra poco. They have gone to Rome."

"To Rome? You're trifling with me. People do not go to Rome in August."

"Pardon, Signorino. People go to Rome for the feast of the a.s.sumption.

That is the 15th. Afterwards they come back," said Marietta, firmly.

"I withdraw my protest," said Peter. "They have gone to Rome for the feast of the a.s.sumption. Afterwards they will come back."

"Precisely, Signorino. But you have now the right to visit the castle, upon presentation of your card. You address yourself to the porter at the lodge. The castle is grand, magnificent. The Court of Honour alone is thirty metres long."

Marietta stretched her hands to right and left as far as they would go.

"Marietta," Peter enquired solemnly, "are you familiar with the tragedy of 'Hamlet'?"

Marietta blinked.

"No, Signorino."

"You have never read it," he pursued, "in that famous edition from which the character of the Prince of Denmark happened to be omitted?"

Marietta shook her head, wearily, patiently.

Wearily, patiently, "No, Signorino," she replied.

"Neither have I," said he, "and I don't desire to."

Marietta shrugged her shoulders; then returned gallantly to her charge.

"If you would care to visit the castle, Signorino, you could see the crypt which contains the tombs of the family of Farfalla, the former owners. They are of black marble and alabaster, with gilding--very rich.

You could also see the wine-cellars. Many years ago a tun there burst, and a serving man was drowned in the wine. You could also see the bed in which Nabulione, the Emperor of Europe, slept, when he was in this country. Also the ancient kitchen. Many years ago, in a storm, the skeleton of a man fell down the chimney, out upon the hearth. Also what is called the Court of Foxes. Many years ago there was a plague of foxes; and the foxes came down from the forest like a great army, thousands of them. And the lords of the castle, and the peasants, and the village people, all, all, had to run away like rabbits--or the foxes would have eaten them. It was in what they call the Court of Foxes that the King of the foxes held his court. There is also the park. In the park there are statues, ruins, and white peac.o.c.ks."

"What have I in common with ruins and white peac.o.c.ks?" Peter demanded tragically, when Marietta had brought her much-gesticulated exposition to a close. "Let me impress upon you once for all that I am not a tripper. As for your castle--you invite me to a banquet-hall deserted.

As for your park, I see quite as much of it as I wish to see, from the seclusion of my own pleached garden. I learned long ago the folly of investigating things too closely, the wisdom of leaving things in the vague. At present the park of Ventirose provides me with the raw material for day-dreams. It is a sort of looking-gla.s.s country,--I can see just so far into it, and no farther--that lies beyond is mystery, is potentiality--terra incognita, which I can populate with monsters or pleasant phantoms, at my whim. Why should you attempt to deprive me of so innocent a recreation?"

"After the return of the family," said Marietta, "the public will no longer be admitted. Meantime--"

"Upon presentation of my card, the porter will conduct me from disenchantment to disenchantment. No, thank you. Now, if it were the other way round, it would be different. If it were the castle and the park that had gone to Rome, and if the family could be visited on presentation of my card, I might be tempted."

"But that would be impossible, Signorino," said Marietta.