Riven Bonds. Vol. I. / A Novel, in Two Volumes

by E. Werner

"Hum! in the meanwhile you take care that this should not occur," replied Reinhold, sarcastically. "You appear to like the part of the faithful Eckhard in a remarkable degree, and rehearse it at every opportunity; but it is the most thankless of all. Give it up, Hugo! It does not suit your nature in the least."

The Captain knit his brows, but he remained quite calm at the tone, which might easily have irritated another, threw his fowling-piece over his shoulder, and went out. A few minutes later he found himself by the shore, and only when the fresh sea breeze cooled his head, did the Captain's seriousness leave him; he struck at once into the road to the Villa Fiorina.

To tell the truth, Hugo began to be wearied of Mirando and the prevailing artistic atmosphere which the Marchese's inclination and his brother's presence created there. The paradise-like situation of the property was nothing new to the sailor, who knew so well the beauties of the tropical world, and the solitude to which Reinhold gave himself up with an almost sick longing did not at all suit Hugo's joyous nature. Certainly S----, so much frequented by strangers, lay pretty near, but he could not sail over to it too frequently, and thus indicate to the young host that he missed companionship. Therefore this probably beautiful, and at any rate interesting and mysterious neighbour was very welcome, and Hugo resolved immediately to utilise it.

"Let some one else endure these art lovers and art enthusiasts!" said he, annoyed, as he followed the road by the sea. "Half the day long they sit at the piano, and the rest of the time talk of music. Reinhold always is in extremes. From the midst of the wildest life, out of the most senseless excitement, he rushes head over heels into this romantic solitude, and will hear and know of nothing but his music; I only wonder how long it will last. And this Marchese Tortoni? Young, handsome, rich, of a most noble line; this Cesario does not know what better to do with his life than to bury himself for months in his lonely Mirando, to play the dilettante in grand style, and, with his endless worship, turn Reinhold's head still more. I know how to spend my time better than that."

At these last words, spoken with great self-satisfaction, the Captain stopped, as the end of his walk was already, so far, attained. Before him lay the Villa Fiorina, shaded by high fir trees and cypresses, and buried almost in blooming shrubs. The house itself appeared magnificent and roomy, but the chief façade as well as the terrace turned towards the sea, and were so thickly overgrown and surrounded by roses and oleander bushes that even Hugo's hawk's eye was not able to penetrate the balmy fortification. A high wall, covered with creeping plants, enclosed the park-like grounds, which terminated in the olive grove which surrounded the estate. It might formerly have been, judging by the size of the grounds, the property of some great family, then, like so many others, have often changed owners, and now served as temporary residence for rich strangers. At all events, in beauty of situation, it did not yield the palm to Marchese Tortoni's highly prized Mirando.

The Captain had already formed his plan of campaign; he therefore only scanned the country slightly, made a vain attempt to obtain a better view of the terrace from the seaward side, measured the height of the garden walls with his eye, in case of accident, and then went direct to the entrance, where he rang the bell, and demanded to see the owners, without hesitation.

The porter, an old Italian, appeared to have received his instruction for the like cases, as, without even asking the stranger's name, he explained shortly and decidedly that his master and mistress received no visits, and he regretted that the Signor had troubled himself in vain.

Hugo coolly drew out a card. "They will make an exception. It is concerning an affair of importance, which requires a personal interview. I will wait here in the meanwhile, as I am sure to be received."

He sat down quietly on the stone bench, and this immovable confidence impressed the porter so much that he really began to believe in the importance of the pretended mission. He disappeared with the card, while Hugo, quite unconcerned as to the possible consequences, awaited the result of his impudent manœ uvre.

The result was unexpectedly favourable, as in a short time a servant appeared and addressed the stranger, who had introduced himself by a German name, in that language, and begged him to enter. He conducted the Captain into a garden parlour and there left him alone, with the intimation that his master would appear immediately.