While his voice lasted he was well aware that he could command an excellent income which satisfied him completely; for when he grew old and songless he was quite prepared to return to Italy, and live there the happy-go-lucky life of his youth on polenta and sour wine. In his impulsive southern fashion he loved Mrs. Belswin madly; but, strangely enough, it never for a moment occurred to him to save money against his possible marriage with her. If he starved, she would starve; if he made money, she would share it; and if she objected to such a chequered existence, Signor Ferrari was quite confident enough in his own powers of will and persuasion to be satisfied that he could force her to accept his view of the matter. This was the Ferrari philosophy, and no bad one either as times go, seeing that a singer's livelihood depends entirely upon the caprice of the public. As long as he could get enough to eat, be the food rich or plain, a smoke, and plenty of sleep, the world could go hang for all he cared. He lived in the present, never thought about the past, and let the future take care of itself; so altogether managed to scramble through life in a leisurely, selfish manner eminently egotistical in fashion.
At present, being in the heyday of life, he was dining with Dives, which was happiness enough in itself; but, in order that nothing should be wanting to complete his felicity, he had received a letter from Mrs. Belswin, telling him of her contemplated arrival. Under these circumstances he had nothing left to wish for, and lounging on the sofa in his sitting-room in a state of blissful contentment awaited the coming of his fair friend.
"Buõno," said the signor, with smiling satisfaction, folding up the letter and putting it in his pocket, "the singing-bird returns to its nest. This time I will clip its wings, so that it flies not again. Per Bacco, the kind heart of Stephano surprises himself, for who would let his bird fly as he has done? But I fear not the jealousy, offspring of suspicion. Ecco! she loves but me, and comes again to the nest. And what a nest! Cospetto! My Lucrezia will be hard to please if she likes not this palazzo del amor."
It was a very pretty nest indeed, from a lodging-house point of view, although its incongruity of colouring and furnishing would have driven an artist out of his mind; but then the signor was not exacting in the way of harmonious effect, and, provided his dwelling was fairly comfortable, felt completely satisfied. Lying on the sofa, he looked complacently at the furniture, covered with painfully bright blue satin, at the scarlet curtains, the green wall-paper, and at all the wax flowers, Berlin wool mats, and gimcrack ornaments with which the room was adorned. Ferrari had added to this splendid furnishing an excellent piano for professional purposes, and numerous photographs, principally feminine, of his artistic friends; so that he conceived himself to be housed in a princely fashion.
It was three o'clock by the incorrect French timepiece on the tawdry mantelpiece, and Ferrari was getting somewhat impatient, as Mrs. Belswin had mentioned two o'clock as the time of her arrival; but with his accustomed philosophy he manifested no anger at the delay.
"La Donna é mobile," he hummed, shrugging his shoulders, as he strolled towards the piano. "Women are always late; it is one of their charming follies. Ah! EH! EE! Diavolo! my voice is bad this day. These English fogs are down my throat Ah! Eh! EE! Dio! What a note! Voce del oca.
"Ask not the stars the fate they deal.
Read in my eyes the love I feel."
"That's a good song, that serenade to Fatima. It shows off my voice. I'll sing it to exercise my high notes."
He did so, and was just in the middle of the first verse when Mrs. Belswin made her appearance, upon which he stopped abruptly, and came forward to greet her with theatrical effusion.
"Stella dora! once more you shine," he cried, seizing her hands, with a passionate look in his dark eyes. "Oh, my life! how dear it is to see thee again."