He kissed her lips and fair tresses, and the women with their nurslings left the bench. Thus, and for hours, the exiles lived in the new-found bliss of their present while planning a joyous future. Over the buzz of the grimy, toil-bound multitude the notes of the distant band came to them vaguely—now in a fugitive creak, then in a faint rumble or detached crash.
It was long after the music had died out, and the people had gone to their tenements, and the pale eye of night had peeped tardily over a zigzag line of low roofs, when Marianna said:
“Dio! So late! She will not let me in.”
They walked to Casa Di Bello at a smart pace, and timidly she rang the bell, while Armando waited not many yards away. Instantly the door opened, and he saw the hand of Carolina reach forth, grasp his love by the shoulder, and jerk her into the house.
CHAPTER XXIV
TWO TROUBLESOME WEDDING GIFTS
Looking down upon Genoa through the blue reaches of the upper crests is an Apennine peak which the people, high and low, call Our Lady of the Windows. Ever mantled in snow, and a fit emblem of icy virtue, she has for ages inspired a negative chord for that region’s lyres of passion. The princeling in his hillside palazzo sings of his dream lady—always an angel as fervid as the glacial Madonna is cold; the red waterman, in his moonlight barcarole, swears his love would melt that frozen heart. But she bears no kinship to this chronicle save that Signor Di Bello, on the afternoon of the pregnant Feast of Sunday, when all was primed for the wedding, thus addressed his sister, who sat by a front casement:
“Ha! my Lady of the Windows, it is time to go and fetch my bride.”
Carolina gave back only a silent nod and a closer pressure of the lips, and he made off to the Santa Lucia, crowing to himself over the timely bite of his pleasantry. Hour after hour she had been at that window watching for Bertino, ready to spring to the door and drive him away should he appear too soon. She was determined that the play should not be spoiled by the untimely entrance of her star actor. His cue, as agreed upon, was the exit of Signor Di Bello, but the fear had haunted her that his itching vendetta might make him forget the book. That danger was past now, and before his uncle had gone a block, Bertino was at the door. She bundled him upstairs to her sanctum, and, turning the key, left him looking out blankly on the graveyard. “In a little while I shall call you,” she said, after explaining gravely that she locked him in that his uncle might be kept out. Then she descended to the street door and waved her hand, a signal that brought a push-cart out of a near-by alley, with Armando and the banker at its shafts. Of course, their load was the Last Lady, but no eye could see her face, for Bridget had given her best and only bed coverlet to veil it. No easy task to lug the weighty dame upstairs, but they managed it without mischance, while Carolina stood by imploring care, and all with an ado of deepest secrecy. At length the bust was set up in the back room of the second floor. In this room the bride and groom were to wait before going down to the parlour for the ceremony. A dressing case near the window answered for a pedestal. In the bright light that fell upon it the snowy features of Juno showed bold to the eye, while the mirror rendered back in softer tone her sturdy neck and shoulders. With a spotless sheet Carolina covered the bust, and with the others left the room and locked the door.
Repeated jangling of the bell and a low drone in the parlour told of arriving guests. Marianna had been cast for the part of door-opener and welcomer to the first families. Armando, in the best attire he could muster, had only a meditative rôle. Thus far he had done naught but sit in the parlour and exchange confident glances with Marianna whenever she ushered in a distinguished Calabriano, Siciliano, or Napolitano.
A cab bearing Signor Di Bello and Juno drew up betimes, and word was passed to Carolina. Instantly she unlocked the door that shut in Bertino, and bade him be ready for her summons. Then she called Marianna and Armando to the room where the bust was, leaving Angelica to let in the bridal pair. Up the staircase they rustled, Juno first, her skirts held free of the yellow boots, and Signor Di Bello smiling after her with a quivering bunch of muslin roses.