‘Some day, signorina, in New York, perhaps I play a little tune underneaf your window.’
She nodded and smiled.
‘I will give the monkey a penny when he comes—good-bye.’
He bowed over her hand and touched it lightly to his lips.
As he strode away into the dusky lane of cypresses, she heard him whistling softly ‘Santa Lucia.’ It was the last stroke, she reflected angrily; he might at least have omitted that! She turned away and dropped down on the water-steps to wait for the Farfalla. The terrace, the lake, the beautiful Italian night, suddenly seemed deserted and empty. Before she knew it was coming, she had leaned her head against the balustrade with a deep sob. She caught herself sharply. She to sit there crying, while Tony went whistling on his way!
As the Farfalla drifted idly over the water, Constance sat in the stern, her chin in her hand, moodily gazing at the shimmering path of moonlight. But no one appeared to notice her silence, since Nannie was talking enough for both. And the only thing she talked about was Jerry Junior, how funny and clever and charming he was, how phenomenally good—for a man; when she showed signs of stopping, Mr. Wilder by a question started her on. It seemed to Constance an interminable two hours before they dropped their guests in the garden of the Hotel du Lac, and headed again for Villa Rosa.
As they approached their own water-steps it became apparent that some one—a man—was standing at the top in an attitude of expectancy. Constance’s heart gave a sudden bound and the next instant sank deep. A babble of frenzied greetings floated out to meet them; there was no mistaking Gustavo. Moreover, there was no mistaking the fact that he was excited; his excitement was contagious even before they had learned the reason. He stuttered in his impatience to share the news.
‘Signore! Dio mio! A calamity has happened. Zat Tony, zat donk’-man! he has got hisself arrested. Zay say it is a lie, zat he is American citizen; he is an officer who is dessert from ze Italian army. Zay say he just pretend he cannot spik Italian—but it is not true. He know ten—leven words.’