On our return to Isola Bella, we took the train to Milan, where we arrived at sunset. Before we went to bed, it was settled that we should go next morning to Piacenza. When I awoke, Sergy made me understand that it would be far more convenient for him to go first by himself to Piacenza, in order to look out for a lodging for me. I was foolish enough to feel horribly hurt, and to take it into my head that my husband wanted to get rid of me. “Oh! very well, be it so!” I said to myself, and made the vow to await the end of the manœuvres at Cernobbio at Frau Weidemann’s boarding-house; and, acting on blind impulse, with quick tears rising to my eyes, I told Sergy I did not want him to be bothered with me and intended to start with the first train to Como. Having said my say I began instantly to throw my things into my trunk in petulant haste, drying my tears with quick, impatient dashes. Sergy tried to talk some common sense into me, but to reason with me at that moment was impossible; what I once made up my mind to do, I would do, no matter how hard it was. Sergy insisted upon accompanying me to Cernobbio. We had to be at the station by eight o’clock, but with all these parleys we missed the train, and Sergy, knowing my tempers to be of short duration, was very glad of it, thinking that it was just as well that I should be allowed a little time to recover my good-humour. But I made out that there was another train about nine. When we had secured a compartment to ourselves, I drew myself far into my corner and pulled down my veil to hide my tears, feeling as if I was going off to prison. We rolled on towards Como in gloomy spirits; the journey was a very silent one. How stupid of me to have made that vow, but it was too late to alter matters now, and pride, holding me back, I had to stand firm. Nevertheless I blamed myself bitterly. All the pleasure of our trip was at an end.
CHAPTER XXXI
CERNOBBIO
Frau Weidemann, a comely, grey-haired woman, in a frilled cap and white apron, came out to receive us and wish us welcome. She had taken us for a honeymoon couple, and thought that we started forth on our wedding trip. Her boarding-house is a quiet family sort of establishment, but the whole effect of my apartment was rather cheerless, and the boarding-house surroundings were distasteful to me. The furniture was old and shabby, with faded curtains and threadbare carpet in the middle of the room. Frau Weidemann’s prices are very moderate, I pay eight francs per day for board with a room. I have arranged to have breakfast and lunch in my own room, but must go down to dinner at table-d’hôte, which I do not like at all.
My windows look out on the lake and bit of garden belonging to our boarding-house. Just before dinner I looked out of the window and discovered our hostess sitting in the garden, holding a bit of crotchet in her fingers. I found that she had altered in a most surprising way, and was utterly metamorphosed and unrecognisable, transformed into a portly lady, wearing a black silk dress, with hair beautifully dressed.
When we entered the dining-room we saw Frau Weidemann presiding at the dinner table, looking very prim and dignified. All her boarders were present: A Russian lady—Mme. N⸺ and her daughter, Melle. Nadine, future opera-singer, studying singing with Professor Lamperti, the first singing master of the day. Then came Fräulein Weltmann, a maiden lady of ripe years, an ex-prima donna still dreaming of her successes, which she alone remembers, and who must have been once upon a time very good-looking, but it was a thing of the past, alas. All through dinner we had to listen to the endless stories of the brilliant days of her conquests in her vanished youth. I remarked that in speaking of herself she generally dropped dates. Last came an American lady, Mrs. G⸺, with her two children, a boy and girl aged eight and ten, called Hermann and Danys. Mrs. G⸺ is what one might call miscellaneous, she has an American father, a Spanish mother and a German husband. Little Danys is a Roman Catholic, and her brother is a Lutheran. Mrs. G⸺ crossed the ocean, coming all the way from New Orleans to Cernobbio, to prepare herself for professional work with Professor Lamperti, who inhabits Milan in winter and comes to Cernobbio in summer. The old mæstro has the custom to nick-name his pupils, thus Mrs. G⸺ is called “Norma” because of her two children, though they are not twins. Danys is a very clever little girl, and unusually sharp for her years. This small damsel, who sat next to Sergy at table, made shrewd observations and questions, not unfrequently astonishing her elders. Finding it her duty to entertain her neighbour, like a grown up person, she at once entered into conversation: “My name’s Danys, what’s yours? Have you got any children and how many? You are old enough to have a lot, though your wife looks so young!” cried out the ingenuous child in a breath, and when she was told by Frau Weidemann that little girls must not pass remarks, the bold little maid, turning scarlet, exclaimed: “One always asks how many children have you got when one meets for the first time!”
Sergy returned to Milan with the evening boat, and left me a grass widow in charge of Frau Weidemann. I suddenly felt utterly alone and so miserable, so desolate, with no one to care about my comings and goings! Our ladies took pity on me and said that they would try to make me feel at home with them. As soon as Sergy left the house, I shut myself in my room, and then my nerves failed me altogether. I sat down on my lonely bed and cried. Then I lay down and fell asleep and woke unhappy. Marie, the Swiss maid-of-all-work, in very creaking boots, brought in a telegram from Sergy with my breakfast. The day began well!
When I went down to luncheon I was taken by storm by Danys, who had felt one of these sudden fancies to me, which children sometimes do form for their elders. She rushed up to me, and flinging her arms tempestuously around my neck kissed me so rapturously that I was afraid of being smothered.
“Melle. Vava, you’re a darling! I’m so glad you came down. I love you so much I should like to eat you up!” cried out Danys. I am called here by everyone Madame Vava, but Danys insisted in calling me Melle. Vava, saying that it didn’t suit me to be called Madame because I didn’t look at all like a married lady. Both children wanted to sit next me at table, “Oh! sit by me!” pleaded Danys, rubbing her cheek against my hand, “No, by me, please!” said Hermann, and I good-naturedly placed myself between them both.
For the first few days I got on pretty well with Frau Weidemann’s boarders, who were all showing themselves very amiable and kind to me. One night they asked me to go to the theatre, where a travelling troop was giving a performance. And such a theatre! We found ourselves in a long room with a small stage at one end, lighted by three petroleum lamps suspended from the ceiling, which smoked horribly and were very dim; in fact they gave more smell than light. The grey holland curtain came up by the aid of two cords drawn through an iron ring. The band was supplied by local talent, all the musicians being labourers and workmen from Cernobbio, our gardener in the number, who received 20 centimes per evening. As to the performers they were all more or less bad. It was the benefit night of the leading actress, who was to be a mother in three months, and you could see it at a glance. Our seats in the first row cost only one franc. The audience consisted chiefly of Lamperti’s pupils. Lamperti has produced many divas, Marcella Sembrich in the number. The mæstro was present at the play. He carries very lightly his eighty years, and has just taken, for second wife, one of his favourite pupils, a very pretty young creature.