Luce this morning; and so I brought her off to you myself at once.”
“Come in! come in! Signor Sandro; and bring in your young friend, who is to be my friend too!” said la Dossi, in a small piping voice that contrasted ludicrously with her appearance, turning round as she spoke by means of three separate steps, and then waddling back into the vast hall into which the magnificent doors opened.
It was a really grand apartment, loftier than the rest of the suite of rooms that opened off it, of great size and admirable proportions, with a carved coffered ceiling showing remains of gilding, and a half-obliterated painting of gods and goddesses in the centre. It was lighted by three large windows looking on to the street, and paved with square slabs of the same yellow Travertini stone of which the staircase was built. On the wall opposite to the entrance there hung an enormous escutcheon, on which the Bollandini arms were emblazoned; in one far corner of the huge hall there stood an old sedan-chair, with the scroll ornaments about the top, and the carved mouldings around its panels, which showed it to be the production of the last century; and there were four high-backed, square-built, leathern arm-chairs, with plain flat wooden arms, and ornaments of gilt carving surmounted by coronets on either side of the high straight backs, which as clearly belonged to a yet earlier period. These were placed, two against the opposite wall under the huge escutcheon, and two against the wall in which the door of entrance was, on the left-hand of it. For the door was nearly in the corner, near the street, with the three windows to the right of one coming in. There was another door to match in the other corner on the same side; but that was only a mock door, for uniformity’s sake. There were other two similar doors on the opposite side,—that, namely, on which the escutcheon hung; but these led to parts of the palace not in the occupation of Signora Dossi, and were locked up. In the middle of the fourth side, opposite to the windows, was another similar door, which led to the apartment inhabited by the ex-sylph.
And the huge escutcheon, which belonged to the sixteenth century, and the eighteenth century sedan-chair, and the four seventeenth century arm-chairs, were the only bits of furniture of any kind in the room.
Nevertheless it was there that la Dossi chose to receive her visitors; for she waddled no further than to the nearest of the arm-chairs in question, and there sat down, leaving her guest to occupy the one opposite to her, some forty feet distant, or to remain standing in front of her, at his pleasure. He selected the latter alternative.
“So this is la Giulia! Per Dio! what a creature! God forgive me for swearing! Ave Maria, gratiâ plena, Dominus taycoo—o—m.” (The compensatory formula was uttered with the utmost rapidity—all except the last word, which was prolonged in a sort of penetential whine. La Dossi was repentant for having been surprised into swearing; but she had a feeling that the good deed she had performed as per contra, left on the whole a balance in her favour on the transaction.) “Why this is a Juno, not a parlour-maid, let alone kitchen! My dear, I shall be afraid of you! I shall have to wash all the dishes myself! How she would bring the house down as Semiramide! You should be on the stage, my dear; you should indeed!”
“I trust you will find la Giulia quite as well fitted for mere every-day work, my dear madam. I have no doubt that you will soon get used to one another. Giulia, my good girl, you will find la Signora Dossi a kind and considerate mistress. Make her your friend, and you will find her a valuable one. You must remember, Signora, that Giulia has lived all her life in the country; and you will have to teach her many things. But you will make allowances; and I am sure that you will find her anxious to please. And now I must run away, for I have people from the country to see me about this troublesome conscription business at four. All the country is going mad about it, it seems to me; and the people are thinking of nothing but exemptions and substitutes. Good-by, Signora. Good-by, Giulia.”
“Shut the door after him, Giulia. There; now we can talk, and make acquaintance. How fond the men are of preaching! They are all alike in that. Have not you found them so, eh? Ah! but it is not preaching they give you, I’ll be bound. That will come by-and-by. Did you leave many broken hearts up at Bella Luce when you came away, eh?”
“Signora!—”
“Did you, now? Half the village, I should think. You are monstrously handsome, Giulia! But I suppose you don’t want an old woman to tell you that. There’s plenty of a different sort to whisper that in your ear. And small blame to them. And what about cousin Beppo?”
“Signora!” exclaimed Giulia, in a voice made up of two parts indignation to four parts of supplication, and twenty parts of astonishment.
“Well! and ought not I to know all about it? Am not I to be your mistress, and your protector, and counsellor and friend? Hey! do you think I have not heard all about Beppo and you? Do you think I don’t know what old Sandro has put you here for? But don’t you be afraid. And don’t stand there looking as if you were struck speechless. Did not Lisa tell you I knew it all?”
“Lisa said that you were very kind,” faltered Giulia.
“Well then, don’t you be afraid of me. Why, I’ve been in love, girl, before you were ever born or thought of. And Tina Dossi is not the one to put a spoke in a true lover’s wheel. Never was, and never will be perAve Maria, gratiâ plena, Dominus tay-coo—oo—oo—m!”{La Dossi, it will be observed, conscientiously and honourably paid the fine for the intention, even though the sin was not consummated. But she put down a proportionably large balance on the creditor side of the account.) “Now come along in and see what there is for dinner. Give me a hand to help me up. Pull away!—that’s it,” said la Dossi, slowly rising to her feet, in obedience to a vigorous pull of Giulia’s stalwart arm.
