Chapter V

44V7'ES," pronounced Austin, after a prolonged

•• and judicial look, " it's very wonderful.' " That's settled then," murmured Val under his breath.

The four were standing together on the top terrace of the Pincian at sunset.

They had been told by the English chaplain that this was one of the things to be seen; and May, at least, who really wished to take an intelligent interest in everything, had gathered that an appreciation of it was one of the marks of the initiate; that while ordinary Philistines just charged about St. Peter's and the Catacombs, the truly understanding soul came and looked at Rome from the Pincian at sunset; so she had insisted on a second visit here.

What they saw from that place was certainly remarkable and beautiful, indeed " very wonderful," as Austin had most correctly observed. They stood on the very edge of a terraced precipice, their hands resting on a balustrade, looking out over the whole of medieval Rome bathed in a dusty glory of blue and gold; the roofs, broken here and there by domes and spires, stretched completely round the half-circle to right and left, in a kind of flat amphitheatre of which the arena, crawling with cabs and pedestrians, was the Piazza del Popolo, where Luther walked after saying mass in the church on the right. All this was lovely enough — the smoke went up straight, delicate as lawn against the glorious evening sky; cypresses rose, tall and sombre, beneath them, and barred the sky far away like blots of black against an open furnace-door; and sounds came up here, mellow and gentle — the crack of whips, bells, cries, the roll of wheels, across the cobbles of the Piazza. But that to which both eye and thought returned again and again was the vast bed of purple shadow, lit with rose, that dominated the whole, straight in front, and is called the dome of St. Peter's. It rested there, like a flower descending from heaven, and at this very instant the sun, hidden behind it, shone through the windows, clean through from side to side, making it as unsubstantial as a shell of foam. It hung there, itself the symbol of a benediction, as if held by an invisible thread from the very throne of God, supported from below, it seemed, by earthly buildings that had sprung up to meet it, and now pushed and jostled that they might rest beneath its shadow. Beyond, again, fine as lacework, trees stood up, minute and delicate and distant, like black feathers seen against firelight. Only, this firelight, deepening to rose and crimson as they looked, filled the whole sky with flame, satisfying the eye as water a thirsty throat.

This then was what they saw. They would be able to describe all this later, and even, after consulting Baedeker, to name the domes and towers that helped to make up the whole — the white dome of the Jewish synagogue, for instance, that mocked and caricatured the gentle giant beyond, like a street-boy imitating a king. They would be able to wave their hands, for lack of description.... They would be able to rave vaguely about Italy and its colours. Austin would be able to draw striking contrasts between modern Rome and ancient Athens (which he had conscientiously visited in the company of Eton masters two years ago). And they both would be able to show that they belonged to the elect company of the initiates, in that they would say that what impressed them far more than St. Peter's or St. John Lateran was the view of Rome at sunset from the Pincian.

Now of course there is a great deal more to see from the Pincian at sunset than what has been set down here. It is the history of the human race, and the love of God, and the story of how One " came to His own and His own received Him not," and the significance of the City of the World, and the conjunction of small human affairs with Eternity, and their reconciliation with it through the airy shell of foam which, as a matter of realistic fact, consists of uncountable tons of masonry — in fact, the reconciliation of all paradoxes, and the solution of all doubts, and the incarnation of all mysteries, and the final complete satisfaction of the Creator with the creature and of the creature with the Creator— all these things, with their correlatives, find voice and shape and colour in the view of Rome from the Pincian at sunset. For here, where the watchers stand, is modern Italy, gross, fleshly, complacent, and blind. There are white marble busts here, of bearded men and decadent poets, and wholly unimportant celebrities, standing in rows beneath the ilexes like self-conscious philosophers; and chattering crowds surge to and fro; and men eye women, and women, with their noses in the air, lean back in rather shabby carriages and pretend not to see the men; and the seminarians go by, swift processions of boys, walking rapidly, as troops on alien ground, with the sleeves of their sopranos flying behind them, intent on getting back to their seminaries before Ave Maria rings; and belated children scream and laugh — thin-legged, frilled children, with peevish eyes, who call one another Ercole and Louise and Tito and Elena; and bourgeois families in silk and broadcloth, with the eyes of Augustus and Poppaea and the souls of dirty shrimps, pace solemnly about, arm in arm, and believe themselves fashionable and enlightened and modern. All these things and persons are here, and it is from this world and from this standpoint that one looks back and forward through the centuries — back to the roots that crept along the Catacombs, that pushed up stems in the little old churches with white marble choirs, and that blossomed at last into that astounding, full-orbed flower that hangs there, full of gold and blue and orange and sunlight; and on, from that flower to the seed it is shedding in every land, and to the Forest of the Future....

(n)

It is probable that Val was the only one of the four who perceived that there was more than he actually saw (if we except Austin, who was already drawing mental comparisons between this view and that of the Acropolis at Athens, to the advantage, of course, of the latter; for this one had reached precisely that stage of mental development in which it appears truly broad-minded to prefer Paganism to Christianity under all possible circumstances).

Yet Val could put nothing of it into words, even to himself. But he was strung up by various emotions — by his proximity to Gertie, whose hand was almost touching his upon the balustrade; by his knowledge that the day after to-morrow they would have to leave for England by the eight o'clock train in the morning; by the quarrel with Austin, which still gently vibrated his heart-strings — by all these emotions acting upon a highly strung and imaginative nature.

Gertie was feeling nothing particular, except a general sense of being surrounded by extreme beauty, and a sensation, half of pleasure, half of angry and resentful disgust, towards a young man with a moustache who was staring straight at her from an abutment of the terrace not a dozen yards away. She recognized him also as having stared at her before, when she went to post a letter at S. Silvestro after lunch....

But Val really did feel something vague and tumultuous as he stared out at the view, quite unconscious of the young man. He felt that emotions and sensations were all about him — suggestions which he could not hear and glimpses which he could not see. He felt that all this meant more than it said; that there were innuendoes and hints which were too subtle, prophecies and predictions shouted too largely to be articulate....

He turned away at last with a jerk, annoyed that he could not understand.

" Let's have a look from the terrace below," he said to Gertie; "on the way down."

The view from the terrace below is good, but it is not so good, although there is a charm in the flatter angle from which the city is seen. It was empty when they reached it, and Val stood a moment staring with Gertie beside him. Then he remembered the other two, and wondered if they were following. It was difficult to make out their heads in the frieze of faces that fringed the parapet above, and he went a dozen steps to one side, in the direction from which they themselves had come down, to see if they were following; and as he glanced up Austin and May appeared at the head of the steps.

" Oh! there you are," cried May, waving to him.

Val nodded; and as he turned back to go to Gertie, he saw a young man come towards her from the opposite side, raising his hat, and smiling so that he showed an even row of white teeth. He was holding a flower in his fingers which he had evidently just taken from his buttonhole. Then he kissed this flower and held it out, saying something.

Val stared a moment, wondering whether the girl had by any chance suddenly come across a friend; then, as he went forward, Gertie took a swift step towards him, and in her white face he saw terror and anger.

" He... he spoke to me... he insulted me," she said in a harsh, frightened whisper.

Val stared at her, not wholly taking in the situation.

"Who?... I don't understand."

" That man," she said. " He's been following me... since this morning. He... he insulted me."

Val's heart beat suddenly and furiously at the base of his throat, and a mist seemed to pass between his eyes and the brilliant air. An enormous emotion seized him, which he thought was anger.

He took a couple of steps forward....

" How... how dare you, sir? " he stammered roughly, in English.

The young man stood, apparently unperturbed, still smiling, and holding his rejected flower delicately between his thin brown fingers. He was smartly, but not extravagantly dressed; he was obviously not of the shopkeeper class. Val noticed even then that he seemed to be a gentleman.

The young man made a little gesture with his cane, still smiling, as if to wave Val out of the way, and again extended slightly his flower....

A gasp broke from Gertie behind; and Val, impelled partly by a sudden anger that burst upwards at the contemptuous slight he had received, and partly by a sense that something violent was expected of him, with a quick breath stepped forward and slapped the brown smiling face with all his force, across the cheek nearest to him....

It was amazing how swiftly there was a group about them.

The Italian had changed in an instant from a smiling gallant into a tiger-cat. He had sprung back at the blow, and had seemed to hesitate, with clenched fists and blazing eyes — (he had dropped his malacca cane at the onslaught) — to hesitate whether to fly at Val, all teeth and claws, or to assault him more reputably. The flower lay on the middle step between them, like a spot of blood.

Val stood waiting, prepared to repel attack, and beginning to wonder, as his anger, relieved by the blow, sank swiftly, whether or no he had done the right thing. He was conscious, the instant after the blow, while he yet waited for the riposte, that a babble of voices and cries had broken out from the frieze of heads that looked down from the upper terrace. But he stood there, a fine figure of gallantry, upright, white-faced and determined.

Then, almost before the Italian had recovered his balance, steps tore down the stairs on either side, and a crying, babbling group surrounded the three;

for Austin had turned the corner as the blow was given and had dashed forward to his brother's side.

It was difficult for Austin to remember afterwards the exact course which events took. He had been just in time to see Val's hand whirl out and to hear the sound of the slap; and then, telling May to go straight home with Gertie, was at Val's side in a moment. There was no time to ask explanations, and indeed, these were not necessary. Three or four men were by the Italian's side an instant later, having run down the steps from above; and one Austin noticed particularly — a small, soldierly-looking man, with fierce grey moustaches, who seized the young man by the arm, though with a certain air of deference all through, and began both to soothe and question in torrential Italian. Behind them the group increased rapidly.

Then the young man seemed to recover himself. He pushed the old soldier aside, and, his face reddened on the left cheek by Val's blow, came a step forward.

" You are an Englishman, sir? " he asked, with a strong accent; "... a gentleman? "

Val nodded.

The Italian, who was recovering his self-command with extraordinary swiftness, stooped and took up his cane. Then he lifted it.

" Is this necessary, sir? "

Val recoiled half a step at the suggested threat.

" What's all this? " cried Austin sharply.

Val turned a white face on him.

"The... the beast insulted Gertie... he offered her a flower."

The Italian lowered his stick, and said something rapidly to the soldier. Then he took off his hat politely, and slipped away into the group behind, who made way for him to pass. The soldier stepped forward.

" Your... your carta, sir," he said.

" He wants your card/' said Austin. " Summons for assault. Make haste, Val.... We don't want another scene."

Val fumbled in his pockets — the soldier waiting politely, stroking his moustache and eyeing the two Englishmen carefully — and drew out his cigarette-case. He gave his card to Austin.

:< The card, sir," said Austin in tolerable Italian, holding it out. " And we are staying at the Hotel des Etrangers."

The soldier took it, glanced at it, and put it in his pocket. Then he drew out his own case, and took out his own card and offered it. It was inscribed with the name of General Antonio Villanuova, and was surmounted by a small coronet. Austin took it, trying to assume the same competent and assured air as the other. Then the two lifted their hats; while the soldier's heels clicked together as he bowed; and the next moment Austin had Val by the arm, and was hurrying him away through the crowd and down the steps towards their hotel.

(in)

" Now tell me the whole thing," he said, as soon as they had got clear of the people and were striding down the steep slope.

Val related it, his voice shaking and quavering still with excitement.

" So I slapped his dirty face for him," he added.

" It's a confounded nuisance," said Austin. " Now there'll be a summons and the devil to pay. And Lord knows when we shall get away."

(He was faintly conscious that this language lacked repose; but he couldn't bother to pick his words just now. There was annoyance also in his mind at the fact that it was Val who was the occasion of the trouble. )

" I don't care a damn! " exclaimed Val. " I'd do it again twenty times over... the dirty blackguard! "

He seemed all a-shake again with excitement now that the crisis was past.

" Well, if we can slip away the day after tomorrow before they can take any steps Why, there are the girls waiting for us! "

Something of Val's old dreams seemed to come true as he walked back to the hotel in silence with Gertie and the others. He said nothing, nor did she; they walked together without speaking, while Austin summed up the situation in terse sentences, and speculated hopefully on the slowness of Italian justice.

" There wasn't a blessed gendarme in sight/' he said. " Why, in England we'd have half a dozen policemen in two minutes, all taking notes."

" I think it's scandalous," said May energetically.;.. "Oh, Val!... If you'd been stabbed."

There was no doubt as to the sentiments of the company, and Val found it all wonderfully sweet. For once, at any rate, he had behaved with decision and courage, and all for the sake of and in the presence of the Beloved. Stopping the runaway horse was nothing to this.... He walked in a dream of delight across the cobbled square, rather shaky still, but conscious, of his manhood. His pulses tingled to his finger-tips and beat in his head a joyous rhythm. The suggestion that he might have been stabbed added to his delight: he had faced that too, then, unflinching: everyone knew that

Italians produced stilettos on the smallest provocation.

He strode on then, confident and exultant, welcoming rather than otherwise the thought of police-court proceedings: it would underline and emphasise what he had done. He eyed a cabman who shouted at him to get out of the way, proudly and disdainfully: he went past the hall-porter, standing laced cap in hand, as if unconscious of his presence.

There was one delicious moment at the top of the stairs. May and Austin were in front, still talking; and Gertie turned round full and looked at him. Her eyes were bright as if with tears, and her parted lips moved: she gave him her hand, and he kissed it with quite an Italian air.

Dinner was a joyous affair that night. The band was playing out of sight in the winter garden; and the four had a round table to themselves, placed where in the pauses of conversation the music sounded clear and inspiriting, like an undercurrent of gallant thought. They talked briskly and excitedly, conscious of adventure; and they rallied Val cheerfully on the probability of an escort appearing before the ice-pudding, armed cap-a-pie with revolvers, swords, and breastplates, to conduct him to a dungeon.

" The guests will rise," cried Gertie, " like a stage crowd; the band will cease and the lights go down. Then I shall shriek and faint in red limelight which will change slowly to blue. Gongs will then begin to sound, and "

" And I shall fling myself upon Val," remarked May, " and say that they shall only reach him over his sister's dead body."

" Don't talk so loud," said Austin vehemently. " There's a clergyman over there "

" He's an Archdeacon," said Gertie. " He puts on his gaiters for dinner. He shall advance with upraised hand to denounce the tyranny of a priest-ridden monarchy."

Val listened with growing delight. It seemed to him that this manner of treating an arrest that seemed really quite possible was entirely worthy of Englishmen in Italy. This potty little country, it appeared to him, could really not be taken seriously. And, at any rate, it was good to play the fool. He would play the fool, he determined, even if the comic-opera gendarme did arrive.

But ice-pudding came and was eaten undisturbed; and then cheese-straws, and finally some excellent fruit; and then Austin leaned back and ordered Chartreuse for four.

" To drink Val's health," said May.

This was solemnly done. May made a short speech, without rising, proposing the health of the preserver of all female sufferers, " coupled with the health of our fellow-countryman, Mr. Valentine Medd, who on this auspicious occasion " and then May laughed.

But Val, glancing round the eyes of the three, caught and held an instant those of Gertie.

i "Don't be long," said Austin, as they got up from the table. " We'll keep a table till you come down."

" We've just five things to pack which we bought to-day," said May. "There's some lace, and..."

" Oh! go on, and make haste," said Val. " And Gertie's my partner to-night."

Their table was vacant, and Val plunged into a deep chair beyond it in the corner, whence he could watch for Gertie's coming. He loved to think of the moment when she would come rustling across the hall, and the heads turned to look at her.... He lit a cigarette.

" Seriously," said Austin, " if there is a row I'll go straight to my man at the Embassy. He's half Italian himself, you know, and he'll know their little ways."

" Oh! that's bosh," said Val. " It'll be just a fine to-morrow, if there is anything. But they won't dare to do it. The blackguard'll funk the story coming out. He looked like a gentleman, too."

" Well, but - - Hullo! here's the porter coming. I wonder if it's us he wants."

Val was conscious of a faint quickening of his heart as the great man, carrying his gold-laced cap, threaded his way between the tables. In his other hand he carried a salver.

" By George, it is! " he said.

The man came up to them and extended the salver, disclosing with his thumb a card printed with a name and a small coronet. He held it impartially between the two brothers.

"Which of us is it for?"

" For Mr. Valentine Medd," said the man.

Val took it, read it, and passed it to Austin.

" It's the General," he said. (His lips were gone dry and he licked them. )

" Look here," said Austin, getting up; " I'd better go instead. I know more Italian. They've probably come to apologise; and one must be decently polite if they have. Wrhere is the gentleman?"

:< There are two gentlemen, sir. They're in the little sallone next the hall-door."

"Very good," said Austin.

He nodded to Val and went.

(v)

Val roused himself and sat up five minutes later, as the two girls came threading their way, exactly as he had pictured, between the tables. The heads did turn to look at Gertie, but she seemed wholly unconscious. Her face was radiant and smiling.

"At last/' she said.... "Where's Austin?"

" The beggars have come to apologise," growled Val. " He's interviewing them."

" My gracious!... Well, we'll soon hear. Let's play jacoby till he comes."

Val had had a very bad five minutes. Certain vague suspicions that he had resolutely silenced before recurred to him with great intensity. He refused, even now, to consider them seriously; but they were there. He had reflected that Italians were a queer people, with queer ideas.... One never knew quite what view they would take of things....

But with the coming of the two girls things looked better. They brought naturalness and familiarity with them, and the home atmosphere; and Val dealt for jacoby with considerable verve, commenting once or twice on Austin's probable adventures.

But the game was doomed never to be played, for as Gertie selected her card, once more the hall-porter came threading his way among the tables.

" Eh? " said Val, as the man suddenly stood opposite him.

" Mr. Medd.... he wishes to see you, sir."

Val stood up, commanding himself with an effort.

" Well, I suppose I must go and receive it in person," he said. " Don't look at my hand, anybody, while I'm away."

The man led him, not to the sallone next the hall-door, but to a second smaller one which opened out of it by glass doors. He pushed the door open and Val went in. Austin was standing there, looking strangely pale and agitated.

" Look here," he said sharply, glancing to see that the two doors were closed, " we're in a mess. Don't talk loud; they're in the next room."

"Who are?"

' That blasted General and another chap.... It seems the chap whose face you slapped is a Prince, or next door to one...."

He indicated a card lying on the table. Val took it up; it was inscribed with the name of Don Adriano Valentini-Mezzia, and was topped by a crown and a crowd of flourishes. Very small, down in the corner, ran the words " Palazzo Valentini-Mezzia, Roma."

" He's a younger brother of the Prince," said Austin.

"Well?"

" Well, there's the devil of a row. I told them plainly what I thought — that if brothers of Princes go about insulting English ladies they must expect to have their faces slapped. They shrugged their shoulders at that, and said something. Good Lord! I wish I was better at Italian."

"But what the devil do they want?" said Val vindictively. " Haven't they come to apologise? "

" No, they haven't," Austin almost shouted suddenly. " They've come to bring his challenge to you — a duel. And if you don't fight they swear he'll horsewhip you publicly. It's perfectly outrageous."

Val sat down. Then he took out his cigarette-case. He had still enough sense to notice that his hands were shaking too violently for him to take out a cigarette, and he remained still, balancing the case in his hands.

" Are you serious? "

"Serious!... Why.... Good Lord! They know all about us, I tell you. They even know we're going by the eight o'clock train on Thursday; so, to suit our convenience, they say, they've arranged a meeting for to-morrow morning at five. They've got some beastly garden somewhere, where they say we shall be undisturbed. And they have the cheek to ask whether the arrangements are satisfactory."

"What did you say?"

" I told them to go to hell. I said that English-men didn't fight duels. I said they fought with their fists or not at all. I said I'd go to the Ambassador."

" And what did they say? "

"They laughed. They said that that was not usual in Italy, and that if English gentlemen chose to honour Italy with their presence, they must further honour her by conforming to her customs. They put it all so infernally well and politely too."

Austin was completely bewildered. He knew nothing whatever of Italian ways, and knew that he knew nothing. All the Englishman in him told him to flatly refuse such ridiculous suggestions, but the Medd in him equally strongly asserted that one must behave like a gentleman. He had thought of telephoning to his friend at the Embassy, but then again he was wondering as to whether this was a decent thing to do or not.

" What do you think? " asked Val in a dry voice that sounded oddly in his own ears.

" I don't know what to think...." (Austin began to bite his nails — a thing he was always most particular not to do.)... "I don't know what to think. It seems to me all a lot of tommy-rot, of course, but one doesn't know.... He's the brother of a Prince, you know, and he ought to know."

Val lifted his head as if to speak, but Austin's next words silenced him.

" And one doesn't like to ask anybody. It looks like sneaking and trying to get off.... Look here; will you come and see them yourself? "

Val swallowed in his throat.

" Wait," he said. " Did they say anything about weapons? "

" Yes, rapiers."

"Wait," said Val again. " Yes... I'll see them. And I'll fight."

"Eh?"

Val stood up. His face was like ashes and his eyes like' coals, but he carried his head high and tried to clench his shaking lips together.

" I'll fight," he said. " I won't funk. Come on, Austin; we'll tell them."

R