The Wheat Princess Page 10

  CHAPTER IX

  SYBERT turned away from the wine-shop with a half-laugh at Tarquinio'slittle play, with a half-frown at the fierce words of the Neapolitan,which were still ringing in his head. He walked along with his eyesupon the ground, scarcely aware of his surroundings, until an excitedmedley of voices close at hand suddenly startled him from his thoughts.He glanced up for a moment with unseeing eyes, and then with anastonished flash of recognition as he beheld Marcia Copley backedagainst one of the dark stone arches in the substructure of the theatreof Marcellus. Her head was thrown back and there were two angry redspots in her cheeks, while a struggling crowd of boys pressed aroundher with shouts and gesticulations.

  As he paused to take in the meaning of the scene, he heardMarcia--evidently so angry that she had forgotten her Italian--say inEnglish: 'You beastly little cowards! You wouldn't dare hurt anythingbut a poor animal that can't hit back.' She accompanied this speechwith a vigorous shake to a small boy whom she held by the shoulder. Theboy could not understand her words, but he did understand her actionand he kicked back vigorously. The crowd laughed and began to closearound her. She took out her purse. 'Who owns this dog?' she demanded.At sight of the money they pressed closer, and in another moment wouldhave snatched it away; but Sybert stepped forward, and raising hiscane, scattered them right and left.

  'What in the world are you doing here? What is the meaning of this?' heasked.

  'Oh, Mr. Sybert! I'm so glad to see you. Look! those horrible littlewretches were killing this dog.'

  Sybert glanced down at her feet, where a bedraggled cur was crouching,shivering, and looking up with pleading eyes. The blood was runningfrom a cut on its shoulder, and a motley assortment of tin was tied toits tail by a cord. He took out his knife and cut the dog loose, andMarcia stooped and picked it up.

  'Take care, Miss Marcia,' he said in a disgusted tone. 'He's verydirty, and you will get covered with blood.'

  Marcia put her handkerchief over the dog's wound, and it lay in herarms, whimpering and shaking.

  'What is the meaning of this?' he demanded again, almost roughly. 'Whatare you doing in this part of the city alone?'

  His tone at another time would have been irritating, but just now shewas too grateful for his appearance to be anything but cordial, and shehastily explained--

  'I've been spending the afternoon at Tre Fontane with some friends. Ileft them at the English cemetery, and was just driving back to thestation when I saw those miserable little boys chasing this dog. Ijumped out and grabbed him, and they all followed me.'

  'I see,' said Sybert; 'and it is fortunate that I happened by when Idid, or you wouldn't have had any money left to pay your cab-driver.These Roman urchins have not the perfect manners one could wish.'

  'Manners!' Marcia sniffed indignantly. 'I loathe the Italians! I thinkthey are the cruellest people I ever saw. Those boys were stoning thispoor dog to death.'

  'I dare say they have not enjoyed your advantages.'

  'They would have killed him if I hadn't come just when I did.'

  'You are not going out to the villa alone?'

  'No; Aunt Katherine and Gerald are going to meet me at the station.'

  'Oh, very well,' he answered in a tone of evident relief, as theyturned toward the waiting carriage. 'Let me take the dog and I willdrop him a few streets farther on, where the boys won't find him again.'

  'Certainly not,' said Marcia indignantly. 'Some other boys would findhim. I shall take him home and feed him. He doesn't look as if he hadhad anything to eat for weeks.'

  'In that case,' said Sybert resignedly, 'I will drive to the stationwith you, for he is scarcely a lap-dog and you may have trouble gettinghim into the train.' And while she was in the midst of her remonstrancehe stepped into the carriage and put the dog on the floor between hisfeet. The dog, however, did not favour the change, and stretching up anappealing paw he touched Marcia's knee, with a whine.

  'You poor thing! Stop trembling. Nobody's going to hurt you,' and shebent over and kissed him on the nose.

  Marcia was excited. She had not quite recovered her equanimity sincethe scene with Paul Dessart in the cloisters, and the affair of the doghad upset her afresh. She rattled on now, with a gaiety quite atvariance with her usual attitude toward Sybert, of anything andeverything that came into her mind--Gerald's broken tooth, thedeparture of Marietta, the afternoon at Tre Fontane, and the episode ofthe dog. Sybert listened politely, but his thoughts were not upon herwords.

  He was too full of what he had left behind in the little cafe for himto listen patiently to Marcia's chatter. As he looked at her, flushedand smiling in her dainty clothes, which were faultless with thefaultlessness that comes from money, he experienced a feeling almost ofanger against her. He longed to face her with a few plain truths. Whatright had she to all her useless luxuries, when her father was--as theNeapolitan had truly put it--taking his money from the mouths of thepoor? It was their work which made it possible for such as she tolive--and was she worth it? The world had given her much: she waseducated, she was cultured, she had trained tastes and sensibilities,and in return what did she do for the world? She saved a dog. He made amovement of disgust and for a moment he almost obeyed his impulse tothrow the dog out. But he brought himself back to reason with ahalf-laugh. It was not her fault. She knew nothing of her father'stransaction; she knew nothing of Italy's need. There was no reason whyshe should not be happy. And, after all, he told himself wearily, itwas a relief to meet some one who had no troubles.

  Marcia suddenly interrupted her own light discourse to look at herwatch. 'Gracious! I haven't much time. Will you please tell him tohurry a little, Mr. Sybert?'

  The driver obeyed by giving his horse a resounding cut with the whip,whereupon Marcia jerked him by the coat-tails and told him that if hewhipped his horse again she would not give him any _mancia_.

  The fellow shrugged his shoulders and they settled down into a walk.

  'Isn't there any society for the prevention of cruelty to animals?' sheasked. 'These Italians are hopeless.'

  'You can scarcely expect them to expend more consideration on animalsthan they receive themselves,' Sybert threw off.

  'Oh, dear!' she complained anew, suddenly becoming aware of their pace;'I'm afraid we'll be late for the train. Don't you suppose he couldhurry just a little without whipping the horse?'

  Sybert translated her wishes to the driver again, and they jogged on ata somewhat livelier rate; but by the time they reached the station thetrain had gone, and there were no Mrs. Copley and Gerald in thewaiting-room. Marcia's face was slightly blank as she realized thesituation, and her first involuntary thought was a wish that it hadbeen Paul Dessart instead of Sybert who had come with her. She carriedoff the matter with a laugh, however, and explained to her companion--

  'I suppose Aunt Katherine thought I had decided to stay in the citywith the Roystons. I told her I was going to, but I found they had adinner engagement. It doesn't matter, though; I'll wait here for thenext train. There is one for Palestrina before very long--AuntKatherine went by way of Tivoli. Thank you very much, Mr. Sybert, forcoming to the station with me, and really you mustn't think you have towait until the train goes. The dog will be company enough.'

  Sybert consulted his time schedule in silence. 'The next train doesn'tleave till seven, and there won't be any carriage waiting for you. Howdo you propose to get out to the villa?'

  'Oh, the station-man at Palestrina will find a carriage for me. There'sa very nice man who's often driven us out.'

  Sybert frowned slightly as he considered the question. It was ratherinconvenient for him to go out to the villa that night; but hereflected that it was his duty toward Copley to get his niece backsafely--as to letting her set out alone on a seven-mile drive with astrange Palestrina driver, that was clearly out of the question.

  'I think I'll run out with you,' he said, looking at his watch.

  She had seen his frown and feared some such propositi
on. 'No, indeed!'she cried. 'I shouldn't think of letting you. I've been over the sameroad hundreds of times, and I'm not in the least afraid. It won't belate.'

  'The Sabine mountains are infested with bandits,' he declared. 'I thinkyou need an escort.'

  'Mr. Sybert, how silly! I know your time is precious, (this wasintended for irony, but as it happened to be true, he did not recognizeit as such), 'and I don't want you to come with me.'

  Sybert laughed. 'I don't doubt that, Miss Marcia; but I'm coming, justthe same. I am sorry, but you will have to put up with me.'

  'I should a lot rather you wouldn't,' she returned, 'but do as youplease.'

  'Thank you for the invitation,' he smiled. 'There's about an hour and ahalf before the train goes--you might run out to the Embassy and have acup of tea.'

  'Thank you for the invitation, but I think I'll stay here. I don't wishto miss a second train, and I shouldn't know what to do with the dog.'

  'Very well, if you don't mind staying alone, I will drive out myselfand leave a business message for the chief, and then I can take avacation with a clear conscience. I have a matter to consult your uncleabout, and I shall be very glad to run out to the villa.' He raised hishat in a sufficiently friendly bow and departed.

  When he returned, an hour later, he found Marcia feeding the dog withsausage amid an appreciative group of porters, one of whom had procuredthe meat.

  'Oh, dear!' she cried. 'I hoped Marcellus would have finished his mealbefore you came back. But you aren't so particular about etiquette asthe contessa,' she added, 'and don't object to feeding dogs in thestation?'

  'I dare say the poor beast was hungry.'

  'Hungry! I had a whole kilo of sausage, and you should have seen itdisappear.'

  'These _facchini_ look as if they would not be averse to sharing hismeal.'

  'Poor fellows, they do look hungry.' Marcia produced her purse andhanded them a lira apiece. 'Because I haven't any luggage for you tocarry, and because you like my dog,' she explained in Italian. 'Don'ttell Uncle Howard,' she added in English. 'I don't believe one lira canmake them paupers.'

  'It would doubtless be difficult to pauperize them any more than theyare at present,' he agreed.

  'You don't believe in Uncle Howard's ideas of charity, do you?' sheinquired tentatively.

  'Oh, not entirely; but we don't quarrel over it.--Perhaps,' hesuggested, 'we'd better go out and find an empty compartment while theguards are not looking. I fear they might object to Marcellus--is thathis name?--occupying a first-class carriage.'

  'Marcellus, because I found him by the theatre.'

  'Ah--I hope he will turn out as handsome a fellow as his namesake.Come, Marcellus; it's time we were off.'

  He picked the dog up by the nape of the neck and they started down theplatform, looking for an empty carriage. They had their choice of anumber; the train was not crowded, and first-class carriages in anItalian way-train are rarely in demand. As he was helping Marcia intothe car, Sybert was amused to see Tarquinio, the proprietor of the Innof the Italian People, hurrying into a third-class compartment, with afurtive glance over his shoulder as if he expected every corner to bean ambuscade of the secret police. The warning had evidently fallen ongood ground, and the poor fellow was fleeing for his life from thewicked machinations of an omniscient premier.

  'If you will excuse me a moment, I wish to speak to a friend,' Sybertsaid as he got Marcia settled; and without waiting for her answer, hestrode off down the platform.

  She had seen the young Italian, weighed down by a bundle tied up in abed-quilt, give a glance of recognition as he passed them; and as shewatched Sybert enter a third-class compartment she had not a doubt butthat the Italian was the 'friend' he was searching. She leaned back inthe corner with a puzzled frown. Why had Sybert so many queer friendsin so many queer places, and why need he be so silent about them?