CHAPTER X
ITALIAN VIOLETS
"DO make up your minds and let us go somewhere," Frieda pleaded. "I don't see that it is so important where we go first."
She was wearing a new lavender cloth frock trimmed in silk and a hat of the same shade, with a big bunch of violets resting against her yellow hair. From her hand dangled her adored gold-link pocketbook. So there was no question of Frieda's preparedness for beginning their first day's sight-seeing in Rome. Ruth and the other three girls showed no such signs of being ready for immediate departure.
They were together in their big sitting room, which overlooked a beautiful enclosed court, characteristic of Italian hotels and homes. And at least half an hour of their morning the girls had devoted to gazing out of their windows. In the center of the courtyard a fountain played continually – not a fountain of an ordinary kind, but the figure of a beautiful boy, with his arms high in the air, holding two great shells into which the water poured and then splashed down to the ground below. Around the enclosure were copies of famous statues and miniature orange and lemon trees.
Jack in a comfortable silk dressing gown was placidly gazing at this scene when Frieda's speech arrested her attention.
"Why be in such a hurry, Frieda mia?" she inquired. "You know we have firmly decided not to begin our labors too early. Besides, this morning we are tired and don't you see that Ruth, Jean and Olive are deeply engaged in laying out our plan of campaign? It has got to be arranged where we are to go, what we are to do on our arrival, what things we are to thrill over and what to pass by." And Jack laughed, letting her eyes rest for a moment on Ruth's face. Their chaperon's expression was so serious. Did Jack guess that her education was about to be solemnly taken in hand? Well, she felt very young this morning and very much in need of learning a great many things. Rome gave one such an overpowering sense of ignorance!
But Frieda was much displeased. "You told me you would be ready at half-past ten, Jacqueline Ralston, and let me go and dress. Now it is after eleven. And if nobody will come with me I shall just go out and walk up and down by myself."
From the pages of her Baedeker Ruth looked up quickly. It was not often that she was positive with the girls, but she had insisted that during their stay in Italy no one of them go anywhere alone.
Frieda blushed penitently. "I didn't mean it, Ruth, of course. Still, I think it's hateful for none of you even to start to get ready."
"Oh, do be quiet, Frieda, and sit down and wait, or, if not, go to your own room," Jack remarked impatiently. "I think you are forgetting our compact very soon. One more objection and you will kindly place your fine in Ruth's charge."
Without replying, Frieda marched haughtily out of the sitting room and into her own and Jean's bed room.
It was true that the night before leaving Naples the Rainbow Ranch party had made a kind of "Traveler's Agreement Society," setting down a number of rules for their mutual benefit and promising to follow them.
The suggestion had come from Olive who was always the peacemaker in all differences of opinion. For although the travelers had been only a few weeks upon their journey, already they had learned that there is nothing that is a surer test of one's amiability than constant sight-seeing, which entails a continuous moving from place to place of people who are expected to do the same things at the same time regardless of their personal tastes and inclination.
From the top of her suit-case Frieda drew forth a sheet of paper. Possibly Jack had been right, for the rules of their compact read:
First: In all questions pertaining to travel, such as the selection of places to be visited, choice of hotels, etc., the rule of the majority shall prevail.
Second: In all questions in which there is a moral issue at stake, a matter of right or wrong to be decided, the chaperon's judgment is to be followed.
Third: If any member of the party becomes weary during the course of the journey, all are to rest. (This rule was made for Jack's protection and was Olive's proposal, knowing that her friend would never voluntarily give up, if she thought her fatigue might interfere with their pleasure.)
Fourth (and this was of Jack's recommendation): Each one shall try to be as agreeable as possible to the others' friends, since it is not to be expected that they could like the same people equally well.
Fifth: If any one of the five travelers shall make three cross speeches in the course of one day, the said traveler is to pay into the keeping of Ruth Drew a fine to the amount of fifty cents, United States money. For the fourth cross speech, one dollar, and so on, with the amount doubling. And at the end of the European trip, this sum, whatever the amount, is to be employed for the purchase of a gift for the girl against whose name there is the smallest number of bad counts.
And Frieda had rather expected that this prize would fall to her. Indeed, she had quite made up her mind to attain it. For certainly she was far more amiable than Jack or Jean, and Ruth was apt to grow nervous if things went wrong. For instance, take this question of her going out on the street alone. Ruth might have known that she had had no real intention of being disobedient. Indeed, Olive was the only member of their party whom Frieda believed she had reason to regard as her rival in amiability. And of course one opponent was necessary to make the contest interesting. Really, Frieda desired this prize more than most anything she could think of – not just for the prize itself, although there was no telling what its value might be, but because it could be retained forever like a conqueror's flag to be waved over her family.
For ten minutes more, therefore, Frieda sat down in an upright chair, waiting patiently. Notwithstanding this, Jean did not even come in for her coat and hat, or with any suggestion that they ever intended leaving the hotel.
It was abominably stupid to continue loitering forever, so finally the young girl concluded to go down into the hotel lobby and watch the people moving in and out, until her family at last made up their minds to start. She would not go back into the sitting room again to argue the question with them, but leave a little note near Jean's hat explaining where she might be found.
In the corridor leading to the open front door Frieda discovered an inconspicuous place and was entirely happy observing the hotel guests and the small vista of the Roman street which she could see like a picture through the opening.
An Italian priest passed by, wearing a solemn, long black robe tied about his waist with a huge cord and a round, stiff black hat with a broad brim and a flat crown. Frieda stared at him curiously. Then a young fellow, evidently an artist from his costume, appeared, and, after hesitating a moment, entered the hotel corridor. A few moments afterwards he was joined by an older woman with two daughters in whom Frieda at once became deeply interested. They were English girls – she guessed this by a kind of instinct, they were so tall and fair and slender, with drooping shoulders and pink and white complexions. The little party left the hotel together and then there was a short interval in which nothing happened to interest Frieda particularly, except the foreign look of the people moving past in the street.
Weary of waiting, she was glancing at a queer carved clock on the wall opposite her, when unexpectedly a fragrance enveloped her. Without understanding why, the young girl felt a sudden wave of homesick yearning for the Rainbow Ranch. Why should she think of home so suddenly? For a few seconds Frieda was unconscious of any special reason, and then, turning, she beheld standing in the doorway a small Italian boy, beautiful as one of Raphael's cherubs, with a great basket of Italian violets hanging on his arm.
Frieda smiled. No wonder she had recalled her home and the violet beds planted next the Lodge in the days when she had expected to add to the family fortunes by selling flowers. This was before there was ever a thought of a gold mine hidden in Rainbow Creek.
What fun to buy a lot of violets for Ruth and the girls and have great bunches of them to present, if ever they did decide to come down stairs!
A western girl, Frieda Ralston had always been accustomed to doing things for herself. So now it never occurred to her to call a "facchino" to accomplish her errand, although this Italian word for porter was one of the few words that Frieda had already acquired from her phrase book.
Besides, was the boy not standing right there by the door? Quickly she moved toward him. But at the same moment another customer must have called from the street or else some servant in the hotel frightened the child, for he slipped away and in an instant was half down the block. And Frieda followed close behind, entirely oblivious of anything except her present purpose. The boy ran lightly along and danced around a corner like a sunbeam. There, where he made the turn, a fountain stood in the center of the square that Frieda noticed particularly so there might be no danger of her getting lost. Fortunately another customer stopped the lad when, quite out of breath, Frieda finally managed to catch up with him.
She didn't know the Italian words which should be employed in purchasing violets, but fortunately the sign language was the original one with all the peoples of the world. Very soon the basket of violets transferred from the child's arm was swinging on the young girl's. When, with a smile and a "buon giorno" (good morning) at the American Signorita's prettiness and amazing wealth, the lad vanished as abruptly as he had arrived.
Frieda glowed with pleasure. The violets were so exquisite, the sky so blue, and the air so sparkling. Surely by the time of her return to the hotel her family would be ready to begin their adventures. And there, just ahead, was the fountain that she had observed so as not to make any mistake about getting back safely.
Walking on in the direction of the fountain for a moment Frieda stood admiring its beauty. But not for long of course, because Ruth and the girls must never discover her absence. Turning away from the fountain, straightway her puzzle began, for there were now half a dozen streets leading from this central square and the wanderer had no idea which one contained their hotel. Certainly Rome was very queer and unlike any other city she had ever seen before. Many of the streets seemed to twist and curve, winding in and out among the others. Nothing seemed to go straight ahead in any given direction. However, Frieda, having concluded that one of them looked a little more familiar than the others, tried it first. There was nothing within a block, however, that resembled the Hotel l'Italia and she was convinced of only having followed the boy for a single street. She had best return to the fountain and start forth again. But by the time one has followed this method of procedure three or four times without success the effect is apt to be disheartening.
CHAPTER XI
FONTANONE DELL' ACQUA FELICE
SEVERAL tears watered the violets. Frieda Ralston was seated on one of a flight of stone steps bordering the antique fountain, with an immense stone lion on either side of her and in high eminence behind her the figures of the prophets. But Frieda was not in the slightest degree interested at this moment in Roman art. For one hour, recorded on the face of the small watch in her pocket, she had been engaged in wandering up and down likely looking streets in search of their hotel, only to return to her starting place again. And this when she had only gone a block and a half away in the first place.
Neither had the wayfarer trusted entirely to her own judgment. In spite of Ruth's repeated warnings against talking to strangers, she had once accosted a man in a queer uniform, thinking him a policeman. He wore a dark blue coat, blue-gray trousers, a white cap and belt, so how could a newcomer have known him to be a member of the Roman garrison? However, when once the soldier had discovered Frieda's desire, his directions were so explicit, so accompanied by much waving of his hand and statements of "destra" (right) and "sinistra" (left), that Frieda believed her way clear at last. Nevertheless, though doing exactly what she believed she had been told, the result was the same. Frieda had again to return to her fountain, a now painfully familiar spot. In the course of this wandering, however, she had passed an ancient church with a high flight of steps, where she paused to gaze for a few moments in awe and wonder. A number of pilgrims were climbing the wooden steps on their knees and children were running about among them offering rosaries and small wooden images for sale. Frieda had purchased a St. Joseph and then regretted her investment, for at least half the crowd of children followed her back to her resting place. They were still whining about her begging for pennies, when some time ago she had given them all the change she had. Yet they would
not
leave her alone. Happening to glance down at her arm Frieda now made the painful discovery that her beloved gold-link purse had disappeared. Still the poor child had her violets!
They were no great comfort, however, for, sighing, she glanced through an opening among her persecutors to see if aid might be found anywhere. There not far away did she not behold the familiar figures of Richard Grant and his mother, the acquaintances who had been so scorned toward the close of their sea voyage.
With a little extra energy the lost girl might have called to them. For they were loitering and studying the pages of their guide-book, evidently on their way to visit the famous church which had previously attracted her attention. Once Frieda believed that she saw them glance in the direction of her fountain. But their purpose must have changed, for the next instant they moved off toward the church.
Nevertheless, in spite of her need, the wanderer did not stir or call out. For how could she ask assistance of people to whom she had been so rude and overbearing but a short time before? And she was so near their hotel, surely Ruth would send some one to look for her or come herself in a few minutes. No, she must wait a while longer and perhaps, when rested, if no one had found her, try to discover her own way again. Often Jim Colter had told the Ranch girls to search for things first with their heads before beginning to explore with their hands and feet. Yet it was pretty difficult to think clearly, and when weary and discouraged to remember how one has managed to get lost. This habit of getting separated from her family was a trying one, and certainly this time Ruth and the girls would be angry as well as frightened.
Not long after Frieda was wishing sincerely that she had put her pride in her pocket and begged Dick's and Mrs. Grant's help in spite of all that had passed. She was frightened as well as tired. The children had run away on finding that the Signorita's purse had gone. But a few yards from her seat an Italian had been curling his black mustache for quite an extraordinary length of time, staring all the while at the little blonde girl on the fountain steps.
"If you don't mind speaking to me this once, Miss Frieda, would you explain just why you are ornamenting the steps of this particular fountain alone for so long a time?" a friendly voice inquired.
Frieda jumped to her feet. There were the amused brown eyes, the square jaw and the athletic shoulders of Mr. Richard Grant. However, he was at the present moment engaged in holding his red Baedeker open and in slowly reading aloud: "This fountain is known, I believe, as 'Fontanone dell' Acqua Felice,' which, if I recall my Latin correctly, means 'water of happiness.'"
"Don't be funny, Dick, please," begged Frieda, forgetting titles and squeezing two left-over tears out of her eyes; "I'm lost again!"
"I rather supposed so," the young man replied, "so I left mother to moon among the Saints in the church nearby, while I came back to look after you. You see, we thought we recognized you sitting here and yet could hardly believe our eyes. Tell me what has happened and where you wish to go?"
A moment later, after a second careful consultation of his guide book, Frieda was escorted through the streets of Rome by a youth, who was unconcernedly carrying her large basket of violets in one hand and feeding her chocolates from a box which he held in the other. He did not seem to bear the least malice, and Frieda herself was extremely cheerful, considering her talent for getting into scrapes.
She even promised gratefully to accept the gift of a red Baedeker of her own and not to depend on their chaperon's possession of one.
Arriving at the Hotel l'Italia Frieda begged that Dick Grant come in with her and let her family know of his presence in Rome and of his kindness to her. In reality she wished for a stranger to be present so that she might in a measure escape the disapproval awaiting her.
And this time Frieda was correct in her judgment, for Ruth and the girls were more irritated with her than alarmed. And even after her explanation as to just how the accident happened Ruth seemed unreasonable. Actually, right in Richard Grant's presence, she scolded Frieda more than she had before in years. However, the young man did have the good sense to turn his back and be engaged in earnest conversation with Jack during the worst of Ruth's tirade, for which the younger Miss Ralston was truly grateful. She was also grateful to her sister Jack for inquiring after Mrs. Grant just as though nothing unpleasant had occurred between them. For Jack asked either that Mrs. Grant come to see them or that they be permitted to call on her.
When Dick had finally departed to join his mother (who must have been weary of waiting, except that her good nature was as certain as her bad taste), Frieda found as usual that it was Jean's teasing which was harder to bear than any scolding. For just as they were at last about to leave their hotel and right in the presence of the English lady and her two daughters who were returning, Jean pulled a long pale blue ribbon from her pocket (one of Frieda's own ribbons) and tied it in a kind of lasso about the younger girl's wrist.
"Better keep a string attached to our one ewe lamb, don't you think, Ruth dear?" she inquired innocently. And the strangers stared with a kind of cold surprise, when Ruth was obliged to produce the pair of scissors she always carried in her hand bag to cut the knot, so close had the ribbon been drawn.
For the rest of the day Frieda kept close to her sister and Olive, feeling too deeply wounded with the other members of their party to care to have much to say to them.
CHAPTER XII
AFTERNOON TEA
"ON Pincian Hill my father feeds his flocks," remarked Frieda pensively one afternoon several days later.
And while Ruth, Jack and Jean tried their best to keep from laughing aloud, Olive had to explain.
"It was not Pincian hills but Grampian, Frieda dear, and the speech refers to Greece and not Italy."
But Frieda was too blissfully happy and deliciously entertained to care either about her mistakes or the cause of the others' laughter.
For at last the Ranch girls were having afternoon tea in the beautiful gardens of the Pincio. Near them a military band was playing, and in their vicinity apparently most of the best people in Rome, besides the summer travelers, had gathered. There were hundreds of carriages moving to and fro and stopping now and then while friends exchanged greetings. A short half hour ago little King Victor Emmanuel, whose stature is the only small part of him, and his beautiful big Queen had driven by, giving the four girls and their chaperon one of the most delightful thrills of their whole trip. For no matter how good Democrats we Americans are at heart, the first sight of royalty cannot fail to be interesting. It is only after the royal persons have been viewed often enough and long enough that they appear like ordinary persons.
Then, beneath the hill of the Pincio, lay the most wonderful of all the panoramas of Rome. There was St. Peter's again (and already the Ranch party had spent one entire day in this largest and perhaps most beautiful church in the world). There the castle of St. Angelo, the roof of the Pantheon, and innumerable other churches and towers, which Ruth even after an almost painful study of her map of Rome was not able to name. But more fascinating than the buildings, at least to Jacqueline Ralston's outdoor loving vision, were the far-off hills with their groupings of cypress, palms and pines.
The Rainbow Ranch party had found seats at a table not far from the small café in the center of the gardens. And although delectable sweets were being served to them, together with very poor tea, not even Frieda had been able to display her usual appetite.
Unexpectedly a hand was placed on Jean Bruce's shoulder, and turning in surprise she saw standing by her side no other person than the Princess Colonna! If Jean had thought her American-Italian Princess beautiful on shipboard, the sight of her now in her Parisian toilet almost took away her breath. Waiting a few feet away were her companions, two young Italians of about twenty and twenty-five years of age, besides an elderly man, who was nearer sixty years old than half a century.
"I thought my little Miss Bruce was to let me know when she and her friends reached Rome," the Princess began, shaking hands with Ruth and the other three girls, while continuing to smile upon Jean. "Is it that you do not wish more of my society?"
Jean, having regained her self-possession, shook her head. "That is such a ridiculous question I shan't pretend to answer it," she returned. "It is only that we have been such a few days in Rome and thought perhaps you – "
The Princess made a slight motion of her hand toward the three men back of her so that they approached. "
I
have not a short memory, but
you
," she replied. "But permit me to introduce to you my husband, the Prince Colonna, and his two nephews."
Fortunately at this instant no one in the group chanced to be gazing toward Frieda. For although the older girls had sufficient self-control to conceal any expressions of surprise, this was not true of her. At this moment her blue eyes opened wider than usual.
The Prince Colonna with his snow-white hair and stately manner, bowing courteously over Ruth Drew's hand, was assuredly twice his wife's age.
Jean, Olive and Jack were feeling sufficiently embarrassed by the meeting with the two Italian nephews. In less than a moment, however, Jean gave a slight but characteristic shrug of her shoulders and then a sigh of relief. For both Signor Leon, the younger, and his brother Giovanni Colonna spoke excellent English.
"We were so afraid we should not be able to talk to you," Jean confessed so frankly that immediately any awkwardness in the situation passed away. "You see, we Americans are dreadfully stupid about foreign languages. We never realize how important they are until we come abroad, and that is apt to occur after our school days have passed. Nevertheless, we dearly love to hear ourselves talk."
This was a long speech for the commencement of a conversation with strangers, but Jean was soon glad to have had the first opportunity. For, drawing a chair close beside hers, Signor Giovanni Colonna never gave her much of a chance afterwards. It seemed, by the young man's own confession, that he had always wanted to know American girls. His only acquaintance so far had been with his aunt, and of course she had increased his desire. But the Princess had lately told him and his brother of meeting on the steamer four delightful western girls whom they might possibly see later on in Rome. From the first Giovanni seemed to prefer Jean's society, leaving Leon to the other three girls to entertain. The entire conversation between the young man and Jean could hardly have lasted ten minutes.
Before saying farewell, however, the Princess had made an engagement to call on Ruth at her hotel on the following afternoon with the promise that she should bring the four girls to her villa later in the week.
Unfortunately Jack laughed when the two young men were safely out of hearing, though still in sight. They were both below medium height, with clear, dark skins and curling black hair, and to Jack's American ideas were almost too well dressed and formal of manner, although Giovanni was really handsome except for a scar across his left cheek.
"They are rather funny, don't you think?" she inquired idly and without any special meaning. "I don't believe I could ever learn to like foreigners as much as I do American men. They are not so big for one thing, are they, Ruth?" And Ruth, before whose eyes Jim Colter's big figure straightway loomed, shook her head.
Jean flushed slightly. She had liked the two young men fairly well. Moreover, they were her Princess' nephews. Anyhow, her cousin's speech had irritated her, although Jack had already forgotten what she had said and was once more gazing in fascination at the scene about her.
"Your dislike of foreigners does not include Englishmen, does it, cousin of mine?" Jean queried with a too great pretense of innocence.
Jack's clear gray eyes faced Jean's dark ones in such surprise that Jean's were the ones to droop.
"If you mean Frank Kent or Captain Madden, why of course I like both of them, don't you?" she returned. And then, "Whatever in the world, Jean, has made you so cross about Captain Madden? I wonder what idea you have in your head! If you knew anything against him on shipboard why didn't you tell me?"
Jean discovered that Ruth was frowning upon her more severely than usual. Besides, what answer had she to make to her cousin? Really, she had no actual reason for disliking their new acquaintance and the impression that had once or twice come into her mind on shipboard may have been absurd. Ruth had thought it ridiculous and had not agreed with her. Now certainly the stupidest possible thing she
could
do would be to permit Jack to guess her suspicion.
"Oh, of course I like them too, I was only bad tempered," Jean replied, giving Jack's gloved hand a penitent squeeze and thinking how unusually beautiful she was looking this afternoon. Somehow no one appeared so well in white as Jack did. She was so fine and pure, so different in many ways from other girls. It would never dawn on her to dream of evil in man or woman. Jean found herself blushing.
"I like Frank Kent better than most anybody, Jack dear. He is one of our oldest and truest friends, I feel sure. Sometimes I wish we were going to see him before arriving in England," she murmured.
Half an hour later, driving slowly down the long hill away from the wonderful Pincian gardens into the city of Rome, Ruth and the four girls were equally surprised at seeing a stiff, military figure on horseback lift his hat to them.
"It is Captain Madden, I do believe! I didn't know he was to be in Rome!" Frieda exclaimed, and no one made answer.
Later that evening, however, when a great box of her favorite red roses containing the English army officer's card mysteriously arrived for Jack at their hotel Jean did not know whether to be glad or sorry for having held her