It, and Other Stories Part 43

The three brigands stepped into the Appian Way from behind a ma.s.s of fallen masonry. They had found the means to shave cleanly, and perhaps to wash. They were adorned with what were evidently their very best clothes. The youngest, whose ambition was the girl he loved, even wore a necktie.

Asabri brought the motor to a swift, oily, and polished halt.

"Well met," he said, "since all is well. If you," he smiled into the face of the sullen brigand, "will be so good as to sit beside me!... The others shall sit in behind.... We shall go first," he continued, when all were comfortably seated, "to have a look at that little piece of land on which grow figs, olives, and grapes. We shall buy it, and break our fast in the shade of the oldest fig tree. It is going to be a hot day."

"It is below Rome, and far," said the sullen brigand; "but since the barge upon which my friend has set his heart belongs to a near neighbor, we shall be killing two birds with one stone. But with all deference, excellency, have you really retrieved your fortunes?"

"And yours," said Asabri. "Indeed, I am to-day as rich as ever I was, with the exception"--his eyes twinkled behind his goggles--"of about a hundred and fifty thousand lire."

The sullen brigand whistled; and although the roads were rough, they proceeded, thanks to the shock-absorbers on Asabri's car, in complete comfort, at a great pace.

In the village nearest to the property upon which the sullen brigand had cast his eye, they picked up a notary through whom to effect the purchase.

The little farm was rather stony, but sweet to the eye as a bouquet of flowers, with the deep greens of the figs and grapes and the silvery greens of the olives. Furthermore, there were roses in the door-yard, and the young and childless widow to whom the homestead belonged stood among the roses. She was brown and scarlet, and her eyes were black and merry.

Yes, yes, she agreed, she would sell! There was a mortgage on the place.

She intended to pay that off and have a little over. True, the place paid. But, Good Lord, she lived all alone, and she didn't enjoy that!

They invited the pretty widow to luncheon, and she helped them spread the cloth under a fig tree that had thrown shade for five hundred years. Asabri pa.s.sed the champagne, and they all became very merry together. Indeed, the sullen brigand became so merry and happy that he no longer addressed Asabri respectfully as "excellency," but gratefully and affectionately as "my father."

This one became more and more delighted with the term, until finally he said:

"It is true, that in a sense I am this young man's father, since I believe that if I were to advise him to do a certain thing he would do it."

"That is G.o.d's truth," cried the sullen brigand; "if he advised me to advance single-handed against the hosts of h.e.l.l, I should do so."

"My son," said Asabri, "our fair guest affirms that upon this beautiful little farm she has had everything that she could wish except companionship. Are you not afraid that you, in your turn, will here suffer from loneliness?" He turned to the pretty widow. "I wish," said he, "to address myself to you in behalf of this young man."

The others became very silent. The notary lifted his gla.s.s to his lips.

The widow blushed. Said she:

"I like his looks well enough; but I know nothing about him."

"I can tell you this," said Asabri, "that he has been a man of exemplary honesty since--yesterday, and that under the seat of my automobile he has, in a leather bag, a fortune of fifty thousand lire."

The three brigands gasped.

"He is determined, in any case," the banker continued, "to purchase your little farm; but it seems to me that it would be a beautiful end to a story that has not been without a certain aroma of romance if you, my fair guest, were, so to speak, to throw yourself into the bargain. Think it over. The mortgage lifted, a handsome husband, and plenty of money in the bank.... Think it over. And in any case--the pleasure of a gla.s.s of wine with you!"

They touched gla.s.ses. Across the golden bubbling, smiles leapt.

"Let us," said the second brigand, "leave the pair in question to talk the matter over, while the rest of us go and attend to the purchase of my barge."

"Well thought," said Asabri. "My children, we shall be gone about an hour. See if, in that time, you cannot grow fond of each other. Perhaps, if you took the bag of money into the house and pretended that it already belonged to both of you, and counted it over, something might be accomplished."

The youngest brigand caught the sullen one by the sleeve and whispered in his ear.

"If you want her, let her count the money. If you don't, count it yourself."

The second brigand turned to Asabri. "Excellency," he whispered, "you are as much my father as his."

"True," said Asabri, "what of it?"

"Nothing! Only, the man who owns the barge which I desire to purchase has a very beautiful daughter."

Asabri laughed so that for a moment he could not bend over to crank his car. And he cried aloud:

"France, France, I thank thee for thy champagne! And I thank thee, O Italy, for thy merry hearts and thy suggestive climate!... My son, if the bargeman's daughter is to be had for the asking, she is yours. But we must tell the father that until recently you have been a very naughty fellow."

They remained with the second brigand long enough to see him exchange a kiss of betrothal with the bargeman's daughter, while the bargeman busied himself counting the money; and then they returned to see how the sullen brigand and the pretty widow were getting on.

The sullen brigand was cutting dead-wood out of a fig tree with a saw.

His face was supremely happy. The widow stood beneath and directed him.

"Closer to the tree, stupid," she said, "else the wound will not heal properly."

The youngest brigand laid a hand that trembled upon Asabri's arm.

"Oh, my father," he said, "these doves are already cooing! And it is very far to the place where I would be."

But Asabri went first to the fig tree, and he said to the widow:

"Is all well?"

"Yes," she said, "we have agreed to differ for the rest of our lives. It seems that this stupid fellow needs somebody to look after him. And it seems to be G.o.d's will that that somebody should be I."

"Bless you then, my children," said Asabri; "and farewell! I shall come to the wedding."

They returned the notary to his little home in the village; and the fees which he was to receive for the doc.u.ments which he was to draw up made him so happy that he flung his arms about his wife, who was rather a prim person, and fell to kissing her with the most boisterous good will.

It was dusk when they reached the village in which the sweetheart of the youngest brigand lived. Asabri thought that he had never seen a girl more exquisite.

"And we have loved each other," said the youngest brigand, his arm about her firm, round waist, "since we were children.... I think I am dying, I am so happy."

"Shall you buy a farm, a barge, a business?" asked the banker.

"Whatever is decided," said the girl, "it will be a paradise."

Her old father came out of the house.

"I have counted the money. It is correct."

Then he rolled his fat eyes heavenward, just as the youngest brigand had prophesied, and said: "Bless you, my children!"

"I must be going," said Asabri; "but there is one thing."

Four dark luminous eyes looked into his.

"You have not kissed," said Asabri; "let it be now, so that I may remember."