Sunrise Part 74

"But why should you be so sad, Natalushka?" the mother said, taking her daughter's hand; "don't you know that fine palaces may have rusty keys?

Oh, I can rea.s.sure you on that point. You will not have to deal with persons like your friend the wine-merchant--not at all. I know at least as much as that, child. But you see, they have to guard themselves."

Natalie would not leave the hotel for a moment. She pretended to read; but every person who came into the reading-room caused her to look up with a start of apprehensive inquiry. At last there came a note for her.

She broke open the envelope hurriedly, and found a plain white card, with these words written on it:

"_Be at the Villa Odelschalchi, Portici, at four this afternoon._"

Joy leaped to her face again.

"Mother, look!" she cried, eagerly. "After all, we may hope."

"This time you shall not go alone, Natalushka."

"Why not, mother? I am not afraid."

"I may be of use to you, child. There may be friends of mine there--who knows? I am going with you."

In course of time they hired a carriage, and drove away through the crowded and gayly-colored city in the glow of the afternoon. But they had sufficient prudence, before reaching Portici, to descend from the carriage and proceed on foot. They walked quietly along, apparently not much interested in what was around them. Presently Natalie pressed her mother's arm, they were opposite the Villa Odelschalchi--there was the name on the flat pillars by the gate.

This great plain building, which might have been called a palazzo rather than a villa, seemed, on the side fronting the street, to be entirely closed--all the cas.e.m.e.nts of the windows being shut. But when they crossed to the gate, and pulled the big iron handle that set a bell ringing, a porter appeared--a big, indolent-looking man, who regarded them calmly, to see which would speak first.

Natalie simply produced the card that had been sent to her.

"This is the Villa Odelschalchi, I perceive," she said.

"Oh, it is you, then, signorina?" the porter said, with great respect.

"Yes, there was one lady to come here at four o'clock--"

"But the signora is my mother," said Natalie, perhaps with a trifle of impatience.

The man hesitated for a moment, but by this time Natalie, accompanied by her mother, had pa.s.sed through the cool gray archway into the s.p.a.cious tessellated court, from which rose on each hand a wide marble staircase.

"Will the signorina and the signora her mother condescend to follow me?"

the porter said, leading the way up one of the staircases, the big iron keys still in his hand.

They were shown into an antechamber, but scantily furnished, and the porter disappeared. In a minute or two there came into the room a small, sallow-complexioned man, who was no other than the Secretary Granaglia.

He bowed, and, as he did so, glanced from the one to the other of the visitors with scrutiny.

"It is no doubt correct, signorina," said he, addressing himself to Natalie, "that you have brought the signora your mother with you. We had thought you were alone, from the message we received. No matter; only"--and here he turned to Natalie's mother--"only, signora, you will renew your acquaintance with one who wishes to be known by the name of Von Zoesch. I have no doubt the signora understands."

"Oh, perfectly, perfectly!" said the elder woman: she had been familiar with these prudent changes of name all her life.

The Secretary Granaglia bowed and retired.

"It is some one who knows you, mother?" Natalie said, breathlessly.

"Oh, I hope so!" the other answered. She was a little pale, and her fingers were tightly clasped.

Then a heavier step was heard in the empty corridors outside. The door was opened; there appeared a tall and soldierly-looking man, about six feet three in height and perfectly erect, with closely-cropped white hair, a long white mustache, a reddish face, and clear, piercing, light-blue eyes. The moment the elder woman saw him she uttered a slight cry--of joy, it seemed, and surprise--and sprung to her feet.

"Stefan!"

"Natalie!" he exclaimed, in turn with an almost boyish laugh of pleasure, and he came forward to her with both hands outstretched, and took hers. "Why, what good wind has brought you to this country? But I beg a thousand pardons--"

He turned and glanced at Natalie.

"My child," she said, "let me present you to my old friend, General--"

"Von Zoesch," he interrupted, and he took Natalie's hand at the same time. "What, you are the young lady, then, who bearded the lion in his den this morning?--and you were not afraid? No, I can see you are a Berezolyi; if you were a man you would be forever getting yourself and your friends into sc.r.a.pes, and risking your neck to get them out again.

A Berezolyi, truly! 'The more beautiful daughter of a beautiful mother!'

But the little scamp knew his insulting iambics were only fit to be thrown into the fire when he made that unjust comparison. Ah, you young people have fresh complexions and bright eyes on your side, but we old people prefer our old friends."

"I hope so, sir," said Natalie, with her eyes bent down.

"And had your father no other messenger that he must employ you?" said this erect, white-haired giant, who regarded her in a kindly way; "or is it that feather-brained fellow Calabressa who has got you to intercede for him? Rest a.s.sured. Calabressa will soon be in imminent peril of being laid by the heels, and he is therefore supremely happy."

Before the girl could speak he had turned to the mother.

"Come, my old friend, shall we go out into the garden? I am sorry the reception-rooms in the villa are all dismantled; in truth, we are only temporary lodgers. And I have a great many questions to ask you about old friends, particularly your father."

"Stefan, can you not understand why I have permitted myself to leave Hungary?"

He glanced at her deep mourning.

"Ah, is that so? Well, no one ever lived a braver life. And how he kept up the old Hungarian traditions!--the house a hotel from month's end to month's end: no questions asked but 'Are you a stranger? then my house is yours.'"

He led the way down the stairs, chatting to this old friend of his; and though Natalie was burning with impatience, she forced herself to be silent. Was it not all in her favor that this member of the mysterious Council should recur to these former days, and remind himself of his intimacy with her family? She followed them in silence: he seemed to have forgotten her existence.

They pa.s.sed through the court-yard, and down some broad steps. The true front of the building was on this seaward side--a huge ma.s.s of pink, with green cas.e.m.e.nts. From the broad stone steps a series of terraces, prettily laid out, descended to a lawn; but, instead of pa.s.sing down that way, the tall, soldierly-looking man led his companion by a side-flight of steps, which enabled them to enter an _allee_ cut through a ma.s.s of olives and orange and lemon trees. There were fig-trees along the wall by the side of this path; a fountain plashed coolly out there on the lawn, and beyond the opening showed the deep blue of the sea, with the clear waves breaking whitely on the sh.o.r.es.

They sat down on a garden-seat; and Natalie, sitting next her mother, waited patiently and breathlessly, scarcely hearing all this talk about old companions and friends.

At last the general said,

"Now about the business that brought you here: is it serious?"

"Oh yes, very," the mother said, with some color of excitement appearing in her worn face; "it is a friend of ours in England: he has been charged by the Society with some duty that will cost him his life; we have come to intercede for him--to ask you to save him. For the sake of old times, Stefan--"

"Wait a moment," said the other, looking grave. "Do you mean the Englishman?"

"Yes, yes; the same."

"And who has told you what it is purposed to have done?" he asked, with quite a change in his manner.

"No one," she answered, eagerly; "we guess that it is something of great danger."

"And if that is so, are you unfamiliar with persons having to incur danger? Why not an Englishman as well as another? This is an extraordinary freak of yours, Natalie; I cannot understand it. And to have come so far when any one in England--any one of us, I mean--could have told you it was useless."