The Net: A Novel | Page 5

again.
After a brief gallop they drew up at a big, dark house, hidden among
the deeper shadows of many trees, and in answer to Martel's shout a
wide door was flung back; then by the light which streamed forth from
it they dismounted and made their way up a flight of stone steps. Once
inside, Savigno exclaimed:
"Welcome to my birthplace! A thousand welcomes!" Seizing Norvin by
the shoulders, he whirled him about. "Let me see you once. Ah! I am
glad you made this sacrifice for me, for I need you above all men." His
eyes, though bright with affection, were grave--something unusual in
him--and the other inquired, quickly:
"There's nothing wrong, I hope?"
Savigno tossed his head and smiled.
"Wrong! What could be wrong with me now that you are here? No! All
is quite right, but I have been accursed with lonesomeness. Something

was lacking, It was you, caro mio. Now, however, I am the most
contented of mortals. But you must be famished, so I will show you to
your room at once. Francesca has provided a feast for us, I assure you."
"Give me a moment to look around. So this is the castello? Jove! It's
ripping!"
Blake found himself in a great hall similar to many he had seen in his
European wanderings, but ruder and older by far. He judged the
castello to be of Norman build, but remodeled to suit the taste of the
Savigni. To the right, through an open door, he saw a large room where
a fat Sicilian woman was laying the table; to the left was a
drawing-room lighted only by a fire of fagots in a huge, black fireplace,
the furniture showing curiously distorted in the long shadows. Other
rooms opened towards the rear, and he realized that the old place was
very large. It was unkempt also, and showed the lack of a woman's
hand.
"You exaggerate!" said Savigno. "After Paris the castello will seem
very mean. We Siciliani do not live in grand style, and, besides, I have
spent practically no time here, since my father (may the saints receive
him) left me free to wander. The place has been closed; the old servants
have gone; it is dilapidated."
"On the contrary, it's just the sort of place it should be--venerable and
overflowing with romance. You must rule like a medieval baron. Why,
you could sell this woodwork to some millionaire countryman of mine
for enough to realize a fortune."
"Per Dio! If taxes are not reduced I shall be forced to some such
expedient," the Count laughed. "It was my mother's home, it is my
birthplace, so I love it--even though I neglect it. As you perceive, it is
high time I took a wife. But enough! If you are lacking in appetite, I am
not, and Francesca is an unbearable tyrant when her meals grow cold."
He led his friend up the wide stairs and left him to prepare for supper.
"And so this ends it all," said Blake, as the two young men lounged in
the big, empty drawing-room later that evening. They had dined and
gossiped as only friends of their age can gossip, had relived their
adventures of the past three years, and still were loath to part, even for
sleep.
"How so?" queried Savigno. "You speak of marriage as if it were
dissolution."

"It might as well be, so far as the other fellow is concerned."
"Nonsense! I shall not change."
"Oh, yes, you will! Besides, I am returning to America."
"Even so, we are rich; we shall travel; we shall meet frequently. You
will come to Sicily. Perhaps the Contessa and I may even go to
America. Friendship such as ours laughs at the leagues."
But Blake was pessimistic. "Perhaps she won't like me."
Martel laughed at this.
"Impossible! She is a woman, she has eyes, she will see you as I see
you. More than that, I have told her that she must love you."
"Then that does settle it! You have hung the crepe on our future
intimacy, for good and all. She will instruct your cook to put a spider in
my dumpling or to do away with me by some characteristic Sicilian
method."
Martel seemed puzzled by the Americanism of this speech, but Norvin
merely smiled and changed to Italian.
"Do you really love her?" he asked.
"Of course! Since I was a boy so high I have known we would marry.
She adores me, she is young, she is beautiful, she is--rich!"
"In Heaven's name don't use that tone in speaking of her wealth. You
make me doubt you."
"No, no!" The Count smiled. "It would be the same if she were a
peasant girl. We shall be so happy--oh, there is no expressing