The Romance of Giovanni Calvotti | Page 4

You will permit me to ask you not to humiliate
yourself.'
'But, signor,' she urged, 'it is very hard for you to go----'
'My good-hearted, dutiful little English lady,' I took the liberty to say,
for I was very much in earnest,' it is not at all hard for me to go without
the coffee and the tobacco and the loaf. Above all, I do not lose my
self-respect or touch my pride when I go without the coffee and the
tobacco and the loaf. And now, mademoiselle, since it is our scheme to
rout my lady enemy in the morning, we will despoil her of her triumph
now by not caring for her or it, and by snapping our fingers at her--So.'
Whilst we had talked I had closed the door, and now I crossed over to
my picture and began to work again. She still lingered, watching me
whilst I painted.
'Are you fond of pictures?' I asked her, to divert her thoughts.
'I have not seen many, but I am very fond of some of them.'
'Would you like to look at those?' I said, pointing with my brush to a
portfolio on the piano.
She opened the portfolio and looked through my sketches. I saw with
pleasure that she did not race over them, but that she stopped and
looked long at some. I could see from where I stood that they were the

best, and I said, 'The young lady has taste and discernment.'
Suddenly she clapped her two hands together, and said--
'Oh!'
Then she came to me with a sketch in her hands, and her face was
beautiful.
'Did you paint this, signor?'
'Yes, mademoiselle, I painted that. Why do you ask?'
'Poor old place!' she said very softly, without knowing that she said it at
all.
It was a picturesque old house in Surrey. The house stood in a hollow,
and the road wound up past it on to a long rolling wold. (That is the
beautiful word your poet Tennyson uses. The country-people, the
peasantry, use it also.) She had cried so much that her eyes were ready
for tears again at almost anything. When she looked at me they were
brim-full, but they did not run over.
'We lived here with papa,' she said, 'till he died.'
Then two big tears brimmed over and ran down. I committed an
indiscretion: I was sorry for her, and I kissed her. She drew away with
much dignity and said--
'I have stayed too long. Good morning, signor.'
I blushed. She was so much a child, and I feel myself so old, that I had
not thought it any indiscretion. And now I remember that I have been
writing of her as a child. She is quite a grown girl--a young lady. She is
perhaps more than seventeen years of age. I was a brute beast--an
insensate--to frighten her. Before I could say anything she was gone.
I abused myself in my vehement Continental way, and then I began to
work. The picture was but little hurt, and before daylight was over it

was almost repaired. But I had heard the clock strike seven, and my
estimable uncle round the corner retires at that hour into the country,
and will have no business again until nine o'clock in the morning. So,
to prevent myself from thinking too much of the coffee and the tobacco
and the loaf, I sat down to my piano and played. One would have
thought that my sitting down to play was a signal, for I had scarcely
begun when my landlady tapped at my door and brought a note. She
looked shyly at the picture, and hoped it had not suffered much. I told
her gaily that it was all the better for the accident, as in reality it was.
Then I read my note.
'Miss Grammont presents her compliments to Signor Calvotti, and
requests that he will oblige her by his company at tea this evening.
Miss Grammont begs that Signor Calvotti will forgive this intrusion,
and will forget that no formal introduction has taken place between
them.'
I read this over twice, and then asked the landlady--
'Who is Miss Grammont?'
'She's the sister of the young lady who had the accident with your
picture, sir,' said the landlady. 'She's a middle-aged lady, sir, and very
badly lame. But she's got an angel temper, and ways that sweet as I
never saw anybody like her. I do hope you'll go, sir. She's on the floor
below.'
'Present my most distinguished compliments, madame, and say that I
will do myself the honour to be there. At what hour?'
'Tea's getting ready now, sir,' said the landlady.
When she had gone, I washed myself and put on a clean shirt,