The Romance of Giovanni Calvotti | Page 7

for it. What do you say?'
What was I likely to say? I told him I would do my best.
'I know that,' he answered. 'Couldn't help it. Good morning.'
This time he really went away. I was confounded by my good fortune. I
scarcely knew what had happened, until my landlady came upstairs
again and asked me if she should get me something to eat. Then I
remembered that I was ravenous. She brought me eggs and ham and
coffee; and when I had finished breakfast I despatched her for a
portmanteau which lay in the care of my estimable uncle, and for
certain parcels of clothing and boots and jewellery. Twenty-three
pounds went in this way. I spread my clothing about the room to

freshen it after its long confinement. Then I dressed, and was delighted
to feel once more like a gentleman. I clapped my hands, and sang, and
rattled gay things on the pianoforte. Then I put on my hat--newly
recovered from my estimable uncle--and went out to buy canvas and
materials for my new picture. I brought these things back in a cab, and
carried them upstairs. When I got them there, I found that I had no
room for so large a canvas. I had managed to get the small canvases
and the little field-easel on which I painted into a good light, but with
this it was impossible. I spoke about it to the landlady.
'If you'll excuse me, sir,' she said, 'I think I could propose an
arrangement as would suit. The ladies below give warning last week,
because the rooms they've got is too expensive.
Now, this little room would do nicely for 'em, with the next, which I
shall be glad and thankful for a chance of giving Mr. Jinks his warning,'
(Jinks was a drunken tailor, my next-room neighbour.) 'Now, sir, if the
rooms below will suit you----'
I told her I was sure they would, and asked her if she would broach the
question with the ladies. She went down at once, and came back shortly
to ask when it would be convenient for me to remove my things. I said
'at any moment,' There was so little property between us all three, that
it was transferred without much trouble in a few minutes. The landlady
agreed that Mr. Jinks should have other accommodation secured for
him in the house until the end of the next week; and for a single day the
ladies were to make themselves at home in this one old room of mine.
Miss Grammont came up the stairs with difficulty, and asked--
'When shall you wish to remove your piano, signor?'
Now, I had already proposed to myself a great pleasure.
'Permit me, madame,' I answered, 'to leave it here for a little time, until
I can arrange my rooms.'
'Certainly,' the lady answered.

'And if madame or her sister play, it will improve the piano to be
played upon, and I shall be vastly gratified.'
Cecilia thanked me with so much energy that I was assured that she
was a devotee to music.
'Would she play?' I asked; and she consented.
She was shy before me, but so eager to put her fingers on the keys that
she conquered all diffidence and went at once to the piano.
When she had played a Sonata of Haydn's, I turned in my enthusiastic
way to her sister and said how I rejoiced to have been able to gratify
genius.
'Genius is a very large word,' said Miss Grammont. Cecilia was playing
something else, and had not heard me.
'Genius is a large word, madame,' I replied. 'But is not that a large style?
Is it not a noble style?'
Cecilia, she allowed, played very finely.
'Finely, madame? 'I respectfully protested--'she should play among the
seraphs. You shall allow me, madame. I am no mean musician. As a
critic I am exact and exacting. Permit me, madame, that I bring my
violin, and play once with Mademoiselle Cecilia.'
She consented. I brought my violin and we played. Cecilia's musical
memory is prodigious. Mine is also retentive and precise. But she had
too much inventive genius for precision, unless the notes were before
her, and sometimes I corrected her. Next, this delicious interlude over, I
begged that the ladies would do me the honour to dine with me.
'You must not be extravagant in your good fortune, signor,' Miss
Grammont said.
'Trust me, madame,' I answered. 'If the day has dawned, I will hasten
no new night and make no artificial curtains.'

Then I went down to paint, and at seven o'clock they joined me at
dinner. The meal was sent in from the famous tavern hard by, and I
think I may say we all enjoyed it. And