in the quiet of the sacristy the priest listened to the stories of armando and the banker, and gained a clear knowledge of juno’s fantastic plot to secure a marble portrait and a rich husband. so true did it all ring that father nicodemo saw no pressing need to search the records of the city’s bureau of vital statistics. he told signor tomato it would be enough that he bring the husband in evidence, and he, the priest, would see to it that the woman was confronted with him and the truth drawn from her own lips. the holy man saw in their timely interruption an act of providence that had saved san patrizio from being the scene of a horrid sin. but to armando the [pg 256]situation had nothing to offer of comfort. the work of his life had come to naught. the bust that was to make him a high figure in the american market had been turned with cruel suddenness to a bit of unvalued stone. oh, the mockery of it! instead of the first lady of the land, he had given his heart and hand and brain to what?—the last lady of mulberry! to the sculptor’s plaint the banker added his, and the priest, feeling for them warmly, and knowing no deed that could help, offered them the anodyne of words. fellows in misery, they left the church together, after armando had searched for and recovered the valise that he had flung down, he knew not where, when he followed juno to the altar. side by side they walked through mulberry, exchanging doleful tales. they were passing before casa di bello, when signor tomato halted abruptly and said:
“behold, comrade, the root of all our woe! she wanted to get into that house. bertino has told me all. but fate has [pg 257]beaten her as well as us. ’twixt the wish and the prize high mountains arise.”
they stood a moment looking up at the windows, when the massive door swung open, and marianna, clearing the steps at a bound, threw herself into the arms of armando, who, by the lucky chance of having just set down his burdensome valise, was ready to receive her with equal fervour.
“joy! grand joy!” she cried. “he is married, and we are saved.”
“excuse me,” said the banker. “i will go. addio, my friend; we shall meet again.”
muttering a proverb, he made off for the caffè of the three gardens, where he intended to put up for the night in order to be on hand for the early morning market and dispose of his remaining dandelions.
“saved?” said armando in mournful wonder. “glory to the splendid name, i have found you—you are left to me, my [pg 258]precious, but all else is lost. you remember my juno and the peacock?”
“the hogs of genoa had no eyes for its beauty,” she answered.
“well, i have made another juno.”
“dio! what do you mean?”
“the presidentessa is a juno.”
they seated themselves on the top stair of the stoop, and dolefully armando went over the episode at the church. in a voice that took flights of passion and with gestures theatric he gave again the cries of “long live the king!” that resounded in the sicilian quarter, and re-enacted the drama at the altar. bitterly he told of his delusion that the haughty woman in the carriage was the presidentessa, and how the spell lasted until the sacristans broke it by gripping his arms. he made known to her a secret that the banker had disclosed to the priest but had guarded in the presence of signor di bello: juno’s husband was bertino!
so wrapped was armando in the telling and marianna in the listening that neither [pg 259]heard the soft footfall of aunt carolina, who had drawn near and stood at the open door drinking in the delicious narrative. when he said that the priest had put off the marriage for a week so that the banker might have time to present his proofs she could repress her exultation no longer. with an outcry of delight she startled the young people to their feet.
“sanctified be the name of father nicodemo, and maria the spotless preserve bertino forever!”
marianna and armando stood abashed because detected in the crime of being together on land after all carolina’s pains to keep them apart on shipboard. to his further confusion, she put forth her hand and bade him enter the house. she would know more of signor tomato, this man who had bertino in his keeping. whither had he removed the bust? where was bertino to be found? armando was able to answer both questions; also to recite the facts about bertino’s harmless knife-play upon his [pg 260]uncle’s shoulder, his flight from the city, and the finding of him by the banker asleep in a water pipe.
while armando’s message gave carolina the elation of promised triumph, it brought gloom to marianna. well the girl read the soul of her guardian. surely this sudden revival of carolina’s spirits had but one meaning—a return to the scheme of uniting her in marriage with signor di bello. but the horrid prospect did not strike so much terror to her soul now, for there dwelt a sweet assurance in the face of armando, who was by her side. he would stand between her and this nuptial danger. she felt a strength equal to a firm repulse of carolina—a strength that was lacking two hours before in that awful drive from the steamship.
for the first time the gristly heart of carolina pulsed almost warmly for bertino. now he stood forth in white light as the blessed agent who had kept juno out of that house—the knight who had slain the dragon [pg 261]of a threatening wife by marrying her. for once the truth burned into her consciousness that marriage was a crowning success. only one more union—that of her brother and marianna—and the strife would be over, her power firmly embedded. she would go to bertino at once and lend him the aid he needed; at the same time she would gratify her thirst to make sure that all was as armando had recounted.
“to-morrow,” armando said, “i am going to jamaica with signor tomato. the signorina could accompany us. then we shall see poor bertino and—my poor marble.”
“perhaps it shall not prove such a poor marble,” she said, with a look and nodding of the head that suggested some future act of gratitude for the helpful service to her cause which the bust had rendered. “when shall you set off for jamaica?”
“as soon as signor tomato has sold out his dandelions.”
he promised to inform her directly that urgent purpose should be accomplished and [pg 262]attend her on the journey to jamaica. but where was signor di bello? a shuddering dread showed itself in carolina’s face as she asked the question, which no one could answer. had he gone elsewhere for a priest, and would he return after all with the singer and that mob of calabriani, siciliani, and napolitani pigs?
at that particular moment her brother was quaffing a glass of his favourite barbera in the caffè of the three gardens, whither he had driven to buttress his nerve after setting down juno at her lodgings. the ordeal of facing carolina and explaining matters was one that he shrank from meeting without due consideration and the aid of vinous fortitude.
“courage, my angel,” he had said, as he handed juno from the carriage. “on the feast of sunday next all will be well. father nicodemo will find that he has been the plaything of idiots, and you shall go with me to casa di bello.”
lifting her purple skirts clear of the sidewalk, and taking care that they did not [pg 263]brush the shabby staircase, juno climbed to the door of luigia the garlic woman. to the astonished landlady she observed calmly:
“signora, i shall need the room for another week.”
“but how is this? you go to church to be married, and you return without a husband. body of an elephant! brides did not so in my day.”
without making reply juno went to her little dark room and, removing the wedding finery, folded the dress with great care, put it in the trunk, with the yellow boots on top, and closed the lid.
“maybe i shall need them, after all,” she told herself.
the recollection that her trump card had not been played gave back her hope of yet entering casa di bello.
the presence of signor di bello, alone and long of face, at the three gardens brought upon his head a rain of banter from a dozen boon comrades. when the storm of gibes and rib-tickling surmises as to the [pg 264]cause of his wifeless state had reached its height the form of the banker darkened the door. signor di bello jumped to his feet, and, taking the middle of the smoky room, brandished his finger dramatically at the newcomer.
“there, signori!” he cried, bulging with fury, “there is the dog that barked away my bride! a meddler, a numskull! he comes from satan knows where with a cock-and-bull tale about somebody—heaven knows whom—somebody who is the husband of my promised bride. a simpleton of a priest swallows his story like a forkful of spaghetti, and, presto! my wedding is put off for a week! by the egg of columbus, a fine team of donkeys!”
“infame! infame!” came from the men at the tables, which resounded with the blows of their horny fists.
bridget would have been proud of her tomato could she have seen him at this crucial moment. fine was the scorn with which he looked from face to face, and, [pg 265]smiling in imperial contempt of the whole company, dropped into a chair.
“there is a proverb, signori,” he said, “which comes to me at this moment: some men heave a sigh when the sun shows his eye.”
“bah!” roared signor di bello. “did i not tell you, my friends, that his head is filled with polenta?” (corn-meal mush.)
“and yours has not even polenta in it!” retorted the banker, rising and clapping his hands close to signor di bello’s face. “if it were not empty, do you know what you would do? you would thank me for what i have done to-day. would you have me tell the name of this husband whom nobody knows, who comes from satan knows where? would you?”
“the name! the name!” from signor di bello and the others.
“well, his name is bertino manconi. do you know him? no? i will tell you: he is your nephew. he comes from genoa. do you know where that is? he once put [pg 266]a knife into your shoulder because he caught you playing the fool with his wife. do you remember that?”
“where is bertino?” asked signor di bello, his voice grave and husky, every other tongue in the room silenced.
“at my villa in the country. to-morrow you shall see him if you come with me.”
“i will go with you.”
“very good. when my dandelions are sold out i shall be at your disposal.”
it was long past the dinner hour when aunt carolina heard the sound of her brother’s latch-key in the lock. she was in the hall when he entered. he did not feign surprise at seeing her. they embraced, and kissed each other on both cheeks.
“you are home a week before i expected you,” he said.
“yes; i could not leave you alone any longer. ah! my dear brother, san giorgio has watched over us this day.”
“why?” he asked, though aware that [pg 267]she, like all mulberry, knew of his disappointment, and meant his deliverance from juno.
carolina answered, pointing to the untouched wedding feast: “we have many sweets that will not keep. they will be of use to father nicodemo for his poor.”
she could not resist sounding a stealthy note of triumph. a few hours before he would have answered, “the sweets will keep a week, and then i shall need them for my wedding feast.” but since the bout with tomato his hope had waned steadily, just as the conviction had grown stronger that the banker’s case against juno would be proved. morose of spirit he sought his bed, sighing as he reflected how ruthlessly the events of the day had shattered his long-fondled dreams.
