lorna returned to fossato feeling as if she had passed through a great crisis. the short week-end and its revelation seemed to have added years to her life. she had never been a typical specimen of "sparkling girlhood," but her new knowledge made her more sedate than ever. it brought her both gain and loss: gain in the fact that she now shared her father's confidence, and could help him to bear his heavy burden, and loss in the sense of a yet wider division between herself and her schoolmates. she realized now, only too bitterly, why her father so persistently shunned all english people. it would surely have been better to have placed her at an italian school than among girls of her own nationality. lorna, naturally morbid and over-sensitive, shrank yet deeper into her shell, and became more sphinx-like than ever. her one bright spot at the villa camellia was her devotion to her buddy. half a dozen other girls had at various periods tried to "take lorna up," but all had promptly dropped her, declaring that they could not get any further, and that she was a solitary "hermit-crab." irene,[94] after one or two ventures, realized that lorna was utterly reserved and uncommunicative, but was content to continue the friendship on a one-sided basis, giving confidences, but receiving none in return. she was a little laughed at in certain quarters on the subject of her chum.
"hope you like crab sauce."
"we're tickled to bits at the pair of you."
"it won't last long."
"shall we give you an oyster-opener for a birthday present?"
"you've got the champion chestnut-bur of the school—aren't you full of prickles?"
"go on!" smiled irene calmly. "i've been teased all my life by my brother, so i'm pretty well bomb-proof. say just what you like. i'm sure i don't care."
it really did not trouble irene that lorna should cling to this habit of closeness. she had so many affairs of her own in which to be interested. she had spent a glorious half-term holiday with her family in their flat at naples, and was delighted to describe every detail of her experiences. she chatted about her relations till lorna knew mr. and mrs. beverley and vincent absolutely well by hearsay, though she had never met them in the flesh. the accounts of their doings gave her a peep of home life such as she had not hitherto realized.
"lovely to be you," she ventured once.
"you must come and see us," replied irene impul[95]sively. "i'll get mother to ask you some day. don't look so scared. they wouldn't eat you. don't you like paying visits? oh well, of course, if you don't want to come i won't worry you. no, i'm not offended. why should i be? let everybody please herself is my motto. oh, don't apologize, for it really doesn't matter in the very least! i'd far rather people were frank and said what they thought."
"i'm going with you to pompeii to-morrow at any rate," said lorna. "i'm glad they've put us both down together for that excursion."
it was part of the educational scheme of miss rodgers and miss morley that the girls should be taken to certain places of interest in the neighborhood. they were carefully prepared in class beforehand, so that they should thoroughly understand what they were going to see. all the school studied greek and roman history, and since christmas there had been special lectures by miss morley on the buried city of pompeii, illustrated by lantern-slides. but photography, however excellent, is a poor substitute for reality when the latter can be obtained. had the villa camellia been situated in england or america no doubt the pupils would have considered those views a tremendous asset to their history class, but being in the near neighborhood of naples they were able to "go one better," and have actual expeditions to pompeii itself. a dozen of the girls, personally conducted by miss morley, were to start[96] on thursday, take their lunch, and make a day of it. most of those chosen were comparative newcomers to the school, or for some reason had not done the excursion before, so it would be a fresh experience to nearly all of them. six seniors and six members of the transition made up the party, with little désirée legrand tagged on at the last as a mascot, because stella and carrie had pointed out that twelve pupils and one mistress would make thirteen at table if they had tea together, and though miss morley had scoffed at such ridiculous superstition, she took désirée all the same to break the possible bad luck. they had the satisfaction of assembling in the hall for the start exactly as their companions were filing into classrooms.
"got your nose-bag?" asked delia, indicating her lunch satchel. "it wouldn't do to leave those behind. i always feel famished when i'm out sightseeing. hope i shan't eat my lunch before the picnic. renie, it's no use lugging that camera with you. you won't be allowed to take any photos inside the ruins, so i warn you."
"miss morley's taking hers," objected irene, loath to relinquish the object in question.
"miss morley has a special government permit to sketch or photo in pompeii. nobody may take the slightest snap-shot or drawing without. i've been once before, so i know, madam doubtful. you'll see ever so many officials will ask to look at miss morley's ticket. why? because the place would[97] get choked up with artists i suppose. and also they want to sell their own photos. you'll be pestered to buy post-cards outside the gates."
"i'd adore to get just one or two snaps," persisted irene. "i won't take this big camera, but i'll slip my wee one inside my pocket, and see if i find a chance."
"are you ready, girls?" came miss morley's voice from the porch, and the waiting thirteen formed into double line and marched.
they were to go by the electric tram from fossato to castellamare, from which it was only a comparatively short drive to pompeii. the jogging, jolting, little tramcar ran along the coast, linking up several towns and villages and conveying people intent on either business or pleasure. there were many visitors anxious to make the excursion to-day, but the contingent from the villa camellia had posted themselves by the statue of garibaldi in the square, and scrambled for the car as soon as it arrived, boarding it with three hatless italian girls, two women with orange baskets, a sailor carrying a little boy, and a stout old padre, who apologized prettily for pushing.
"we did those folks from the hotel royal," chuckled delia, sitting on irene's knee for lack of further accommodation. "did you ever see a tram fill up quicker? i'm afraid i'm heavy. i know i'm an awful lump. we'll take it in turns, and i'll nurse you after a while. i call this rather priceless.[98] everybody's good-tempered even if they do hustle. they don't seem to mind people treading on their toes. it's infectious. i catch myself smiling, and i'd jolly well frown as a rule if any one yanked a basket into my back."
"i think it's the climate," remarked irene. "in a london tram most faces don't look too cheerful, but with this sky overhead people are simply chirping like crickets. it's like a perpetual summer holiday."
the car was rattling along the steep coast road through miles of glorious scenery. on the left was an ultramarine sea, with white-sailed boats, and to the right lay cliffs and olive groves. some of the trees were covered with catkins, and others had already burst into green leaf; gorgeous yellow genistas clothed the hillsides, and the banks were dappled with blue borage and marigolds. there were so many things to look at from either window of the tram; goats were feeding along the crags, and a gray businesslike battle-ship was wending its way across the harbor in the direction of naples. they passed through several small towns or villages, getting a vivid impression of the lives of the inhabitants, who, on sunny days, seemed to do much of their domestic work out of doors, and to peel potatoes, wash salads, cook on charcoal braziers, sew, mend shoes, make lace, and pursue many other vocations on the pavements in front of the houses, and so far from being disturbed by onlookers, would[99] smile and even wave friendly hands at the strangers on the tramcar.
"that darling old soul in the green apron blew me a kiss," chuckled delia. "she looks as happy as a queen, though she's probably living on about ten cents a day."
"did you see them dressing the baby on the pavement?" squealed stella. "they were winding it round and round in yards of bandages exactly like old italian pictures. i didn't know it was done nowadays."
"oh! look at the carts drawn by bullocks."
"and the lamb with its fleece all combed out and tied with blue ribbons."
"that's because it's mid-lent."
"don't you see the baby donkey? there! quick!"
in her efforts to watch everything at once delia craned her neck through the window of the car and away went her school hat, sailing over a bridge and down into a deep ravine below, lost forever so far as she was concerned, as the tram certainly would not stop and wait while she searched for it.
"you've come down a peg in life, old sport, that's all," laughed carrie. "in italy wearing a hat is a sign of gentility. no work-girl ever has one on her head even on sundays. i offered a cast-off of mine to the bonne at a hotel once, and she eyed it longingly, but said she daren't wear it if she took it, her friends would think it such swank."[100]
"what do they have on in church then?" asked delia.
"handkerchiefs, of course. every neapolitan has one handy to slip round her head at the church door. it must save millinery bills."
"and they all have the most beautiful hair. hello! here we are at the terminus. what a crowd of beggars. they look like brigands waiting to pounce on us. help!"
once out of the shelter of the tramcar the girls made the unpleasant discovery that in italy begging is not forbidden, but quite a recognized profession with certain of the poorer classes. they were immediately surrounded by a ragged rabble, some of whom exhibited sores or other unsightly afflictions to compel compassion, and all of whom held out dirty hands and persistently clamored for money. the blind, the halt, and the maimed were there, evidently regarding tourists as their legitimate prey, and bent upon claiming all the charity they could get.
"don't give them anything," commanded miss morley, anxiously keeping her little flock in tow, and shepherding them towards the piazza where the carriages could be hired. "just say niente, and shake your heads. hold a safe hand on your purses and stick together. don't get separated on any account."
with considerable difficulty they forced their way across the square, and thankfully took refuge in[101] several waiting landaus, whose drivers, feeling sure of their patronage, promptly raised their terms high above the ordinary tariff. it was only after much bargaining on the part of miss morley that they consented to fix a reasonable sum for the excursion to pompeii.
"miss morley talks italian like a native, so they can't 'do' her," rejoiced stella proudly. "aren't they the absolute limit? no, i don't want to buy a comb, or corals, or brooches, or post-cards, or anything. they seem to think we're made of money. why can't they let us alone? there, thank goodness, we're off at last and can leave the whole persuasive crew of them behind us!"
the five-mile drive from castellamare was part of the fun of the excursion, but pompeii was, of course, the main object, and there was much excitement when they at last drew up at the great iron gate. miss morley bought tickets for the party, and they were assigned a guide, a smiling italian of superlative politeness, bearing a badge with the number 24 upon it.
"i asked for one who could speak english, but they're all out with other visitors," explained miss morley. "never mind. it's a good opportunity of testing your italian, and i can interpret if you don't understand."
in spite of the lantern-slides which they had previously been shown, the girls had come with varying expectations of what they were to see. some imag[102]ined they would walk into a roman city exactly as it stood when buried by the ashes of the great eruption of a.d. 79; others thought there would be a few interesting things peeping up here and there amid mounds of cinders. none had imagined it would be so large.
as a matter of fact the remains are simply the bare ruins of a town destroyed by burning ashes, which have been extricated from the rubbish accumulated during more than seventeen centuries. the paved streets and the roofless and broken walls of the houses still remain, with here and there some building that by a fortunate chance escaped, either in whole or in part, the general catastrophe, and suffice to show the general style and beauty of the græco-roman architecture of the first century. the guide marshaled his party along, pointing out to them the various objects of interest that had been excavated, the beautiful marble drinking-fountain, the marble counters of the shops, identical with those still used in southern italy, the wine jars of red earthenware, the hand-mills for grinding corn, the brick ovens, or the vaults where wine had been stored. they went into the site of the ancient market, and the forum and several temples, and walked up long flights of steps and admired rows of broken columns, and saw the public swimming-baths with their tasteful wall decorations and the niches where the bathers had placed their clothes, and they admired the law-courts, and marveled at the great[103] theater that had been wont to hold five thousand spectators.
the general impression was one of utter desolation. the mighty ruins lay in the bright italian sunshine, and, close above, vesuvius frowned over the scene, as if still watching the result of his deadly handiwork. who had lived in those blackened fire-swept houses, and walked in those grass-grown streets? it was difficult to imagine the busy thronging crowds that once must have peopled all these silent haunts, where the only signs of life were the little green lizards that darted over the crumbling walls.
certain of the best houses were railed round and kept carefully locked, and inside these could be seen what was left of the domestic life of civilized pompeii. the girls enjoyed looking at the rooms in the casa dei vettii, with the exquisite paintings of cupids still left upon the scarlet walls, they laughed at the quaint mosaic of the chained dog with its warning cave canem (beware of the dog!), and they went into ecstasies over the lovely little statue of the dancing faun and some terracottas of venus and mercury. one link with the past was left in the fact that a few of the houses still preserved the names and even the portrait-busts of their former owners.
"my! doesn't he look boss of the place still? i wonder if i ought to leave my visiting card for him," declared delia, staring at the green marble[104] representation of cecilius giscondis, a banker by profession.
the others laughed. they had all been feeling rather oppressed, and were glad to break the ice.
"i'm so tired, i should think we must have walked miles," groaned lorna.
"and i'm on the point of famishing," protested irene, slapping her lunch-bag with a resounding smack.
miss morley turned round at the sound, and possibly caught the remark, for she spoke hastily to the guide, then suggested that the girls should sit in a row on a fallen column and consume their provisions.
"you all need a rest and something to eat now. then we'll go on with our sightseeing, and have tea at the restaurant when we've finished," she decreed.
never were ham sandwiches and oranges so acceptable. viewing ruins may be extremely interesting, but it is a highly fatiguing occupation, and delia at least had reached the stage of the over-burdened camel.
"i guess i don't like anything b.c. it's too depressing. give me paris!" she declared tragically.
"cheer up, old sport!" consoled irene. "i'm going to take a snap-shot of some of us when the guide isn't looking. you shall be in it. you'd like to send some prints to your friends in america, wouldn't you?"[105]
"rather! they'd burst with envy to see me photographed inside pompeii. where are you going to take us? i've finished my lunch. let's get busy quick, before the guide comes round the corner."
delia was prancing with eagerness. she flitted about like a butterfly, bent on choosing the best position for the desired snap-shot. blanche, mabel, and elsie came hurrying up anxious to join the group, and fixed themselves in elegant poses.
"oh, i can't put in such a crowd," objected irene. "you block out the whole of the view. i only want delia and lorna, and yes, i'll have désirée, but nobody else. please clear out of the way."
"well, really!"
"you mean thing!"
"we don't want to be in your old photo!"
irene had felt cross and was possibly impolite, but she was not prepared for the nemesis that descended upon her head. she had just congratulated herself that blanche, mabel, and elsie had beaten a retreat and that she had been able to take her snap-shot so successfully, when who should make his unwelcome appearance but the guide, catching her in the very act of winding on her film. he sighed sorrowfully, and spread out his hands with a dramatic italian gesture.
"signorina! non e permesso!" he objected.
"'signorina! it is not permitted!'" "'signorina! it is not permitted!'"
—page 105
"i'm awfully sorry. i won't do it again, really,"[106] murmured irene, cramming the little camera back into her pocket.
but this apology did not content no. 24. he very courteously, but quite firmly, insisted upon temporarily confiscating the prohibited article. miss morley, who hurried up at the sound of the altercation, took the side of the authorities.
"who brought a camera? irene! you knew it was not allowed. yes, you must let the guide have it. he'll give it back to you at the gate. i hope there won't be any trouble about it. i believe you can be fined. it was very naughty of you to do such a thing."
much crestfallen irene retired into the rear of the party, and bewailed the fate of her snap-shots.
"it was hard luck the guide should pop round the corner that exact minute," she groaned.
"mabel fetched him," squeaked désirée. "i could see over the railing, and i watched her go. she was mad that you wouldn't put her in the photo."
"what a sneaking trick to play. she's the meanest girl. i wouldn't have told about her. i hope no. 24 won't take the spool out of the camera, because there are three undeveloped snaps of the villa camellia on it, and i shall be wild if i lose them. he couldn't be so heartless. if i only knew italian better i'd try and coax him."[107]
the guide had obligingly waited while the girls ate lunch, but he now waxed impatient, and hurried his party on to the house of pansa. this must have been quite a palatial residence, and showed such perfect examples of the arrangement of the various rooms in a roman mansion that they lingered a long time looking at the atrium, the tablinum, the peristyle, and the kitchen with its curious mosaics of snakes. now, though it was all very interesting, it was certainly tiring, and some of the girls grew weary of listening to the guide's descriptions in italian or miss morley's explanations.
"i'm bored stiff," confessed delia, in a whisper, linking on to irene's arm. "if i have any more information crammed into my head it will burst. i know quite enough about ancient customs already. all i can say is i'm thankful i'm living now instead of then. renie, if you love me, take me out of ear-shot of miss morley and let me chatter and frivol."
"poor old sport!" laughed irene. "let's slip away and take another turn round the garden while the guide finishes haranguing. i'm out of friends with him since he stole my camera. he doesn't deserve anybody to listen to him. i've a few chocs left in this package. you shall have some to cheer you up. they're modern at any rate."
"you mascot!" murmured delia. "stella says i'm a goth, but why need i like old things? did the pompeians take their schoolgirls to look at buried[108] greek cities, or were they satisfied with their own times? how soon do you think we shall have tea? these chocs have saved my life, but i'm longing for bread and butter and buns."
"why, we haven't finished lunch very long."
"i ate more than half of mine in the carriage, so i hadn't much left. hello! where have the others been? i didn't know there was a way up there."
the rest of the party were clattering down a flight of wooden steps with many expressions of admiration for what they had seen at the top.
"perfectly beautiful! the finest view of all," purred miss morley. "renie and delia, didn't you go up? you silly girls. you've missed a treat. no, i'm afraid we can't wait now. the guide is anxious to take us on. we haven't seen the house of sallust yet or the street of tombs. i want to ask him whether they've been doing any more excavations near the herculaneum gate."
miss morley, deep in conversation with no. 24, passed on, in the full belief that all her flock were following behind her. irene and delia, however, were determined to have just one peep at the view from the top of the wall, so both made a dash up the wooden staircase. from here there was a glorious prospect of the entire city with its arches and columns and broken temples, its cypress trees, and its somber background of smoking mountain. they could see exactly the way they had come from the entrance, and could tell which was the street of[109] fortune and which the street of abundance. it was so fascinating that they lingered rather longer than they intended.
"they'll be waiting for us," ventured irene at last.
"oh, bother! so they will," exclaimed delia, rushing down prepared for a scolding.
but the others had not waited. they had all simply walked on, and the custodian had locked the gate behind them. it was fast closed, and no amount of shaking would move it.
"we're shut in," gasped irene. "where's the porter? he ought to be somewhere about with the key."
the custodian, quite oblivious of the fact that anybody had been left inside the house of pansa, was reading a newspaper and eating bread and garlic under his wooden shed farther down the street, where he would remain till the next guide came along with a party and requested admission. so he did not hear, though the girls thumped and called and made a very considerable noise. they were both horribly frightened.
"shall we have to stay here all night?"
"i'd be scared to death."
"think of the spooks!"
"why the whole place must be simply chock-full of ghosts after sunset."
"couldn't we jump from the wall?"
"i wish i'd never come. oh, i hate things b.c.! i shall have fits in a minute."[110]
fortunately for delia's nerves they were not kept long in durance vile. lorna very soon discovered the loss of her buddy, drew miss morley's attention to the matter, and the whole party hastened back to look for them. the custodian was fetched from his wooden shelter and unlocked the door, loudly disclaiming any responsibility on his part, and blaming the guide.
"it's your own fault," scolded miss morley. "you really must keep with the party. i can't have any of you wandering off alone. you can't expect me to count you every time we come out of a building. i put you on your parole not to get separated again."
"we won't indeed, indeed! we don't like being lost," promised the delinquents earnestly.
everybody, including the principal, was very tired by this time, and not altogether sorry when the guide finished his tour of the ruins, and conducted them safely back again to the entrance.
"it's glorious, but you want days to see it in, instead of only a few hours," sighed phyllis.
"and cast-iron backs and legs," agreed sybil. "i shall enjoy thinking it over when i'm home, but i'm ready to drop at the present moment."
"what about my camera?" asked irene anxiously.
the guide had not forgotten it; he produced it from his pocket, and—perhaps in consideration of the tip he had received from miss morley—he did[111] not confiscate the spool, but handed it over intact with a polite gesture and a cryptic smile.
"grazie molto—molto!" murmured irene, which meant "thanks awfully," and was one of the very few italian phrases which she knew.
everybody was extremely glad to adjourn to the restaurant, where tea had been ordered for their party, and a table reserved for them. the big room was full of visitors and rather noisy; a band of musicians in the center rendered neapolitan songs to an accompaniment of mandolins and guitars, and occasionally the audience joined the choruses. the performance was not of the highest quality, but it was tuneful and interesting to those who had not before heard the folk-songs of southern italy. after tea the girls made a rush to buy post-cards and other mementoes of pompeii, which were on sale in a room next to the restaurant, and would have spent half an hour over their purchases had not miss morley collected her flock and insisted on a homeward start. poor little désirée slept all the way back in the tramcar, with her head on stella's shoulder, and most of the party were in much more sober spirits than when they had started. all felt, however, that it was a never-to-be-forgotten experience.
"i'd adore to go again sometime," ventured lorna, clasping a model of a pompeian lamp, which her chum had given her for a souvenir.
"so would i," agreed irene. "miss morley calls[112] this 'part of our education,' and i think it's a very sensible way of teaching things. i hope she'll take us to other places."
"you'll get vesuvius if your conduct sheet is all right."
"oh, lovely! i'd rather go there than even to pompeii."
"the same this child," chipped in delia. "renie, i guess you and i will have to shake ourselves up and reform for a week or two. we were in miss morley's black book to-day, and if we don't take care we shall be left out of the next excursion."
"i'll be an absolute saint," promised irene. "you'll see me sprouting wings. i'm going to draw a physical map of the world and mark in all the principal volcanoes, and then show it to miss morley. she'll think it so brainy of me and be so glad i'm interested in the subject. she'd really feel i ought to see vesuvius after that."
"you schemer! it's not a bad idea though, and perhaps i'll do the same, though i hate drawing maps. hello! is this the piazza? i'd no idea we'd got back to fossato so soon. yes, it's been a 'happy day,' but i feel all i want now is supper and bed."
