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Evening bells, chanting a paen to the sunset, floated across the wide water faint as spirit-chimes, and they were the leitmotif for my entrance. "What a shame to be in motoring things!" I said to Beechy. "Women should have special gondola dresses; I see that already a different one each day.
I should like to have a deep crimson gown and a pale green one lilac too, perhaps, and sunrise-pink, all made picturesquely, not in any stiff modern way." "The costume of your Sisterhood would be pretty in a gondola," Beechy answered. And again that coldness fell upon me which I always feel at a reminder, intentional or unintentional, of the future.
Far away, behind the green netting of their branches, we caught blue flashes of lake and mountain peaks of amethyst, while Beechy wished for a dozen noses dotted about here and there at convenient intervals on her body, so that she might make the most of the perfumed air. "But you would want them all cut off when you got to the nearest town," remarked Aunt Kathryn.
"You may be apt to ask, 'If Sir William is so great and even the best, what is Mr. West's great excellence? Mr. West is a bad colorist in general, but he excels in the grandeur of his thought. Mr. West is to painting what Milton is to poetry, and Sir William Beechy to Mr.
"Mamma's new crown isn't painted on all her baggage yet," said Beechy, living up, with a wicked delight, to her rôle of enfante terrible. "It's being done, but it wasn't promised till the end of the week. Say, Sir Ralph, don't you think she's mean not to give me even so much as half a crown?"
"If I had, I wouldn't " "Oh, don't say you wouldn't. I love to feel you had to," the Angel cried. "I hold you to your word, oh, with all my heart in my right to you. Beechy, your Chauffeulier and I are engaged." "There!" the child exclaimed, with a look at Ralph I couldn't fathom. "Didn't I tell you so?" "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?" was his retort.
"I believe I I'm going to like it by-and-by," gasped Beechy, her eyes as round as half-crowns, and as big. "Maida, have you fainted?" Miss Destrey looked back into the tonneau, her face pale, but radiant. "I wouldn't waste time fainting," said she. "I'm buckling on my wings." "Wish she were a coward!" I thought.
Thus we passed our time, living pleasantly enough. At length we found that the Pindarees had ascended another range of ghauts, and concentrated their forces at a place called Beechy Taull. Towards this place we bent our course, the extent of our daily marches being entirely regulated by the information brought in by our spies.
I was fired by his description, for what I've seen of Northern Italy has stimulated my love for history and the architecture of the ancients; but Prince Dalmar-Kalm persuaded Aunt Kathryn that, as the neighbourhood of Cattaro is our goal, it would be a waste of time to linger on the threshold of Dalmatia. "Why, a little while ago you thought it stupid to go into Dalmatia at all," said Beechy.
Barrymore took me to the little church of San Giorgio degli Schiavoni to see the exquisite Carpaccios, because he was of opinion that Aunt Kathryn and Beechy would prefer to go shopping. Yet, after all, who should appear there but Beechy and Sir Ralph!
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