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Updated: August 20, 2024
Comic Opera Co., N.Y. "Kitty has been here!" "Perfectly true. But I wonder." "Wonder about what?" asked Merrihew. "Who La Signorina Capricciosa is. Whimsical indeed. She must be the mysterious prima donna." He studied the easy-flowing hand, and ran his fingers through his hair thoughtfully. Then he frowned. "What is it?" asked Merrihew curiously.
Hillard threw off his hat and coat and lighted his pipe. Merrihew paced the floor for some time, his head full of impossible schemes. He stopped in the middle of the room with an abruptness which portended something. "I have it. Instead of going directly to Venice, we'll change the route and go to Monte Carlo. I'll risk my four hundred, and if I win!"
Hillard refused to canter, so the two walked their horses all the way into Florence. Merrihew spoke but seldom and Hillard not at all. By now the sun had gone down, and deep purple clouds swarmed across the blue face of heaven, forecasting a storm.... It was not dishonorable for him to love this woman, but it was not honorable for her to listen.
And the hundred pink and white villages, the jade and amethyst of the near and far islands, the smiling terraces above the city, the ruined temples, the grim giant ash-heap of Vesuvius! "That is it," said Merrihew, whose flights of rhetoric were most simplified. "Vedi Napoli e poi mori!" replied Hillard. "Hold on," exclaimed Merrihew. "Pass it out slowly. What's that mean?" "See Naples and die."
This sounded important, and Merrihew scrambled to his feet. Yes, he, too, could see this unexpected cantatrice. In fact, everybody was beginning to stand up. All interest was centered in this new voice. Then, as if conscious of this interest, the singer sat down, but still kept to the melody. Achille backed out of the jam, stole round the barge, and craftily approached the outstanding gondola.
"I'll wager another magnum," cried Merrihew from across the room, "that I'm the subject under discussion." "Another magnum!" murmured O'Mally rapturously. "No more magnums," said Kitty resolutely. "On abstract principles, then!" insisted Merrihew. "You win," Kitty replied merrily. "We have been saying only nice things about you."
A riding-master in the Via Lorenzo ii Magnifico agreed to board them against the time of sale. In the three days in Florence they had been through the galleries and the museums; and Merrihew, to his great delight, began to find that he could tell a Botticelli from a Lippi at first glance. He was beginning to understand why people raved over this style or that.
Hillard, having been in the saddle and the open air for two weeks, was in prime condition; and he gave the ex-champion a pretty handful. But constant practice told in the end, and Hillard was beaten. It was fine sport to Merrihew; the quick pad-pad of the feet on the mat, the short triumphant cries as the foil bent almost double, and the flash of the whites of their eyes behind the mask.
The situation was explained, and he procured a candle. He was ultimately successful. "Here it is, sir." "Don't touch it!" warned Hillard. "What is it, head or tail?" asked Merrihew weakly. "Heads, sir," said the attendant, picking up the coin and offering it to the owner. "Keep it," said Merrihew generously, even sadly. He never got up a game of chance that he did not get the worst of it.
And, once you see the face of this adventuress, as you call her, Kitty Killigrew will pass with all the other lasses." "I?" indignantly. "Rot! She won't hold a candle to Kitty." "No, not a candle, but the most powerful light known to the human eye perfect beauty." Hillard sighed unconsciously. "There you go again!" laughed Merrihew.
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