Irma in Italy: A Travel Story

by Annie F. Johnston

  CHAPTER XVII

  IN VENICE

  "I wouldn't have missed Bologna for anything," said Ellen, one very warmJune morning, as Mrs. Sanford and Mr. and Mrs. Curtin and the youngpeople in their care found themselves on the train between Bologna andRavenna. "If every Italian city would have arcades over the sidewalkslike those in almost every street of Bologna, life would be better worthliving."

  "So the arcades made the most impression on you," said Uncle Jimsmiling. "And what have you to say of Bologna, Mrs. Sanford?"

  "Well I am glad to have found that it is really true that there werelearned women in Italy in the Middle Ages. I certainly cannot forgetthat I have seen a statue to a woman professor of the fourteenthcentury, who used to lecture in this university at Bologna. If therewere women professors, there must have been women students."

  "Ellen thinks the little tombs on pillars outside the churches were thestrangest things she saw," cried Katie.

  "Not stranger than the leaning towers," interposed Irma. "I suppose thepeople of Bologna must be terribly afraid of earthquakes. I hated evento drive near the leaning towers."

  "I did not know we were to tell only strange things we had seen," saidAunt Caroline. "I was most impressed by the Accademia. You others didnot stay long enough in the gallery. Besides Raphael's St. Cecilia,there are very many pictures worth seeing; no one can really have a goodidea of Guido Reni without coming to Bologna."

  "Well, I enjoyed the drive through the park, and our glimpse ofCarducci's house on the way back. It was all so restful after the noiseof the streets," said Uncle Jim.

  "There are certainly many beautiful churches in Bologna, and morehomelike-looking palaces than I have seen anywhere else in Italy," saidMrs. Sanford. "We might have enjoyed a longer stay there."

  "I didn't think much of the shops," interposed Katie. "There was hardlya thing I wanted to buy." Whereat the others smiled, as shopping wasKatie's favorite pastime.

  "You'll find them worse in Ravenna, for that is not only a decaying, buta decayed city, from all the accounts I've heard."

  "I almost wish we were not going there," added Aunt Caroline. "They sayit's full of malaria."

  "Oh, in one short day and night we can keep out of the way of germs."

  It was noon when they reached Ravenna, tired enough after a warmjourney.

  "Dante's tomb is only a step from here," said Marion to Irma, as theyfinished _dejeuner_. "Bring your camera and we'll go out and take a shotat it." Irma posed herself in front of the door of the domed buildingcontaining the remains of the great poet, while Marion took a snapshot.They stopped for a minute to read an inscription on an opposite house,where Garibaldi had been entertained, and turning another corner, withsome little trouble, Marion found the simple dwelling where Lord Byronhad lived during his year or two in Ravenna.

  "Now," began Marion, "if you can get Ellen to come, I move that wethree drive about the town. I am tired of too large a crowd, or perhapsit is the weather. But this is one of the days when more than threewould spoil all the fun of looking at things."

  As the suggestion pleased Ellen, the three started out in their carriageahead of the others. There were no trolley cars; few people were movingaround in the long, dusty streets; and many of the larger houses, orpalaces, were indeed deserted mansions, with no signs of life aboutthem.

  "First to Theodoric's tomb," Marion had announced, as they started, andas they drove along he talked entertainingly about old Ravenna,especially in the last days of the Roman Empire, when the EmperorHonorius held court there, believing the place to be safe against thebarbarians. Later, after the fall of Rome, Theodoric made this his city,and tried to revive the Western Empire.

  "Ravenna used to be a great seaport," said Marion, "with a harbor for alarge fleet, but the sea has been gradually receding until now it isfive miles away."

  "These marshes and this little creek, I suppose, are all that the seahas left Ravenna as a reminder of those days," said Irma.

  "Yes," responded Marion, "but Theodoric's tomb is a thing we shallremember better." And the girls agreed with him a few minutes later,when they stood in the garden in front of the gray walls of theimpressive circular mausoleum.

  "Oh, please stand still a moment," cried Marion, as they leaned over aparticularly beautiful rosebush; then a click came from the camera.

  "I hate to have my picture taken when I am not expecting it," criedEllen.

  "Don't worry! Theodoric's tomb will quite overshadow us," respondedIrma, in mock consolation.

  After this the three drove from one church to another to see thesplendid mosaics that are Ravenna's chief treasures. Saints and emperorsand other great personages were there in all the glory of rich color,and scriptural truths were taught in the symbols of the early Church.

  "Although the figures are sometimes out of drawing and the designsrather queer, it is just the same in these mosaics as in some of the oldfrescoes; they were put on the church walls to teach truth to the massof people who could not read, and that is why I do not laugh at them."

  SIENA. GENERAL VIEW, WITH CAMPANILE. (_See page 227._)]

  RAVENNA. THEODORIC'S TOMB.]

  It seemed to Irma, when the whole party met at dinner that evening, thatKatie was displeased with somebody or something. Had Richard beenteasing her? For teasing was a cousinly privilege which he oftenexercised. Was she annoyed that she had not been asked to join Marion'sparticular group of three? For the present there seemed to be no answer.

  The next day, after a warm journey of several hours, the whole partystood on the steps of the railway station at Venice, waiting to seetheir luggage put aboard the gondola. "How strange it seems to wait fora boat instead of a cab to take one from the station to a hotel," andIrma watched the water of the canal break with a slight wavelike motionagainst the steps.

  "Yes," responded Richard, who happened to be standing next her, "andhere we part for the present. I wish our rooms were in the same hotel,but since that cannot be, Ellen and I, at least, will try to give youall we can of our society."

  "Please do," said Irma. "Ellen says you will be only a few doors away.Good-by, good-by," she concluded, as Richard helped his mother and Ellenand Katie into a gondola, where they sat rather stiffly with their bagspiled up behind them in the stern.

  "Is it what you expected?" asked Aunt Caroline, as they glided in theirown gondola over the Grand Canal.

  "Yes," sighed Irma; "it's more than I expected. I know that I shall beperfectly happy in Venice."

  But although Venice did not disappoint Irma, many things in this Queenof the Adriatic were different from her expectations. She soondiscovered that it was possible to walk almost as far in Venice as inany other large city, provided you did not object to threading your waysometimes through narrow passages and over curving bridges.

  "Has any one ever counted the bridges in Venice?" she asked one day."There must be hundreds of them," she said on the second day of her staythere, when she and Marion had had a long walk that had ended in thegreat Piazza in front of San Marco.

  "Some one has counted them, of course, but I can only guess that thereare several hundred. But here we are at the heart of Venice. Isn't itgreat?"

  "Yes, this is just what I expected; it is almost too beautiful to bereal," and Irma stood in front of the great church with its gildeddomes, its mosaic pictures, and the four bronze horses fromConstantinople, over the main entrance, forming, as a whole, a pictureof which the eye could never weary.

  "Let us not go inside to-day," said Marion.

  "Oh, I would rather get a general impression of the piazza. Thatbeautiful building, white and yellow, must be the Doge's Palace. Ah,yes, and there is the Lion of St. Mark's on his column. But who is thatodd-looking saint on the other column, standing on a crocodile?"

  "St. Theodore, I believe. It's a wonder that he can continue to look sopleasant, since he was quite cut out by St. Mark."

  "I don't understand."

  "Oh, St. Theodore was the patron saint
of Venice. He was a Byzantinesaint, by the way, until some Venetian sea captains at Alexandria, whereSt. Mark was buried, took offence at the way the relics of the saintwere treated by the sultan. They got the priests in charge to view thematter as they did, and so the body was secretly delivered to theircare. On the voyage to Venice the saint saved the vessel from shipwreck,and after their arrival St. Mark threw all others into the shade.Nevertheless, St. Theodore smiles on, as if he had nothing to forgive."

  "It is an interesting story; and is it perfectly true?" queried Irma.

  "As true as any Richard would tell you," replied Marion.

  "Oh, the pigeons, the pigeons!" cried Irma, turning about and walkingtoward a spot where scores of pigeons were gathering around a girl whowas scattering handfuls of peas from a little basket. As Irmaapproached, the girl looked up, and then----

  "Why, Irma Derrington!" she cried, and she let her basket fall to theground as she rushed toward Irma.

  "AS IRMA APPROACHED, THE GIRL LOOKED UP." (_Page 296._)]

  "It really is Muriel," said Irma, as she hastened toward her friend.

  "Why haven't you written in all these weeks?" cried Murielreproachfully, after the first exchange of greetings.

  "How could I without your address?"

  "Didn't I give you our banker's?"

  "Indeed you did not; but you might have written to me."

  "Indeed I hadn't the slightest idea how to reach you. But no matter,I hope you will be in Venice a week at least."

  "Yes, indeed; and here is Marion Horton. You remember him."

  At this moment Mademoiselle Potin came forward from the shade of one ofthe arcades in front of the shops, where she had been watching Muriel,and while Marion talked with her politely for a few minutes, Muriel,speaking in an undertone, said, "How much brighter Marion Horton looks.And is it possible that he goes about with you? He was generally so glumand unsocial on the ship. He looks stronger now, too."

  "Oh, Aunt Caroline says he has gained in every way, and lately we havebeen travelling with a Mrs. Sanford and her son and daughter and----"

  "Richard and Ellen? Oh, I know them quite well."

  "Then you know how lively Richard is, and I think their being with ushas made Marion come out of his shell."

  "When he's pleasant I should think he might be very good company. ButMademoiselle Potin has been telling me about him, and I should think hehas had good reason to feel a little melancholy."

  "There," thought Irma, "I won't let another day pass without findingout from Aunt Caroline what it is that every one else knows aboutMarion, that makes him seem an object of sympathy."

  Meanwhile Marion had approached the girls.

  "Of course you both have some story to account for the pigeons, and eachstory is probably different."

  "I have no story, except that they are regarded as almost sacred, and itwould be a great sin for any one to kill them."

  "To be _caught_ killing them," interposed Marion, "but I have an ideathat many a pigeon pie in Venice is indebted to these same pigeons ofSt. Mark's. But if you have nothing better, I will tell my story. It issimply that some carrier pigeons brought good news to Enrico Dandolo,the Crusader, when he was besieging Candia, and since that time thesepigeons and their descendants have been under the special protection ofthe city."

  "It is certainly great fun to feed them," said Muriel, "and if you comehere often, you'll see all kinds of people doing it,--old and young,rich and poor. Why, I have seen a man sit for an hour by that pillar,feeding them."

  "As your basket quite emptied itself when you let it fall, let us goover to one of those little tables outside the restaurant and have sometea. We may, may we not, Mademoiselle Potin? And you will join us?"

  During the pleasant half hour spent over the tea and cakes, pigeon afterpigeon approached them, looking, evidently, for stray crumbs. One waseven so bold as to hop up on the table, and would not be driven awayuntil Muriel had fed it.

  "It is all delightful," said Irma, "only I must write to Tessie aboutthese pigeons, and I have so much to do. I am growing selfish. The airof Venice makes me wish to do nothing but enjoy myself."

  Later, when they went to the spot where the gondolas were waiting, theyfound that Muriel's hotel was in a different direction from theirs.

  "Please come to see me to-morrow," she cried, as she glided away. "Youknow I cannot always do what I wish to."

  "That means that perhaps her mother may not let her come to call onyou," commented Marion.

  "Nonsense," cried Irma.

  Katie was on the balcony of the hotel, as they made their landing. Sheseemed surprised to see them. "I thought you were going to walk back,"she said.

  As she spoke, she put her hand to her collar. This attracted theattention of both Irma and Marion, and Irma saw that Katie wore aroundher tie the circlet with the dragon's head, and she could not helpnoticing a strange expression on Marion's face as he too observed it.

  That very evening, when she and Aunt Caroline were alone, Irmaremembered the question she had so often meant to ask about Marion.

  "When we first left home," responded her aunt, "I could not haveanswered you. What I said might have prejudiced you against Marion. Butthings have changed, and even he could not object to my telling you now.

  "It is not a complicated story. Marion's father died when he was alittle boy. He has no sisters, and his only brother is a few years olderthan he. Herbert, I am afraid, has always been his mother's favorite,because he is much livelier than Marion, and fonder of people. Butthough most persons would call Herbert the more amiable, he has aterrible temper, and all who have seen him under its influence know howunreasonable he can be. One day, last winter, both boys were out inHerbert's motor. While going very fast it seriously injured a child.There were no witnesses to the accident, and the motor did not stop. Buta mile farther on, when they had begun to slow down, Marion signalled amounted policeman, told him there had been an accident, and obligedHerbert to turn back. By this time the child's parents had come out, anda crowd had collected. The boys were arrested, but soon had bail. At thetrial Marion refused to utter a word against his brother, for I will saythis for Herbert, he did admit that he was acting chauffeur. At lastMarion had to admit that Herbert was going much faster than the lawpermits. Herbert's lawyer tried to show that the child's carelessnesscaused the accident. But further testimony of Marion's changed this. AsHerbert was of age, the judge decided to make an example of him, and hewas sentenced to jail for a short period, and in addition had a fine topay. The child by this time was almost well, and many persons thoughtthe punishment excessive."

  "I should think it was his brother who should be pitied, and notMarion."

  "Ah, many persons thought that Marion by a word might have put Herbertin a better light. His mother took the view that it was Marion, and notHerbert, who had disgraced the family. Some newspapers wrote articlescriticising him, and one published his photograph, labelled "Anunbrotherly brother." Now Marion himself had had a nervous breakdownduring the winter after an attack of measles. When he had given histestimony at the trial he fainted and had to be carried from the room.The strain had been too much. Your Uncle Jim and I at once invited himto go abroad with us (for his father was an intimate friend andclassmate of your uncle's) when we heard that his mother would not evenspeak to him. The strange thing was that while other relatives were sobitter toward Marion, Herbert did not blame him. Yet in all these weeksMarion had no letter from Herbert until we reached Siena. Even now Ithink his mother has not written him."

  "He has been very badly treated," said Irma. "I cannot see that Mariondid anything wrong."

  "I will say this. Marion himself is partly to blame for being so cut offfrom his relatives. He, too, has a temper. When he found that severalblamed him, he wrote a disrespectful letter to an uncle of his father's,who is really very fond of him, saying that he hoped never to speak toone of the family again, or something to that effect. Mr. Skerritt isjoint guardian of Marion with your unc
le--and----"

  Here Aunt Caroline paused. Then she added, "When Marion is twenty-fivehe will have a large income. Even now he has more money to spend thanwould be wise for most boys. But fortunately he is not a spendthrift."

  "Thank you," said Irma, when her aunt had finished. "I understand Marionbetter than I did. If he should speak to me about this, I suppose I cansay that I sympathize with him."

  "Certainly, and I hope that he will be more inclined to talk now, sinceHerbert has forgiven him."

  "I don't see what he had to forgive."

  "I am only speaking from the family's point of view."

  The next morning, as Irma sat in her favorite corner of the littlebalcony overhanging the Grand Canal, Marion approached her. On a smallround table that a waiter had moved out for her, she had set apasteboard box containing most of her souvenirs for the family at home.There was nothing very valuable, though these pretty trifles had takenall the money Irma had brought from home; cameo pins from Naples, one ortwo mosaics from Rome, some strings of Roman pearls, an amber necklacefrom Florence, a leather cover stamped in gilt for books, and a coupleof strings of Venetian beads, so dainty and fine that in her inmostheart she rather begrudged giving them away.

  "What is this?" asked Marion, holding up an envelope.

  "That? Oh, that has the asphodel you gathered at Paestum, and in thatsmall box is the fossil shell you gave me the day you rescued my camerafrom that foolish little girl."

  "How long ago that seems," responded Marion. "We have seen so manyplaces since then that Paestum is ancient history, and yet it is littlemore than a month away."

  "I haven't forgotten," said Irma. "I thought you were very brave."

  "Brave!" Marion colored. "I should think you'd call me a regular dufferwhen you remember what a fool I made of myself getting on board the_Ariadne_ at St. Michael's. I can tell you I felt awfully ashamed tothink that a girl had saved me from a tumble into the water. I haven'tforgotten what I owe you, though I haven't been able to get even yet."

  "Oh, yes, you have. You saw that I wasn't any too brave the night Ithought we were going to sink."

  "Ah, that was natural. For you know we had barely escaped collision witha man of war. But what's this?"

  While talking, Irma had opened a small package, and Marion, fumblingwith things on the table, had come across the piece of green marble fromHadrian's villa.

  For a moment Irma hesitated, then she plunged into the story of the wayshe had missed the train that memorable afternoon.

  "Aha!" exclaimed Marion, "and you were the girl who disapproved of mybuying that tile from the Sistine Chapel." Then he started as if to gointo the house. "Excuse me," he said. "I'll be back in a minute."

  When Marion returned he had the octagonal tile in his hand. "Fairexchange is always a good thing," he said, "and if you will take this, Iwould like to have the Hadrian marble. It will be a good reminder to meof something I can't explain just now."

  "Yes, you may exchange," said Irma, hesitatingly. For in her inmostheart she preferred her own marble. Yet, this was almost the first favorMarion had ever asked of her.

  "Thank you," said Marion. "I was altogether too ugly about that tile,but to tell you the truth I have had so much nagging this year, before Ileft home, that I've been too ready to defend myself."

  "I know," responded Irma.

  Marion looked up suddenly, as if he wondered how much she knew. But Irmasaid nothing.

  Not far from the hotel some gondolas were tied to the poles that markedtheir station. Marion leaned forward and signalled, and the nearestgondolier glided up.

  "Put these trinkets away. I will leave the box in the office," saidMarion, "and we can go out for an hour."

  Irma accepted the invitation gladly enough, and the two were on thepoint of starting when Richard and Ellen appeared. Marion invited themalso, and soon the four young people were gliding past S. Maria dellaSalute up toward the railway station.

  "There," said Richard, as they passed one beautiful palace afteranother. "If this were not Marion's party, I could tell you all kinds ofwonderful stories as we go along. But as it is, I must content myselfwith saying, 'This is the Palace where Robert Browning spent so muchtime, and where he finally died. There, on that corner, lives DonCarlos. He and the parrot are not visible to-day, but you can almostlook into the kitchen windows and see the most wonderful collection ofcopper kettles. When Lord Byron lived in that gray-fronted edifice, hewas in the habit of taking a daily swim in the waters of the GrandCanal. I would like to tell you about the Dandolos and Foscari, and allthe others, including the Falieri. Some of them were beheaded; some hadtheir eyes put out, and----"

  "Don't, Richard," cried Ellen. "The Venetians were almost asbloodthirsty as the Florentines and Romans, and I wonder at their crueldeeds when I look about at all the beauty here."

  "Oh, there are also highly romantic stories, if I only had time to tellthem, not bloodthirsty, but full of sentiment," continued Richard, inthe tone that always meant he was only half in earnest. "The Merchant ofVenice, for instance, and here we are at the Rialto, which of coursemakes you think of Shylock, though it was the section back there, andnot the bridge, that Shakespeare had in mind."

  "I walked through the Merceria the other day," said Ellen. "You knowit's the street that runs from this bridge to the clock tower oppositeSt. Mark's."

  "Did you find many bargains?" asked Marion suddenly.

  "A few, though we were not out to shop. But it was great fun to see thereal Venetians hurrying along almost like Americans."

  At this moment one of the little steamboats that constantly ply up anddown the Grand Canal seemed to be bearing down upon them. Irma gave alittle scream, but already the gondolier had pushed his craft away soadroitly that they barely felt the swash.

  VENICE. THE GRAND CANAL.]

  VENICE. A GONDOLIER.]

  Once or twice they pulled up at some landing to have a better view ofan old building or Campo, and always an aged man arose from some corner,boathook in hand, to help them ashore, waiting until their return toreceive the small fee that custom has decreed.

  At last, as they glided homeward, and came in sight of their hotel, Irmadiscerned Katie standing on the balcony.

  "Irma," said Marion, in an undertone, for evidently he, too, had seenKatie, "has Katie said anything to you about Nap lately?"

  "No, not for some time."

  "Well, I hoped she would say you could keep Nap."

  "Aha, Marion," cried Richard, "I believe I understand why you have spentso much time with Katie lately, escorting her around to places Iwouldn't have taken the trouble to go. I see why you did it."

  "Why?" asked Ellen; "why should he need a special reason?"

  "Perhaps he didn't need it. But I believe he has set out to make Katiegive up Nap to Irma, but," and he turned toward Marion with a flourishof his hat, "I'll bet you almost anything that you don't succeed. Katieis my cousin, and I know."

  As they landed at the steps of the hotel, Katie greeted thempleasantly.

  "The rest of us have had a splendid afternoon. We've been shopping."

  "Of course," interposed Richard.

  "Oh, this time we went to such interesting palaces, full of wonderfulold furniture and pictures, collectors' places; and your aunt, Irma, hasbought any amount of lovely things. And then, over across the way, wesaw them making mosaics, and I have bought some beautiful long slenderiridescent glass vases."

  "You can buy the same in New York," murmured Richard, "and we'll haveall the trouble of carrying these vases home. Probably they'll be put ina basket for _me_ to carry."

  Then in a sudden spirit of mischief: "Katie," cried Richard, "did Mariongive you that arrangement for your scarf? I don't know whether to callit a pin or a ring."

  "Nobody gave it to me," she replied, in a tone of annoyance.

  "Then _where_ did you get it?" It was Marion who spoke sharply.

  Katie made no answer.

  "Did you advertise it?" asked Marion.
/>
  Even to Katie this question seemed as puzzling as to the others.

  "I don't know what you mean," she replied. "I bought it at Rome."

  "Oh," said Marion, and it was quite evident that he did not believe her.

  "Well," said Katie, "if you must know, I bought it at the Rag Fair, andvery cheap it was. Every one tells me that I have a great bargain, forthe carving on the stone is very fine, and I wouldn't part with it foranything."

  Marion made no comment after Katie's speech, and instantly Irmaunderstood the whole thing. This was the "something else" that Marionhad lost with the two hundred liri in his purse. It had probably beenstolen by some one at the fair. Certainly it was easy now to account forKatie's bargain.