Part 6

Harlequin told her what was in his mind, and she listened with eager attention.

“But it sounds dreadfully dangerous,” she said, when he had finished.

“Don’t you think it is worth the risk?” Harlequin asked.

“Yes, yes,” cried Columbine, “of course I do. Oh!--to be away with my Harlequin--to have him all to myself--what happiness!”

Harlequin kissed her tenderly. When he had left her, he went to the inn and had a long and earnest conversation with Scaramouche and Violetta.

“Good luck to you, Harlequin,” cried the innkeeper’s daughter, as he at last took his departure. “So noble a plot deserves to succeed.”

“I suppose I must wish you good luck, too,” growled the musician, “but I think you would have done far better to stay with me.”

Pantaloon, now that he believed that Harlequin had gone away for good, was treating Columbine with less severity; but he was none the less determined that she should marry Lelio, and was very vexed that she showed as little inclination as ever to comply with his wishes. His manner towards her, therefore, if not actually cruel, was far from affectionate, and usually there was but little conversation between father and daughter.

So the old Doctor was greatly surprised when that evening after supper the girl came to him and perched herself upon his knee.

“I am afraid, Papa,” she said timidly, “that you do not think that I am a very good daughter to you.”

Pantaloon, who was really very fond of his child, and believed that the way he treated her was only for her good, was quite moved by this display of affection.

“Nay, my dear,” he said, patting her hand, “except on one point you are the best of daughters.”

“Ah!” said Columbine, “but you consider that one point the most important of all, do you not?”

“Why, of course,” said Pantaloon. “There are few doctors’ daughters who are sought in marriage by lords. I cannot think how you can be so foolish as to scorn such good fortune.”

“But if I do not love him, Papa?” said Columbine.

“Love!” replied Pantaloon scornfully. “What is love compared with a position like Lelio’s? Besides, you will come to love him in time--so handsome and gallant a gentleman.... I hope, Columbine”, he went on, more sternly, “that you are not still thinking of that scoundrelly dancer?”

“Oh, no, Papa,” said Columbine, blushing. “I see now how wrongly I behaved, and to make amends for my naughtiness, I have determined to marry Lelio ...”

“You have?” cried Pantaloon in delight.

“... When he asks for me,” Columbine went on demurely. “He has not asked for me yet, you know.”

“Not in so many words,” said the Doctor. “But he will soon enough, if you will only smile on him. You are always so cold to him, and he is far too proud to care to risk the rejection of his suit.”

“I will try to smile on him,” said Columbine meekly. “Do you not think, Papa, that it would be a good idea to ask him to dinner? One feels so much more friendly at dinner-time.”

“Ask Lelio to dine at my humble table!” exclaimed Pantaloon. “What a notion! Where is my plate? What wine have I fit for him to drink? Who would wait upon him?”

“If Lelio really loves me,” Columbine replied, “he will not mind eating off porcelain for once in his life, while as for wine, I daresay that Violetta, when she hears who is to be our guest, would persuade Burattino to let us have some good wine at a cheap rate. And Pierrot can wait at table.”

“A pretty mess he would make of it,” cried Pantaloon; but he was in such good humour that Columbine had little difficulty in persuading him to comply with her wish.

So Pierrot was despatched to the palace with a letter inviting Lelio to dine at the Doctor’s house on the morrow.

Lelio laughed when he read it.

“What is the world coming to?” he cried. “Pantaloon invites me, Lelio, to dine with him. I suppose he thinks that since his daughter pleases me, he is my equal in rank! I see that if I marry Columbine I shall have to pay her father to live at the other end of the country--otherwise I shall be plagued out of my life with his impertinences.”

At first, to Harlequin’s concern, he was for refusing the invitation. Then it occurred to him that it would be a new and perhaps amusing experience to dine at such a house as the Doctor’s, and he decided to accept it. The pleasure of seeing Columbine did not seem to enter into his consideration, but Harlequin knew that he was so much worried by what he had heard about Leandro and Isabella that he had little thought for anything else.

When the time came to dress his master for the dinner-party, Harlequin presented himself with a very solemn expression on his face.

“How now, Truffaldino?” said Lelio. “What is the matter?”

“I have just heard something which I think will interest you, sir,” he said. “The Lord Leandro has invited the Lady Isabella to accompany him this evening in his gondola, and she has consented.”

“A gondola party?” Lelio asked.

“No, sir,” replied Harlequin. “I am told they are to be alone.”

“Good heavens!” cried Lelio. “This is too much! This must be stopped!”

“He fetches her within the half-hour,” said Harlequin.

“Then there is no time to lose,” said Lelio.

“You have not forgotten, sir,” said Harlequin, “that you dine with Doctor Pantaloon?”

“I can’t go!” cried the excited young nobleman. “I won’t go! You must take a message. Say--oh! say what you will. But first order my gondola to be prepared immediately.”

[Illustration]

“Yes, sir,” said Harlequin, and he bowed and went out. When he returned, he found his master muffled to the eyes in a great cloak and examining his sword. He conducted him to his gondola, saw him start down the canal in the direction of Isabella’s palace, and then hurried back to Lelio’s room.

Harlequin changed into one of his master’s richest suits, and he, too, donned a cloak which hid his face.

Lelio’s coach was at the door, with the coachman on the box and the footman in attendance. Harlequin, copying his master’s languid air to the life, got into the coach, and the coachman, who had already received his instructions from “Truffaldino,” whipped up the horses.

As they bowled along, Harlequin took from his pocket a little phial containing a white powder, examined it carefully, and replaced it in his pocket.

The first thing that happened when the coach had stopped at Pantaloon’s was an accident. As Harlequin stepped on to the street, the Doctor, who had long been on the watch for his distinguished guest, ran from the house with words of effusive welcome. These Harlequin acknowledged by raising his hat with so magnificent a gesture that the brim of it swept Pantaloon’s spectacles from his nose. Harlequin darted forward to pick them up, but in so doing he unluckily trod on them, grinding the glasses to a thousand atoms.

“My dear Pantaloon,” cried Harlequin, in what was not at all a bad imitation of Lelio’s voice. “How careless of me! How intolerably clumsy! Can you forgive me?”

“It does not matter at all,” said Pantaloon. He spoke as though the greatest favour had been conferred on him. But for the rest of the evening he saw very little of what was going forward.

Nevertheless, the dinner was a great success. Pantaloon was surprised at his guest’s liveliness; for usually Lelio had not very much to say for himself. The food, which Columbine had prepared with Violetta’s assistance, was really excellent; the wine from Burattino’s was good enough for Lelio’s own table; and even Pierrot, though he did spill some soup on Lelio’s coat, at which the affable gentleman laughed heartily, acquitted himself not nearly so ill as Pantaloon had feared. Columbine, it is true, was almost silent, but this her father attributed to a becoming modesty.

The Doctor was therefore in high good humour when his guest rose and, in happily chosen words, proposed the health of his charming hostess.

“This is a toast,” he concluded, turning to Pantaloon, “to drink which you and I must exchange our glasses--in token of the closer bond which I hope will ere very long unite us.”

As he spoke he quickly drew the little phial from his pocket and emptied its contents into his glass. Then, taking Pantaloon’s in exchange, he handed the glass to his host, who, blind but beaming, raised it aloft and drained it at a draught.

Pantaloon’s last thought was that it was his turn now to make a speech. He tried to rise to his feet; instead of which, he fell heavily forward, his head sunk upon the table, and so he stayed.

“Oh, Harlequin,” cried Columbine in a fright, “is he dead?”

“No,” said Harlequin, “he is only asleep. And, unless the chemist has played me false, he will sleep for some hours to come. All the same, we had better not delay. Are you ready, my dear?”

Columbine ran from the room. When she returned, she was cloaked and carrying a little bag, in which she had put the few things which she wanted to take with her into her new life.

She gazed for a moment at her father.

“Poor Papa!” she sighed, and kissed the top of his head.

Then she turned to accompany Harlequin.

Pierrot saw them out. He managed to wish them a fairly cheerful good-bye; but as he watched them disappear into the darkness two big tears coursed down his white cheeks.

[Illustration:]

_Concerning Lelio and Pantaloon_

There was certainly a gondola outside Isabella’s palace, and on the palace steps a man was standing. The gondola was not Leandro’s, and the man looked stouter than that elegant young nobleman, who prided himself on his slimness; but he was masked, and so completely muffled in his cloak that it was impossible to see what his figure was really like. It was natural, too, that for the adventure on which Lelio believed Leandro to be embarked he should not use his own smart gondola, which every one in Venice knew. Lelio, at any rate, had no doubt that what “Truffaldino” had told him was true; and he was surer of it than ever when, as he approached, a woman, also cloaked and masked, stepped out from the shadow of the palace. The two got into the gondola and entered its cabin, and the gondolier pushed out into the stream.

Lelio had formed no definite plan of action, but he was determined to discover whither Leandro and Isabella were going. So he told his own gondolier to keep their craft in sight, but to stay far enough behind it not to be observed. Then the game began.

It was a long game, and for Lelio a very wearisome one. It soon appeared that Leandro and Isabella were going nowhere in particular. They merely rowed up and down and in and out of the canals, apparently without purpose. Lelio, who had not dined, grew hungrier and hungrier, and the hungrier he grew the worse became his temper. He fingered his sword in a way which boded very ill for Leandro.

At last, after several hours, the wandering gondola drew up quite suddenly at a landing-stage in a little side-canal, and the two occupants got out. Lelio was only a few moments behind, and he leaped to land just as his quarry was moving away. He hurried after them, crying to them in a very threatening manner to stop. He was so angry that he was for having the matter out there and then, regardless of consequences.

At the sound of his voice, the man and woman turned round, at the same time removing their masks.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said the man politely. “Did you address us?”

Lelio was dumbfounded. Whoever they might be, they were not Leandro and Isabella.

His first impulse was to vent his rage upon them nevertheless, but he realised in time that to do so would make him look very ridiculous. It was not their fault--at least he did not know that it was--that he had been following them.

“I--I beg your pardon,” he stammered. “I fear I have made a mistake.” And without more ado he dashed back to his gondola and told the gondolier, in a furious voice, to take him home.

Homewards, too, went Scaramouche and Violetta, so soon as their merriment had abated sufficiently to allow them to walk.

* * * * *

Pantaloon, having slept for about four hours, woke up. At first he did not know where he was, but gradually, seeing the remains of the feast on the table, the broken meats and empty glasses, he recollected the earlier events of the evening. Then he observed Pierrot sitting in the window, his white face made whiter by the moonlight which streamed through the panes.

“What has happened?” asked Pantaloon.

“You have been asleep, sir,” said Pierrot.

“I know that,” replied the Doctor testily. “Where is Columbine?”

Pierrot looked at him in melancholy and frightened silence.

“Where is Columbine?” Pantaloon repeated.

“She has gone,” said Pierrot in a hollow voice.

“Gone!” cried Pantaloon. “What do you mean? Gone where?”

“I don’t know,” said Pierrot.

“You are talking nonsense,” shouted Pantaloon. “She can’t have gone. Columbine wouldn’t do such a thing.”

But he was soon convinced that she had, for he searched every room in the house and could find no trace of his daughter.

“The villain!” he cried, as he returned to the parlour. “To steal her from under my very nose! I suppose he thinks that a fine gentleman like him can treat a mere physician as he pleases. But he shall learn his mistake, if I have to burn his palace down to teach him.”

To this Pierrot said nothing. If Pantaloon believed that it was Lelio who had carried Columbine away, so much the better. It would make the lovers’ chance of escape all the surer.

His silence, however, did not save his own skin. For suddenly the infuriated Doctor turned upon his pale assistant.

“You are in this, too,” he stormed. “I know you are, you scoundrel. You helped that dancing rascal to play his tricks, and now you have helped Lelio. Out of my house, you wretch! Never let me see your moon-face again!”

And with kicks and cuffs of surprising vigour for one so old and infirm, he drove Pierrot out of the room, out of the house and into the street, and slammed the door against him.

[Illustration]

When he had recovered a little from his bewilderment, Pierrot made his way to Burattino’s. He arrived there at the same moment as Scaramouche and Violetta, who were still laughing over the dance which they had led Lelio. They took him into the inn, and while Violetta plastered his broken head, he told them how matters had gone at Pantaloon’s dinner party.

Violetta clapped her hands when she heard that Harlequin and Columbine had got safely away.

“We did our part well, too, didn’t we, Scaramouche?” she said.

“Not at all badly, my dear,” replied the musician. “But it was hungry and thirsty work.”

Violetta took the hint, and laid the table for supper.

“As for you, Pierrot,” she said, “you must stay here with us. You shall have Harlequin’s bed.”

“Yes,” said Scaramouche, “and you shall do Harlequin’s work. Where he danced, you shall sing; and you shall make that fortune which he so foolishly abandoned.”

“I feel as though I could never sing again,” said Pierrot.

“Nonsense!” said Scaramouche, and filled his glass for him.

* * * * *

The first thing next morning Pantaloon went straight to Lelio’s palace. Lelio, of course, was still in bed, but the Doctor was so insistent in his demands to see him that at last a message was taken up to him.

“Let him come,” said Lelio indifferently. He wondered sleepily what the old gentleman wanted. Not that it mattered very much. After the way his dignity had been upset on the previous night, nothing seemed to matter very much to Lelio.

Pantaloon came striding to his bedside.

“Give me my daughter,” he said in a threatening voice.

“My good fellow, what on earth are you talking about?” said Lelio, sitting up. “I haven’t got your daughter.”

“You can’t deceive me, sir,” shouted Pantaloon.

“You are making a great deal of noise,” said Lelio.

“Who wouldn’t make a noise,” Pantaloon retorted, “when his daughter had been stolen by his own guest after he himself had been drugged at his own table? For shame, sir! It was a trick unworthy of a nobleman.”

“No doubt,” said Lelio calmly. “But perhaps you would explain yourself a little more clearly.”

“It strikes me that it is your business to explain,” said the Doctor. “Do you deny my charge?”

“Most certainly,” Lelio replied.

“I suppose you will deny that you dined with me last night,” Pantaloon sneered.

“Why!” exclaimed Lelio. “Are you in your dotage, Pantaloon? Don’t you remember that I sent you a message to express my regret that important business”--here Lelio blushed--“prevented me from having that pleasure? Didn’t Truffaldino give you that message?”

“He did not,” said Pantaloon. “And what is more, you did dine with me last night, my Lord Lelio.”

“I give you my word of honour I did nothing of the kind,” said Lelio haughtily.

Pantaloon was silent. Who was he to doubt the word of honour of a nobleman?

“There is evidently some mystery here,” Lelio went on. “Perhaps Truffaldino can throw light upon it. Which reminds me, I have seen nothing of the fellow since I came home last night.”

As a matter of fact, Lelio had been so put out of countenance by his misadventure that he had not cared to face even his servant. Contrary to his custom, therefore, he had not sent for him but, for the first time in his life, had undressed and gone to bed without assistance.

He rang the bell by his bedside, and a page appeared.

“Send Truffaldino,” said Lelio.

The page went away, but no Truffaldino came. Lelio was getting very impatient when the boy returned to say that the lackey was nowhere to be found.

“This is very strange,” said Lelio; and then it occurred to him that it was Truffaldino who had told him the story which had led to his humiliating wild-goose chase. “I am afraid there is something queer about that fellow,” he added. “I suppose I ought to have found out more about him when I took him into my service.” He turned to the page. “Do you happen to know where Coviello is?” he asked.

“No, sir,” said the boy, “but I do not think it would be very hard to find him. He will be in some tavern or other, if I know Coviello.”

“Visit every tavern in Venice if necessary,” said Lelio, “but bring him to me. If you will wait,” he said to Pantaloon, “perhaps we may get an explanation of this extraordinary occurrence.”

It was not so very long before the page came back, and behind him slouched Coviello. Nor was it very long before Lelio had drawn from his old lackey an account of how he had been bribed to give his place and his livery to a stranger.

“And you did not bury your grandmother after all?” Lelio asked.

“I never had a grandmother,” said Coviello.

“I thought not,” said Lelio.

“I hope you will forgive me, sir,” said Coviello, “and take me back into your service.”

“Well,” said Lelio, “since Truffaldino has apparently gone for good, I suppose I might as well. You are a bad servant, but at least you know my ways. You had better get into your livery again.”

“Truffaldino had my livery,” said Coviello.

“So he had, the scamp!” said Lelio. “You will have to have a new one. Are those Truffaldino’s clothes that you are wearing?”

“No, sir,” replied Coviello. “He bought them for me. He was wearing the funniest clothes--as tight as his skin and all the colours of the rainbow.”

At this Pantaloon uttered such a cry that Lelio nearly jumped out of bed.

“Whatever is the matter now?” he asked.

“He has got her after all!” cried Pantaloon, wringing his hands. “The villain! The scoundrel! Oh, why didn’t I guess?”

“Guess what?” said Lelio.

“That Truffaldino was Harlequin,” wailed the Doctor; and, though he was so enraged that he could hardly speak coherently, he poured into Lelio’s ears the tale of Harlequin’s wickedness.

“You seem to have been nicely tricked, my friend,” said Lelio, when he had finished.

“You too,” cried Pantaloon.

Lelio raised his eyebrows. He could not deny that he had been tricked, but to be coupled with Pantaloon did not please him at all.

“There is no time to lose,” the Doctor went on. “We must rescue Columbine from your rival’s clutches.”

“My rival!” exclaimed Lelio. “Thank you. I pretend to no rivalry with dancers and lackeys.”

“But surely,” cried Pantaloon in surprise, “you are going to help me to find Columbine?”

“I really shouldn’t dream of interfering so far in your family affairs,” said Lelio coldly. And very deliberately he lay down in his bed again and turned his back on the Doctor.

Pantaloon gazed at him for a moment in speechless indignation, and then stamped out of the room.

“This is what comes of mixing with the lower classes,” Lelio murmured, as he heard the door slam behind the old gentleman whom less than twenty-four hours ago he had regarded as his future father-in-law. “I might have known that a girl of Columbine’s birth could not be worthy of me.... But she was very charming,” he sighed.

Presently he raised himself on his elbow and called to Coviello, who was still waiting his pleasure.

“Dress me, Coviello,” he said, “and dress me very carefully. I have an important visit to pay.”

_The Married Life of Harlequin and Columbine_

The very first thing that Harlequin did when he and Columbine were fairly out of Venice was to strip off Lelio’s grand clothes and throw them into a ditch. Seeing him once more in the well-known suit of many colours Columbine laughed for joy.

“Now you are more like my Harlequin,” she exclaimed.

Harlequin put on his mask and brandished his wand, which had been concealed in the folds of Lelio’s cloak.

“Now you are really and truly my Harlequin,” cried Columbine, and floated into his arms.

They walked on through the moonlit night and in the morning came to a village. Having broken their fast at the inn, they sought the priest, who married them in the little village church.

Then they continued their journey, though they minded but little whither they went. They were quite content to walk side by side and love one another. Sometimes they stopped to dance, and sometimes they paused to kiss. By evening they found themselves in an orange grove, and there they rested.

When Columbine awoke, she saw that Harlequin was busy carving something on the trunk of the tree under which they had slept. She rose and looked over his shoulder, and this is what she read.

Dear orange tree, whose leafy tent Has served our love for hiding-place, Take, and let never Time deface, These lines, a lover’s testament.

And say to all who wend their way, Happy and idle, down this glade: If pleasure had the power to slay, I should have died beneath thy shade.

“Oh, Harlequin,” said Columbine, “how beautiful! I never guessed that you were a poet.”