Free Jerry by Jean Webster

who had come clattering on to the little rustic bridge that spanned the stream above the water-steps. The women, their baskets of linen on their heads, had paused to watch the embarkation.
    'Ah, Gustavo,' Constance asked over her shoulder, 'is there a washer-woman here at the Hotel du Lac named Costantina?'
    ' Si , signorina, zat is Costantina standing on ze bridge wif ze yellow handkerchief on her head.'
    Constance looked at Costantina, and nodded and smiled. Then she laughed out loud, a beautiful rippling, joyous laugh that rang through the grove and silenced the chaffinches.
    Perhaps once upon a time Costantina was beautiful--beautiful as the angels--but if so, it was long, long ago. Now she was old and fat, with a hawk nose and a double chin and one tooth left in the middle of the front. But if she were not beautiful, she was at least a cheerful old soul, and, though she could not possibly know the reason, she echoed the signorina's laugh until she nearly shook the clean clothes into the water.
    Constance settled herself among the cushions and glanced back toward the terrace.
    'Good afternoon,' she nodded politely to the young man.
    He bowed with his hand on his heart.
    ' Addio , Gustavo.'
    He bowed until his napkin swept the ground.
    ' Addio , Costantina,' she waved her hand toward her namesake.
    The washer-woman laughed again, and her earrings flashed in the sunlight.
    Giuseppe raised the yellow sail; they caught the breeze, and the Farfalla floated away.
    CHAPTER X
    Half-past six on Friday morning, and Constance appeared on the terrace; Constance in fluffy, billowy, lacy white with a spray of oleander in her belt--the last costume in the world in which one would start on a mountain climb. She cast a glance in passing toward the gateway and the stretch of road visible beyond, but both were empty, and seating herself on the parapet, she turned her attention to the lake. The breeze that blew from the farther shore brought fresh Alpine odours of flowers and pine trees. Constance sniffed it eagerly as she gazed across toward the purple outline of Monte Maggiore. The serenity of her smile gradually gave place to doubt; she turned and glanced back toward the house, visibly changing her mind.
    But before the change was finished, the quiet of the morning was broken by a clatter of tiny scrambling obstinate hoofs and a series of ejaculations, both Latin and English. She glanced toward the gate, where Fidilini was visible, plainly determined not to come in. Constance laughed expectantly and turned back to the water, her eyes intent on the fishing-smacks that were putting out from the little marino . The sounds of coercion increased; a command floated down the driveway in the English tongue. It sounded like: 'You twist his tail, Beppo, while I pull.'
    Apparently it was understood in spite of Beppo's slight knowledge of the language. An eloquent silence followed; then an outraged grunt on the part of Fidilini, and the cavalcade advanced with a rush to the kitchen door. Tony left Beppo and the donkeys, and crossed the terrace alone. His bow swept the ground in the deferential manner of Gustavo, but his glance was far bolder than a donkey-driver's should have been. She noted the fact and tossed him a nod of marked condescension. A silence followed, during which Constance studied the lake; when she turned back, she found Tony arranging a spray of oleander that had dropped from her belt in the band of his hat. She viewed this performance in silent disfavour. Having finished to his satisfaction, he tossed the hat aside and seated himself on the balustrade. Her frown became visible. Tony sprang to his feet with an air of anxiety.
    ' Scusi , signorina. I have not meant to be presumptious. Perhaps it is not fitting that any one below the rank of lieutenant should sit in your presence?'
    'It will not be very long, Tony, before you are discharged for impertinence.'
    'Ah, signorina, do not say that! If it is your wish I will kneel when I