Swinburne
came into my head, and came to stay:
"God said 'Let him who wins her take
And keep Faustine.'
"On that couplet I slept at last, and it was my text and
watchword when I awoke in the morning. I forget how well you
know your Swinburne, Bunny; but don't you run away with the idea
that there was anything else in common between his Faustine and
mine. For the last time let me tell you that poor Faustina was
the whitest and the best I ever knew.
"Well, I was strung up for trouble when the next Saturday came,
and I'll tell you what I had done. I had broken the pledge and
burgled Corbucci's villa in my best manner during his absence
in Naples. Not that it gave me the slightest trouble; but no
human being could have told that I had been in, when I came out.
And I had stolen nothing, mark you, but only borrowed a revolver
from a drawer in the Count's desk, with one or two trifling
accessories; for by this time I had the measure of these damned
Neapolitans. They are spry enough with a knife, but you show
them the business end of a shooting-iron, and they'll streak
like rabbits for the nearest hole. But the revolver wasn't for
my own use. It was for Faustina, and I taught her how to use it
in the cave down there by the sea, shooting at candles stuck
upon the rock. The noise in the cave was something frightful,
but high up above it couldn't be heard at all, as we proved to
each other's satisfaction pretty early in the proceedings. So
now Faustina was armed with munitions of self-defence; and I
knew enough of her character to entertain no doubt as to their
spirited use upon occasion. Between the two of us, in fact, our
friend Stefano seemed tolerably certain of a warm week-end.
"But the Saturday brought word that the Count was not coming
this week, being in Rome on business, and unable to return in
time; so for a whole Sunday we were promised peace; and made
bold plans accordingly. There was no further merit in hushing
this thing up. 'Let him who wins her take and keep Faustine.'
Yes, but let him win her openly, or lose her and be damned to
him! So on the Sunday I was going to have it out with her
people—with the Count and Stefano as soon as they showed their
noses. I had no inducement, remember, ever to return to
surreptitious life within a cab-fare of Wormwood Scrubbs.
Faustina and the Bay of Naples were quite good enough for me.
And the prehistoric man in me rather exulted in the idea of
fighting for my desire.
"On the Saturday, however, we were able to meet for the last
time as heretofore—just once more in secret—down there in the
cave—as soon as might be after dark. Neither of us minded if
we were kept for hours; each knew in the end that the other
would come; and there was a charm of its own even in waiting
with such knowledge. But that night I did lose patience: not in
the cave, but up above, where first on one pretext and then on
another the direttore kept me going until I smelt a rat. He was
not given to exacting overtime, this direttore, whose only fault
was his servile subjection to our common boss. It seemed pretty
obvious, therefore, that he was acting upon some secret
instructions from Corbucci himself, and, the moment I suspected
this, I asked him to his face if it was not the case. And it
was; he admitted it with many shrugs, being a conveniently weak
person, whom one felt almost ashamed of bullying as the
occasion demanded.
"The fact was, however, that the Count had sent for him on
finding he had to go to Rome, and had said he was very sorry to
go just then, as among other things he intended to speak to me
about Faustina. Stefano had told him all about his row with
her, and moreover that it was on my account, which Faustina had
never told me, though I had guessed as much for myself. Well,
the Count was going to take his jackal's part for all he was
worth, which was just exactly what I had expected him to do. He
intended going for me on his return, but meanwhile I was not to
make hay in his absence, and
came into my head, and came to stay:
"God said 'Let him who wins her take
And keep Faustine.'
"On that couplet I slept at last, and it was my text and
watchword when I awoke in the morning. I forget how well you
know your Swinburne, Bunny; but don't you run away with the idea
that there was anything else in common between his Faustine and
mine. For the last time let me tell you that poor Faustina was
the whitest and the best I ever knew.
"Well, I was strung up for trouble when the next Saturday came,
and I'll tell you what I had done. I had broken the pledge and
burgled Corbucci's villa in my best manner during his absence
in Naples. Not that it gave me the slightest trouble; but no
human being could have told that I had been in, when I came out.
And I had stolen nothing, mark you, but only borrowed a revolver
from a drawer in the Count's desk, with one or two trifling
accessories; for by this time I had the measure of these damned
Neapolitans. They are spry enough with a knife, but you show
them the business end of a shooting-iron, and they'll streak
like rabbits for the nearest hole. But the revolver wasn't for
my own use. It was for Faustina, and I taught her how to use it
in the cave down there by the sea, shooting at candles stuck
upon the rock. The noise in the cave was something frightful,
but high up above it couldn't be heard at all, as we proved to
each other's satisfaction pretty early in the proceedings. So
now Faustina was armed with munitions of self-defence; and I
knew enough of her character to entertain no doubt as to their
spirited use upon occasion. Between the two of us, in fact, our
friend Stefano seemed tolerably certain of a warm week-end.
"But the Saturday brought word that the Count was not coming
this week, being in Rome on business, and unable to return in
time; so for a whole Sunday we were promised peace; and made
bold plans accordingly. There was no further merit in hushing
this thing up. 'Let him who wins her take and keep Faustine.'
Yes, but let him win her openly, or lose her and be damned to
him! So on the Sunday I was going to have it out with her
people—with the Count and Stefano as soon as they showed their
noses. I had no inducement, remember, ever to return to
surreptitious life within a cab-fare of Wormwood Scrubbs.
Faustina and the Bay of Naples were quite good enough for me.
And the prehistoric man in me rather exulted in the idea of
fighting for my desire.
"On the Saturday, however, we were able to meet for the last
time as heretofore—just once more in secret—down there in the
cave—as soon as might be after dark. Neither of us minded if
we were kept for hours; each knew in the end that the other
would come; and there was a charm of its own even in waiting
with such knowledge. But that night I did lose patience: not in
the cave, but up above, where first on one pretext and then on
another the direttore kept me going until I smelt a rat. He was
not given to exacting overtime, this direttore, whose only fault
was his servile subjection to our common boss. It seemed pretty
obvious, therefore, that he was acting upon some secret
instructions from Corbucci himself, and, the moment I suspected
this, I asked him to his face if it was not the case. And it
was; he admitted it with many shrugs, being a conveniently weak
person, whom one felt almost ashamed of bullying as the
occasion demanded.
"The fact was, however, that the Count had sent for him on
finding he had to go to Rome, and had said he was very sorry to
go just then, as among other things he intended to speak to me
about Faustina. Stefano had told him all about his row with
her, and moreover that it was on my account, which Faustina had
never told me, though I had guessed as much for myself. Well,
the Count was going to take his jackal's part for all he was
worth, which was just exactly what I had expected him to do. He
intended going for me on his return, but meanwhile I was not to
make hay in his absence, and
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