"Yes, am I not telling you? The Champion - Darry Boa, you know - is to fight SteveAngelo tomorrow at some place or another around here. I did not perfectly catch the name. Thank God my dear, you had the good sense to reserve rooms for us, for they say there is no vacant room twenty miles from here! Come, come, don't be idling any longer, Lizzy!"
The news that she had come to Florence on the eve of a prizefight could scarcely afford Miss Tellaro any form of gratification, but from having spent the greater part of her life in the company of her father and brother, and from having been used to hear a good deal of conversation about manly sports and to think them perfectly proper for gentlemen to take part in, she readily shared in Patrick's desire to be present at this fight. For herself, she had rather be anywhere else but there. Prizefighting could only disgust her, and although there would naturally be no question of her being a witness is the event, she must expect to hear all about it second handedly, and to fine herself in every probability, the only female in an inn full to overflowing with sporting gentlemen. She did attempt a slight objection, without however, much hope of being listened to. "But Patrick, consider! If the fight is scheduled for tomorrow, this is Saturday, and we must stay here until Monday, for you would not like to travel on Sunday. You know we were counting on being in Rome tomorrow". "Oh, Lizzy, what in the world does that matter?" he replied. "I would not miss this fight for a hundred pounds! I tell you what: you may explore your Roman ruins as much as you desire. You know that is what you wanted. And only to think of it! Boa and SteveAngelo! You must have heard me speak of the fight last year, and wish I was there. Thirty three rounds, and the black resigned! But they say he is in better shape today. It will be a great mill: you would not wish me to miss it! Why, when they met before, it lasted fifty five minutes! They must be devilishly even-matched. Do come down, Lizzy!"No, Miss Tellaro would not wish Patrick to miss anything that could give him pleasure. She picked up the Traveller's Guide, and her little hand bag, and by taking his hand, she stepped down from the chaise into the courtyard. The landlord met them upon their entrance into the Inn but seemed to have very little time to bestow on them. The coffee room was already crowded and there were over a dozen gentlemen of consequence demanding his attention. Rooms? There was not a corner of his house not spoken for. He would advice them to have a fresh team put to their chaise and drive on to Osteria or Quattro Vie. He did not know, he believed there was not an Inn with accommodation to offer, on this side of Florence. He was sorry, but they would understand that the occasion was extraordinary, and all his bed chambers had been engaged for few days before now. This, however, would not do for Elizabeth Tellaro, who was accustomed her whole life to command. "There is some mistake", she spoke in her cool decided voice. "I am Miss Tellaro. You should have had my letter a full week ago. I require two bed chambers, accommodation for my maid, and for my brother's valet, who will be here very soon, and a private parlor". The landlord threw up his hands in a gesture of despair, but he was impressed a little by her air of authority. He had been at first inclined to underrate a couple so modestly dressed, but the mention of a maid and a valet convinced him that he had to do with persons of quality, whom he would not wish to offend. He embarked on an attempt of explanation and apology. He was sure Miss Tellaro would not like to stay under the circumstances. Elizabeth raised her brows. "Indeed! I fancy I am the best judge of that. I will forgo the private parlor, but be good enough to make some arrangement for our bed chambers at once". "It is impossible, ma'am!" the landlord declared. "The house is as full as it can hold. Every room has very spoken for! I should have to turn out some gentleman to oblige you". "Then do so", Elizabeth was enraged. The landlord looked imploringly toward Patrick. "You must see, sir, I can't help myself. I'm very sorry for the fault, but there's no help for it, and indeed the company is not as the lady would like". "Elizabeth, it does seem like we shall have to go somewhere else", Patrick pleaded reasonably. "Perhaps Osteria, I could see the fight from there, or even farther". "Certainly not", Elizabeth said firmly. "You heard what this man said, that he believes there is not a room to be had around this side of Florence. I do not want to go on such a wild-goose chase. Our rooms were spoken for here over a week ago, and if a mistake has been made it must be set right".Her voice, which was very clear, seemed to have reached the ears of a group of people standing against the window. One or two curious glances were directed toward her, and after a moment's hesitation, a man who had been watching Miss Tellaro from the start came across the room, and slightly bowed to her."I beg your pardon, I do not wish to intrude, but there seems to be some huddle. I would be glad to place my rooms at your disposal, ma'am, if you would do me the honor of accepting them".The man at her elbow looked to be around twenty seven or thirty years of age. His manner proclaimed the gentleman. He had a decided air of fashion, and his countenance, without being handsome, was sufficiently pleasing. Elizabeth sketched a courtesy. "You are very good, sir, but you are not to be giving up your rooms to two strangers".He smiled. "No such thing, ma'am. We cannot tell but what if my room should properly be yours? My friend and I..." he made a sight gesture as though to indicate someone in the group behind him "... have acquaintance in the neighborhood, and may readily command a lodging at Hungertown Lodge. I - rather I should say we - are happy to be of service".There was nothing to do but thank him, and accept his offer. He vowed again, and withdrew to rejoin his friends. The landlord, relieved to have been rescued from a difficult situation, led the way out of the coffee room, and delivered his new guests into the care of a chamber maid. In a very little time they found themselves in possession of two respectable apartments on the first floor, and had nothing further to do than to await the arrival of their lugages.It was one of Miss Elizabeth's first concern to discover the name of her unknown benefactor, but by the time she had seen her baggage bestowed, and arranged for a truckle
Rounds the corner swept a curricle-and-four at breakneck speed. It was upon them, it must crash into them, there could be no stopping it. Patrick tried to wrench the horses round, cursing under his breath, Elizabeth felt herself powerless to move. She had a nightmarish vision of four magnificent chestnuts thundering down on her, and of a straight figure in a caped overcoat driving them. It was over in a flash. The chestnuts were swung miraculously to the off; the curricle's mudguard caught only the wheels of the gig, and the chestnuts came to a plunging standstill.The shock of the impact, though it was hardly more than a glancing scrape, startled the farmer's horse into an attempt to bolt, and in another moment one wheel of the gig was in the shallow ditch, and Miss Tellaro was nearly thrown from her seat.She righted herself, aware that her bonnet was crooked, and her temper in shreds, and found that the gentleman in the curricle was sitting perfectly unmoved
To one used to the silence of a country night sleep at the Vinaio Inn, Florence, on the eve of a great fight was almost an impossibility. Sounds of loud revelry floated up from the coffee room to Miss Tellaro's bed chamber until the early hour of the morning; she dozed fitfully, time and again awakened by a burst of laughter below stairs, voices in the street below her window, or a hurrying footstep outside her door. After two o'clock the noise abated gradually, and she was able at last to fall into a sleep which lasted until three long blasts on a horn rudely interrupted it at twenty three minutes past seven.She started up in bed. "Good God, what how?"Her maid, who had also been awakened by the sudden commotion, slipped out of the truckle bed, and ran to peep between the blinds of the window. She was able to report that it was only the Fillinburg mail, and stayed to giggle over the appearance presented by the night-capped passengers descending from it to par
Clarkson went back to join a group of gentlemen beside the ring in a few minutes, for he was to act as referee presently, and as usual had been put in charge of most of the arrangements. Patrick was so busy watching him, and thinking about his famous sparring school at No 15, Old Bay Street, and how he himself would be taking lessons there in a very short while, that he failed to notice the approach oh a curricle-and-four, which edged its way in neatly to a place immediately alongside his own gig and there drew up and stopped.A voice said, "starch is an excellent thing, but in moderation, Garbatela, for heaven's sake in moderation! I thought Jerome had dropped a hint in your ear?"The voice was a perfectly soft one, but it brought Patrick's head round with a jerk, and made him jump. It belonged to a gentleman who drove a team of blood chestnuts, and wore a great coat with fifteen capes. He was addressing an exquisite in an enormously high collar and neck clothe, w
Patrick drank it all in, feeling very humble and ignorant. In La Spezia he had been used to know everyone and he known everywhere, but it was evident that in Rome circles it was different. Tellaro and the Tellaro fortune counted for nothing. He was only an unknown provincial here. Mr Fritzwa produced an enormous turnip watch from his pocket and consulted it. "It's after twelve", he announced. "If the magistrates have got wind of this and mean to stop it, it will be a damn hum!" But just at the moment some cheering, not unmixed with catcalls and a few derisive shouts, was set up, and Steve Angelo, accompanied by his seconds, Faruk Lacesh, the Black, and Sancho Riclux, arbiter of sport, came up to the ring. "He looks like a strong fellow", said Patrick, anxiously scrutinizing as much as he could see of the Negro for the enveloping folds of his great coat. "Weighs something between thirteen and fourteen stone", said Mr Fritzwa knowledgeably. "They say he loses his temper. You weren't a
Mr Fritzwa began to fidget, for it was seen that both Boa's eyes were damaged. Steve Angelo, however, seemed to be in considerable distress, his great chest heaving, and the sweat pouring off him. The Champion was smiling, but the round ended in his falling again. Patrick was quite sure the black must win, and could not understand how seven to four in favor of Boa could still be offered. "Pooh, Boa hasn't began yet!" said Mr Fritzwa stoutly. "The black is looking at queer as Duck's hat band already". "Look at Boa's face!" retorted Patrick. "Lord, there's nothing in the black having drawn his cork. He's fighting at the head all the time. But watch Boa going for the mark, that's what I say. He'll mill his man down yet, though I don't deny the black shows game". Both men rattled in well up to time in the next round, but Steve Angelo had decidedly the best of the rally. Boa fell, and a roar of angry disapproval went up from the crowd. There were some shouts of 'foul!' and for a few mome
A fine burst of country met her eyes, and a few steps down a by-road brought her to the church, a very handsome example of later perpendicular work, with a battlemented tower, and a curious weathervane in the form of a fiddle upon one of its pinnacles. There was no one of whom she could inquire the history of this odd vane, so after exploring the church, and resting a little while on a bench outside, she set out to walk back to Florence. At the bottom of the hill leading out of the village, a pebble became logged in her right sandal and after a very little way, began to make walking an uncomfortable business. Miss Tellaro wriggled her toes in an effort to shift the stone, but it would not answer. Unless she wished to limp all the way Florence, she must take off her shoe and shake the pebble out. She hesitated, for she was upon the high road and had no wish to be discovered in her stockings by any chance whatsoever. One or two carriages had passed her already, she supposed them to be
Harry, you see, is a misogynist", explained the gentleman, apparently not in the least annoyed by this unceremonious interruption. "I am not interested in you or in your servant!" snapped Miss Tellaro. "That is what I like in you", he agreed, and sprang lightly up into the curricle, and stepped across her to the box seat. "Now let me show you how to hit me". Miss Tellaro resisted, but he possessed himself of her gloved hand and doubled it into a fist. "Keep your thumb down so, and hit like that. Not at my chin, I think. Aim for the eye, or the nose, if you prefer". Miss Tellaro sat very rigid. "I won't retaliate", he promised. Then, as she still made no movement, he said, "I see I shall have to offer you provocation", and swiftly kisses her. Miss Tellaro's hands clenched into two admirable fists, but she controlled an unladylike impulse, and kept them in her lap. She was both shaken and enraged by the kiss, and hardly knew where to look. No other man than her father or Patrick had e