Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
The dances were unique and graceful, being executed by a troup of
laughing peasants dressed in native costume, who seemed very proud of
their accomplishment and anxious to please the throng of tourists
present. The Tarantella originated in Ischia, but Sorrento and Capri
have the best dancers.
Afterward Uncle John and his nieces stood upon the terrace and watched
the volcano rolling its dense clouds, mingled with sparks of red-hot
scoria, toward the sky. The Count clung to Louise's side, but also tried
to make himself agreeable to her cousins. In their rooms that night
Patsy told Beth that the young foreigner was "too highfalutin' to suit
her," and Beth replied that his manners were so like those of their
Cousin Louise that the two ought to get along nicely together.
Uncle John liked his nieces to make friends, and encouraged young men
generally to meet them; but there was something in the appearance of
this callow Italian nobleman that stamped his character as artificial
and insincere. He resolved to find out something about his antecedents
before he permitted the young fellow to establish friendly relations
with his girls.
Next morning after breakfast he wandered through the lobby and paused at
the little office, where he discovered that the proprietor of this hotel
was a brother of that Floriano who managed the Hotel du Vesuve. That
gave him an excuse to talk with the man, who spoke very good English and
was exceedingly courteous to his guests--especially when they were
American.
"I see you have Count Ferralti with you," remarked Uncle John.
"Whom, sir?"
"Ferralti--Count Ferralti. The young man standing by the window,
yonder."
"I--I did not know," he said, hesitatingly. "The gentleman arrived last
evening, and I had not yet learned his name. Let me see," he turned to
his list of guests, who register by card and not in a book, and
continued: "Ah, yes; he has given his name as Ferralti, but added no
title. A count, did you say?"
"Yes," replied Uncle John.
The proprietor looked curiously toward the young man, whose back only
was visible.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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