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Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
The Duke entreated my pardon. He will punish his men for abusing
me. But he holds me a safe prisoner, just the same."
"Why?"
"He wants a ransom. He will force me to purchase an ancient brass
candlestick for fifty thousand lira."
Uncle John looked at his companion thoughtfully.
"Tell me, Count Ferralti," he said, "who you really are. I had believed
you were Il Duca's accomplice, until now. But if he has trapped you, and
demands a ransom, it is because you are a person of some consequence,
and able to pay. May I not know as much about your position in life as
does this brigand duke?"
The young man hesitated. Then he spread out his hands with an appealing
gesture and said:
"Not yet, Mr. Merrick! Do not press me now, I implore you. Perhaps I
have done wrong to try to deceive you, but in good time I will explain
everything, and then you will understand me better."
"You are no count."
"That is true, Mr. Merrick."
"You are not even an Italian."
"That is but partly true, sir."
"You have seen fit to deceive us by--"
Tommaso threw wide the door.
"_Il dejunй й servito_," he said gruffly.
"What does that mean?" asked Uncle John.
"Luncheon is ready. Shall we go down?"
"Yes; I'm hungry."
They followed the man to the lower floor, where he ushered them into a
low, cool room where a long table was set. The walls were whitewashed
and bore some religious prints, gaudily colored. A white cloth covered
the table, which was well furnished with modern crockery and glass, and
antique silverware.
At the head of the table were two throne-like chairs, one slightly
larger and more elevated than the other. In the more important seat was
a withered old woman with a face like that of a mummy, except that it
was supplied with two small but piercing jet eyes that seemed very much
alive as they turned shrewdly upon the strangers. She was the only one
of the company they found seated. The Duke stood behind the smaller
chair beside her, and motioned the Americans to occupy two places at the
side of the table next him.
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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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