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Page 35
Viewed from London there had seemed to be no details. San
Salvatore from there seemed to be an empty, a delicious blank. Yet,
after only twenty-four hours of it, she was discovering that it was not
a blank at all, and that she was having to ward off as actively as
ever. Already she had been much stuck to. Mrs. Fisher had stuck
nearly the whole of the day before, and this morning there had been no
peace, not ten minutes uninterruptedly alone.
Costanza of course had finally to go because she had to cook, but
hardly had she gone before Domenico came. He came to water and tie up.
That was natural, since he was the gardener, but he watered and tied up
all the things that were nearest to her; he hovered closer and closer;
he watered to excess; he tied plants that were as straight and steady
as arrows. Well, at least he was a man, and therefore not quite so
annoying, and his smiling good-morning was received with an answering
smile; upon which Domenico forgot his family, his wife, his mother, his
grown-up children and all his duties, and only wanted to kiss the young
lady's feet.
He could not do that, unfortunately, but he could talk while he
worked, and talk he did; voluminously; pouring out every kind of
information, illustrating what he said with gestures so lively that he
had to put down the watering-pot, and thus delay the end of the
watering.
Lady Caroline bore it for a time but presently was unable to bear
it, and as he would not go, and she could not tell him to, seeing that
he was engaged in his proper work, once again it was she who had to.
She got off the wall and moved to the other side of the garden,
where in a wooden shed were some comfortable low cane chairs. All she
wanted was to turn one of these round with its back to Domenico and its
front to the sea towards Genoa. Such a little thing to want. One
would have thought she might have been allowed to do that unmolested.
But he, who watched her every movement, when he saw her approaching the
chairs darted after her and seized one and asked to be told where to
put it.
Would she never get away from being waited on, being made
comfortable, being asked where she wanted things put, having to say
thank you? She was short with Domenico, who instantly concluded the
sun had given her a headache, and ran in and fetched her a sunshade and
a cushion and a footstool, and was skilful, and was wonderful, and was
one of Nature's gentlemen.
She shut her eyes in a heavy resignation. She could not be
unkind to Domenico. She could not get up and walk indoors as she would
have done if it had been one of the others. Domenico was intelligent
and very competent. She had at once discovered that it was he who
really ran the house, who really did everything. And his manners were
definitely delightful, and he undoubtedly was a charming person. It
was only that she did so much long to be let alone. If only, only she
could be left quite quiet for this one month, she felt that she might
perhaps make something of herself after all.
She kept her eyes shut, because then he would think she wanted to
sleep and would go away.
Domenico's romantic Italian soul melted within him at the sigh,
for having her eyes shut was extraordinarily becoming to her. He stood
entranced, quite still, and she thought he had stolen away, so she
opened them again.
No; there he was, staring at her. Even he. There was no getting
away from being stared at.
"I have a headache," she said, shutting them again.
"It is the sun," said Domenico, "and sitting on the wall without
a hat."
"I wish to sleep."
"Si signorina," he said sympathetically; and went softly away.
She opened her eyes with a sigh of relief. The gentle closing of
the glass doors showed her that he had not only gone quite away but had
shut her out in the garden so that she should be undisturbed. Now
perhaps she would be alone till lunch-time.
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