|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 55
"Call this classical!" she cried, rising from her seat.
"It's not even respectable! Philip! take me out at once."
"Whose is it?" shouted her brother, holding up the
bouquet in one hand and the billet-doux in the other.
"Whose is it?"
The house exploded, and one of the boxes was violently
agitated, as if some one was being hauled to the front.
Harriet moved down the gangway, and compelled Miss Abbott to
follow her. Philip, still laughing and calling "Whose is
it?" brought up the rear. He was drunk with excitement.
The heat, the fatigue, and the enjoyment had mounted into
his head.
"To the left!" the people cried. "The innamorato is to
the left."
He deserted his ladies and plunged towards the box. A
young man was flung stomach downwards across the
balustrade. Philip handed him up the bouquet and the note.
Then his own hands were seized affectionately. It all
seemed quite natural.
"Why have you not written?" cried the young man. "Why
do you take me by surprise?"
"Oh, I've written," said Philip hilariously. "I left a
note this afternoon."
"Silence! silence!" cried the audience, who were
beginning to have enough. "Let the divine creature
continue." Miss Abbott and Harriet had disappeared.
"No! no!" cried the young man. "You don't escape me
now." For Philip was trying feebly to disengage his hands.
Amiable youths bent out of the box and invited him to enter it.
"Gino's friends are ours--"
"Friends?" cried Gino. "A relative! A brother! Fra
Filippo, who has come all the way from England and never written."
"I left a message."
The audience began to hiss.
"Come in to us."
"Thank you--ladies--there is not time--"
The next moment he was swinging by his arms. The moment
after he shot over the balustrade into the box. Then the
conductor, seeing that the incident was over, raised his
baton. The house was hushed, and Lucia di Lammermoor
resumed her song of madness and death.
Philip had whispered introductions to the pleasant
people who had pulled him in--tradesmen's sons perhaps they
were, or medical students, or solicitors' clerks, or sons of
other dentists. There is no knowing who is who in Italy.
The guest of the evening was a private soldier. He shared
the honour now with Philip. The two had to stand side by
side in the front, and exchange compliments, whilst Gino
presided, courteous, but delightfully familiar. Philip
would have a spasm of horror at the muddle he had made. But
the spasm would pass, and again he would be enchanted by the
kind, cheerful voices, the laughter that was never vapid,
and the light caress of the arm across his back.
He could not get away till the play was nearly finished,
and Edgardo was singing amongst the tombs of ancestors. His
new friends hoped to see him at the Garibaldi tomorrow
evening. He promised; then he remembered that if they kept
to Harriet's plan he would have left Monteriano. "At ten
o'clock, then," he said to Gino. "I want to speak to you
alone. At ten."
"Certainly!" laughed the other.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|