British -- Italy -- Fiction; Love stories; Rome (Italy) -- Fiction; Russians -- Italy -- Fiction
Meanwhile Count Roumovski had made all arrangements at the Excelsior
Hotel, and after lunch sat quietly in the hall awaiting his beloved.
Mrs. Ebley had felt too upset to go down to the restaurant, so the two
clergymen were there alone, and glanced wrathfully at the imperturbable
face of Count Roumovski seated at his usual table, with his air of
detached aloofness and perfect calm. They, on the contrary, were so
boiling with rage that they knew not what they ate.
After lunch it had been decided that the party should leave the Grand
and take the five o'clock train to Florence, and their preparations
were made.
Mrs. Ebley had herself been laboriously packing so as not to take
Martha from her post, and orders were whispered to that faithful
Abigail through Stella's letter slide to pack Miss Rawson's things at
once.
Stella watched these preparations serenely, and gave Martha directions
as to what to put on the top. Then when all was finished and she had
donned her hat, she rang the electric bell for the waiter, and when he
knocked at the door she calmly bade him enter, which, of course, he was
able to do with his key, and she told him in French, which Martha did
not understand, to send the porters there immediately, and have her
luggage consigned to the care of the servant who would be waiting in
the passage. This person would give orders for its destination. The
waiter bowed obsequiously. Had he not been already heavily tipped by
this intelligent Ivan, and instructed instantly to obey the orders of
mademoiselle?
"It is much better I am before them," Stella thought to herself, while
Martha looked on in rageful bafflement.
"The porters will come up and take the trunks outside, Martha," Miss
Rawson said. "You can give them what orders aunt told you to."
Such was her supreme confidence in the methods of her lover that she
felt sure once Ivan was apprised of the fact by the waiter that the
trunks would be consigned to him it would not matter what Martha said
to the porters! So she calmly sat down by the window and folded her
hands, while the elderly maid fumed with the uncertainty of what she
ought to do. And in a few moments the men appeared, and smilingly
seemed to understand the gestures and English orders of Martha to take
the trunks to the door of Madam Ebley, number 325, round the corner of
the passage and on the opposite side.
They nodded their heads wisely and carried the box out, shutting the
door after them, and then there was silence for a while; and Stella
half-dozed in her chair, it was so warm and peaceful by the window and
she had had so little sleep in the night.
An hour passed, and at four o'clock the Aunt Caroline appeared. Her
face was grim. Had Stella been an outcast in deed and word she could
not have looked more disdainful.
"You must come down with me now, Stella," she said, "we are ready to go
to the station. I will remain with you here until Martha gets her hat."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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