Signora Mirandolina Rocca, who was the landlady of the house where the Club were lodging, was a widow, of about forty years of age, still fresh and blooming, with a merry dark eye, and much animation of features. Sitting usually in the small room which they passed on the way to their apartments, they had to stop to get their keys, or to leave them when they went out, and Buttons and Dick frequently stopped to have a little conversation. The rest, not being able to speak Italian, contented themselves with smiles; the Senator particularly, who gave the most beaming of smiles both on going and on returning. Sometimes he even tried to talk to her in his usual adaptation of broken English, spoken in loud tones to the benighted but fascinating foreigner. Her attention to Dick during his sickness increased the Senator's admiration, and he thought her one of the best, one of the most kind-hearted and sympathetic of beings.
One day, toward the close of their stay in Rome, the Senator was in a fix. He had not had any washing done since he came to the city. He had run through all his clean linen, and came to a dead stand. Before leaving for another place it was absolutely necessary to attend to this. But how? Buttons was off with the Spaniards; Dick had gone out on a drive. No one could help him, so he tried it himself. In fact, he had never lost confidence in his powers of making himself understood. It was still a fixed conviction of his that in cases of necessity any intelligent man could make his wants known to intelligent foreigners. If not, there is stupidity somewhere. Had he not done so in Paris and in other places?
So he rang and managed to make the servant understand that he wished to see the landlady. The landlady had always shown a great admiration for the manly, not to say gigantic charms of the Senator. Upon him she bestowed her brightest smile, and the quick flush on her face and heaving breast told that the Senator had made wild work with her too susceptible heart.
So now when she learned that the Senator wished to see her, she at once imagined the cause to be any thing and every thing except the real one. Why take that particular time, when all the rest were out? she thought. Evidently for some tender purpose. Why send for her? Why not come down to see her? Evidently because he did not like the publicity of her room at the Conciergerie.
She arrayed herself, therefore, in her brightest and her best charms; gave an additional flourish to her dark hair that hung wavingly and luxuriantly, and still without a trace of gray, over her forehead; looked at herself with her dark eyes in the glass to see if she appeared to the best advantage; and finally, in some agitation, but with great eagerness, she went to obey the summons.
Meantime the Senator had been deliberating how to begin. He felt that he could not show his bundle of clothes to so fair and fine a creature as this, whose manners were so soft and whose smile so pleasant. He would do anything first. He would try a roundabout way of making known his wishes, trusting to his own powers and the intelligence of the lady for a full and complete understanding. Just as he had come to this conclusion there was a timid knock at the door.
"Come in," said the Senator, who began to feel a little awkward already.
" E permesso? " said a soft, sweet voice, " se puo entrare? " and Signora Mirandolina Rocca advanced into the room, giving one look at the Senator, and then casting down her eyes.
" Umilissima serva di Lei, Signore, mi commandi. "
But the Senator was in a quandary. What could he do? How begin? What gesture would be the most fitting for a beginning?
The pause began to be embarrassing. The lady, however, as yet was calm—calmer, in fact, than when she entered.
So she spoke once more.
" Di che ha Ella bisogna, Illustrissimo? "
The Senator was dreadfully embarrassed. The lady was so fair in his eyes. Was this a woman who could contemplate the fact of soiled linen? Never.
"Ehem!" said he.
Then he paused.
" Serva devota," said Signora Mirandolina. " Che c'e, Signore. "
Then, looking up, she saw the face of the Senator, all rosy red, turned toward her with a strange confusion and embarrassment in his eye; yet it was a kind eye—a soft, kind eye.
" Egli e forse innamorato di me," murmured the lady, gathering new courage as she saw the timidity of the other. " Che grandezza! " she continued, loud enough for the Senator to hear, yet speaking as if to herself. " Che bellezza! un galantuomo, certamente—e quest' e molto piacevole. "
She glanced at the manly figure of the Senator with a tender admiration in her eye, which she could not repress, and which was so intelligible to the Senator that he blushed more violently than ever, and looked helplessly around him.
" E innamorato di me, senza dubio," said the Signora, " vergogna non vuol che si sapesse. "
The Senator at length found voice. Advancing toward the lady he looked at her very earnestly, and as she thought very piteously held out both his hands, then smiled, then spread his hands apart, then nodded and smiled again, and said:
"Me—me—want—ha—hum—ah! You know—me—gentleman—hum—me——Confound the luck!" he added, in profound vexation.
" Signore," said Mirandolina, " la di Lei gentelezza me confonde. "
The Senator turned his eyes all around, everywhere, in a desperate, half-conscious search for escape from an embarrassing situation.
" Signore noi ci siamo sole, nessuno ci senti," remarked the Signora encouragingly.
"Me want to tell you this!" burst forth the Senator. "Clothes—you know—washy—washy." Whereupon he elevated his eyebrows, smiled, and brought the tips of his fingers together.
" Io non so che cosa vuol dir mi, Illustrissimo," said the Signora, in bewilderment.
"You—you—you know. Ah? Washy? Hey? No, no," shaking his head, "not washy, but get washy."
The landlady smiled. The Senator, encouraged by this, came a step nearer.
" Che cosa? Il cuor me palpita. Io tremo," murmured La Rocca.
She retreated a step. Whereupon the Senator at once fell back again in great confusion.
"Washy, washy," he repeated mechanically, as his mind was utterly vague and distrait.
" Uassi-Uassi? " repeated the other interrogatively.
"Me——"
" Tu," said she, with tender emphasis.
"Wee, mounseer," said he, with utter desperation.
The Signora shook her head.
" Non capisco. Ma quelle, balordaggini ed intormentimente, che sono si non segni manifesti d'amore? "
"I don't understand, marm, a single word of that."
The Signora smiled. The Senator took courage again.
"The fact is this, marm," said he firmly, "I want to get my clothes washed somewhere. Of course you don't do it, but you can tell me, you know. Hm?"
" Non capisco. "
"Madame," said he, feeling confident that she would understand that word at least, and thinking, too, that it might perhaps serve as a key to explain any other words which he might append to it, "my clothes—I want to get them washed—laundress—washy—soap and water—clean 'em all up—iron 'em—hang 'em out to dry. Ha?"
While saying this he indulged in an expressive pantomime. When alluding to his clothes he placed his hands against his chest, when mentioning the drying of them he waved them in the air. The landlady comprehended this. How not? When a gentleman places his hand on his heart, what is his meaning?
" O sottigliezza d'amore! " murmured she. " Che cosa cerca," she continued, looking up timidly but invitingly.
The Senator felt doubtful at this, and in fact a little frightened. Again he placed his hands on his chest to indicate his clothes; he struck that manly chest forcibly several times, looking at her all the time. Then he wrung his hands.
" Ah, Signore," said La Rocca, with a melting glance, " non è d'uopo di desperazione. "
"Washy, washy——"
" Eppure, se Ella vuol sposarmi, non ce difficoltà," returned the other, with true Italian frankness.
"Soap and water——"
" Non ho il coraggio di dir di no. "
The Senator had his arms outstretched to indicate the hanging-out process. Still, however, feeling doubtful if he were altogether understood, he thought he would try another form of pantomime. Suddenly he fell down on his knees, and began to imitate the action of a washer-woman over her tub, washing, wringing, pounding, rubbing.
" O gran' cielo! " cried the Signora, her pitying heart filled with tenderness at the sight of this noble being on his knees before her, and, as she thought, wringing his hands in despair. " O gran' cielo! Egli è innamorato di me non puo parlar Italiano e cosi non puo dirmelo. "
Her warm heart prompted her, and she obeyed its impulse. What else could she do? She flung herself into his outstretched arms as he raised himself to hang out imaginary clothes on an invisible line.
The Senator was thunderstruck, confounded, bewildered, shattered, overcome, crushed, stupefied, blasted, overwhelmed, horror-stricken, wonder-smitten, annihilated, amazed, horrified, shocked, frightened, terrified, nonplussed, wilted, awe-struck, shivered, astounded, dumfounded. He did not even struggle. He was paralysed.
" Ah, carissimo," said a soft and tender voice in his ear, a low, sweet voice, " se veramenta me ami, saro lo tua carissima sposa—— "
At that moment the door opened and Buttons walked in. In an instant he darted out. The Signora hurried away.
" Addio, bellissima, carissima gioia! " she sighed.
The Senator was still paralysed.
After a time he went with a pale and anxious face to see Buttons. That young man promised secrecy, and when the Senator was telling his story tried hard to look serious and sympathetic. In vain. The thought of that scene, and the cause of it, and the blunder that had been made overwhelmed him. Laughter convulsed him. At last the Senator got up indignantly and left the room.
But what was he to do now? The thing could not be explained. How could he get out of the house? He would have to pass her as she sat at the door.
He had to call on Buttons again and implore his assistance. The difficulty was so repugnant, and the matter so very delicate, that Buttons declared he could not take the responsibility of settling it. It would have to be brought before the Club.
The Club had a meeting about it, and many plans were proposed. The stricken Senator had one plan, and that prevailed. It was to leave Rome on the following day. For his part he had made up his mind to leave the house at once. He would slip out as though he intended to return, and the others could settle his bill, and bring with them the clothes that had caused all this trouble. He would meet them in the morning outside the gates of the city.
This resolution was adopted by all, and the Senator, leaving money to settle for himself, went away. He passed hurriedly out of the door. He dared not look. He heard a soft voice pronounce the word " Gioia! " He fled.
Now that one who owned the soft voice afterward changed her feelings so much toward her "gioia" that opposite his name in her house-book she wrote the following epithets: Birbone, Villano, Zolicaccio, Burberone, Gaglioffo, Meschino, Briconaccio, Anemalaccio.