TEN
1035 Words
A fine burst of country met her eyes, and a few steps down a by-road brought her to the church, a very handsome example of later perpendicular work, with a battlemented tower, and a curious weathervane in the form of a fiddle upon one of its pinnacles. There was no one of whom she could inquire the history of this odd vane, so after exploring the church, and resting a little while on a bench outside, she set out to walk back to Florence. At the bottom of the hill leading out of the village, a pebble became logged in her right sandal and after a very little way, began to make walking an uncomfortable business. Miss Tellaro wriggled her toes in an effort to shift the stone, but it would not answer. Unless she wished to limp all the way Florence, she must take off her shoe and shake the pebble out. She hesitated, for she was upon the high road and had no wish to be discovered in her stockings by any chance whatsoever. One or two carriages had passed her already, she supposed them to be returning from Coverciano Gap, but at the moment there was nothing in sight. She sat down on the bank at the side of the road, and pulled up her frilled skirt an inch or two to come at the strings of her sandal. As I'll luck would have it, the strings had worked themselves into a knot which took her some minutes to untie. She had just succeeded in doing this, and was shaking out the pebble, when a curricle-and-four came into sight, traveling at a brisk pace towards Florence. Miss Tellaro thrust the sandal behind her and hurriedly let down her skirts, but not, she felt uneasily, before the owner of the curricle must have caught a glimpse of her shapely ankle. She picked up her parasol, which she dad allowed to fall at the foot of the bank, and pretended to be interested in the contemplation of the opposite side of the road. The curricle drew along side, and checked. Miss Tellaro cast a fleeting glance upward at it, and stiffened. The curricle stopped. "Beauty in distress again?" inquired a familiar voice. Miss Tellaro would have given all she possessed in the world to have been able to rise up and walk away in the opposite direction. It was not in her power, however. She could only tuck her foot out of sight and pretend to be quite deaf. The curricle drew right in to the side of the road, and at a sign from its driver the tiger perched up behind jumped down and ran to the wheel horses' heads. Miss Tellaro raged inwardly, and turned her head away. The curricle's owner descended in a leisurely fashion, and came up to her. "Why so diffident?" he asked. "You had plenty to say when I met you yesterday". Miss Tellaro turned to look at him. Her cheeks had reddened, but she replied without the least sign of shyness. "Be pleased to drive on, sir. I have nothing to say to you, and my affairs are not your concern". "That - or something very like it - is what you said to me before", he remarked. "Tell me, are you even prettier when you smile? I've no complaint to make, none at all. The whole effect is charming - and found at Florence too, of all unlikely places! - but I should like to see you without the scowl". Miss Tellaro's eyes flashed. "Magnificent!" said the gentleman. "Of course, blondes are not precisely the fashion, but you are something quite out of the way, you know". "You are insolent, sir!" said Miss Tellaro. He laughed. "On the contrary, I am being excessively polite". She looked him full in the eyes. "If my brother had been here with me you would not have accosted me in this fashion", she said. "Certainly not", he agreed, quite imperturbably. "He would have been very much in the way. What is your name?" "Again, sir, that is no concern of yours". "A mystery", he said. "I shall have to call you Deliciae. May I put on your shoe for you?" She gave a start, her cheeks flamed. "No!" she said chokingly. "You may do nothing for me except drive on!" "Why, that is easily done!" he replied, and bent, and before she had time to realize his purpose, lifted her up in his arms, and walked off with her to his curricle. Miss Tellaro ought to have screamed, or fainted. She was too surprised to do either, but as soon as she had recovered from her astonishment at being picked up in that easy way - as though she had been a featherweight, which she knew she was not - she dealt her captor one resounding slap, with the full force of her arm behind it. He winced a little, but his arms did not slacken their hold, rather they tightened slightly. "Never hit with an open palm, Deliciae", he told her. "I will show you how in a minute. Up with you!" Miss Tellaro was tossed up into the curricle, and collapsed on to the seat in some disorder. The gentleman in the caped great coat picked up her parasol and gave it to her, took the sandal from her resistless grasp, and calmly held it ready to fit on to her foot. To struggle for possession of it would be an undignified business. To climb down from the curricle was impossible. Miss Tellaro, quivering with temper, put out her stockinged foot. He slipped the sandal on, and tied the string. "Thank you!" said Miss Tellaro with awful civility. "Now if you will give me your hand out of your carriage, I may resume my walk". "But I am not going to give you my hand", he said. "I am going to drive you back to Florence". His tone provoked her to reply disdainfully. "You may think that a great honor, sir, but..." "It is a great honor", he said. "I never drive females". "No", said his tiger suddenly. "Else I wouldn't be here. Not a minute, I wouldn't".
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