The Washington herald., 1914-01-25
to0pytlsht inA,


tie restaurant, which overlooked the
Mediterranean, was covered by an avn
ing and fenced by little lemon ana
orange trees. Muscari had an eagle
nose like Dante; his hair and necker-
chief were dark and flowing; he car
ried a black cloak and might almost
have carried black mask, so much did
he bear with him sort OF Venetian
meIodrama. He went as near as his
century permitted to walking the world
literally like Don Juan, with rapier and
guitar. For ne never travelled without
a case of swords, with which he had
fought many brilliant duels, or without
corresponding case for his mandolin,
with which he had actually serenaded
Miss Ethel Harrogate, the highly con-
yentional daughter of Yorkshire
banker, on a holiday. Yet he was
neither a charlatan nor child; but
hot, logical Latin who liked certain
thing and was it.
The banker and his beautiful English
daughter were staying at the hotel at
tached to Muscari's restaurant; that
was why it was his favorite restaurant.
4 glance flashed around the room told
him at once, however, that the English
party had not yet descended. The res
taurant was glittering still, but COM
paratively empty. Two priests were
talking at table in corner, but Mus
carl Gan ardent Catholic took no more
notice of them than of couple OF
crows. But from seat partly con-
cealed behind dwarf tree golden with
oranges there rose and advanced to-
ward the poet a person whose costume
was the most aggressive opposite to
his own.
This figure was clad in tweeds of a
piebald check, with a pink tie, sharp
white collar, and protuberant yellow
boots. He contrived, in the true ira
dition of AIRY at Margate, to look
at once startling and commonplace. But,
as the Cockney apparition drew nearer,
Muscari was astounded to observe that
the head was distinctly different from
the BODY. 1t was an Italian head,
fuzzy, swarthy, and very vivacious, that
rose abruptly out of the standing col
lar like cardboard and the comic pink
tie. In fact, it was head he knew.
He recognized It, above all the dire
erection of English holiday array, as
the face of an old but forgotten friend
named Ezza. This youth had been a
prodigy at college, and European fame
was promised him when he was barely
fifteen; but when he appeared in the
world he failed, first publicly as a
dramatist and a demagogue, and then
privately for years on end as an actor,
a traveller, commission agent, or
journalist. Muscari had known him
last behind the footlights; he was but
too well attuned to the excitements of
that profession, and it was believed that
some moral calamity had swallowed
him up.
"EzzaI" cried the poet, rising and
shaking hands in pleasant astonish-
ment. 'Well, I've seen you. in many
costumes in the green room; but !
never expected to see you dressed up as
an Englishman.
"This,' answered Ezza gravely, els
not the costume of an Englishman, but
of the Italian of the future"
In that case" remarked Muscari, II
confess l prefer the Italian of the
past"
well, to me Marconi, not dAnnun-
zio, is the star of Italy," said the other,
rising. That is why 1 have become a
\ futurist-and a courier"
"A courierl" cried Muscari, laugh
ing. as that the last of your list of
trades? And whom are you conduct
ingf"
ooh, man of the name of Harro-
gate and his family, / believe"
Not the banker in this hotel?" in
quired the poet, with some eagerness.
That's the man." answered the
courier.
Does it pay wellf" asked the trou-
bsdour innocently.
ct will pay me- said Ezza, with a
very enigmatic smile. "But l am a
rather curious sort of courier" Then,
as If changing the subject he said alb
ruptiy: "He has daughter-and a
SON."
"The daughter is divine" affirmed
Muscari; 'the father and son are, I
suppose, human. But, granted his
harmless qualities, doesn't the banker
strike you as a splendid instance of
my argument? He's not clever; he's
got eyes like buttons; he's not ener-
getic; he moves from chair to chair like
a paraiytic. He's q, conscientious, kind
Iy old blockhead; but he's got money
simply because he collects money, as a
boy collects stamps. You're too strong
minded for business, Ezza. You won't
get on. To be clever enough to get
81 q .s