(1941) Up at the Villa Read Online Free

seriousness.
    'Oh, I've reached an age when I prefer my alliances to be
temporary, returned the Princess.
    `You see, I have no time to waste. That is why I have
such a soft spot in my heart for Rowley; his intentions are always
dishonourable.’
    The colonel looked at his fish with a frown, which was
unreasonable since it consisted of scampi which had arrived from Viareggio that
evening, and his wife smiled with constraint. The restaurant had a small band.
Its members were shabbily dressed in a sort of musical-play Neapolitan costume
and they played Neapolitan tunes. Presently the Princess remarked: 'I think
it's about time we had the singer. You'll be astonished. He's really got a
magnificent voice, all macaroni and emotion. Harold Atkinson is seriously
thinking of having him trained for opera.’
    She called the head-waiter.
    `Ask that man to sing that song he sang the other night
when I was here.’
    `I'm sorry, Excellency, but he's not here tonight. He's
sick.’
    `How tiresome! I particularly
wanted my friends to hear him. I asked them to dine here on purpose for that.’
    `He's sent a substitute, but he only plays the violin.
I'll tell him to play.’
    `If there's anything I dislike it's the violin,' she
answered.
    `Why one should want to hear anyone scrape the hair of a
horse's tail against the guts of a dead cat is something I shall never
understand.’
    The head-waiter could speak half a dozen languages
fluently, but understood none. He took the Princess's remark to mean that she
was pleased with his suggestion, and went up to the violinist, who rose from
his chair and stepped forward. He was a dark, slender young man with enormous
hungry eyes and a melancholy look. He managed to wear that grotesque costume
with a romantic air, but he looked half-starved. His smooth face was thin and
pinched. He played his piece.
    `He's quite frightful, my poor Giovanni.’
    the Princess said to the
head-waiter. This time he understood.
    `He's not very good, Princess. I'm sorry. I didn't know.
But the other will be back tomorrow.’
    The band started upon another number and under cover of
this Rowley turned to Mary.
    `You're looking very beautiful tonight.’
    `Thank you.’
    His eyes twinkled.
    'Shall I tell you one of the things I particularly like
about you? Unlike some women, when one tells you you're beautiful, you don't
pretend you don't know it. You accept it as naturally as if one told you had
five fingers on each hand.’
    `Until I married my looks were my only means of
livelihood. When my father died my mother and I had only her pension to live
on. If I got parts as soon as I passed out of the Dramatic School it was
because I was lucky enough to have the looks I have.’
    `I should have thought you could have made a fortune on
the movies.’
    She laughed.
    `Unfortunately I had absolutely no talent. Nothing but looks. Perhaps in time I might have learnt to
act, but I married and left the stage.’
    A faint shadow seemed to fall on her face and she looked
for a moment disconsolately into her past. Rowley looked at her perfect
profile. She was indeed a beautiful creature. It was not only that she had
exquisite features; what made her so remarkable was her wonderful colouring.
    `You're a brown and gold girl, aren't you?' he said. Her
hair was of a dark rich gold, her large eyes deep brown, and her skin pale
gold. It was her colouring which took away the coldness which her regular
features might have given her face and gave her a warmth and a richness which were infinitely alluring.
    `I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.’
    `And how many women have you said that to?”
    ‘A good many. But that doesn't
make it any less true when I say it now.’
    She laughed.
    `I suppose it doesn't. But we'll leave it at that, shall
we?”
    ‘Why? It's a subject that I find excessively interesting.’
    `People have been telling me I was beautiful since I was
sixteen and it's ceased