Perhaps it did, but all the same, six weeks later, toward the middle of June, the moment when Mrs.Prest undertook her annual migration, I had made no measurable advance.
I was obliged to confess to her that I had no results to speak of.
My first step had been unexpectedly rapid, but there was no appearance that it would be followed by a second.
I was a thousand miles from taking tea with my hostesses--that privilege of which, as I reminded Mrs.Prest, we both had had a vision.She reproached me with wanting boldness, and I answered that even to be bold you must have an opportunity:
you may push on through a breach but you can't batter down a dead wall.She answered that the breach I had already made was big enough to admit an army and accused me of wasting precious hours in whimpering in her salon when I ought to have been carrying on the struggle in the field.It is true that I went to see her very often, on the theory that it would console me (I freely expressed my discouragement) for my want of success on my own premises.But I began to perceive that it did not console me to be perpetually chaffed for my scruples, especially when I was really so vigilant; and I was rather glad when my derisive friend closed her house for the summer.
She had expected to gather amusement from the drama of my intercourse with the Misses Bordereau, and she was disappointed that the intercourse, and consequently the drama, had not come off.
"They'll lead you on to your ruin," she said before she left Venice.
"They'll get all your money without showing you a scrap."I think I settled down to my business with more concentration after she had gone away.
It was a fact that up to that time I had not, save on a single brief occasion, had even a moment's contact with my queer hostesses.
The exception had occurred when I carried them according to my promise the terrible three thousand francs.
Then I found Miss Tita waiting for me in the hall, and she took the money from my hand so that I did not see her aunt.
The old lady had promised to receive me, but she apparently thought nothing of breaking that vow.The money was contained in a bag of chamois leather, of respectable dimensions, which my banker had given me, and Miss Tita had to make a big fist to receive it.This she did with extreme solemnity, though I tried to treat the affair a little as a joke.
It was in no jocular strain, yet it was with simplicity, that she inquired, weighing the money in her two palms:
"Don't you think it's too much?" To which I replied that that would depend upon the amount of pleasure I should get for it.
Hereupon she turned away from me quickly, as she had done the day before, murmuring in a tone different from any she had used hitherto: "Oh, pleasure, pleasure--there's no pleasure in this house!"After this, for a long time, I never saw her, and I wondered that the common chances of the day should not have helped us to meet.
It could only be evident that she was immensely on her guard against them; and in addition to this the house was so big that for each other we were lost in it.I used to look out for her hopefully as I crossed the sala in my comings and goings, but I was not rewarded with a glimpse of the tail of her dress.
It was as if she never peeped out of her aunt's apartment.
I used to wonder what she did there week after week and year after year.I had never encountered such a violent parti pris of seclusion; it was more than keeping quiet--it was like hunted creatures feigning death.The two ladies appeared to have no visitors whatever and no sort of contact with the world.
I judged at least that people could not have come to the house and that Miss Tita could not have gone out without my having some observation of it.I did what I disliked myself for doing (reflecting that it was only once in a way): I questioned my servant about their habits and let him divine that Ishould be interested in any information he could pick up.
But he picked up amazingly little for a knowing Venetian:
it must be added that where there is a perpetual fast there are very few crumbs on the floor.His cleverness in other ways was sufficient, if it was not quite all that I had attributed to him on the occasion of my first interview with Miss Tita.
He had helped my gondolier to bring me round a boatload of furniture;and when these articles had been carried to the top of the palace and distributed according to our associated wisdom he organized my household with such promptitude as was consistent with the fact that it was composed exclusively of himself.He made me in short as comfortable as I could be with my indifferent prospects.
I should have been glad if he had fallen in love with Miss Bordereau's maid or, failing this, had taken her in aversion;either event might have brought about some kind of catastrophe, and a catastrophe might have led to some parley.
It was my idea that she would have been sociable, and Imyself on various occasions saw her flit to and fro on domestic errands, so that I was sure she was accessible.
But I tasted of no gossip from that fountain, and Iafterward learned that Pasquale's affections were fixed upon an object that made him heedless of other women.
This was a young lady with a powdered face, a yellow cotton gown, and much leisure, who used often to come to see him.
She practiced, at her convenience, the art of a stringer of beads (these ornaments are made in Venice, in profusion; she had her pocket full of them, and I used to find them on the floor of my apartment), and kept an eye on the maiden in the house.
It was not for me of course to make the domestics tattle, and I never said a word to Miss Bordereau's cook.
It seemed to me a proof of the old lady's determination to have nothing to do with me that she should never have sent me a receipt for my three months' rent.For some days I looked out for it and then, when I had given it up, I wasted a good deal of time in wondering what her reason had been for neglecting so indispensable and familiar a form.
