Stories by English Authors in Italy(旅意英国作家的故事)

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STORIES

BY ENGLISH AUTHORS IN ITALY

STORIES

A FAITHFUL RETAINER

BY JAMES PAYN

When I lived in the country,--which was a long time ago,--our nearest

neighbours were the Luscombes. They were very great personages in the

country indeed, and the family were greatly "respected"; though not, so far

as I could discern, for any particular reason, except from their having been

there for several generations. People are supposed to improve, like wine,

from keeping--even if they are rather "ordinary" at starting; and the

Luscombes, at the time I knew them, were considered quite a "vintage"

family. They had begun in Charles II.'s time, and dated their descent from

greatness in the female line. That they had managed to keep a great estate

not very much impaired so long was certainly a proof of great cleverness,

since there had been many spend-thrifts among them; but fortunately there

had been a miser or two, who had restored the average, and their fortunes.

Mr. Roger Luscombe, the present proprietor, was neither the one nor

the other, but he was inclined to frugality, and no wonder; a burnt child

dreads the fire, even though he may have had nothing to do with lighting it

himself, and his father had kicked down a good many thousands with the

help of "the bones" (as dice were called in his day) and "the devil's books"

(which was the name for cards with those that disapproved of them) and

race-horses; there was plenty left, but it made the old gentleman careful

and especially solicitous to keep it. There was no stint, however, of any

kind at the Court, which to me, who lived in the little vicarage of Dalton

with my father, seemed a palace.

It was indeed a very fine place, with statues in the hall and pictures in

the gallery and peacocks on the terrace. Lady Jane, the daughter of a

wealthy peer, who had almost put things on their old footing with her

ample dowry, was a very great lady, and had been used, I was told, to an

even more splendid home; but to me, who had no mother, she was simply

the kindest and most gracious woman I had ever known.

My connection with the Luscombes arose from their only son Richard

being my father's pupil. We were both brought up at home, but for very

STORIES

different reasons. In my case it was from economy: the living was small

and our family was large, though, as it happened, I had no brothers.

Richard was too precious to his parents to be trusted to the tender mercies

of a public school. He was in delicate health, not so much natural to him

as caused by an excess of care--coddling. Though he and I were very good

friends, unless when we were quarreling, it must be owned that he was a

spoiled boy.

There is a good deal of nonsense talked of young gentlemen who are

brought up from their cradles in an atmosphere of flattery /not/ being

spoiled; but unless they are angels--which is a very exceptional case --it

cannot be otherwise. Richard Luscombe was a good fellow in many ways;

liberal with his money (indeed, apt to be lavish), and kind- hearted, but

self-willed, effeminate, and impulsive. He had also-- which was a source

of great alarm and grief to his father--a marked taste for speculation.

After the age of "alley tors and commoneys," of albert-rock and hard-

bake, in which we both gambled frightfully, I could afford him no

opportunities of gratifying this passion; but if he could get a little money

"on" anything, there was nothing that pleased him better--not that he cared

for the money, but for the delight of winning it. The next moment he

would give it away to a beggar. Numbers of good people look upon

gambling with even greater horror than it deserves, because they cannot

understand this; the attraction of risk, and the wild joy of "pulling off"

something when the chances are against one, are unknown to them. It is

the same with the love of liquor. Richard Luscombe had not a spark of that

(his father left him one of the best cellars in England, but he never touches

even a glass of claret after dinner; "I should as soon think," he says, "of

eating when I am not hungry"); but he dearly liked what he called a

"spec." Never shall I forget the first time he realised anything that could be

termed a stake.

When he was about sixteen, he and I had driven over to some little

country races a few miles away from Dalton, without, I fear, announcing

our intention of so doing. Fresh air was good for "our dear Richard," and

since pedestrian exercise (which he also hated) exhausted him, he had a

groom and dog-cart always at his own disposal. It was a day of great

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excitement for me, who had never before seen a race-course. The flags, the

grand stand (a rude erection of planks, which came down, by-the-bye, the

next year during the race for the cup, and reduced the sporting population),

the insinuating gipsies, the bawling card-sellers, and especially the shining

horses with their twisted manes, all excited my admiration.

I was well acquainted with them in fiction; and these illustrations of

the books I loved so well delighted me. Richard, who had read less and

seen more, was bent on business.

He was tall for his age, but very slight and youthful-looking, and the

contrast of his appearance with that of the company in the little ring,

composed as it was of a choice selection of the roughest blackguards in

England, was very striking.

Many of these knew who he was, and were very glad to see him, but

only one of the book-makers secured his patronage. The fact was, Master

Richard had but one five-pound note to lay; he had been saving up his

pocket-money for weeks for this very purpose, and he took ten to one

about an outsider, "Don Sebastian,"--a name I shall remember when all

other historical knowledge has departed from me,--not because he knew

anything of the horse, but because the longest odds were laid against him.

I didn't like the look of the "gentleman sportsman" who took custody

of that five-pound note, but Richard (who had never seen him before)

assured me, with his usual confidence, that he was "straight as a die" and

"as honest as the day."

The race excited me exceedingly; Richard had lent me a field-glass

(for everything he had was in duplicate, if not triplicate), and I watched

the progress of that running rainbow with a beating heart. At first Yellow

Cap (the Don) seemed completely out of it, the last of all; but presently he

began to creep up, and as they drew near the winning-post, shouts of

"Yellow Cap wins!" "Yellow Cap wins!" rent the air. He did win by a head,

and with a well-pleased flush on my face at my friend's marvellous good

fortune, I turned to congratulate him. He was gone. The tumult and

confusion were excessive; but looking toward the exit gate, I just caught a

glimpse of the book-maker passing rapidly through it, and then of Richard

in pursuit of him.

STORIES

A stout young farmer, whom I knew, was standing behind me, and in a

few hurried words I told him what had happened. "Come with me," he

said, and off we ran, as though we had been entered for the cup ourselves.

The other two were already a field ahead, and far away from the course;

but, fast as the book-maker ran, the delicate Richard had come up with

him. I could imagine how pumped he was, but the idea of having been

swindled by this scoundrel, who was running off with his five-pound note,

as well as the fifty pounds he owed him, had no doubt lent him wings. It

could not, however, lend him strength, nor teach him the art of self-

defence, and after a few moments, passed doubtless in polite request and

blunt refusal, we saw the miscreant strike out from the shoulder and

Richard go down.

The time thus lost, however, short-lived as was the combat, was fatal

to the victor. There were few better runners in Dalton than my companion

and myself, and we gained on the book-maker, who had probably trained

on gin and bad tobacco, hand over hand. As we drew near him he turned

round and inquired, with many expletives, made half inarticulate by want

of breath, what we wanted with a gentleman engaged on his own private

affairs.

"Well," I said,--for as I could trust my agricultural friend with the more

practical measures that were likely to follow I thought it only fair that I

should do the talking,--"we want first the five-pound note which that

young gentleman, whom you have just knocked down, intrusted to your

care, and then the fifty pounds you have lost to him."

He called Heaven to witness that he had never made a bet in his life

with any young gentleman, but that, having been molested, he believed by

a footpad, as he was returning home to his family, he had been compelled

to defend himself.

"I heard you make the bet and saw you take the money," I remarked,

with confidence.

"That's good enough," said the farmer. "Now if you don't shell out that

money this instant, I'll have you back in the ring in a brace of shakes and

tell them what has happened. Last year they tore a welsher pretty nigh to

pieces, and this year, if you don't 'part,' they'll do it quite."

STORIES

The book-maker turned livid,--I never saw a man in such a funk in my

life,--and produced a greasy pocket-book, out of which he took Richard's

bank-note, and ten quite new ones; and I noticed there were more left, so

that poverty was not his excuse for fraud.

"Let me look at 'em against the sun," said the farmer, "to see as the

water-mark is all right."

This was a precaution I should never have thought of, and it gave me

for the first time a sense of the great intelligence of my father's

parishioner.

"Yes, they're all correct. And now you may go; but if ever you show

your face again on Southick (Southwick) race-course it will be the worst

for you."

He slunk away, and we returned to Richard, who was sitting on the

ground, looking at his nose, which was bleeding and had attained vast

dimensions.

"Did you get the money?" were his first words, which I thought very

characteristic.

"Yes, there it is, squire--ten fivers and your own note."

"Very good; I should never have seen a shilling of it but for you and

Charley, so we will just divide it into three shares."

The farmer said, "No," but eventually took his L16 13s. 4d., and quite

right too. Of course I did not take Richard's money, but he afterward

bought me a rifle with it, which I could not refuse. The farmer, as may be

well imagined, could be trusted to say nothing of our adventure; but it was

impossible to hide Richard's nose. He was far too honest a fellow to tell a

lie about it, and the whole story came out. His father was dreadfully

shocked at it, and Lady Jane in despair: the one about his gambling

propensities, and the other about his nose; she thought, if the injury did not

prove fatal, he would be disfigured for life.

He was well in a week, but the circumstances had the gravest

consequences. It was decided that something must be done with the heir of

the Luscombes to wean him from low company (this was not me, but

grooms and racing people); but even this predilection was ascribed in part

to his fragile constitution. A fashionable physician came down from

STORIES

London to consider the case. He could not quite be brought to the point

desired by Lady Jane, to lay Richard's love of gambling at the door of the

delicacy of his lungs; but he was brought very near it. The young fellow,

his "opinion" was, had been brought up too much like a hothouse flower;

his tastes were what they were chiefly because he had no opportunities of

forming better ones; with improved strength his moral nature would

become more elevated. That he was truthful was a great source of

satisfaction (this was with reference to his distinct refusal to give up

gambling to please anybody) and a most wholesome physical sign. "My

recommendation is that he should be temporarily removed from his

present dull surroundings; there is not scope in them for his mind; he

should be sent abroad for a month or two with his tutor. That will do him a

world of good."

If it was not very good advice, it was probably quite as judicious as

other "opinions" for which a hundred and fifty guineas have been

cheerfully paid. It was at all events a great comfort to hear that there was

nothing constitutionally wrong with "dearest Richard," and that he only

wanted a tonic for mind and body. The doctor's verdict was accepted by

both parents, but there was an insurmountable obstacle to its being carried

into effect in Master Richard himself. My father could not leave his parish

and his family, and with no other tutor could the young gentleman be

induced to go.

Now it happened that the butler at the Court, John Maitland, who, as is

often the case in such households, had the gravity and dignity of a bishop,

was so fortunate as to be a favourite both with the old folks and the young

one. He really was a superior person, and not only "honest as the day" in

Richard's eyes (which, as we have seen, was not a guarantee of

straightforwardness), but in those of every one else. He had been born in

the village, had been page to Mr. Luscombe's father, and had lived more

than fifty years at the Court. The relations between master and servant

were feudal, mingled with the more modern attachment that comes of

good service properly appreciated. He thought the Luscombes, if not the

only old family in the world, the best, and worshipped--though in a

dignified and ecclesiastical manner--the ground trodden on both by the

STORIES

squire and Master Richard. My own impression was that under pretence of

giving way to the latter he played into the parental hands; but as this was

certainly for my young friend's good, I never communicated my

suspicions to him. Maitland, at all events, had more influence over him

than any man except my father. Still it astonished us all not a little,

notwithstanding the high opinion we entertained of him, when we heard

that the butler was to be intrusted with the guardianship of Richard abroad.

Such a thing could not have happened in any other family, but so it was

arranged; and partly as valet, partly as confidential companion and

treasurer Maitland started with his young master on his travels.

These were to last for not less than six months, and Italy, because of its

warm climate, was the country to which they were bound. That it would

do the young fellow good, both moral and physical, we all hoped; but my

father had his doubts. He feared that Maitland's influence over his

companion would wane when away from the Court; but it never entered

into his mind that he would willingly permit any wrong doing, and still

less that the man would himself succumb to any temptation that involved

dishonesty.

They travelled by easy stages; though they used the railway, of course,

they did so only for a few hours a day, and got out and remained at places

of interest. Richard was very amenable, and indeed showed no desire for

dissipation; his one weakness--that of having a "spree"--had no

opportunity of being gratified; and Maitland wrote home the most

gratifying letters, not only respecting the behaviour of his charge, but of

the improvement in his health. As they drew nearer to Italy, Richard

observed one day that he should spend a day or two at Monte Carlo.

Maitland had never heard of the place or of its peculiar attractions; and

"Master Richard" only told him that it was very picturesque. The horror of

the faithful retainer may therefore be imagined when he found that it was a

gambling resort.

He could not prevent his young master frequenting the tables, and

though he kept the purse, with the exception of a few pounds, and would

certainly have stood between him and ruin, he could not prevent his

winning. Richard had the luck, and more, that proverbially attends young

STORIES

people--he had the luck of the devil; his few napoleons swelling to a great

many on the very first day, and he was in the seventh heaven of happiness.

The next day and the next he won largely, immensely; in vain Maitland

threatened to write to his father, and even to leave him.

"All right," replied the reckless youth. "You may do as you like; even

if the governor disinherits me I can make my fortune by stopping here.

And as to leaving me, go by all means; I shall get on very well with a

French valet."

It was dreadful.

Richard grew happier and happier every day, as the golden flood

flowed in upon him, but also extremely hectic. He passed the whole day at

the tables, and the want of air and exercise, and, still more, the intense

excitement which possessed him, began to have the most serious effect.

That prescription of "seeing the world," and "escaping from his dull

surroundings," was having a very different result from what had been

expected. "The paths of glory lead but to the grave"; the young

Englishman and his luck were the talk of all Monte Carlo, and he enjoyed

his notoriety very much; but, as the poor butler plaintively observed, what

was the good of that when Master Richard was "killing himself"?

How the news was received at the Court I had no means of judging,

for the squire kept a rigid silence, except that he had long conferences with

my father; and Lady Jane kept her room. It was indeed a very sore subject.

The squire wanted to start for Monte Carlo at once; but he was singularly

insular, detested travel, and in truth was very unfit for such a "cutting-out

expedition" as was contemplated. He waited, half out of his mind with

anxiety, but in hopes of a better report; what he hoped for was that luck

would turn, and Richard lose every shilling.

The very reverse of this, however, took place; Richard won more and

more. He would come home to his hotel in the evening with a porter

carrying his gains. His portmanteau was full of napoleons. It was

characteristic of him that he never thought of banking it. One evening he

came in with very bright eyes, but a most shrunken and cadaverous face.

"This has been my best day of all, Johnny," he said. "See, I have won

two thousand pounds; and you shall have a hundred of it."

STORIES

But Maitland refused to have anything to do with such ill-gotten gains,

for which, too, his young master was sacrificing his health, and perhaps

his life. Still--though this did not strike Richard till afterward--he could

not help regarding the great heap of gold with considerable interest. Added

to the lad's previous gains, the amount was now very large indeed--more

than five thousand pounds.

"I should really think, Master Richard, as you had now won enough."

"Enough? Certainly not. I have not broken the bank yet. I mean to do

that before I've done with it, Johnny."

"That will be after you've killed yourself," said honest John.

"Well, then I shall die /rich/," was the reckless rejoinder.

Richard, who was too exhausted for repose, tossed and tumbled on his

bed for hours, and eventually dropped into a heavy slumber, and slept far

into the next morning. He awoke feeling very unwell, but his chief anxiety

was lest he should miss the opening of the tables; he was always the first

to begin. He rang his bell violently for Maitland. There was no reply, and

when he rang again, one of the hotel servants came up.

"Where is my man?" he inquired.

"Monsieur's man-servant took monsieur's luggage to the railway-

station; he is gone by the early train to Turin."

"Gone to Turin with my luggage?"

"Yes, with the two portmanteaus--very heavy ones."

Richard got out of bed, and dragged his weary limbs into the dressing-

room, an inner apartment, where the portmanteaus were kept for safety.

They were both gone.

"What train did the scoundrel go by? Where is my watch? Why, the

villain has taken that too! Send for the police! No; there is no time to be

lost--send a telegram. Why, he has not even left me enough money to pay

a telegram!"

All his small change was gone. Honest John had taken everything; he

had not left his young master a single sixpence. At this revelation of the

state of affairs, poor Richard, weakened as he was by his long excitement,

threw himself on the bed and burst into tears. The attendant, to whom, as

usual, he had been liberal, was affected by an emotion so strange in an

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STORIES1STORIESBYENGLISHAUTHORSINITALYSTORIES2AFAITHFULRETAINERBYJAMESPAYNWhenIlivedinthecountry,--whichwasalongtimeago,--ournearestneighboursweretheLuscombes.Theywereverygreatpersonagesinthecountryindeed,andthefamilyweregreatly"respected";thoughnot,sofarasIcoulddiscern,foranyparticularreason,except...

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Stories by English Authors in Italy(旅意英国作家的故事)

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