"Tace," said the baby. So the grandmother tasted and found it very nice. Then she had to taste the other arm, and then a small piece of cheek. Then the baby stuck out her foot in its white leather shoe, but grandmamma would not taste it, and called it nasty-nasty. And the other foot was held up and called nasty-nasty. But the baby said "Tace!" and the corners of her mouth drooped. So grandmamma tasted the shoe and found it very nice, and then the other shoe, and it was very nice. And then Nancy had to taste everything all over again.
Thus the days passed busily, bringing much to do.
Aldo wrote that "the system" was incomparable. His only fear was that the administration might notice it. He now played with double stakes. A few days later he wrote again. There was a flaw in the system. But never mind. He had found another one, a much better one. He had bought it for a hundred francs from a man who had been shut out of the Casino because the administration was afraid of his system. Of course, he had promised to give the man a handsome present before he left. He had won eight hundred francs in ten minutes with the new system last night. Of course, he had to be very careful, because the flaw of the other system had been disastrous.
A third letter came. After winning steadily for four days, he had had the most incredible guigne: a run of twenty-four on black when he was doubling on red. But he would stick to the system; it was the only way. People that pottered round and skipped about from one thing to another were bound to lose. Love to all.
Then came a postcard. "Have discovered that all previous "s's" were wrong. Have made friends with a 'cr,' who will put things all right again."
Valeria and Nancy puzzled over the "cr." The "s's" of course meant "systems," but what could a "cr" be? Valeria felt anxious, and sent a messenger for Nino. Nino left Carlo's office at once, and hurried to Via Senato, where, since Aldo's departure, Valeria was staying with Nancy and the baby. All three were on the balcony, and waved hands to him as he crossed the Ponte Sant' Andrea, and hurried across the Boschetti to No. 12.
"How do you do, Valeria?" and he kissed her cheek. "How do you do, Nancy?" and he kissed her hand. "How do you do, Anne-Marie?" and he kissed the baby on the top of the head. "What is the matter? What has Aldo done?"
"Oh!" exclaimed Nancy. "How could you guess that it was about Aldo?"
Nino smiled.
Valeria held the postcard out for him to see, and covering everything but the last line, said: "What does 'cr' mean?"
Nino looked, and said: "Where does he write from?"
Nancy and Valeria exchanged glances, and decided that they could trust Nino. He would not use the system or give it to other people. Besides, the system had a flaw.
"Monte Carlo," they said in unison.
Nino made a mouth as if to whistle, and did not whistle. The baby sitting on the rug watched him and wished he would do it again.
"I suppose 'cr' is croupier," said Nino. Then there was silence. After a while Nino said: "How much did he take with him?"
"Everything," said Valeria.
Then Nino made the mouth again, and the baby was pleased.
"You had better go and fetch him. Quick!" said Nino, looking at Nancy.
"Oh!" gasped Nancy, "must I? Is it bad?"
"Quite bad," said Nino. "He has probably lost half of your forty thousand francs already."
"He only had eighteen," said Nancy, with a twinkle in her grey eye.
"That's better," said Nino. "But go and fetch him all the same."
Nancy was greatly excited and rather pleased. The baby should see the Mediterranean. Valeria, "grandmamma," must come too, of course.
"No, dear," said Valeria, "I cannot. I have promised Aunt Carlotta to help her with her reception to-morrow evening. But I will take you part of the way—as far as Alessandria or Genoa."
"But I am sure Nino could come," said Nancy, looking up at him interrogatively.
"Yes," said Nino, and then quickly said no, he was sorry, he could not possibly leave Carlo's office. Besides, she would manage Aldo better without him.
The next morning he went to the station to see them off. Valeria had Anne-Marie in her arms, and Nancy walked beside them, looking like the baby's elder sister. They had no luggage but a small valise, for Valeria was returning to Milan in the afternoon, and Nancy was sure that she would come back with Aldo the day after to-morrow.
Nino found comfortable places for them, and then stepped down and stood in front of the window, looking up with that vacant half-smile that everyone has who, having said good-bye, stands waiting for the train to start. Nancy was looking down at him with sweet eyes. There was something blue in her hat that made her eyes look bluer. Behind her the baby, held up by Valeria, was waving a short arm up and down as the spirit of Valeria's hand moved it. The bell rang, the whistle blew, and as the train passed him slowly, Nino suddenly jumped on to the step at the end of the carriage, turned the stiff handle, and went in. "I will come as far as Valeria does," he said. He was greeted with delight, but the baby continued irrelevantly to wave good-bye to him for a long time. They passed Alessandria and Genoa, and went on to Savona. The baby looked at the Mediterranean, and Nancy looked at the baby, and Nino looked at Nancy, and Valeria looked at them all, and loved them all with an aching maternal love. At Savona Valeria and Nino got out. They had half an hour to wait for the return train that would take them back to Milan.
They stood on the platform in front of the carriage window, and looked up at Nancy with that vacant half-smile that people have when they have said good-bye.... Nancy leaned out of the window and looked down tenderly at her mother's upturned face, and then at Nino, and then at her mother again. The baby stood on the seat beside her, waving its short arm up and down, with yellow curls falling over its eyes.
"In vettura!" called the guard.
"We shall be back the day after to-morrow," said Nancy for the fourth time; "or perhaps to-morrow."
"Perhaps to-mollow," echoed the baby, who always repeated what other people said. Nino went close to the window, and put up his hand to touch the baby's.
"You don't know what 'to-morrow' means," he said. Anne-Marie let him take her hand. He felt the small, warm fist closed in his. "When is to-morrow, Anne-Marie?"
"To-mollow is … to-mollow is when I am to have evlything," explained Anne-Marie.
"That sounds like a long time away," said Nancy, laughing.
"Yes, indeed," said Valeria.
"Yeth, indeed," echoed the baby.
"Pronti, partenza?" said the guard.
"Good-bye, Nancy! Good-bye, baby!" The bell sounded and the whistle blew.
"Good-bye, mother dear." The train moved slightly and Nancy waved her hand.
"Good-bye, Nancy! Good-bye, baby! Good-bye, my two darlings!"
The train was moving swiftly away.
"Perhaps to-morrow," cried Nancy, waving again. Then she drew back, lest a spark should fly into the baby's eyes.
Valeria stood like a statue looking after them. "Good-bye, Nancy! Good-bye, baby!"
They were gone.
And to-morrow was a long time away.
III
When the leisurely Riviera train drew into the station at Monte Carlo, Nancy looked out of the window to see Aldo, to whom she had telegraphed. He was not there. A group of laughing women in light gowns, two Englishmen with their hands in their pockets, and a German honeymoon-couple were on the platform. No one else. A handsome, indolent porter helped Nancy and the baby to descend, and, taking their valise, walked out in front of them, and handed it to the omnibus-driver of the Hôtel de Paris.
"Non, non," said Nancy. "J'attends mon mari."
"Ah!" said the porter; "elle attend son mari." Then he and the omnibus-driver grinned, and spat, and looked at her.
"Donnez-moi ma valise," said Nancy.
"Donnez-lui sa valise," said the porter.