Camillo and Carlotta are wed, but the bride and her kin are determined it should be a marriage in name only.  So, as soon as Don Casimiro's back is turned, the hapless woodcutter is packed off to a Swiss boarding school, ostensibly to be refined and made fit to be introduced as a member of the Madellis clan.  And life at the mansion goes back to normal ... that is, until the suave and debonair Meditato Filet appears out of the blue, desirous of paying court to Carlotta.  Matriarch Donna Leo approves; surely the other marriage can be quietly annulled.  What she has not counted on, however, is the strength of Camillo's determination to become worthy of his bride, not to mention Carlotta's growing ambivalence regarding the family machinations.  Things begin to come to a head when Camillo writes from school, expressing his desire to visit home ...

~~~~~

Giusmaria accepted with admirable restraint instructions from all members of the Madellis family-- but he executed only those from Donna Leo. It was, in fact, impossible for him to believe that anything could take place in the Madellis family without the consent of Donna Leo. In 1907 an earthquake caused some damage in the town residence of the Madellis, and Giusmaria, when he went to report it to Donna Leo, who was summering in the country, had tears in his eyes.

"I hope Madam will forgive it," said Giusmaria, in a very humble tone, "but an earthquake has partially demolished the partition in the green room and has completely destroyed the old porcelain service."

"Indeed?" replied Donna Leo severely. "Don't let it happen again."

It is hardly surprising, therefore, that Giusmaria would announce to Donna Leo: "The barber for Madam is in the waiting room." Or: "The delivery boy from the Such-and-such Company has brought a racing bicycle for Madam." There was nothing in the Madellis house that was not "Madam's" or "for Madam." So everything flowed toward Madam in order to be shunted away from Madam and assigned to the proper person. Thus, when Camillo's letter arrived at the Madellis villa, Giusmaria laid it in the center of a tray and, having approached Donna Leo respectfully, said, "A letter for Madam."

It is necessary, at this point, to explain that when Giusmaria brought the letter to her, Donna Leo was not alone: otherwise, it would be impossible to say how it happened that, with the envelope in her hands, she asked in the politest of tones for permission to open it. Mention must also be made of the fact that among those present were Carlotta and Meditato Filet.

Every afternoon for almost a month now, Signor Meditato Filet had been given the opportunity to explain to Carlotta the reasons that impelled him to consider her the most fascinating woman in the world.

Preceded by glorious bunches of flowers and handsome gifts, Signor Meditato Filet made his triumphal daily entry into the Madellis house. There, while Donna Leo and the other inhabitants pretended to be aware of nothing, he settled himself comfortably in an armchair and supplied Carlotta with interesting information about the passion that made him seem more and more fascinating to her.

Meditato Filet, around thirty-five years old, tall and extremely elegant, with dark hair and a splendid mustache, was the kind of man who always excites feminine curiosity. Carlotta was no exception: her interest was evident, and she was able to forget without the slightest difficulty that she had a husband at school.

This is not to accuse Carlotta of immorality. Agreed, women ought not to be interested in men who aren't their husbands. And agreed also that a woman whose husband is still alive ought not to embrace wholeheartedly a project for becoming engaged. Carlotta, however, although a married woman before the law, was still unmarried in the sight both of God and of men.

Then, too, it must be remembered that for Carlotta husbands were like life-preservers thrown to a woman floundering in the water: what harm is there if she sees one that's better than the one she already has and holds out her arms for it? And isn't it reasonable for her, before getting a firm hold on the second, to hang on to the first?

Given Carlotta's way of thinking, therefore, it is reasonable to hold on to the life belt called Camillo until one has a firm hold on the life belt called Meditato.

After having read the letter, Donna Leo rose.

"I beg of you to excuse me, Signor Filet," she said, "but unexpected and unsettling news about the health of a family connection forces me to deprive myself of your most agreeable company."

It was only natural that if Donna Leo left the drawing room, everyone else should leave the drawing room too. It was Giusmaria's belief that on the day Donna Leo leaves this sad world, no one within the Madellis coterie ought to be allowed to remain on earth.

"I trust that it is nothing serious," said Signor Meditato Filet sadly, and then, after giving Carlotta a last, significant glance, he left.

"Who among our relatives," asked Signor Gastone Food when they were alone, "is ill?"

"We are!" cried Donna Leo darkly. Then she handed Camillo's letter over to Carlotta to read aloud.

Carlotta read it aloud, and when she had finished, everyone expressed his own personal opinion.

"Ridiculous," said Signor Gastone.

"Idiotic," said Donna Flaminia.

"Puerile," said Aunt Elisabetta.

"Disgusting," said Cousin Robinia.

"Schoolboy love," said Cousin Edo, with a certain degree of common sense.

Carlotta shook her head. "It's distressing," she said.

"He is a hardened criminal sunk deep in vice!" cried Donna Leo. "He threatens to descend on us like a vulture and ruin irreparably our forthcoming marriage with Signor Filet!"

"But if Carlotta," said Signor Gastone, "is going to marry Signor Filet, we will have to explain to him his fiancée's matrimonial situation. Or were you planning to get an annulment without letting Signor Filet know anything about it?"

"No, of course not--Signor Filet will have to know, and I myself will speak to him. But this is still a little too soon. When Signor Filet asks us permission to become officially engaged, that will be the time. Up until now he's spoken only to Carlotta, and we officially know nothing about it. So on what basis would we mention to him the existence of this damned husband? We'll have to work it out so that he waits another month before expressing his desire, and by that time his attraction to Carlotta will have become a passion. And passion knows no obstacles. What's more, Signor Filet can then give us the financial help we will need to settle this woodcutter definitively. What we must prevent is having the villain descend on our house--there's the trouble."

"I'll go and talk to him at school," said Carlotta, "as he asks. I'll tame him down."

Her mother, Donna Flaminia, wrung her hands in anguish. "Carlotta!" she cried. "Remember that you're almost engaged! Be careful not to compromise yourself!"

"He isn't the kind of husband," Carlotta assured her, "who could compromise a woman of my temperament."

Her departure was agreed upon, and two hours later Carlotta was sitting in her comfortable first-class compartment traveling at high speed toward the nearby Swiss frontier.

Carlotta took Camillo's letter from her purse and reread it, concluding to herself: "He's a fool."

This definition, however, did not quite satisfy her, and she reread the letter another couple of times. She amended her definition: "He's a romantic fool."

At this point she felt a slight doubt. "A romantic fool, or a foolish romantic?" A fifth reading led her to decide on "a foolish romantic."

The question to be decided now was whether Camillo was a fool as a result of his romanticism or independently of it. That is to say, was he touched in the heart or in the head?

But the distinctions, thought Carlotta, between heart and head are literary ones. The fact that the heart beats stronger on certain occasions does not mean the heart is the seat of the emotions. If one is a fool and if one's brain doesn't react on particular occasions, one's heart nevertheless continues to beat in its rhythm. Camillo therefore was a fool as a result of his romanticism: his emotions had clouded his reason. The letter, reread for the sixth time, demonstrated that Camillo, rather than a foolish romantic, was a victim of romanticism.

"Poor thing," thought Carlotta, and she felt faintly distressed.

Some little while later, surprising herself rereading the letter for the seventh time, Carlotta impatiently crumpled the sheet into a ball and stuck it into her purse.

"He's a penniless woodcutter," she grumbled, "who has dared to become the husband of a Madellis-Wonder! Let him go to the devil!"

Carlotta interested herself in the scenery until the journey ended. She arrived in early afternoon and went at once to the school. She was in a hurry now to get the thing over with.

A servant conducted her respectfully into the parlor and left her there. "I will tell the master at once," he said.

It was a bright sunny day in early September. Carlotta went to the open window to draw the cord of the curtains and cut out a bit of the light that filled the room. The window gave onto a large courtyard in which two school teams were furiously contesting a game of soccer, while a noisy public, composed of the other schoolboys, crowded about.

At a certain point, one, ten, a hundred furious cries were raised: "Millone! Millone!" A large young man headed the ball toward the enemy goal, which stood some fifteen yards away from the parlor window. The large young man, wearing a white jersey with the sleeves rolled up, seemed made of bronze, his skin was so burned by the sun and covered with sweat. Soccer teams are composed of eleven players, but at least fifteen hurled themselves at the young man with the ball, trying to get it away from him: this was a case, evidently, when even the reserves went into the field to defend their colors. But no one succeeded in stopping the advance: he was a strong devil, and very quick, and the ball seemed to belong to him.

The cries of the crowd grew louder: "Millone! Millone!" The aforesaid Millone discharged a mighty kick and the ball sailed off like a dream: it passed hissing through the posts of the goal, struck a tremendous blow against the trunk of a horse chestnut a couple of yards behind, and then ricocheted, still full of fury, to the parlor window. An inch or two lower and Carlotta would have got it smack in the face; as it was, it lifted off her hat and left it on the floor some ten feet away.

When Camillo entered, Carlotta was still arranging her hat.

"Who," she asked through clenched teeth, "is that Millone who was playing a few minutes ago in the courtyard?"

"That was me," said Camillo. "The boys call me Camillone. Millone for short."

"So I thought," said Carlotta. "First bunches of flowers, then oysters, now footballs. We're making progress, it seems to me, Signor Camillo. Have you taken a vow to destroy my face? Does it annoy you that much?"

"Excuse me, signorina. I--"

The headmaster came in and paid his compliments to Signorina Wonder, who was Camillo Debrai's cousin (according to Donna Leo), then in a pleased voice said: "This happens to be the hour for free time, and as our student has been behaving so very well, I have no objection to your accompanying your cousin on a little walk. It's a beautiful day, and I think the change will be good for him, as he has seemed rather unhappy lately."

Astonished, Carlotta stammered, "Of course, of course..."

Camillo went off for a moment to change. The headmaster whispered: "Please tell Donna Leo that the patient is visibly improving. We're on the right road, there's no question of that. Remarkable progress..."

"Thank you," whispered Carlotta back.

Camillo returned after a moment or two.

Soon they found themselves walking side by side along a handsome avenue that bordered a lake.

"We must avoid compromising ourselves with this imbecile," said Carlotta to herself, recalling the wise words of her mother.

They sat down at a little table in a lonely cafe, under a vine. The blue water of the lake trembled from leaf to leaf.

"Well, here I am," said Carlotta brusquely. "May I now know what was so urgent that you had to threaten to run away to make me come up here?"

"I wanted to see you," said Camillo sweetly. "I hope you're not annoyed."

Camillo was dripping with sweat. After playing soccer for an hour in a scorching sun, a man does not stop sweating at once merely because he finds himself in the company of a lovely young lady; and it would be wrong to pretend that he does.

I see you're dying of the heat," said Carlotta. "Take off your jacket."

"Impossible!" declared Camillo. "A gentleman never takes off his jacket in public. Especially if he's with a lady."

"Bravo!" cried Carlotta. "I see you're profiting by the lessons you've been getting. I give you permission to take off your jacket."

"Sometimes," replied Camillo, "out of the great kindness of her heart, or moved to pity at seeing the man who is with her uncomfortably warm, the lady may suggest that he remove his jacket. Even so, the gentleman must firmly but courteously refuse, because he knows that the fleeting pleasure he may derive from the relief could never repay him for the mortification of seeing, in the face of the lady, the distaste that must be provoked in her sensitive soul by the sight of an undressed man--"

"Undressed?"

"Yes, signorina, undressed in the sense of being in his shirt sleeves."

Camillo obviously had an excellent memory and if requested could have furnished the number of the page on which these instructions were to be found. Carlotta, on the other hand, was remembering the bronzed arms that gleamed so brightly in the sun, bathed in sweat.

"That's all very well," she said. "But I order you to take your jacket off."

Camillo took off his jacket, and his splendid bronze arms emerged from the very short sleeves of his white shirt.

"The arms of a porter," thought Carlotta. "He could pick Signor Filet up by the neck and toss him twenty yards. God save me from a beast like that!"

"I'm tired of being at school," murmured Camillo.

"But you've only been here a little over a month! Aren't you all right here? It's a very good school, and comfortable, and the countryside is beautiful. Don't you ever watch the lake as it reddens in the light of the setting sun?"

"Yes, but I'd rather look at you. You too, after all, redden in the light of the setting sun. Everything reddens in the light of the setting sun."

"I didn't know they gave you lessons in humor at school too," returned Carlotta. "Doesn't it interest you to know that I regard you with growing affection rather than with dislike?"

"Don't talk that way, Signorina Carlotta," Camillo protested. "You know I love you very much."

"Good!" Carlotta cut him short. "And now, instead of being naughty like a schoolboy, why don't you tell me something about the place. Do you do a lot of studying? Did you finish my portrait?"

Camillo brightened. He looked in his jacket and brought out a roll of paper that he opened very carefully. "Here it is!"

Carlotta looked at it breathlessly--for it was indeed an excellent bit of painting.

"And in your opinion," she said in a tone of pleased protest, "I am that very beautiful woman."

"Yes, signorina. That beautiful, and more. You can't see yourself, so you don't know it."

"But I do see myself! I've seen myself a million times in the mirror with these very eyes!"

"Yes, but not with these," murmured Camillo, touching his own eyes.

Carlotta felt a flash of annoyance: for maybe the distinction between heart and brain did really exist, and Camillo was both a romantic and a fool, the one independently of the other--a romantic emotionally and a fool mentally. He would have to be treated carefully, and kindly.

She was careful and kind. "I am very grateful," she said, "for your charming compliments. But you still haven't told me how your studies are going. I'm very interested--you know that everything depends on them."

Camillo talked about his studies. He had, indeed, learned quite a lot in a month, and Carlotta expressed her satisfaction.

"We'll see," she concluded, "what your report card says at the end of the first term."

"Do you think I can get out of here pretty soon?"

"It all depends on you. But you must promise me not to do anything silly. I've committed myself to my family, I've told them you're a man of good sense and intelligence, don't make a liar out of me."

"I swear to you," cried Camillo, "that I won't leave here till you want me to!"

It was full afternoon: the lake sparkled in the sunlight.

"Would it amuse you," Camillo asked timidly, "to go out in a boat for a little while?"

"Surely," thought Carlotta, "that won't compromise me. In his shirt sleeves and suntanned, everyone will take him for a boatman."

They went for a long ride in a boat, and the oars bent in Camillo's strong hands.

Carlotta thought: "If he knew I was playing with him like a big doll, he could wring my neck with two of his fingers. When he does know it, it will be too late. He's the ideal man to marry a barmaid or a fishwife. With a husband like him, I'd have to fight all the servant girls in the neighborhood."

They parted in the school parlor.

"When will you be back ?" Camillo asked sadly.

"That depends on you," Carlotta replied, giving him her hand.

Then she cried out.

"Signor Camillo," she said, "a brief review of the chapter on hand-clasping would not, I think, be wasted."

"No need for it, I know it all by heart."

"Then you think the correct procedure is to crush a poor woman s hand?"

"No, of course not, but you'll have to forgive me--it's the first time I've taken the hand of a woman I was married to, and I'm confused. I'll do better next time."

"You'll have a long wait," laughed Carlotta to herself, as she made her way to the station.

She reached home late at night. The entire family was still up, awaiting her return with anxiety.

"Well?" cried Donna Leo, in a full voice.

"The enemy has been driven back," Carlotta assured her, "beyond the horizon."

"Did you have to make many concessions to the brute?" asked Donna Flaminia.

"None, Mama. We didn't even leave the parlor, and I didn't even shake hands with him."

"What? Did he indicate that he wanted to shake hands with you? The monster!"

"Yes, but I pretended not to see. 'Good evening, Signor Debrai,' I said, that's all. One must never be intimate with a husband."

~~~~~

Will Camillo get his visit home?  Will it be in time to stop Carlotta from becoming engaged to the charming but mysterious Meditato Filet?  And what will happen when Don Casimiro finds out about all this?  Get hold of a copy of the whole book, and find out!