The adventures of Harlequin

Harlequin and Columbine were happily at their dancing and love-making when Pierrot burst into the room with a look of the utmost consternation on his long pale face.

“Fly, Harlequin!—you must fly at once!” he cried. “Pantaloon is letting himself into the house.”

“The devil he is!” cried Harlequin; and Columbine uttered a little shriek.

“Hush!” whispered Pierrot. “He will hear you. For love’s sake, go, Harlequin. There is not a moment to lose.”

Harlequin sprang to the window, from which the rope by which he had entered still hung.

“You must come with me, Columbine,” he said.

“Oh, no!” said poor Columbine. “I dare not.”

“But I will look after you, my dear,” said Harlequin.

“I know you would, Harlequin,” replied Columbine. “But I daren’t.”

They heard the front door slam, and Pantaloon heavily mounting the stairs.

“You really must get out, Harlequin,” said Pierrot.

“Yes,” said Columbine. “Please go, my love.”

Harlequin hesitated another moment, and then, realising that he would only make matters worse by staying, vaulted over the window-sill and slid down the rope. As he reached the ground, Pantaloon threw open the door.

In spite of his spectacles, the Doctor’s sight was not very good; and, seeing Pierrot standing by Columbine’s side, he thought that he had caught the villain whom he was after.

“Ah, so I have got you, you scoundrel!” he roared, and rushed at his assistant with uplifted cane.

“But that is only Pierrot, Papa,” said Columbine in a faint voice.

“Why, so it is,” said Pantaloon, somewhat taken aback. Then he turned fiercely on Pierrot again. “And what are you doing here, I should like to know?” he cried. “You are always hanging about Columbine. It is my belief that you aid her in her wickedness. Get back to your work, sir, I will talk to you presently.”

Pierrot, who was as timid as a mouse, crept out of the room.

When he had gone, Pantaloon seized his daughter roughly by the arm.

“That scoundrel Harlequin has been here,” he cried. “Don’t try to deceive me, miss—I know he has. I know all about your goings-on. How long is it since he left you?”

Columbine, who had never told a lie in her life, did not know what to say. So she said nothing.

“Perhaps he has not left,” said her father. “Perhaps you are hiding him somewhere.”

He began to look into cupboards and under chairs, but of course he did not find Harlequin. Then he looked out into the street, but he did not see Harlequin there either; for the dancer was already half-way back to Burattino’s. What Pantaloon did see, was the rope which Columbine had not had a chance of pulling in.

“Ho, ho!” he cried. “So this is the road by which your lover visits you, is it? You wicked, unprincipled girl! A rope indeed! You deserve to be soundly whipped with the end of it.”

But it would be painful to relate all the harsh things which the enraged Doctor said to his unhappy daughter, how he abused and stormed at her. When he had finished, he locked her into the room, leaving her weeping bitterly.

After a little while, she heard a light rapping on the door.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“It is I—Pierrot,” came the answer in a whisper. “Don’t cry, Columbine. It will all come right, I am sure. I will do all I can to help you.”

“But what can you do, Pierrot?” said Columbine. “Oh, I am so miserable! I know I shall never see Harlequin again.”

“You shall, you shall,” said Pierrot. “Indeed, I have already thought of something. I daren’t stay to tell it you now. But trust Pierrot, Columbine.”

“I will,” Columbine answered. “Dear Pierrot, you are very good to me.”

Pierrot sighed.

That evening, when his master was shut up in his study, poring over his books of medical lore, he slipped out of the house and ran to Burattino’s inn.

Pierrot was afraid, indeed, that his errand might be a vain one; for it seemed to him likely that, after the events of the morning, Harlequin would have quitted the neighbourhood.

But Harlequin had no intention of doing so. Come what might of it, he was determined to remain near Columbine. Besides, as Scaramouche and Violetta had pointed out, it was very improbable that Pantaloon would take any serious steps against him. The last thing the Doctor would want would be that the story of the trick which had been played upon him should become public; for that would not only make him the laughing-stock of Venice, but put an end to all hopes of a marriage between his daughter and so proud and particular a gentleman as Lelio.

Pierrot put his head round the door of the inn parlour, where Scaramouche was playing to the guests and Violetta was waiting on them. Harlequin was sitting in a corner; for the first time in his life he did not feel inclined to dance. When he saw Pierrot beckoning, he came to him at once.

“What news?” he asked.

“Come outside,” said Pierrot. “I want to talk to you privately.”

They went out into the dark street, and Pierrot told Harlequin how cruelly Pantaloon was using Columbine, keeping her locked in her room and allowing her only dry bread to eat and water to drink.

“I know quite well what his game is,” said Pierrot. “He intends to force her into marrying Lelio.”

“She will never do that,” cried Harlequin.

“Never willingly,” Pierrot replied. “But her spirit may be broken. If she thinks that she has lost you for good, she may fall into despair. You must get to her again, Harlequin.”

“I mean to,” said Harlequin stoutly. “If only I could think of a way! But I am surprised to hear you talk like this, Pierrot. I should have thought you would have been glad to be rid of me.”

Pierrot shook his head.

“I want Columbine to be happy,” he said.

Harlequin seized him by the hand.

“What a good fellow you are!” he said warmly. “I never expected to find a friend in you.”

“I thought harshly of you at first; and, of course, I am jealous of you now,” said Pierrot with a sad little smile. “But I know it is only you who will make Columbine happy: so I have no choice but to help you if I can. And I think that perhaps I can. At least, I have a little suggestion to make.”

“Oh, what is it?” cried Harlequin eagerly.

“Well,” said Pierrot, “of course it is out of the question for you to come to the house, or even within sight of it, in your own person. Pantaloon is not so short-sighted but what he would be sure to discover you—those clothes of yours make you so conspicuous—and I saw him loading his blunderbuss this afternoon. He is not a bad marksman, either.”

“What do you propose that I should do, then?” Harlequin asked.

“You must disguise yourself,” said Pierrot.

“Is that all you have to suggest?” said Harlequin, in tones of disappointment. “What would be the use, if no man is ever allowed inside Pantaloon’s house?”

“I never thought of that,” said Pierrot.

He felt crestfallen, for he had considered his plan a very good one. Though well-meaning, Pierrot was not very quick-witted.

“But is it really true that Pantaloon never lets any one into his house?” said Harlequin.

“Only his patients,” replied Pierrot.

“Thanks,” said Harlequin. “I have had enough of Pantaloon’s doctoring.”

“Of course there is Lelio,” Pierrot went on. “Naturally he comes and goes as he chooses.”

“Why—that is it,” exclaimed Harlequin. “I will disguise myself as Lelio.”

“Oh, no!” cried Pierrot. “That would never do. What would happen if the real Lelio came while you were there?”

“That would certainly be awkward,” Harlequin admitted. “But are you sure that Pantaloon has no other visitors than Lelio? Do none of Lelio’s friends ever come, for instance?”

“No,” said Pierrot, “none. Of course, Lelio always brings his servant with him, as befits his station in life.”

“Does he?” cried Harlequin joyfully. “Then, by Venus! I will enter Lelio’s service. Lelio’s livery shall be my passport to happiness. What fun!”

“But how about Lelio’s present servant, Coviello?” said Pierrot.

“He must be disposed of,” Harlequin replied airily. “What sort of a fellow is he?”

“A stupid, greedy creature,” said Pierrot, “who would do anything for gold.”

“Then gold he shall have,” said Harlequin. “I have made plenty of gold by my dancing, and I would give every piece of it to see Columbine again. How can I get word with this Coviello?”

“You may find him any morning idling outside his master’s palace,” said Pierrot. “For Lelio, like all great folk, sleeps till midday.”

Harlequin embraced Pierrot very heartily.

“You have earned my eternal gratitude,” he cried. “If any one ever maltreats you, let me know, and, by Bacchus! he shall feel this little wand of mine.”

“Thank you very much, Harlequin,” said Pierrot.