CHAPTER II.

IN THE STRADA REALE.

Tunisians, Maltese, English, Italians! Was there ever such a motley crowd as that collected in the principal street of Valletta? Bare-kneed Highlanders, in their picturesque tartans, elbowed wide-trousered Mahomedans from Tunis and Fez; swarthy, black-eyed Italians from Naples jostled against red-coated Tommy Atkins as he swaggered along, and the ascetic face of a priest, looking severely from under his long shovel hat, was seen close to the piquant countenance of a Maltese damsel, blushing under her ugly, black silk hood as she tripped gaily onward attended by her watchful duenna. Here and there parties of tourists came laughing and joking along the crowded pavement. English ladies, lithe and bright-looking in their neat-fitting yachting costumes, accompanied by smart young gentlemen, who had left their clubs and offices for a breath of the invigorating Mediterranean air, and crowds of ragged beggars were shrieking for money, and never satisfied with what they got. Such a mass of colour, such a diversity of costumes, such a confusion of tongues, and over all the clear blue sky, with the hot sun blazing down on the tall white houses and steep narrow streets.

The "Neptune" cast anchor about two o'clock in the afternoon and, according to the notice posted at the top of the saloon stairs, would not leave till nine o'clock at night, so all the passengers--the men in flannels and straw hats and the ladies in white dresses with sunshades--went on shore to enjoy themselves. The great ship steamed majestically into the still, blue waters of the Grand Harbour, and cast anchor under the massive walls which rose in towering heights from the precipitous rocks, and still bore on their weather-beaten fronts, which had withstood so many rude assaults, the proud crests of the famous Order of St. John of Jerusalem. On each side stood the cities of Valletta and The Borgo with their square, flat-roofed houses showing white and clear as they arose in serrated masses against the vivid, blue sky, and all round the big steamer innumerable boats, with canopies erected in the stern to keep off the sun, were darting about impelled by screaming, vociferating boatmen who had more conversation than clothes. Down the side of the ship the passengers went in a never-ending stream, and as boat after boat was filled with a laughing crowd and sheered off, there was soon quite a procession to the shore. It appeared as if the ship would be quite empty, save for the crew; but one, at least of the passengers, remained behind. This was Lionel Ventin, who preferred a lazy day on board with a pipe and novel to the discomfort of exploring the steep streets and picturesque buildings of Valletta.

"I'm sick of Malta," he said, in reply to Ronald's persuasions; "I know every hole and corner of that confounded Valletta, and agree with Byron about it; besides," with a significant glance, "I might meet my wife."

Against this last argument Ronald had nothing to urge, so went down to join his party, which consisted of Mrs. Pellypop, tall and majestic, in black silk, Kate Lester, and the irrepressible Pat Ryan. As they moved off, Ventin, who was arrayed in a suit of spotless white, waved his straw hat to them.

"How sulky that Mr. Ventin is," said Miss Lester, as they were pulled rapidly towards the shore; "he never speaks to anyone.

"Shows his bad taste," replied Mr. Ryan, "considerin' the pretty girls on board."

Mrs. Pellypop froze him.

"Your remark is flippant," she rejoined, putting up her glasses.

"It's true for all that," answered Pat bravely; "and ye'll see how these foreign chaps will stare at ye to-day, mam."

No woman is too old for flattery, and though Mrs. Pellypop was rigorously virtuous she was also a woman, so she received Pat's compliment very graciously.

"I know all about Valletta," she began. "I----"

"The deuce ye do," murmured Pat, "ye must know some nice things anyhow."

"And," continued she "will be your guide."

The other three looked at one another in dismay, and, with a strong effort, Pat gasped out a word of thanks.

"I say," whispered Ronald to Miss Lester, "she'll be as bad as Murray's guide book."

"Yes but not so accurate!"

"Never mind," said Pat, in a low tone, answering the last remark; "she'll make up for her mistakes by her obstinacy in stickin' to 'em; and perhaps," consolingly, "if we've luck we'll lose her."

They arrived on the rocky shore of Mount Sceberras, whereon Valletta stands, and admired the massive walls and the broad gateway, at which several red-coated sentries were keeping guard. Numerous guides offered their services but Mrs. Pellypop, in the purest of English--of which they did not understand one word, though her gestures were eloquent enough--sent them all away, and marched into Valletta, at the head of her party of three, like a victorious general into a conquered city. Then they began to climb the steep street leading to the Strada Reale, and under a burning sun the exercise was not pleasant. Oh! those interminable steps, how many oaths have they not been answerable for since Lord Byron abused them so heartily! Both Pat and Ronald cursed under their breaths, and if Miss Lester had not been very strictly brought up she also might have been tempted to use a word beginning with "D." Mrs. Pellypop, however, clad in her black silk--which must have been awfully hot, but extorted no remark from that excellent woman--toiled steadily upward, and not a word did this indomitable female say, though, like the celebrated parrot, she no doubt thought a lot.

"Capital exercise isn't it," observed Miss Lester as they paused for breath.

"I dare say, if we were training for a circus," retorted Pat dryly, taking off his straw hat. "I'm like Arethusa, and will melt into a stream of water if this goes on. I believe old Pellypop will swear shortly."

Kate laughed and looked at Mrs. Pellypop who, unassisted, was climbing slowly up the endless stairs.

"I don't think you gentlemen are very gallant," observed Kate, demurely glancing at Pat and Ronald walking on either side of her, "or you'd offer to help the old lady."

"We prefer to help the young lady," they cried in chorus, and Miss Lester blushed, not ill-pleased at this tribute to her charms.

On reaching the Strada Reale they found the place already crowded with their fellow-passengers, and after a few recognitions and salutations, Mrs. Pellypop's party went into one of the shops, where the ladies bought lace and the young men cigarettes. Ronald also purchased some lace handkerchiefs in order to pay off certain debts incurred by playing phillipine after dinner with sundry ladies on board, and, judging from the cost of his forfeits, he must have found the game somewhat expensive.

The next thing to be done was to see the celebrated Church of St. John, the glory of Valletta, so thither they went, and beheld a depressing-looking building not by any means remarkable for architectural beauty. But they were amply repaid for their disappointment by the magnificent sight which met their eyes on stepping out of the hot sunlight into the semi-gloom of the great building.

The arched roof covered with paintings of scenes from the life of St. John the Baptist, the exquisite tapestries hanging low down on either side, the vividly tesselated pavement under which so many valiant knights lay buried, and, to crown all, the wonderful appearance of the grand altar, glittering with gold--all this made up a marvellous picture, which for brilliancy of colour and harmony of effect, has not its equal in the world.

After admiring the splendour of the central nave for some time, they went into all the side chapels--each of which was dedicated to a special language--and saw the tombs of dead and gone Grand Masters, and also the famous silver gates, one of the few things on the island that Napoleon did not carry away.

"Fancy how grand and inspiring it must have been," observed Mrs. Pellypop seizing the occasion to moralize, as befitted the mother-in-law of a Bishop. "When this place was thronged by noble knights, all in the different dresses of their orders, when----"

"Yes, rather jolly being a knight," interrupted Ronald, "shouldn't mind it myself."

"I should," said Pat, flippantly; "they weren't allowed to marry, and what is home without a mother?"

Miss Lester laughed, but Mrs. Pellypop was so disgusted by the giddy way in which the young man spoke, that she hastily left the church, having first reflected however, that there was nothing more to be seen.

"That young man would joke at his father's funeral," she said to Kate when they were once more in the hot sunshine.

"Well there's nothing like making the best of things," retorted Pat, who was just behind and overheard the remark.

"But really the church was grand," cried Ronald quickly in order to prevent a storm.

"Lots of show and very little religion I fancy," said the irrepressible Pat.

"I don't agree with you Mr. Ryan," observed Mrs. Pellypop, severely; "the solemn grandeur of that church would have an effect even on the most frivolous mind," with a significant glance at the Irishman.

"I daresay the effect wouldn't endure long," said Ronald, lightly. "Religion, which appeals purely to the senses, is never so strong as that which comes straight to the mind."

"Of course not," replied Pat who knew nothing about what he was talking, and only spoke to irritate the old lady, "I'd back Presbyterianism against Catholicism any day for fanaticism: it's a fight between Calvin and Peter--two to one on the winner."

Mrs. Pellypop made no reply, being struck with horror at the light way in which the young man treated religion, and walked hastily away with Miss Lester so as to close the discussion.

"Hang it Pat!" said Ronald, as they walked slowly behind, "why can't you leave the old girl alone?"

"Because she won't leave us alone," retorted Pat. "Why the deuce should she come with us to spoil sport?"

"Two young men and only one girl isn't sport!"

"Oh begad! we'd have tossed for her, and the loser could have made himself scarce."

They then went to the Capuchin Convent and saw the dried monks, looking grim and ghastly enough in the dim light of candles carried by their living brethren. Pat's comment on their appearance was original.

"They look like Bombay duck," he said, alluding to the dried fish usually eaten with curry. "I don't think I'll touch any more of it."

Kate Lester laughed.

"You are amusing, but irreligious," she said, turning away.

"Irreligious, certainly," observed Virtue, in the person of Mrs. Pellypop; "but amusing, no."

"I don't think the old thing's got much sense of humour," whispered Pat to Ronald as they went up again into the light of day.

"Well, if no one else laughs at your jokes, Pat, you always do yourself," retorted the Australian consolingly. "But come along, we'll go to the Barraca and see the view."

They strolled slowly along, inhaling the fresh air, and going through the ruined Barraca, which was unroofed by one of the Grand Masters, they stepped out on to the terrace, and saw that wonderful panorama, which is one of the finest things in Valletta. A magnificent view of the open sea, the blue waters of the Quarantine Harbour, while immediately below are the Sultan's garden, the huge walls of Fort Lascaris, and the Fish Market. Away in the distance can be seen Fort Sant Elmo protecting the entrance to the port, Fort St. Angelo, which is one of the oldest in Malta, and the angular lines of fortification standing sharp and clear against the vividly blue sky. It was a gorgeous panorama, and even Mrs. Pellypop was impressed.

"This place is impregnable," she said, surveying it through her glasses.

"I don't think so," said Pat, in a contradictory tone; "a few of our new guns would knock it to pieces in no time."

Mrs. Pellypop deigned no reply to this flippant remark, but walked off indignantly, wishing that the fate he intended for Valletta would befall this intrusive young man.

Suddenly Ronald uttered an exclamation:--

"By Jove! what pretty girls!"

Valletta, its traditions, its views, its pleasures, all vanished to nothing as he saw before him feminine beauty. Mrs. Pellypop was disgusted, as she considered no man had a right to admire a woman when another was beside him. This however was merely the Pellypop code, and not generally adopted.

But the two ladies who had caused Ronald's exclamation fully justified his remark. One was tall and slender, with a dark, oval face, and coils of jet-black hair wreathed round her small head. Wonderfully dark eyes which had a sleepy look, a straight, delicately chiselled nose, and a full red mouth. She was dressed in a loose, white gown, with a crimson sash round her waist, and instead of the ugly hoods generally worn by the Maltese ladies, had a saucy sailor hat on her head, long Suède gloves, and a tall pompadour umbrella of red silk, completed her costume.

The other was somewhat similar in appearance, but evidently older, and had rather a repelling expression of countenance. She was dressed in black, and did not show to such advantage as her companion, so, after a careless glance at her, Ronald--who, like all fair men, admired dark women--turned his attention to the younger of the two. They appeared to have been quarrelling, and the younger girl was walking quickly a little in advance of her friend with an indignant expression on her face, while the other followed more slowly with a frown on her strongly marked features. When they disappeared, Ronald turned to his companion with a sigh.

"Yes awfully pretty."

"I confess," observed Mrs. Pellypop, slowly, "I do not think so."

Ronald was discreet, and surrendered.

"I dare say not," he observed hastily, "but you see one is so often deceived by a passing glance."

They wandered all over the city--went to the market and bought fruit, and were warned against eating it by an officious Maltese--saw the Armoury in the Grand Master's Palace--strolled round St. George's Square, and viewed with patriotic pride the flattering inscription to British Power over the Main Guard-House--sat in the carriage of the last Grand Master, and then went and had a light afternoon meal at a well-known hotel. It was now getting late, so, with a farewell glance at the Strada Reale and its queer crowd, they went down to the water-gate, where they found their boat waiting. A crowd of passengers was there, full of excitement about bargains made and experiences gained, and some guilelessly thought they had got the better of the Maltese shopmen, a thing quite impossible in this enlightened age.

They rowed to the steamer through the dark waters, with the lights of the city gleaming like stars in the distance, and the tall forms of ships looming like phantoms in the gloom. At last, after an adventurous journey, they arrived on board, and the first thing Ronald saw was Ventin leaning over the bulwarks watching fresh arrivals. As soon as Mrs. Pellypop and Kate, escorted by Pat, had gone below, Ronald went to Ventin.

"Have you been on board all day?" he asked.

Ventin shook his head.

"No; I changed my mind and went on shore shortly after you left."

"Did you see her?"

"I did."

"The devil--did she see you?"

"I think so."

"Oh, so she didn't speak to you?"

"No! I was afraid of a scene, and came back to the ship at once."

"Well, she won't come on board now," said Ronald, consolingly; "so you'll be all right."

Ventin sighed.

"Nothing is so certain as the unforeseen," he replied, mournfully.