ChapterITheBertolini
“TheSignora
had
hadnobusinesstodoit,”zei
saidMissBartlett,“nobusinessatall.She
beloofde
promisedussouthroomswitheen
aviewclosetogether,insteadofwhichhier
herearenorthrooms,lookingintoeen
acourtyard,andalongweg
wayapart.Oh,Lucy!”
“And
een
aCockney,besides!”saidLucy,
die
whohadbeenfurthersaddenedbytheSignora’sunexpectedaccent.“It
kan
mightbeLondon.”Shelookedat
de
thetworowsofEnglishpeopledie
whoweresittingatthetable;at
de
therowofwhitebottlesofwateren
andredbottlesofwinedie
thatranbetweentheEnglishpeople;attheportraitsofthelateQueen
en
andthelatePoetLaureatedie
thathungbehindtheEnglishvolk
people,heavilyframed;atthenoticeof
de
theEnglishchurch(Rev.CuthbertEager,M.A.
Oxon.),
dat
thatwastheonlyotherdecorationofde
thewall.“Charlotte,don’tyou
voel
feel,too,thatwemightbeinLondon?I
kan
canhardlybelievethatallkindsofandere
otherthingsarejustoutside.Isupposeitisone’sbeingsotired.”
“Thismeathassurelybeen
gebruikt
usedforsoup,”saidMissBartlett,layingdownherfork.“I
wil
wantsotoseetheArno.De
TheroomstheSignorapromisedusinherletterzouden
wouldhavelookedovertheArno.De
TheSignorahadnobusinesstodoitatall.Oh,itisashame!”
“Anynookdoesforme,”MissBartlettcontinued;
“butitdoesseem
moeilijk
hardthatyoushouldn’thaveaview.”Lucyfelt
dat
thatshehadbeenselfish.“Charlotte,youmustn’tspoil
me
me:ofcourse,youmust
kijken
lookovertheArno,too.Imeant
dat
that.Thefirstvacantroomin
de
thefront—”“Youmusthaveit,”
zei
saidMissBartlett,partofwhosetravellingexpenseswerebetaald
paidbyLucy’smother—apieceofgenerositytowhichshemadeveel
manyatactfulallusion.“No,
nee
no.Youmusthaveit.”“Iinsistonit.
Your
moeder
motherwouldneverforgiveme,Lucy.”“She
zou
wouldneverforgiveme.”Theladies’voicesgrewanimated,and—if
de
thesadtruthbeowned—abeetje
littlepeevish.Theyweretired,
en
andundertheguiseofunselfishnesstheywrangled.Sommige
Someoftheirneighboursinterchangedglances,en
andoneofthem—oneoftheill-bredmensen
peoplewhomonedoesmeetabroad—leantforwardover
overthetableandactuallyintrudedintotheirargument.He
zei
said:.“Ihaveaview,I
heb
haveaview.”MissBartlettwasstartled.
Generallyat
een
apensionpeoplelookedthemover
overforadayortwee
twobeforespeaking,andoftendoen
didnotfindoutthattheyzouden
would“do”tilltheyhadgone.She
wist
knewthattheintruderwasill-bred,zelfs
evenbeforesheglancedathem
him.Hewasanold
man
man,ofheavybuild,withafair,shavengezicht
faceandlargeeyes.Therewas
iets
somethingchildishinthoseeyes,thoughitwasnotthechildishnessofsenility.What
precies
exactlyitwasMissBartlettdidnotstopte
stoptoconsider,forherglancepassedontohisclothes.Thesedidnotattract
haar
her.Hewasprobablytryingtobecomeacquaintedwiththem
voordat
beforetheygotintotheswim.Sosheassumed
een
adazedexpressionwhenhesprak
spoketoher,andthenzei
said:“Aview?
Oh,aview!
Howdelightful
een
aviewis!”“Thisismyson,”
zei
saidtheoldman;“hisname’sGeorge.
He
heeft
hasaviewtoo.”“Ah,”
zei
saidMissBartlett,repressingLucy,die
whowasabouttospeak.“WhatImean,”hecontinued,“is
dat
thatyoucanhaveourrooms,en
andwe’llhaveyours.We’llchange.”
De
Thebetterclassoftouristwasshockedatdit
this,andsympathizedwiththenew-comers.MissBartlett,inreply,
opende
openedhermouthaslittleasmogelijk
possible,andsaid“Thankyouerg
verymuchindeed;thatisoutofthequestion.”
“Why?”
zei
saidtheoldman,withbothfistsonde
thetable.“Becauseitisquiteoutofthequestion,
dank
thankyou.”“Yousee,wedon’tliketotake—”
beganLucy.
Hercousin
weer
againrepressedher.“Butwhy?”
hepersisted.
“Womenlike
kijken
lookingataview;mendon’t.”
En
Andhethumpedwithhisfistsals
likeanaughtychild,anddraaide
turnedtohisson,saying,“George,persuadethem!”“It’ssoobviousthey
moeten
shouldhavetherooms,”saidde
theson.“There’snothingelsetosay.”
Hedidnot
keek
lookattheladiesashesprak
spoke,buthisvoicewasperplexeden
andsorrowful.Lucy,too,wasperplexed;
maar
butshesawthattheywereinforwhatisknownas“quiteascene,”en
andshehadanoddgevoel
feelingthatwhenevertheseill-bredtouristsspraken
spokethecontestwidenedanddeepenedtillitdealt,notmet
withroomsandviews,butwith—well,met
withsomethingquitedifferent,whoseexistenceshehad
hadnotrealizedbefore.Now
de
theoldmanattackedMissBartlettbijna
almostviolently:Whyshouldshenot
veranderen
change?Whatpossibleobjectionhad
ze
she?Theywouldclearoutin
half
halfanhour.MissBartlett,thoughskilledinthedelicaciesofconversation,waspowerlessinthepresenceofbrutality.
Itwasimpossibletosnubanyonesogross.
Her
gezicht
facereddenedwithdispleasure.She
keek
lookedaroundasmuchastozeggen
say,“Areyoualllikethis?”En
Andtwolittleoldladies,die
whoweresittingfurtherupde
thetable,withshawlshangingover
overthebacksofthechairs,keken
lookedback,clearlyindicating“Wearenot;wearegenteel.”
“Eatyour
diner
dinner,dear,”shesaidtoLucy,en
andbegantotoyagainmet
withthemeatthatshehad
hadoncecensured.Lucymumbledthatthoseseemed
heel
veryoddpeopleopposite.“Eatyour
diner
dinner,dear.Thispensionis
een
afailure.To-morrowwewill
maken
makeachange.”Hardlyhadsheannounced
dit
thisfelldecisionwhenshereversedhet
it.Thecurtainsatthe
einde
endoftheroomparted,en
andrevealedaclergyman,stoutmaar
butattractive,whohurriedforwardtonemen
takehisplaceatthetable,cheerfullyapologizingforhislateness.Lucy,
die
whohadnotyetacquireddecency,atoncerosetoherfeet,exclaiming:“Oh,oh!
Why,it’sMr.Beebe!
Oh,howperfectlylovely!
Oh,Charlotte,we
moeten
muststopnow,howeverbadde
theroomsare.Oh!”
MissBartlett
zei
said,withmorerestraint:.“Howdoyoudo,Mr.Beebe?
Iexpect
dat
thatyouhaveforgottenus:MissBartlett
en
andMissHoneychurch,whowereatTunbridgeWellstoen
whenyouhelpedtheVicarofSt.Peter’sthatzeer
verycoldEaster.”Theclergyman,
die
whohadtheairofoneonaholiday,didnotrememberde
theladiesquiteasclearlyastheyrememberedhem
him.Buthecameforwardpleasantly
genoeg
enoughandacceptedthechairintowaarin
whichhewasbeckonedbyLucy.“Iamsogladto
zien
seeyou,”saidthegirl,whowasineen
astateofspiritualstarvation,en
andwouldhavebeengladtozien
seethewaiterifhercousinhad
hadpermittedit.“Justfancy
hoe
howsmalltheworldis.Summer
Street
Street,too,makesitsospeciallyfunny.”“MissHoneychurchlivesintheparishofSummerStreet,”
zei
saidMissBartlett,fillingupthegap,“andshegebeurde
happenedtotellmeinthecourseofconversationdat
thatyouhavejustacceptedtheliving—”.“Yes,I
hoorde
heardfrommothersolastweek
week.Shedidn’tknowthatIknewyouatTunbridgeWells;
maar
butIwrotebackatonce,en
andIsaid:‘Mr.
Beebeis—’”.
“Quiteright,”
zei
saidtheclergyman.“Imoveinto
de
theRectoryatSummerStreetvolgende
nextJune.Iamluckytobeappointedtosuchacharmingneighbourhood.”
“Oh,howgladIam!
De
ThenameofourhouseisWindyCorner.”Mr.Beebebowed.
“Thereis
moeder
motherandmegenerally,andmybroer
brother,thoughit’snotoftenwekrijgen
gethimtoch——Thechurchisrather
ver
faroff,Imean.”“Lucy,dearest,
laat
letMr.Beebeeathisdinner.”“Iam
eet
eatingit,thankyou,andenjoyingit.”Hepreferredto
sprak
talktoLucy,whoseplayingheremembered,ratherdan
thantoMissBartlett,whowaarschijnlijk
probablyrememberedhissermons.He
vroeg
askedthegirlwhethershekende
knewFlorencewell,andwasinformedatsomelengthdat
thatshehadneverbeener
therebefore.Itisdelightfultoadvise
een
anewcomer,andhewaseerste
firstinthefield.“Don’tneglect
het
thecountryround,”hisadviceconcluded.“The
eerste
firstfineafternoondriveuptoFiesole,en
androundbySettignano,oriets
somethingofthatsort.”“No!”
cried
een
avoicefromthetopofde
thetable.“Mr.
Beebe,youare
mis
wrong.Thefirstfineafternoonyourladies
moeten
mustgotoPrato.”“That
dame
ladylookssoclever,”whisperedMissBartletttohercousin.“Weareinluck.”
En
And,indeed,aperfecttorrentofinformationburstonhen
them.Peopletoldthemwhatto
zien
see,whentoseeit,hoe
howtostoptheelectrictrams,hoe
howtogetridofthebeggars,hoe
howmuchtogiveforeen
avellumblotter,howmuchtheplaats
placewouldgrowuponthem.Het
ThePensionBertolinihaddecided,bijna
almostenthusiastically,thattheywoulddoen
do.Whicheverwaytheylooked,
vriendelijke
kindladiessmiledandshoutedatthem.En
Andaboveallrosethevoiceofde
thecleverlady,crying:“Prato!
They
moeten
mustgotoPrato.That
plek
placeistoosweetlysqualidforwords.I
hou
loveit;Irevelinshaking
af
offthetrammelsofrespectability,asyouknow.”De
TheyoungmannamedGeorgeglancedatde
thecleverlady,andthenkeerde
returnedmoodilytohisplate.Obviouslyhe
en
andhisfatherdidnotdeden
do.Lucy,inthemidstofhersuccess,
vond
foundtimetowishtheydeden
did.Itgavehernoextrapleasure
dat
thatanyoneshouldbeleftinthekou
cold;andwhensheroseto
gaan
go,sheturnedbackandgaf
gavethetwooutsidersanervouskleine
littlebow.Thefatherdidnot
zag
seeit;thesonacknowledgedit,notbyanotherbow,
maar
butbyraisinghiseyebrowsen
andsmiling;heseemedtobesmilingacross
iets
something.Shehastenedafterhercousin,whohad
al
alreadydisappearedthroughthecurtains—curtainswhichsmoteeen
oneintheface,andseemedheavymet
withmorethancloth.Beyondthem
stond
stoodtheunreliableSignora,bowinggood-eveningtoherguests,en
andsupportedby’Enery,herkleine
littleboy,andVictorier,herdochter
daughter.Itmadeacurious
kleine
littlescene,thisattemptoftheCockneytoconveythegraceen
andgenialityoftheSouth.En
Andevenmorecuriouswasde
thedrawing-room,whichattemptedtorivalde
thesolidcomfortofaBloomsburyboarding-house.Was
dit
thisreallyItaly?MissBartlettwas
al
alreadyseatedonatightlystuffedarm-chair,die
whichhadthecolourandde
thecontoursofatomato.Shewas
sprak
talkingtoMr.Beebe,andasshesprak
spoke,herlongnarrowheaddrovebackwardsen
andforwards,slowly,regularly,asthoughsheweredemolishingsomeinvisibleobstacle.“Wearemostgratefultoyou,”shewas
zei
saying.“Thefirsteveningmeansso
veel
much.Whenyouarrivedwewereinfor
een
apeculiarlymauvaisquartd’heure.”Heexpressedhisregret.
“Doyou,byanychance,
weet
knowthenameofanoude
oldmanwhosatoppositeusatdinner?”“Emerson.”
“Ishe
een
afriendofyours?”“Wearefriendly—as
men
oneisinpensions.”“ThenI
zal
willsaynomore.”Hepressedher
heel
veryslightly,andshesaidmeer
more.“Iam,asitwere,”sheconcluded,“thechaperonofmy
jonge
youngcousin,Lucy,anditzou
wouldbeaseriousthingifIputheronder
underanobligationtopeopleofwhomweweten
knownothing.Hismannerwassomewhatunfortunate.
I
hoop
hopeIactedforthebest.”“Youacted
heel
verynaturally,”saidhe.Heseemedthoughtful,
en
andafterafewmomentsadded:“All
het
thesame,Idon’tthinkveel
muchharmwouldhavecomeofaccepting.”“Noharm,of
natuurlijk
course.Butwecouldnotbe
onder
underanobligation.”“Heisrather
een
apeculiarman.”Againhehesitated,
en
andthensaidgently:“I
denk
thinkhewouldnottakeadvantageofyouracceptance,norexpectyoutotoont
showgratitude.Hehasthemerit—ifitisone—of
zeggen
sayingexactlywhathemeans.He
heeft
hasroomshedoesnotvalue,en
andhethinksyouwouldvalueze
them.Henomorethoughtof
zetten
puttingyouunderanobligationdan
thanhethoughtofbeingpolite.Itissodifficult—atleast,I
vind
finditdifficult—tounderstandpeopledie
whospeakthetruth.”Lucywaspleased,
en
andsaid:“Iwashoping
dat
thathewasnice;Idoso
altijd
alwayshopethatpeoplewillbenice.”“I
denk
thinkheis;niceandtiresome.
Idifferfromhimon
bijna
almosteverypointofanyimportance,en
andso,Iexpect—Imayzeggen
sayIhope—youwilldiffer.Maar
Buthisisatypeonedisagreeswithratherthandeplores.Toen
Whenhefirstcameherehenotunnaturallyzette
putpeople’sbacksup.He
heeft
hasnotactandnomanners—Idon’tbedoel
meanbythatthatheheeft
hasbadmanners—andhewillnothouden
keephisopinionstohimself.Wenearlycomplained
over
abouthimtoourdepressingSignora,maar
butIamgladtozeggen
saywethoughtbetterofit.”“AmItoconclude,”
zei
saidMissBartlett,“thatheiseen
aSocialist?”Mr.
Beebeacceptedtheconvenient
woord
word,notwithoutaslighttwitchingofthelips.“Andpresumablyhe
heeft
hasbroughtuphissontobeaSocialist,too?”“Ihardly
ken
knowGeorge,forhehasn’tgeleerd
learnttotalkyet.