ChapterITheBertolini
“TheSignorahad
pas
nobusinesstodoit,”dit
saidMissBartlett,“nobusinessattout
all.Shepromisedussouthrooms
avec
withaviewclosetogether,insteadoflaquelle
whichherearenorthrooms,regardant
lookingintoacourtyard,andalong
longwayapart.Oh,Lucy!”
“And
un
aCockney,besides!”saidLucy,
qui
whohadbeenfurthersaddenedbyla
theSignora’sunexpectedaccent.“It
pourrait
mightbeLondon.”Shelookedatthe
deux
tworowsofEnglishpeoplequi
whoweresittingatthetable;attherowofwhitebottlesofwater
et
andredbottlesofwinequi
thatranbetweentheEnglishpeople;attheportraitsofthelateQueen
et
andthelatePoetLaureatequi
thathungbehindtheEnglishpeuple
people,heavilyframed;atthenoticeoftheEnglishchurch(Rev.
CuthbertEager,M.
Un
A.Oxon.),thatwasthe
seule
onlyotherdecorationofthewall.“Charlotte,don’tyoufeel,
aussi
too,thatwemightbeinLondon?Icanhardly
croire
believethatallkindsofotherthingsarejuste
justoutside.Isupposeitisone’sbeingsotired.”
“Thismeathassurelybeenusedforsoup,”
dit
saidMissBartlett,layingdownherfork.“I
veux
wantsotoseetheArno.TheroomstheSignorapromisedusinherletterwouldhavelooked
sur
overtheArno.TheSignorahad
pas
nobusinesstodoitatall.Oh,itisashame!”
“Anynookdoesforme,”
Mlle
MissBartlettcontinued;“butitdoesseem
difficile
hardthatyoushouldn’thaveune
aview.”Lucyfeltthatshehadbeenselfish.
“Charlotte,youmustn’tspoil
me
me:ofcourse,youmust
regarder
lookovertheArno,too.Imeantthat.
La
Thefirstvacantroominla
thefront—”“Youmusthaveit,”
dit
saidMissBartlett,partofwhosetravellingexpenseswerepaidbyLucy’smother—apieceofgenerositytowhichshefait
mademanyatactfulallusion.“No,
non
no.Youmusthaveit.”“Iinsistonit.
Your
mère
motherwouldneverforgiveme,Lucy.”“Shewould
jamais
neverforgiveme.”Theladies’voicesgrewanimated,and—ifthesad
vérité
truthbeowned—alittlepeevish.Theyweretired,
et
andundertheguiseofunselfishnesstheywrangled.Certains
Someoftheirneighboursinterchangedglances,et
andoneofthem—oneofla
theill-bredpeoplewhomonedoesrencontre
meetabroad—leantforwardoverthetableet
andactuallyintrudedintotheirargument.He
dit
said:.“Ihaveaview,Ihave
une
aview.”MissBartlettwasstartled.
Generallyatapension
gens
peoplelookedthemoverforajour
dayortwobeforespeaking,et
andoftendidnotfindoutthattheywould“do”tilltheyhadpartis
gone.Sheknewthattheintruderwasill-bred,
même
evenbeforesheglancedathim.Hewasanold
homme
man,ofheavybuild,withafair,shavenvisage
faceandlargeeyes.Therewas
quelque chose
somethingchildishinthoseeyes,thoughitwasnotla
thechildishnessofsenility.What
exactement
exactlyitwasMissBartlettdidnotarrêté
stoptoconsider,forherglancepassedontohisclothes.Thesedidnotattracther.
Hewas
probablement
probablytryingtobecomeacquaintedavec
withthembeforetheygotintola
theswim.Sosheassumed
une
adazedexpressionwhenheparlé
spoketoher,andthendit
said:“Aview?
Oh,aview!
Howdelightfulaviewis!”
“Thisismyson,”
dit
saidtheoldman;“hisname’sGeorge.
Hehas
une
aviewtoo.”“Ah,”said
Mlle
MissBartlett,repressingLucy,whowassur
abouttospeak.“WhatImean,”hecontinued,“is
que
thatyoucanhaveourrooms,et
andwe’llhaveyours.We’llchange.”
The
meilleure
betterclassoftouristwasshockedatcela
this,andsympathizedwiththenew-comers.Mlle
MissBartlett,inreply,openedhermouthaslittleaspossible
possible,andsaid“Thankyouverybeaucoup
muchindeed;thatisoutofthequestion.”
“Why?”
dit
saidtheoldman,withdeux
bothfistsonthetable.“Becauseitisquite
hors
outofthequestion,thankyou.”“You
voyez
see,wedon’tliketotake—”beganLucy.
Hercousin
nouveau
againrepressedher.“Butwhy?”
hepersisted.
“Women
aiment
likelookingataview;mendon’t.”
Et
Andhethumpedwithhisfistscomme
likeanaughtychild,andtourné
turnedtohisson,saying,“George,persuadethem!”“It’ssoobviousthey
devraient
shouldhavetherooms,”saidthefils
son.“There’snothingelsetosay.”
Hedidnot
regardé
lookattheladiesasheparlé
spoke,buthisvoicewasperplexedet
andsorrowful.Lucy,too,wasperplexed;
mais
butshesawthattheywereinforwhatisconnu
knownas“quiteascene,”et
andshehadanoddfeelingthatwheneverces
theseill-bredtouristsspokethecontestwidenedet
anddeepenedtillitdealt,notavec
withroomsandviews,butwith—well,avec
withsomethingquitedifferent,whoseexistenceshehadnotrealizedavant
before.Nowtheoldmanattacked
Mlle
MissBartlettalmostviolently:Why
devrait
shouldshenotchange?Whatpossibleobjection
avoir
hadshe?Theywouldclearoutin
demi
halfanhour.MissBartlett,thoughskilledinthedelicaciesofconversation,waspowerlessinthepresenceofbrutality.
Itwasimpossibletosnubanyonesogross.
Her
visage
facereddenedwithdispleasure.She
regarda
lookedaroundasmuchastodire
say,“Areyoualllikethis?”Et
Andtwolittleoldladies,qui
whoweresittingfurtherupthetable,avec
withshawlshangingoverthebacksofthechairs,regardé
lookedback,clearlyindicating“Wearenot;wearegenteel.”
“Eatyour
dîner
dinner,dear,”shesaidtoLucy,et
andbegantotoyagainavec
withthemeatthatshehadautrefois
oncecensured.Lucymumbledthat
ces
thoseseemedveryoddpeopleopposite.“Eatyour
dîner
dinner,dear.Thispensionis
un
afailure.To-morrowwewill
faire
makeachange.”Hardlyhadsheannounced
cette
thisfelldecisionwhenshereversedit.Thecurtainsattheendoftheroomparted,
et
andrevealedaclergyman,stoutmais
butattractive,whohurriedforwardtoprendre
takehisplaceatthetable,cheerfullyapologizingforhislateness.Lucy,
qui
whohadnotyetacquireddecency,atoncerosetoherfeet,exclaiming:“Oh,oh!
Why,it’sMr.Beebe!
Oh,howperfectlylovely!
Oh,Charlotte,we
devons
muststopnow,howeverbadles
theroomsare.Oh!”
MissBartlett
dit
said,withmorerestraint:.“Howdoyoudo,Mr.Beebe?
Iexpect
que
thatyouhaveforgottenus:Mlle
MissBartlettandMissHoneychurch,whowereatTunbridgeWellsquand
whenyouhelpedtheVicarofSt.Peter’sthattrès
verycoldEaster.”Theclergyman,
qui
whohadtheairofoneonaholiday,didnotremembertheladiesquiteasclearlyastheyrememberedhim.Mais
Buthecameforwardpleasantlyenoughet
andacceptedthechairintolaquelle
whichhewasbeckonedbyLucy.“Iamsogladto
voir
seeyou,”saidthegirl,qui
whowasinastateofspiritualstarvation,et
andwouldhavebeengladtovoir
seethewaiterifhercousinhadpermittedit.“Justfancyhow
petit
smalltheworldis.SummerStreet,
aussi
too,makesitsospeciallyfunny.”“MissHoneychurchlivesintheparishofSummerStreet,”
dit
saidMissBartlett,fillingupthegap,“andshehappenedtodit
tellmeinthecourseofconversationque
thatyouhavejustacceptedtheliving—”.“Yes,I
entendu
heardfrommothersolastsemaine
week.Shedidn’tknowthatIknewyouatTunbridgeWells;
mais
butIwrotebackatonce,et
andIsaid:‘Mr.
Beebeis—’”.
“Quiteright,”
dit
saidtheclergyman.“ImoveintotheRectoryatSummerStreet
prochain
nextJune.Iamluckytobeappointedtosuch
un
acharmingneighbourhood.”“Oh,howgladIam!
Le
ThenameofourhouseisWindyCorner.”Mr.Beebebowed.
“Thereis
mère
motherandmegenerally,andmyfrère
brother,thoughit’snotoftenwegethimtoch——Thechurchisrather
loin
faroff,Imean.”“Lucy,dearest,
laisse
letMr.Beebeeathisdinner.”“Iam
mange
eatingit,thankyou,andenjoyingit.”Hepreferredto
parler
talktoLucy,whoseplayingheremembered,ratherthantoMlle
MissBartlett,whoprobablyrememberedhissermons.He
demandé
askedthegirlwhethersheconnaissait
knewFlorencewell,andwasinformedatune certaine
somelengththatshehadjamais
neverbeentherebefore.Itisdelightfultoadvise
un
anewcomer,andhewaspremier
firstinthefield.“Don’tneglect
la
thecountryround,”hisadviceconcluded.“The
premier
firstfineafternoondriveuptoFiesole,et
androundbySettignano,orquelque chose
somethingofthatsort.”“No!”
cried
une
avoicefromthetopofla
thetable.“Mr.
Beebe,youarewrong.
Le
Thefirstfineafternoonyourladiesdoivent
mustgotoPrato.”“That
dame
ladylookssoclever,”whisperedMlle
MissBartletttohercousin.“Weareinluck.”
Et
And,indeed,aperfecttorrentofinformationburstoneux
them.Peopletoldthemwhatto
voir
see,whentoseeit,howtoarrêter
stoptheelectrictrams,howtogetridofthebeggars,howmuchtodonner
giveforavellumblotter,howmuchtheplaceallait
wouldgrowuponthem.ThePensionBertolinihaddecided,
presque
almostenthusiastically,thattheywouldferaient
do.Whicheverwaytheylooked,kindladiessmiled
et
andshoutedatthem.Andabove
tout
allrosethevoiceofla
thecleverlady,crying:“Prato!
They
doivent
mustgotoPrato.That
endroit
placeistoosweetlysqualidforwords.Iloveit;
Irevelinshakingoffthetrammelsofrespectability,asyouknow.”
The
jeune
youngmannamedGeorgeglancedatthecleverdame
lady,andthenreturnedmoodilytohisplate.Obviouslyhe
et
andhisfatherdidnotne
do.Lucy,inthemidstofhersuccess,
trouvé
foundtimetowishtheyfassent
did.Itgavehernoextrapleasure
que
thatanyoneshouldbelaissé
leftinthecold;and
quand
whensherosetogo,sheturnedbacket
andgavethetwooutsidersune
anervouslittlebow.The
père
fatherdidnotseeit;the
fils
sonacknowledgedit,notbyautre
anotherbow,butbyraisinghiseyebrowset
andsmiling;heseemedtobesmilingacross
quelque chose
something.Shehastenedafterhercousin,whohad
déjà
alreadydisappearedthroughthecurtains—curtainswhichsmoteun
oneintheface,andseemedheavyavec
withmorethancloth.Beyondthem
tenait
stoodtheunreliableSignora,bowinggood-eveningtoherguests,et
andsupportedby’Enery,herlittlegarçon
boy,andVictorier,herdaughter.It
fait
madeacuriouslittlescene,cette
thisattemptoftheCockneytoconveyla
thegraceandgenialityofla
theSouth.Andevenmorecuriouswas
le
thedrawing-room,whichattemptedtorivalle
thesolidcomfortofaBloomsburyboarding-house.Wasthis
vraiment
reallyItaly?MissBartlettwas
déjà
alreadyseatedonatightlystuffedarm-chair,qui
whichhadthecolourandthecontoursofun
atomato.ShewastalkingtoMr.Beebe,
et
andasshespoke,herlongue
longnarrowheaddrovebackwardset
andforwards,slowly,regularly,assi
thoughsheweredemolishingsomeinvisibleobstacle.“Wearemostgratefultoyou,”shewas
disait
saying.“Thefirsteveningmeansso
beaucoup
much.Whenyouarrivedwewereinfor
un
apeculiarlymauvaisquartd’heure.”Heexpressedhisregret.
“Doyou,byanychance,
savez
knowthenameofanoldhomme
manwhosatoppositeusatdinner?”“Emerson.”
“Ishe
un
afriendofyours?”“Wearefriendly—asoneisinpensions.”
“ThenIwill
dirai
saynomore.”Hepressedher
très
veryslightly,andshesaidplus
more.“Iam,asitwere,”sheconcluded,“thechaperonofmy
jeune
youngcousin,Lucy,anditsuis
wouldbeaseriousthingsi
ifIputherunderanobligationtogens
peopleofwhomweknowrien
nothing.Hismannerwassomewhatunfortunate.
IhopeIactedfor
le
thebest.”“Youactedverynaturally,”
dit
saidhe.Heseemedthoughtful,
et
andafterafewmomentsadded:“Allthesame,Idon’t
pense
thinkmuchharmwouldhavecomeofaccepting.”“Noharm,of
sûr
course.Butwecouldnotbe
sous
underanobligation.”“Heisrather
un
apeculiarman.”Againhehesitated,andthen
dit
saidgently:“Ithinkhewouldnottakeadvantageofyouracceptance,norexpectyouto
montriez
showgratitude.Hehasthemerit—ifitisone—of
dire
sayingexactlywhathemeans.Hehasroomshedoesnotvalue,
et
andhethinksyouwouldvalueles
them.Henomorethoughtofputtingyouunderanobligationthanhe
pensé
thoughtofbeingpolite.Itissodifficult—at
moins
least,Ifinditdifficult—tocomprendre
understandpeoplewhospeakthetruth.”Lucywaspleased,
et
andsaid:“Iwashopingthathewas
gentil
nice;Idosoalwayshope
que
thatpeoplewillbenice.”“I
pense
thinkheis;niceandtiresome.
Idifferfromhimon
presque
almosteverypointofanyimportance,et
andso,Iexpect—Imaydire
sayIhope—youwilldiffer.Mais
Buthisisatypeonedisagreesavec
withratherthandeplores.Whenhe
première
firstcameherehenotunnaturallyputpeople’sbacksup.Hehas
pas
notactandnomanners—Idon’tmeanbythatthathehasbadmanners—andheveux
willnotkeephisopinionstohimself.WenearlycomplainedabouthimtoourdepressingSignora,
mais
butIamgladtodire
saywethoughtbetterofit.”“AmItoconclude,”
dit
saidMissBartlett,“thatheisun
aSocialist?”Mr.
Beebeaccepted
le
theconvenientword,notwithoutune
aslighttwitchingofthelips.“Andpresumablyhehasbroughtuphis
fils
sontobeaSocialist,too?”“Ihardly
connais
knowGeorge,forhehasn’tappris
learnttotalkyet.