ChapterITheBertolini
“TheSignorahadnobusinesstodoit,”saidMissBartlett,“nobusinessatall.
Shepromisedus
selatan
southroomswithaviewclosetogether,sebagai gantinya
insteadofwhichhereareutara
northrooms,lookingintoacourtyard,andalongwayterpisah
apart.Oh,Lucy!”
“AndaCockney,besides!”
saidLucy,whohadbeenfurthersaddenedbytheSignora’sunexpectedaccent.
“ItmightbeLondon.”
ShelookedatthetworowsofEnglishpeoplewhoweresittingatthe
meja
table;attherowofwhitebottlesofwaterandredbottlesof
anggur
winethatranbetweentheEnglishpeople;attheportraitsofthelate
Ratu
QueenandthelatePoetLaureatethathungbehindtheEnglishpeople,heavilyframed;atthe
pemberitahuan
noticeoftheEnglishchurch(Rev.CuthbertEager,M.A.
Oxon.),thatwastheonlyotherdecorationofthe
dinding
wall.“Charlotte,don’tyoufeel,too,thatwemightbeinLondon?
Icanhardlybelievethatallkindsofotherthingsarejustoutside.
I
kira
supposeitisone’sbeingsotired.”“This
daging
meathassurelybeenusedforsoup,”saidMissBartlett,meletakkan
layingdownherfork.“IwantsotoseetheArno.
TheroomstheSignorapromisedusinherletterwouldhavelookedovertheArno.
TheSignorahadnobusinesstodoitatall.
Oh,itisashame!”
“Anynookdoesforme,”MissBartlettcontinued;
“butitdoesseemhardthatyoushouldn’thaveaview.”
Lucyfeltthatshehadbeenselfish.
“Charlotte,youmustn’tspoilme:
ofcourse,youmustlookovertheArno,too.
Imeantthat.
Thefirstvacantroominthefront—”
“Youmusthaveit,”saidMissBartlett,partofwhosetravellingexpenseswerepaidbyLucy’smother—apieceofgenerositytowhichshemademanyatactfulallusion.
“No,no.Youmusthaveit.”
“Iinsistonit.
Yourmotherwouldneverforgiveme,Lucy.”
“Shewouldneverforgiveme.”
Theladies’voicesgrewanimated,and—ifthe
menyedihkan
sadtruthbeowned—alittlepeevish.Theywere
lelah
tired,andundertheguiseofunselfishnesstheywrangled.Someoftheirneighboursinterchangedglances,andoneofthem—oneoftheill-bredpeoplewhomonedoesmeetabroad—leantforwardoverthe
meja
tableandactuallyintrudedintotheirargument.Hesaid:.
“Ihaveaview,Ihaveaview.”
MissBartlettwasstartled.
Generallyatapensionpeoplelookedthemoverforadayortwobeforespeaking,and
sering
oftendidnotfindoutthattheywould“do”tilltheyhadgone.Sheknewthattheintruderwasill-bred,evenbeforesheglancedathim.
Hewasanoldman,of
berat
heavybuild,withafair,shavenfaceandbesar
largeeyes.Therewassomethingchildishinthoseeyes,thoughitwasnotthechildishnessofsenility.
WhatexactlyitwasMissBartlettdidnotstoptoconsider,forherglancepassedontohisclothes.
Thesedidnotattracther.
Hewasprobablytryingtobecomeacquaintedwiththembeforetheygotintotheswim.
Sosheassumedadazedexpressionwhenhespoketoher,andthensaid:
“Aview?
Oh,aview!
Howdelightfulaviewis!”
“Thisismyson,”saidtheoldman;
“hisname’sGeorge.
Hehasaviewtoo.”
“Ah,”saidMissBartlett,repressingLucy,whowasabouttospeak.
“WhatImean,”hecontinued,“isthatyoucanhaveourrooms,andwe’llhaveyours.
We’llchange.”
Thebetterclassoftouristwasshockedatthis,andsympathizedwiththenew-comers.
MissBartlett,inreply,openedhermouthaslittleaspossible,andsaid“Thankyouverymuchindeed;
thatisoutofthequestion.”
“Why?”
saidtheoldman,withbothfistsonthe
meja
table.“Becauseitisquiteoutofthequestion,thankyou.”
“Yousee,wedon’tliketotake—”
beganLucy.
Hercousinagainrepressedher.
“Butwhy?”
hepersisted.
“Womenlikelookingataview;
mendon’t.”
Andhethumpedwithhisfistslikeanaughtychild,andturnedtohisson,saying,“George,persuadethem!”
“It’ssoobvioustheyshouldhavetherooms,”saidtheson.
“There’snothingelsetosay.”
Hedidnotlookattheladiesashespoke,buthisvoicewasperplexedandsorrowful.
Lucy,too,wasperplexed;
butshesawthattheywereinforwhatisknownas“quiteascene,”andshehadanoddfeelingthatwhenevertheseill-bredtouristsspokethecontestwidenedanddeepenedtillitdealt,notwithroomsandviews,butwith—well,withsomethingquitedifferent,whoseexistenceshehadnot
menyadari
realizedbefore.Nowtheoldman
menyerang
attackedMissBartlettalmostviolently:Whyshouldshenotchange?
Whatpossibleobjectionhadshe?
Theywouldclearoutinhalfanhour.
MissBartlett,thoughskilledinthedelicaciesofconversation,waspowerlessinthepresenceofbrutality.
Itwasimpossibletosnubanyonesogross.
Herfacereddenedwithdispleasure.
Shelookedaroundasmuchastosay,“Areyoualllikethis?”
Andtwolittleoldladies,whoweresittingfurtherupthe
meja
table,withshawlshangingoverthebacksofthechairs,lookedback,clearlyindicating“Wearenot;wearegenteel.”
“Eatyourdinner,dear,”shesaidtoLucy,and
mulai
begantotoyagainwiththedaging
meatthatshehadoncecensured.Lucymumbledthatthose
tampak
seemedveryoddpeopleopposite.“Eatyourdinner,dear.
Thispensionisafailure.
To-morrowwewillmakeachange.”
Hardlyhadsheannouncedthisfell
keputusan
decisionwhenshereversedit.Thecurtainsattheendoftheroomparted,andrevealedaclergyman,stoutbutattractive,whohurriedforwardtotakehisplaceatthe
meja
table,cheerfullyapologizingforhislateness.Lucy,whohadnotyetacquireddecency,atoncerosetoherfeet,exclaiming:
“Oh,oh!
Why,it’sMr.Beebe!
Oh,howperfectlylovely!
Oh,Charlotte,wemuststopnow,
bagaimanapun
howeverbadtheroomsare.Oh!”
MissBartlettsaid,withmorerestraint:.
“Howdoyoudo,Mr.Beebe?
Iexpectthatyouhaveforgottenus:
MissBartlettandMissHoneychurch,whowereatTunbridgeWellswhenyouhelpedtheVicarofSt.Peter’sthatverycoldEaster.”
Theclergyman,whohadtheairofoneonaholiday,didnotremembertheladiesquiteasclearlyastheyrememberedhim.
Buthecameforwardpleasantlyenoughand
menerima
acceptedthechairintowhichhewasbeckonedbyLucy.“Iamso
senang
gladtoseeyou,”saidthegirl,whowasinakeadaan
stateofspiritualstarvation,andwouldhavebeensenang
gladtoseethewaiterifhercousinhadpermittedit.“Justfancyhowsmalltheworldis.
SummerStreet,too,makesitsospeciallyfunny.”
“MissHoneychurchlivesintheparishofSummerStreet,”saidMissBartlett,fillingupthegap,“andshehappenedtotellmeinthecourseofconversationthatyouhavejustacceptedtheliving—”.
“Yes,Iheardfrommothersolastweek.
Shedidn’tknowthatIknewyouatTunbridgeWells;
butIwrotebackatonce,andIsaid:
‘Mr.
Beebeis—’”.
“Quiteright,”saidtheclergyman.
“ImoveintotheRectoryatSummerStreetnextJune.
Iamluckytobeappointedtosuchacharmingneighbourhood.”
“Oh,howgladIam!
ThenameofourhouseisWindyCorner.”
Mr.Beebebowed.
“Thereismotherandmegenerally,andmybrother,thoughit’snot
sering
oftenwegethimtoch——The
gereja
churchisratherfaroff,Imean.”“Lucy,dearest,letMr.Beebeeathisdinner.”
“Iameatingit,thankyou,andenjoyingit.”
HepreferredtotalktoLucy,whoseplayingheremembered,ratherthantoMissBartlett,whoprobablyrememberedhissermons.
Heaskedthegirl
apakah
whethersheknewFlorencewell,andwasinformedatsomelengththatshehadneverbeentherebefore.Itisdelightfultoadviseanewcomer,andhewasfirstinthe
lapangan
field.“Don’tneglectthecountryround,”hisadviceconcluded.
“ThefirstfineafternoondriveuptoFiesole,and
putaran
roundbySettignano,orsomethingofthatsort.”“No!”
crieda
suara
voicefromthetopofthemeja
table.“Mr.
Beebe,youarewrong.
Thefirstfine
sore
afternoonyourladiesmustgotoPrato.”“Thatladylookssoclever,”whisperedMissBartletttohercousin.
“Weareinluck.”
And,indeed,aperfecttorrentof
informasi
informationburstonthem.Peopletoldthemwhattosee,whentoseeit,howtostoptheelectrictrams,howtoget
menyingkirkan
ridofthebeggars,howmuchtogiveforavellumblotter,howmuchtheplacewouldtumbuh
growuponthem.ThePensionBertolinihad
memutuskan
decided,almostenthusiastically,thattheywoulddo.Whicheverwaytheylooked,kindladies
tersenyum
smiledandshoutedatthem.And
atas
aboveallrosethevoiceofthecleverlady,menangis
crying:“Prato!
TheymustgotoPrato.
Thatplaceistoosweetlysqualidforwords.
Iloveit;
Irevelinshakingoffthetrammelsofrespectability,asyouknow.”
TheyoungmannamedGeorgeglancedatthecleverlady,andthenreturnedmoodilytohisplate.
Jelas
Obviouslyheandhisfatherdidnotdo.Lucy,inthemidstofhersuccess,foundtimetowishtheydid.
Itgavehernoextra
kesenangan
pleasurethatanyoneshouldbeleftinthecold;andwhensherosetogo,sheturnedbackandgavethetwooutsidersa
gugup
nervouslittlebow.Thefatherdidnotseeit;
thesonacknowledgedit,notbyanotherbow,butby
mengangkat
raisinghiseyebrowsandsmiling;he
tampak
seemedtobesmilingacrosssomething.Shehastenedafterhercousin,whohadalreadydisappearedthroughthecurtains—curtainswhichsmoteoneintheface,and
tampak
seemedheavywithmorethancloth.BeyondthemstoodtheunreliableSignora,bowinggood-eveningtoherguests,andsupportedby’Enery,herlittleboy,andVictorier,herdaughter.
Itmadeacuriouslittle
adegan
scene,thisattemptoftheCockneytoconveythegraceandgenialityoftheSelatan
South.Andevenmorecuriouswasthedrawing-room,whichattemptedtorivalthesolidcomfortofaBloomsburyboarding-house.
WasthisreallyItaly?
MissBartlettwasalreadyseatedonatightlystuffedarm-chair,whichhadthecolourandthecontoursofatomato.
ShewastalkingtoMr.Beebe,andasshespoke,herlongnarrowheaddrovebackwardsandforwards,slowly,regularly,asthoughsheweredemolishingsomeinvisibleobstacle.
“Wearemostgratefultoyou,”shewassaying.
“Thefirsteveningmeanssomuch.
Whenyouarrivedwewereinforapeculiarlymauvaisquartd’heure.”
Heexpressedhisregret.
“Doyou,byanychance,knowthenameofanoldmanwhosatoppositeusatdinner?”
“Emerson.”
“Isheafriendofyours?”
“Wearefriendly—asoneisinpensions.”
“ThenIwillsaynomore.”
Hepressedherveryslightly,andshesaidmore.
“Iam,asitwere,”sheconcluded,“thechaperonofmyyoung
sepupu
cousin,Lucy,anditwouldbeaseriousthingifIputherunderanobligationtopeopleofwhomweknownothing.Hismannerwassomewhatunfortunate.
IhopeI
bertindak
actedforthebest.”“You
bertindak
actedverynaturally,”saidhe.He
tampak
seemedthoughtful,andafterafewmomentsadded:“Allthesame,Idon’tthinkmuchharmwouldhavecomeofaccepting.”
“Noharm,ofcourse.
Butwecouldnotbeunderanobligation.”
“Heis
agak
ratherapeculiarman.”Againhehesitated,andthensaidgently:
“Ithinkhewouldnottakeadvantageofyouracceptance,
atau
norexpectyoutoshowgratitude.Hehasthemerit—ifitisone—ofsayingexactlywhathemeans.
Hehasroomshedoesnotvalue,andhethinksyouwouldvaluethem.
Henomorethoughtofputtingyouunderanobligationthanhethoughtofbeingpolite.
Itissodifficult—atleast,Ifinditdifficult—tounderstandpeoplewhospeakthetruth.”
Lucywaspleased,andsaid:
“Iwashopingthathewasnice;
Idosoalwayshopethatpeoplewillbenice.”
“Ithinkheis;
niceandtiresome.
Idifferfromhimonalmosteverypointofanyimportance,andso,Iexpect—ImaysayIhope—youwilldiffer.
Buthisisa
tipe
typeonedisagreeswithratherthandeplores.Whenhefirstcameherehenotunnaturallyputpeople’sbacksup.
Hehasnotactandnomanners—Idon’tmeanbythatthathehasbadmanners—andhewillnotkeephisopinionstohimself.
WenearlycomplainedabouthimtoourdepressingSignora,butIam
senang
gladtosaywethoughtbetterofit.”“AmItoconclude,”saidMissBartlett,“thatheisaSocialist?”
Mr.
Beebe
menerima
acceptedtheconvenientword,notwithoutaslighttwitchingofthelips.“AndpresumablyhehasbroughtuphissontobeaSocialist,too?”
“IhardlyknowGeorge,forhehasn’t
belajar
learnttotalkyet.