ChapterITheBertolini
“TheSignorahadnobusinesstodoit,”saidMissBartlett,“nobusinessatall.
Shepromisedussouthroomswithaviewclosetogether,insteadofwhichherearenorthrooms,lookingintoacourtyard,andalongwayapart.
Oh,Lucy!”
“AndaCockney,besides!”
saidLucy,whohadbeenfurthersaddenedbytheSignora’sunexpectedaccent.
“ItmightbeLondon.”
ShelookedatthetworowsofEnglishpeoplewhoweresittingatthetable;
attherowofwhitebottlesofwaterandredbottlesofwinethatranbetweentheEnglishpeople;
attheportraitsofthelateQueenandthelatePoetLaureatethathungbehindtheEnglishpeople,heavilyframed;
atthenoticeoftheEnglishchurch(Rev.
CuthbertEager,M.A.
Oxon.),thatwastheonlyotherdecorationofthewall.
“Charlotte,don’tyoufeel,too,thatwemightbeinLondon?
Ican
komaj
hardlybelievethatallkindsofotherthingsarejustoutside.Isupposeitisone’sbeingsotired.”
“Thismeathas
zagotovo
surelybeenusedforsoup,”saidMissBartlett,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—ifthesadtruthbeowned—alittlepeevish.
Theyweretired,andundertheguiseofunselfishnesstheywrangled.
Someoftheirneighboursinterchangedglances,andoneofthem—oneoftheill-bredpeoplewhomonedoesmeetabroad—leantforwardoverthetableandactuallyintrudedintotheirargument.
Hesaid:.
“Ihavea
pogled
view,Ihaveaview.”MissBartlettwasstartled.
Generallyatapensionpeoplelookedthemoverforadayortwobeforespeaking,andoftendidnotfindoutthattheywould“do”tilltheyhadgone.
Sheknewthattheintruderwasill-bred,evenbeforesheglancedathim.
Hewasanoldman,ofheavybuild,withafair,shavenfaceandlargeeyes.
Therewassomethingchildishinthoseeyes,thoughitwasnotthechildishnessofsenility.
WhatexactlyitwasMissBartlettdidnotstoptoconsider,forherglancepassedontohisclothes.
Thesedidnotattracther.
Hewasprobablytryingtobecomeacquaintedwiththembeforetheygotintotheswim.
Sosheassumedadazedexpressionwhenhespoketoher,andthensaid:
“Aview?
Oh,aview!
Howdelightfula
pogled
viewis!”“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,withbothfistsonthetable.
“Becauseitisquiteoutofthequestion,thankyou.”
“Yousee,wedon’tliketotake—”
beganLucy.
Hercousinagainrepressedher.
“Butwhy?”
hepersisted.
“Womenlikelookingata
pogled
view;mendon’t.”
Andhethumpedwithhisfistslikeanaughtychild,andturnedtohisson,saying,“George,persuadethem!”
“It’sso
očitno
obvioustheyshouldhavetherooms,”saidtheson.“There’snothingelsetosay.”
Hedidnotlookattheladiesashespoke,buthisvoicewasperplexedandsorrowful.
Lucy,too,wasperplexed;
butshesawthattheywereinforwhatisknownas“quiteascene,”andshehadan
čuden
oddfeelingthatwhenevertheseill-bredtouristsspokethetekmovanje
contestwidenedanddeepenedtillitdealt,notwithroomsandviews,butwith—well,withsomethingquitedifferent,whoseexistenceshehadnotrealizedbefore.NowtheoldmanattackedMissBartlettalmostviolently:
Whyshouldshenotchange?
Whatpossibleobjectionhadshe?
Theywouldclearoutinhalfanhour.
MissBartlett,thoughskilledinthedelicaciesofconversation,waspowerlessinthepresenceofbrutality.
Itwasimpossibletosnubanyonesogross.
Herfacereddenedwithdispleasure.
Shelookedaroundasmuchastosay,“Areyoualllikethis?”
Andtwolittleoldladies,whoweresittingfurtherupthetable,withshawlshangingoverthebacksofthechairs,lookedback,clearlyindicating“Wearenot;
wearegenteel.”
“Eatyourdinner,dear,”shesaidtoLucy,andbegantotoyagainwiththemeatthatshehadoncecensured.
Lucymumbledthatthoseseemedveryoddpeopleopposite.
“Eatyourdinner,dear.
Thispensionisa
neuspeh
failure.To-morrowwewillmakeachange.”
Komaj
Hardlyhadsheannouncedthisfelldecisionwhenshereversedit.Thecurtainsattheendoftheroomparted,andrevealedaclergyman,stoutbutattractive,whohurriedforwardtotakehisplaceatthetable,cheerfullyapologizingforhislateness.
Lucy,whohadnotyetacquireddecency,atoncerosetoherfeet,exclaiming:
“Oh,oh!
Why,it’sMr.Beebe!
Oh,howperfectlylovely!
Oh,Charlotte,wemuststopnow,howeverbadtheroomsare.
Oh!”
MissBartlettsaid,withmorerestraint:.
“Howdoyoudo,Mr.Beebe?
Iexpectthatyouhaveforgottenus:
MissBartlettandMissHoneychurch,whowereatTunbridgeWellswhenyouhelpedtheVicarofSt.Peter’sthatverycoldEaster.”
Theclergyman,whohadtheairofoneonaholiday,didnotremembertheladiesquiteasclearlyastheyrememberedhim.
Buthecameforwardpleasantlyenoughandacceptedthe
stol
chairintowhichhewasbeckonedbyLucy.“Iamsogladtoseeyou,”saidthegirl,whowasinastateofspiritualstarvation,andwouldhavebeengladtoseethewaiterifhercousinhadpermittedit.
“Justfancyhowsmalltheworldis.
SummerStreet,too,makesitsospeciallyfunny.”
“MissHoneychurchlivesintheparishofSummerStreet,”saidMissBartlett,fillingupthegap,“andshehappenedtotellmeinthecourseofconversationthatyouhavejustacceptedtheliving—”.
“Yes,Iheardfrommothersolastweek.
Shedidn’tknowthatIknewyouatTunbridgeWells;
butIwrotebackatonce,andIsaid:
‘Mr.
Beebeis—’”.
“Quiteright,”saidtheclergyman.
“ImoveintotheRectoryatSummerStreetnext
Junij
June.Iamluckytobeappointedtosucha
očarljivo
charmingneighbourhood.”“Oh,howgladIam!
ThenameofourhouseisWindyCorner.”
Mr.Beebebowed.
“Thereismotherandmegenerally,andmybrother,thoughit’snotoftenwegethimtoch——
Thechurchisratherfaroff,Imean.”
“Lucy,dearest,letMr.Beebeeathisdinner.”
“Iameatingit,thankyou,andenjoyingit.”
HepreferredtotalktoLucy,whoseplayingheremembered,ratherthantoMissBartlett,whoprobablyrememberedhissermons.
HeaskedthegirlwhethersheknewFlorencewell,andwasinformedatsomelengththatshehadneverbeentherebefore.
Itisdelightfultoadviseanewcomer,andhewasfirstinthefield.
“Don’tneglectthecountryround,”his
nasvet
adviceconcluded.“ThefirstfineafternoondriveuptoFiesole,androundbySettignano,orsomethingofthatsort.”
“No!”
criedavoicefromthetopofthetable.
“Mr.
Beebe,youarewrong.
ThefirstfineafternoonyourladiesmustgotoPrato.”
“Thatladylookssoclever,”whisperedMissBartletttohercousin.
“Weareinluck.”
And,
res
indeed,aperfecttorrentofinformationburstonthem.Peopletoldthemwhattosee,whentoseeit,howtostoptheelectrictrams,howtogetridofthebeggars,howmuchtogiveforavellumblotter,howmuchtheplacewouldgrowuponthem.
ThePensionBertolinihaddecided,almostenthusiastically,thattheywoulddo.
Whicheverwaytheylooked,kindladiessmiledandshoutedatthem.
Andaboveallrosethevoiceofthecleverlady,crying:
“Prato!
TheymustgotoPrato.
Thatplaceistoosweetlysqualidforwords.
Iloveit;
Irevelinshakingoffthetrammelsofrespectability,asyouknow.”
TheyoungmannamedGeorgeglancedatthecleverlady,andthenreturnedmoodilytohis
krožnik
plate.Obviouslyheandhisfatherdidnotdo.
Lucy,inthemidstofhersuccess,foundtimetowishtheydid.
Itgavehernoextrapleasurethatanyoneshouldbeleftinthecold;
andwhensherosetogo,sheturnedbackandgavethetwooutsidersanervouslittlebow.
Thefatherdidnotseeit;
thesonacknowledgedit,notbyanotherbow,butbyraisinghiseyebrowsandsmiling;
heseemedtobesmilingacrosssomething.
Shehastenedafterhercousin,whohadalreadydisappearedthroughthecurtains—curtainswhichsmoteoneintheface,andseemedheavywithmorethancloth.
BeyondthemstoodtheunreliableSignora,bowinggood-eveningtoherguests,andsupportedby’Enery,herlittleboy,andVictorier,herdaughter.
Itmadeacuriouslittlescene,this
poskus
attemptoftheCockneytoconveythemilost
graceandgenialityoftheSouth.Andevenmorecuriouswasthedrawing-room,whichattemptedtorivalthe
trdno
solidcomfortofaBloomsburyboarding-house.WasthisreallyItaly?
MissBartlettwasalreadyseatedonatightlystuffedarm-chair,whichhadthecolourandthecontoursofatomato.
ShewastalkingtoMr.Beebe,andasshespoke,herlongnarrowheaddrovebackwardsandforwards,
počasi
slowly,regularly,asthoughsheweredemolishingsomeinvisibleobstacle.“Wearemostgratefultoyou,”shewassaying.
“Thefirsteveningmeanssomuch.
Whenyouarrivedwewereinforapeculiarlymauvaisquartd’heure.”
Heexpressedhisregret.
“Doyou,byanychance,knowthenameofanoldmanwhosatoppositeusatdinner?”
“Emerson.”
“Isheafriendofyours?”
“Wearefriendly—asoneisinpensions.”
“ThenIwillsaynomore.”
Hepressedherveryslightly,andshesaidmore.
“Iam,asitwere,”sheconcluded,“thechaperonofmyyoungcousin,Lucy,anditwouldbeaseriousthingifIputherunderanobligationtopeopleofwhomweknownothing.
Hismannerwassomewhatunfortunate.
IhopeIactedforthebest.”
“Youactedverynaturally,”saidhe.
Heseemedthoughtful,andafterafewmomentsadded:
“Allthesame,Idon’tthinkmuch
škode
harmwouldhavecomeofaccepting.”“No
škode
harm,ofcourse.Butwecouldnotbeunderanobligation.”
“Heisratherapeculiarman.”
Againhehesitated,andthensaidgently:
“Ithinkhewouldnottakeadvantageofyouracceptance,norexpectyoutoshowgratitude.
Hehasthemerit—ifitisone—ofsayingexactlywhathemeans.
Hehasroomshedoesnotvalue,andhethinksyouwouldvaluethem.
Henomorethoughtofputtingyouunderanobligationthanhethoughtofbeingpolite.
Itissodifficult—atleast,Ifinditdifficult—tounderstandpeoplewhospeakthetruth.”
Lucywaspleased,andsaid:
“Iwashopingthathewasnice;
Idosoalwayshopethatpeoplewillbenice.”
“Ithinkheis;
niceandtiresome.
Idifferfromhimonalmosteverypointofanyimportance,andso,Iexpect—ImaysayIhope—youwilldiffer.
Buthisisatypeonedisagreeswithratherthandeplores.
Whenhefirstcameherehenotunnaturallyputpeople’sbacksup.
Hehasnotactandnomanners—Idon’tmeanbythatthathehasbadmanners—andhewillnotkeephisopinionstohimself.
We
skoraj
nearlycomplainedabouthimtoourdepressingSignora,butIamgladtosaywethoughtbetterofit.”“AmItoconclude,”saidMissBartlett,“thatheisaSocialist?”
Mr.
Beebeacceptedtheconvenientword,notwithoutaslighttwitchingofthelips.
“AndpresumablyhehasbroughtuphissontobeaSocialist,too?”
“I
komaj
hardlyknowGeorge,forhehasn’tlearnttotalkyet.