ChapterITheBertolini
“TheSignorahadnobusinesstodoit,”saidMissBartlett,“nobusinessatall.
Shepromisedussouthroomswithaviewclosetogether,insteadofwhichherearenorthrooms,lookingintoa
patio
courtyard,andalongwayapart.Oh,Lucy!”
“AndaCockney,besides!”
saidLucy,whohadbeenfurthersaddenedbytheSignora’s
inesperado
unexpectedaccent.“ItmightbeLondon.”
ShelookedatthetworowsofEnglishpeoplewhoweresittingatthetable;
attherowofwhitebottlesofwaterandredbottlesofwinethatranbetweentheEnglishpeople;
attheportraitsofthelateQueenandthelate
Poeta
PoetLaureatethathungbehindtheEnglishpeople,fuertemente
heavilyframed;atthenoticeoftheEnglishchurch(Rev.
CuthbertEager,M.A.
Oxon.),thatwastheonlyother
decoración
decorationofthewall.“Charlotte,don’tyoufeel,too,thatwemightbeinLondon?
Icanhardlybelievethatallkindsofotherthingsarejustoutside.
Isupposeitisone’sbeingsotired.”
“Thismeathassurelybeenusedforsoup,”saidMissBartlett,layingdownher
tenedor
fork.“IwantsotoseetheArno.
TheroomstheSignorapromisedusinherletterwouldhavelookedovertheArno.
TheSignorahadnobusinesstodoitatall.
Oh,itisashame!”
“Anynookdoesforme,”MissBartlettcontinued;
“butitdoesseemhardthatyoushouldn’thaveaview.”
Lucyfeltthatshehadbeenselfish.
“Charlotte,youmustn’tspoilme:
ofcourse,youmustlookovertheArno,too.
Imeantthat.
Thefirst
vacía
vacantroominthefront—”“Youmusthaveit,”saidMissBartlett,partofwhosetravellingexpenseswerepaidbyLucy’smother—apieceof
generosidad
generositytowhichshemademanyatactfulallusion.“No,no.Youmusthaveit.”
“I
insisto
insistonit.Yourmotherwouldneverforgiveme,Lucy.”
“Shewouldneverforgiveme.”
Theladies’voicesgrewanimated,and—ifthesadtruthbeowned—alittlepeevish.
Theyweretired,andundertheguiseofunselfishnesstheywrangled.
Someoftheirneighboursinterchangedglances,andoneofthem—oneoftheill-bredpeoplewhomonedoesmeetabroad—leantforwardoverthetableandactually
entrometió
intrudedintotheirargument.Hesaid:.
“Ihaveaview,Ihaveaview.”
MissBartlettwasstartled.
En general
Generallyatapensionpeoplelookedthemoverforadayortwobeforespeaking,andoftendidnotfindoutthattheywould“do”tilltheyhadgone.Sheknewthatthe
intruso
intruderwasill-bred,evenbeforesheglancedathim.Hewasanoldman,ofheavybuild,withafair,shavenfaceandlargeeyes.
Therewassomethingchildishinthoseeyes,thoughitwasnotthechildishnessofsenility.
WhatexactlyitwasMissBartlettdidnotstoptoconsider,forher
mirada
glancepassedontohisclothes.Thesedidnot
atrajeron
attracther.Hewasprobablytryingtobecomeacquaintedwiththembeforetheygotintotheswim.
Sosheassumedadazed
expresión
expressionwhenhespoketoher,andthensaid:“Aview?
Oh,aview!
Howdelightfulaviewis!”
“Thisismyson,”saidtheoldman;
“hisname’sGeorge.
Hehasaviewtoo.”
“Ah,”saidMissBartlett,repressingLucy,whowasabouttospeak.
“WhatImean,”hecontinued,“isthatyoucanhaveourrooms,andwe’llhaveyours.
We’llchange.”
Thebetterclassoftouristwas
sorprendió
shockedatthis,andsympathizedwiththenew-comers.MissBartlett,in
respuesta
reply,openedhermouthaslittleaspossible,andsaid“Thankyouverymuchindeed;thatisoutofthequestion.”
“Why?”
saidtheoldman,withbothfistsonthetable.
“Becauseitisquiteoutofthequestion,thankyou.”
“Yousee,wedon’tliketotake—”
beganLucy.
Hercousinagainrepressedher.
“Butwhy?”
he
persistió
persisted.“Womenlikelookingataview;
mendon’t.”
Andhethumpedwithhisfistslikea
travieso
naughtychild,andturnedtohisson,saying,“George,persuadethem!”“It’ssoobvioustheyshouldhavetherooms,”saidtheson.
“There’snothingelsetosay.”
Hedidnotlookattheladiesashespoke,buthisvoicewasperplexedandsorrowful.
Lucy,too,wasperplexed;
butshesawthattheywereinforwhatisknownas“quiteascene,”andshehadanoddfeelingthatwhenevertheseill-bredtouristsspokethecontestwidenedanddeepenedtillitdealt,notwithroomsandviews,butwith—well,withsomethingquitedifferent,whose
existencia
existenceshehadnotrealizedbefore.NowtheoldmanattackedMissBartlettalmost
violentamente
violently:Whyshouldshenotchange?
Whatpossible
objeción
objectionhadshe?Theywouldclearoutinhalfanhour.
MissBartlett,thoughskilledinthedelicaciesofconversation,was
impotente
powerlessinthepresenceofbrutality.Itwasimpossibletosnubanyoneso
asqueroso
gross.Herfacereddenedwithdispleasure.
Shelookedaroundasmuchastosay,“Areyoualllikethis?”
Andtwolittleoldladies,whoweresittingfurtherupthetable,withshawlshangingoverthebacksofthechairs,lookedback,clearly
indicando
indicating“Wearenot;wearegenteel.”
“Eatyourdinner,dear,”shesaidtoLucy,andbegantotoyagainwiththemeatthatshehadoncecensured.
Lucy
murmuró
mumbledthatthoseseemedveryoddpeopleopposite.“Eatyourdinner,dear.
This
pensión
pensionisafailure.To-morrowwewillmakeachange.”
Hardlyhadshe
anunciado
announcedthisfelldecisionwhenshereversedit.Thecurtainsattheendoftheroomparted,and
reveló
revealedaclergyman,stoutbutattractive,whohurriedforwardtotakehisplaceatthetable,cheerfullyapologizingforhislateness.Lucy,whohadnotyet
adquirido
acquireddecency,atoncerosetoherfeet,exclaiming:“Oh,oh!
Why,it’sMr.Beebe!
Oh,howperfectlylovely!
Oh,Charlotte,wemuststopnow,howeverbadtheroomsare.
Oh!”
MissBartlettsaid,withmore
moderación
restraint:.“Howdoyoudo,Mr.Beebe?
Iexpectthatyouhaveforgottenus:
MissBartlettandMissHoneychurch,whowereatTunbridgeWellswhenyouhelpedthe
Vicario
VicarofSt.Peter’sthatverycoldEaster.”Theclergyman,whohadtheairofoneonaholiday,didnotremembertheladiesquiteasclearlyastheyrememberedhim.
ButhecameforwardpleasantlyenoughandacceptedthechairintowhichhewasbeckonedbyLucy.
“Iamsogladtoseeyou,”saidthegirl,whowasinastateof
espiritual
spiritualstarvation,andwouldhavebeengladtoseethecamarero
waiterifhercousinhadpermitido
permittedit.“Justfancyhowsmalltheworldis.
SummerStreet,too,makesitso
especialmente
speciallyfunny.”“MissHoneychurchlivesinthe
parroquia
parishofSummerStreet,”saidMissBartlett,fillingupthegap,“andshehappenedtotellmeinthecourseofconversationthatyouhavejustacceptedtheliving—”.“Yes,Iheardfrommothersolastweek.
Shedidn’tknowthatIknewyouatTunbridgeWells;
butIwrotebackatonce,andIsaid:
‘Mr.
Beebeis—’”.
“Quiteright,”saidtheclergyman.
“ImoveintotheRectoryatSummerStreetnextJune.
Iamluckytobe
nombrado
appointedtosuchacharmingneighbourhood.”“Oh,howgladIam!
ThenameofourhouseisWindyCorner.”
Mr.Beebebowed.
“Thereismotherandme
en general
generally,andmybrother,thoughit’snotoftenwegethimtoch——Thechurchisratherfaroff,Imean.”
“Lucy,dearest,letMr.Beebeeathisdinner.”
“Iameatingit,thankyou,andenjoyingit.”
HepreferredtotalktoLucy,whoseplayingheremembered,ratherthantoMissBartlett,whoprobablyrememberedhissermons.
HeaskedthegirlwhethersheknewFlorencewell,andwasinformedatsomelengththatshehadneverbeentherebefore.
Itis
delicioso
delightfultoadviseanewcomer,andhewasfirstinthefield.“Don’t
descuides
neglectthecountryround,”hisadviceconcluyó
concluded.“ThefirstfineafternoondriveuptoFiesole,androundbySettignano,orsomethingofthatsort.”
“No!”
criedavoicefromthetopofthetable.
“Mr.
Beebe,youarewrong.
ThefirstfineafternoonyourladiesmustgotoPrato.”
“Thatladylookssoclever,”
susurró
whisperedMissBartletttohercousin.“Weareinluck.”
And,indeed,aperfecttorrentofinformation
estalló
burstonthem.Peopletoldthemwhattosee,whentoseeit,howtostoptheelectrictrams,howtogetridofthebeggars,howmuchtogiveforavellumblotter,howmuchtheplacewouldgrowuponthem.
The
Pensión
PensionBertolinihaddecided,almostenthusiastically,thattheywoulddo.Whicheverwaytheylooked,kindladiessmiledandshoutedatthem.
Andaboveallrosethevoiceofthecleverlady,crying:
“Prato!
TheymustgotoPrato.
Thatplaceistoo
dulcemente
sweetlysqualidforwords.Iloveit;
Irevelinshakingoffthetrammelsofrespectability,asyouknow.”
TheyoungmannamedGeorgeglancedatthecleverlady,andthenreturnedmoodilytohisplate.
Obviouslyheandhisfatherdidnotdo.
Lucy,inthemidstofhersuccess,foundtimetowishtheydid.
Itgavehernoextrapleasurethatanyoneshouldbeleftinthecold;
andwhensherosetogo,sheturnedbackandgavethetwooutsidersanervouslittlebow.
Thefatherdidnotseeit;
theson
reconoció
acknowledgedit,notbyanotherbow,butbyraisinghiseyebrowsandsmiling;heseemedtobesmilingacrosssomething.
Shehastenedafterhercousin,whohadalreadydisappearedthroughthecurtains—curtainswhichsmoteoneintheface,andseemedheavywithmorethan
tela
cloth.BeyondthemstoodtheunreliableSignora,bowinggood-eveningtoherguests,andsupportedby’Enery,herlittleboy,andVictorier,herdaughter.
Itmadeacuriouslittlescene,thisattemptoftheCockneyto
transmitir
conveythegraceandgenialityoftheSouth.Andevenmorecuriouswasthedrawing-room,whichattemptedto
rivalizar con
rivalthesolidcomfortofaBloomsburyboarding-house.WasthisreallyItaly?
MissBartlettwasalreadyseatedonatightlystuffedarm-chair,whichhadthe
color
colourandthecontoursofatomate
tomato.ShewastalkingtoMr.Beebe,andasshespoke,herlongnarrowheaddrove
hacia atrás
backwardsandforwards,slowly,regularly,asthoughsheweredemoliendo
demolishingsomeinvisibleobstacle.“Wearemostgratefultoyou,”shewassaying.
“Thefirsteveningmeanssomuch.
Whenyouarrivedwewereinforapeculiarlymauvaisquartd’heure.”
Heexpressedhisregret.
“Doyou,byanychance,knowthenameofanoldmanwhosatoppositeusatdinner?”
“Emerson.”
“Isheafriendofyours?”
“Wearefriendly—asoneisinpensions.”
“ThenIwillsaynomore.”
Hepressedhervery
ligeramente
slightly,andshesaidmore.“Iam,asitwere,”she
concluyó
concluded,“thechaperonofmyyoungcousin,Lucy,anditwouldbeaseriousthingifIputherunderanobligación
obligationtopeopleofwhomweknownothing.His
manera
mannerwassomewhatunfortunate.IhopeIactedforthebest.”
“Youactedverynaturally,”saidhe.
Heseemed
pensativo
thoughtful,andafterafewmomentsadded:“Allthesame,Idon’tthinkmuchharmwouldhavecomeofaccepting.”
“Noharm,ofcourse.
Butwecouldnotbeunderanobligation.”
“Heisratherapeculiarman.”
Againhe
dudó
hesitated,andthensaidgently:“Ithinkhewouldnottakeadvantageofyour
aceptación
acceptance,norexpectyoutoshowgratitud
gratitude.Hehasthemerit—ifitisone—ofsayingexactlywhathemeans.
Hehasroomshedoesnotvalue,andhethinksyouwouldvaluethem.
Henomorethoughtofputtingyouunderanobligationthanhethoughtofbeing
educado
polite.Itissodifficult—atleast,Ifinditdifficult—tounderstandpeoplewhospeakthetruth.”
Lucywaspleased,andsaid:
“Iwashopingthathewasnice;
Idosoalwayshopethatpeoplewillbenice.”
“Ithinkheis;
niceand
agotador
tiresome.Idifferfromhimonalmosteverypointofany
importancia
importance,andso,Iexpect—ImaysayIhope—youwilldiffer.Buthisisatypeone
acuerdo
disagreeswithratherthandeplores.Whenhefirstcameherehenotunnaturallyputpeople’sbacksup.
Hehasnotactandnomanners—Idon’tmeanbythatthathehasbadmanners—andhewillnotkeephisopinionstohimself.
Wenearly
quejamos
complainedabouthimtoourdepressingSignora,butIamgladtosaywethoughtbetterofit.”“AmItoconclude,”saidMissBartlett,“thatheisaSocialist?”
Mr.
Beebeacceptedthe
conveniente
convenientword,notwithoutaslighttwitchingofthelips.“And
presumiblemente
presumablyhehasbroughtuphissontobeaSocialista
Socialist,too?”“IhardlyknowGeorge,forhehasn’tlearnttotalkyet.