ChapterITheBertolini
“TheSignora
hade
hadnobusinesstodoit,”sa
saidMissBartlett,“nobusinessatall.She
lovade
promisedussouthroomswithen
aviewclosetogether,insteadofvilka
whichherearenorthrooms,lookingintoen
acourtyard,andalongväg
wayapart.Oh,Lucy!”
“And
en
aCockney,besides!”saidLucy,
som
whohadbeenfurthersaddenedbytheSignora’sunexpectedaccent.“It
kan
mightbeLondon.”Shelookedat
de
thetworowsofEnglishpeoplesom
whoweresittingatthetable;attherowof
vita
whitebottlesofwaterandröda
redbottlesofwinethatsprang
ranbetweentheEnglishpeople;attheportraitsofthelateQueen
och
andthelatePoetLaureatesom
thathungbehindtheEnglishpeople,heavilyframed;at
den
thenoticeoftheEnglishchurch(Rev.CuthbertEager,M.A.
Oxon.),thatwasthe
enda
onlyotherdecorationofthewall.“Charlotte,don’tyou
känner
feel,too,thatwemightbeinLondon?I
kan
canhardlybelievethatallkindsofandra
otherthingsarejustoutside.Isupposeitisone’sbeingsotired.”
“Thismeat
har
hassurelybeenusedforsoup,”sa
saidMissBartlett,layingdownherfork.“I
vill
wantsotoseetheArno.De
TheroomstheSignorapromisedusinherletterwouldha
havelookedovertheArno.TheSignora
hade
hadnobusinesstodoitatall.Oh,itisashame!”
“Anynookdoesforme,”
Fröken
MissBartlettcontinued;“butitdoesseem
svårt
hardthatyoushouldn’thaveen
aview.”Lucyfeltthatshe
hade
hadbeenselfish.“Charlotte,youmustn’tspoil
mig
me:ofcourse,youmust
titta
lookovertheArno,too.I
menade
meantthat.Thefirstvacant
rummet
roominthefront—”“Youmusthaveit,”
sa
saidMissBartlett,partofwhosetravellingexpenseswerepaidbyLucy’smother—apieceofgenerositytosom
whichshemademanyatactfulallusion.“No,
nej
no.Youmusthaveit.”“Iinsiston
det
it.Yourmotherwouldneverforgive
mig
me,Lucy.”“Shewouldneverforgiveme.”
Den
Theladies’voicesgrewanimated,and—ifden
thesadtruthbeowned—alite
littlepeevish.Theyweretired,
och
andundertheguiseofunselfishnesstheywrangled.Några
Someoftheirneighboursinterchangedglances,och
andoneofthem—oneofde
theill-bredpeoplewhomonedoesmöter
meetabroad—leantforwardoverthetableoch
andactuallyintrudedintotheirargument.He
sa
said:.“Ihaveaview,I
har
haveaview.”MissBartlettwasstartled.
Generallyat
en
apensionpeoplelookedthemoverforen
adayortwobeforetalade
speaking,andoftendidnotfindoutatt
thattheywould“do”tilltheyhade
hadgone.Sheknewthattheintruderwasill-bred,even
innan
beforesheglancedathim.Hewasan
gammal
oldman,ofheavybuild,med
withafair,shavenfaceoch
andlargeeyes.Therewas
något
somethingchildishinthoseeyes,thoughitwasnotthechildishnessofsenility.What
exakt
exactlyitwasMissBartlettdidnotstannade
stoptoconsider,forherglancepassedontohisclothes.Dessa
Thesedidnotattracther.Hewas
förmodligen
probablytryingtobecomeacquaintedmed
withthembeforetheygotintotheswim.Sosheassumed
ett
adazedexpressionwhenhespoketohenne
her,andthensaid:“Aview?
Oh,
en
aview!Howdelightfulaviewis!”
“Thisismyson,”
sa
saidtheoldman;“hisname’sGeorge.
He
har
hasaviewtoo.”“Ah,”
sa
saidMissBartlett,repressingLucy,som
whowasabouttospeak.“WhatImean,”hecontinued,“is
att
thatyoucanhaveourrooms,och
andwe’llhaveyours.We’llchange.”
The
bättre
betterclassoftouristwasshockedatdetta
this,andsympathizedwiththenew-comers.Miss
MissBartlett,inreply,openedhermouthaslite
littleaspossible,andsaid“Thankyouverymuchindeed;thatisoutof
det
thequestion.”“Why?”
saidtheold
mannen
man,withbothfistsonden
thetable.“Becauseitisquiteoutofthequestion,
tack
thankyou.”“Yousee,wedon’t
gillar
liketotake—”beganLucy.
Hercousin
igen
againrepressedher.“Butwhy?”
hepersisted.
“Women
gillar
likelookingataview;mendon’t.”
Och
Andhethumpedwithhisfistssom
likeanaughtychild,andvände
turnedtohisson,saying,“George,persuadethem!”“It’ssoobviousthey
borde
shouldhavetherooms,”saidthesonen
son.“There’snothingelsetosay.”
Hedidnot
tittade
lookattheladiesashetalade
spoke,buthisvoicewasperplexedoch
andsorrowful.Lucy,too,wasperplexed;
men
butshesawthattheywereinforwhatiskänt
knownas“quiteascene,”och
andshehadanoddkänt
feelingthatwhenevertheseill-bredtouriststalade
spokethecontestwidenedanddeepenedtillitdealt,notmed
withroomsandviews,butwith—well,med
withsomethingquitedifferent,whoseexistenceshehade
hadnotrealizedbefore.Now
den
theoldmanattackedMissBartlettnästan
almostviolently:Whyshouldshenot
förändras
change?Whatpossibleobjectionhad
hon
she?Theywouldclearoutinhalf
en
anhour.MissBartlett,thoughskilledinthedelicaciesofconversation,waspowerlessinthepresenceofbrutality.
Itwasimpossibletosnub
någon
anyonesogross.Her
ansikte
facereddenedwithdispleasure.She
tittade
lookedaroundasmuchastosa
say,“Areyoualllikethis?”Och
Andtwolittleoldladies,som
whoweresittingfurtherupthetable,med
withshawlshangingoverthebacksofthechairs,tittade
lookedback,clearlyindicating“Wearenot;wearegenteel.”
“Eatyour
middag
dinner,dear,”shesaidtoLucy,och
andbegantotoyagainmed
withthemeatthatshehade
hadoncecensured.Lucymumbled
att
thatthoseseemedveryoddmänniskor
peopleopposite.“Eatyourdinner,dear.
Här
Thispensionisafailure.To-morrowwe
kommer
willmakeachange.”Hardly
hade
hadsheannouncedthisfelldecisionnär
whenshereversedit.Thecurtainsatthe
slutet
endoftheroomparted,och
andrevealedaclergyman,stoutmen
butattractive,whohurriedforwardtota
takehisplaceatthetable,cheerfullyapologizingforhislateness.Lucy,
som
whohadnotyetacquireddecency,atoncerosetoherfeet,exclaiming:“Oh,oh!
Why,it’sMr.Beebe!
Oh,howperfectlylovely!
Oh,Charlotte,we
måste
muststopnow,howeverbadtheroomsär
are.Oh!”
MissBartlettsaid,
med
withmorerestraint:.“Howdoyoudo,Mr.Beebe?
Iexpect
att
thatyouhaveforgottenus:Miss
MissBartlettandMissHoneychurch,whowereatTunbridgeWellsnär
whenyouhelpedtheVicarofSt.Peter’sthatmycket
verycoldEaster.”Theclergyman,whohadtheairofoneonaholiday,didnotremembertheladiesquiteasclearlyastheyremembered
honom
him.Buthecameforwardpleasantly
nog
enoughandacceptedthechairintosom
whichhewasbeckonedbyLucy.“Iamsogladto
se
seeyou,”saidthegirl,som
whowasinastateofspiritualstarvation,och
andwouldhavebeengladtose
seethewaiterifhercousinhadpermittedit.“Justfancy
hur
howsmalltheworldis.Summer
Street
Street,too,makesitsospeciallyfunny.”“MissHoneychurchlivesin
de
theparishofSummerStreet,”sa
saidMissBartlett,fillingupde
thegap,“andshehappenedtoberätta
tellmeinthecourseofconversationthatyouhar
havejustacceptedtheliving—”.“Yes,I
hörde
heardfrommothersolastweek.Shedidn’tknow
att
thatIknewyouatTunbridgeWells;men
butIwrotebackatonce,och
andIsaid:‘Mr.
Beebeis—’”.
“Quiteright,”
sa
saidtheclergyman.“ImoveintotheRectoryatSummer
Street
StreetnextJune.Iamluckytobeappointedtosuch
ett
acharmingneighbourhood.”“Oh,howgladIam!
Thenameofour
hus
houseisWindyCorner.”Mr.Beebebowed.
“Thereis
mamma
motherandmegenerally,andmybror
brother,thoughit’snotoftenwefår
gethimtoch——Thechurchisrather
långt
faroff,Imean.”“Lucy,dearest,
låt
letMr.Beebeeathisdinner.”“Iam
äter
eatingit,thankyou,andenjoyingit.”Hepreferredto
prata
talktoLucy,whoseplayingheremembered,ratherän
thantoMissBartlett,whoförmodligen
probablyrememberedhissermons.He
frågade
askedthegirlwhethershekände
knewFlorencewell,andwasinformedatsomelengthatt
thatshehadneverbeendär
therebefore.Itisdelightfultoadvise
en
anewcomer,andhewasförst
firstinthefield.“Don’tneglectthecountryround,”hisadviceconcluded.
“The
första
firstfineafternoondriveuptoFiesole,och
androundbySettignano,ornågot
somethingofthatsort.”“No!”
cried
en
avoicefromthetopofthetable.“Mr.
Beebe,youare
fel
wrong.Thefirstfineafternoonyourladies
måste
mustgotoPrato.”“That
damen
ladylookssoclever,”whisperedFröken
MissBartletttohercousin.“Weareinluck.”
Och
And,indeed,aperfecttorrentofinformationburstondem
them.Peopletoldthemwhatto
se
see,whentoseeit,hur
howtostoptheelectrictrams,hur
howtogetridofthebeggars,hur
howmuchtogiveforen
avellumblotter,howmuchtheplacewouldgrowupondem
them.ThePensionBertolinihaddecided,
nästan
almostenthusiastically,thattheywouldgöra
do.Whicheverwaytheylooked,kindladiessmiled
och
andshoutedatthem.Andabove
allt
allrosethevoiceofden
thecleverlady,crying:“Prato!
They
måste
mustgotoPrato.Thatplaceistoosweetlysqualidforwords.
I
älskar
loveit;Irevelinshakingoffthetrammelsofrespectability,asyouknow.”
Den
TheyoungmannamedGeorgeglancedatden
thecleverlady,andthenåtervände
returnedmoodilytohisplate.Obviouslyhe
och
andhisfatherdidnotgjorde
do.Lucy,inthemidstofhersuccess,
hittade
foundtimetowishtheygjorde
did.Itgavehernoextrapleasure
att
thatanyoneshouldbeleftinthekylan
cold;andwhensheroseto
gå
go,sheturnedbackandgav
gavethetwooutsidersanervousliten
littlebow.Thefatherdidnot
såg
seeit;thesonacknowledgedit,notbyanotherbow,
utan
butbyraisinghiseyebrowsoch
andsmiling;heseemedtobesmilingacross
något
something.Shehastenedafterhercousin,who
hade
hadalreadydisappearedthroughthecurtains—curtainswhichsmoteen
oneintheface,andseemedheavymed
withmorethancloth.Beyondthem
stod
stoodtheunreliableSignora,bowinggood-eveningtoherguests,och
andsupportedby’Enery,herlilla
littleboy,andVictorier,herdotter
daughter.Itmadeacurious
liten
littlescene,thisattemptoftheCockneytoconveythegraceoch
andgenialityoftheSouth.Och
Andevenmorecuriouswasden
thedrawing-room,whichattemptedtorivalden
thesolidcomfortofaBloomsburyboarding-house.Was
här
thisreallyItaly?MissBartlettwas
redan
alreadyseatedonatightlystuffedarm-chair,som
whichhadthecolourandthecontoursofen
atomato.ShewastalkingtoMr.Beebe,
och
andasshespoke,herlongnarrowhuvud
headdrovebackwardsandforwards,slowly,regularly,asthoughsheweredemolishingsomeinvisibleobstacle.“Wearemostgratefultoyou,”shewas
sa
saying.“Thefirsteveningmeansso
mycket
much.Whenyouarrivedwewereinfor
en
apeculiarlymauvaisquartd’heure.”Heexpressedhisregret.
“Doyou,byanychance,
känner
knowthenameofangammal
oldmanwhosatoppositeusatdinner?”“Emerson.”
“Ishea
vän
friendofyours?”“Wearefriendly—as
man
oneisinpensions.”“ThenIwill
säger
saynomore.”Hepressedher
mycket
veryslightly,andshesaidmer
more.“Iam,asitwere,”sheconcluded,“thechaperonofmy
unga
youngcousin,Lucy,anditwouldbeaseriousthingom
ifIputherunderanobligationtomänniskor
peopleofwhomweknownågot
nothing.Hismannerwassomewhatunfortunate.
I
hoppas
hopeIactedforthebest.”“Youacted
väldigt
verynaturally,”saidhe.Heseemedthoughtful,
och
andafterafewmomentsadded:“All
det
thesame,Idon’tthinkmuchharmwouldha
havecomeofaccepting.”“Noharm,ofcourse.
Men
Butwecouldnotbeunder
underanobligation.”“Heisrather
en
apeculiarman.”Againhehesitated,
och
andthensaidgently:“I
tror
thinkhewouldnottakeadvantageofyouracceptance,norexpectyoutovisa
showgratitude.Hehasthemerit—ifitisone—of
säga
sayingexactlywhathemeans.He
har
hasroomshedoesnotvalue,och
andhethinksyouwouldvaluedem
them.Henomorethoughtofputtingyouunderanobligation
än
thanhethoughtofbeingpolite.Itissodifficult—at
åtminstone
least,Ifinditdifficult—toförstå
understandpeoplewhospeakthetruth.”Lucywaspleased,
och
andsaid:“Iwashoping
att
thathewasnice;Idoso
alltid
alwayshopethatpeoplewillbenice.”“I
tror
thinkheis;niceandtiresome.
Idifferfromhimon
nästan
almosteverypointofanyimportance,och
andso,Iexpect—Imaysäga
sayIhope—youwilldiffer.Men
Buthisisatypeonedisagreesmed
withratherthandeplores.Whenhe
först
firstcameherehenotunnaturallysatte
putpeople’sbacksup.He
har
hasnotactandnomanners—Idon’tmenar
meanbythatthathehar
hasbadmanners—andhewillnothålla
keephisopinionstohimself.WenearlycomplainedabouthimtoourdepressingSignora,
men
butIamgladtosäga
saywethoughtbetterofit.”“AmItoconclude,”
sa
saidMissBartlett,“thatheisaSocialist?”Mr.
Beebeaccepted
det
theconvenientword,notwithouten
aslighttwitchingofthelips.“Andpresumablyhe
har
hasbroughtuphissontobeaSocialist,too?”“Ihardly
känner
knowGeorge,forhehasn’tlärt
learnttotalkyet.