WhenthebewilderedtouristalightsatthestationofMonteriano,hefindshimselfinthemiddleofthecountry.Thereareafewhousesroundtherailway,andmanymoredottedovertheplainandtheslopesofthehills,butofatown,mediaevalorotherwise,nottheslightestsign.Hemusttakewhatissuitablytermeda“legno”—apieceofwood—anddriveupeightmilesofexcellentroadintothemiddleages.Foritisimpossible,aswellassacrilegious,tobeasquickasBaedeker.
ItwasthreeintheafternoonwhenPhiliplefttherealmsofcommonsense.Hewassowearywithtravellingthathehadfallenasleepinthetrain.Hisfellow-passengershadtheusualItaliangiftofdivination,andwhenMonterianocametheyknewhewantedtogothere,anddroppedhimout.Hisfeetsankintothehotasphaltoftheplatform,andinadreamhewatchedthetraindepart,whiletheporterwhooughttohavebeencarryinghisbag,ranupthelineplayingtouch-you-lastwiththeguard.Alas!hewasinnohumourforItaly.Bargainingforalegnoboredhimunutterably.ThemanaskedsixlireandthoughPhilipknewthatforeightmilesitshouldscarcelybemorethanfour,yethewasabouttogivewhathewasasked,andsomakethemandiscontentedandunhappyfortherestoftheday.Hewassavedfromthissocialblunderbyloudshouts,andlookinguptheroadsawonecrackinghiswhipandwavinghisreinsanddrivingtwohorsesfuriously,andbehindhimthereappearedtheswayingfigureofawoman,holdingstar-fishfashionontoanythingshecouldtouch.ItwasMissAbbott,whohadjustreceivedhisletterfromMilanannouncingthetimeofhisarrival,andhadhurrieddowntomeethim.
HehadknownMissAbbottforyears,andhadneverhadmuchopinionaboutheronewayortheother.Shewasgood,quiet,dull,andamiable,andyoungonlybecauseshewastwenty-three:therewasnothinginherappearanceormannertosuggestthefireofyouth.AllherlifehadbeenspentatSawstonwithadullandamiablefather,andherpleasant,pallidface,bentonsomerespectablecharity,wasafamiliarobjectoftheSawstonstreets.Whyshehadeverwishedtoleavethemwassurprisingbutasshetrulysaid,“IamJohnBulltothebackbone,yetIdowanttoseeItaly,justonce.Everybodysaysitismarvellous,andthatonegetsnoideaofitfrombooksatall.”ThecuratesuggestedthatayearwasalongtimeandMissAbbott,withdecorousplayfulness,answeredhim,“Oh,butyoumustletmehavemyfling!Ipromisetohaveitonce,andonceonly.Itwillgivemethingstothinkaboutandtalkaboutfortherestofmylife.”ThecuratehadconsentedsohadMr.Abbott.Andhereshewasinalegno,solitary,dusty,frightened,withasmuchtoanswerandtoanswerforasthemostdashingadventuresscoulddesire.
Theyshookhandswithoutspeaking.ShemaderoomforPhilipandhisluggageamidsttheloudindignationofthe