becamedecisive.“Verygood-looking.Allhisfeaturesaregood,andheiswellbuilt—thoughIdaresayEnglishstandardswouldfindhimtooshort.”
Philip,whoseonephysicaladvantagewashisheight,feltannoyedatherimpliedindifferencetoit.
“MayIconcludethatyoulikehim?”
Shereplieddecisivelyagain,“AsfarasIhaveseenhim,Ido.”
Atthatmomentthecarriageenteredalittlewood,whichlaybrownandsombreacrossthecultivatedhill.Thetreesofthewoodweresmallandleafless,butnoticeableforthis—thattheirstemsstoodinvioletsasrocksstandinthesummersea.TherearesuchvioletsinEngland,butnotsomany.NoraretheresomanyinArt,fornopainterhasthecourage.Thecart-rutswerechannels,thehollowlagoonseventhedrywhitemarginoftheroadwassplashed,likeacausewaysoontobesubmergedundertheadvancingtideofspring.Philippaidnoattentionatthetime:hewasthinkingwhattosaynext.Buthiseyeshadregisteredthebeauty,andnextMarchhedidnotforgetthattheroadtoMonterianomusttraverseinnumerableflowers.
“AsfarasIhaveseenhim,Idolikehim,”repeatedMissAbbott,afterapause.
Hethoughtshesoundedalittledefiant,andcrushedheratonce.
“Whatishe,please?Youhaven’ttoldmethat.What’shisposition?”
Sheopenedhermouthtospeak,andnosoundcamefromit.Philipwaitedpatiently.Shetriedtobeaudacious,andfailedpitiably.
“Nopositionatall.Heiskickinghisheels,asmyfatherwouldsay.Yousee,hehasonlyjustfinishedhismilitaryservice.”
“Asaprivate?”
“Isupposeso.Thereisgeneralconscription.HewasintheBersaglieri,Ithink.Isn’tthatthecrackregiment?”
“Themeninitmustbeshortandbroad.Theymustalsobeabletowalksixmilesanhour.”
Shelookedathimwildly,notunderstandingallthathesaid,butfeelingthathewasveryclever.ThenshecontinuedherdefenceofSignorCarella.
“Andnow,likemostyoungmen,heislookingoutforsomethingtodo.”
“Meanwhile?”
“Meanwhile,likemostyoungmen,heliveswithhispeople—father,mother,twosisters,andatinytotofabrother.”
Therewasagratingsprightlinessaboutherthatdrovehimnearlymad.Hedeterminedtosilenceheratlast.
“Onemorequestion,andonlyonemore.Whatishisfather?”
“Hisfather,”saidMissAbbott.“Well,Idon’tsupposeyou’llthinkitagoodmatch.Butthat’snotthepoint.Imeanthepointisnot—Imeanthatsocialdifferences—love,afterall—notbutwhat—I—”
Philipgroundhisteethtogetherandsaidnothing.
“Gentlemensometimesjudgehardly.ButIfeelthatyou,andatalleventsyourmother—soreallygoodineverysense,soreallyunworldly—afterall,love-marriagesaremadeinheaven.”
“Yes,MissAbbott,Iknow.ButIamanxioustohearheaven’schoice.Youarousem