sthathotwomanagain!Shehastheimpudencetobow.”
“Mothertoldyou,didshe?”saidPhilipwrathfully,ashewenttostruggleforticketsataslitsonarrowthattheywerehandedtohimedgeways.Italywasbeastly,andFlorencestationisthecentreofbeastlyItaly.Buthehadastrangefeelingthathewastoblameforitallthatalittleinfluxintohimofvirtuewouldmakethewholelandnotbeastlybutamusing.Fortherewasenchantment,hewassureofthatsolidenchantment,whichlaybehindtheportersandthescreamingandthedust.Hecouldseeitintheterrificblueskybeneathwhichtheytravelled,inthewhitenedplainwhichgrippedlifetighterthanafrost,intheexhaustedreachesoftheArno,intheruinsofbrowncastleswhichstoodquiveringuponthehills.Hecouldseeit,thoughhisheadachedandhisskinwastwitching,thoughhewashereasapuppet,andthoughhissisterknewhowhewashere.TherewasnothingpleasantinthatjourneytoMonterianostation.Butnothing—noteventhediscomfort—wascommonplace.
“Butdopeopleliveinside?”askedHarriet.Theyhadexchangedrailway-carriageforthelegno,andthelegnohademergedfromthewitheredtrees,andhadrevealedtothemtheirdestination.Philip,tobeannoying,answered“No.”
“Whatdotheydothere?”continuedHarriet,withafrown.
“Thereisacaffe.Aprison.Atheatre.Achurch.Walls.Aview.”
“Notforme,thankyou,”saidHarriet,afteraweightypause.
“Nobodyaskedyou,Miss,yousee.NowLiliawasaskedbysuchaniceyounggentleman,withcurlsalloverhisforehead,andteethjustaswhiteasfathermakesthem.”Thenhismannerchanged.“But,Harriet,doyouseenothingwonderfulorattractiveinthatplace—nothingatall?”
“Nothingatall.It’sfrightful.”
“Iknowitis.Butit’sold—awfullyold.”
“Beautyistheonlytest,”saidHarriet.“AtleastsoyoutoldmewhenIsketchedoldbuildings—forthesake,Isuppose,ofmakingyourselfunpleasant.”
“Oh,I’mperfectlyright.Butatthesametime—Idon’tknow—somanythingshavehappenedhere—peoplehavelivedsohardandsosplendidly—Ican’texplain.”
“Ishouldn’tthinkyoucould.Itdoesn’tseemthebestmomenttobeginyourItalymania.Ithoughtyouwerecuredofitbynow.Instead,willyoukindlytellmewhatyouaregoingtodowhenyouarrive.Idobegyouwillnotbetakenunawaresthistime.”
“First,Harriet,IshallsettleyouattheStellad’Italia,inthecomfortthatbefitsyoursexanddisposition.ThenIshallmakemyselfsometea.AfterteaIshalltakeabookintoSantaDeodata’s,andreadthere.Itisalwaysfreshandcool.”
ThemartyredHarrietexclaimed,“I’mnotclever,Philip.Idon’tgoinforit,asyouknow.ButIknowwhat’srude.AndIknowwhat’swrong.”
“Meaning—?”
“You!”sheshouted,bouncingonthecushionsofthelegnoandstartlingallthefleas.“What’sthegoodofclevernessifaman’smurderedawoman?”
“Harriet,Iamhot.Towhomdoyourefer?”
“He.Her.Ifyoudon’tlookouthe’llmurderyou.Iwishhewould.”
“Tuttut,tutlet!You’dfindacorpseextraordinarilyinconvenient.”Thenhetriedtobelessaggravating.“Iheartilydislikethefellow,butweknowhedidn’tmurderher.Inthatletter,thoughshesaidalot,sheneversaidhewasphysicallycruel.”
“Hehasmurderedher.Thethingshedid—thingsonecan’tevenmention—”
“Thingswhichonemustmentionifone’stotalkatall.Andthingswhichonemustkeepintheirproperplace.Becausehewasunfaithfultohiswife,itdoesn’tfollowthatineverywayhe’sabsolutelyvile.”Helookedatthecity.Itseemedtoapprovehisremark.
“It’sthesupremetest.Themanwhoisunchivalroustoawoman—”
“Oh,stowit!TakeittotheBackKitchen.It’snomoreasupremetestthananythingelse.TheItaliansneverwerechivalrousfromthefirst.Ifyoucondemnhimforthat,you’llcondemnthewholelot.”
“Icondemnthewholelot.”
“AndtheFrenchaswell?”
“AndtheFrenchaswell.”
“Thingsaren’tsojollyeasy,”saidPhilip,moretohimselfthantoher.
ButforHarrietthingswereeasy,thoughnotjolly,andsheturneduponherbrotheryetagain.“Whataboutthebaby,pray?You’vesaidalotofsmartthingsandwhittledawaymoralityandreligionandIdon’tknowwhatbutwhataboutthebaby?Youthinkmeafool,butI’vebeennoticingyoualltoday,andyouhaven’tmentionedthebabyonce.Youhaven’tthoughtaboutit,even.Youdon’tcare.Philip!Ishallnotspeaktoyou.Youareintolerable.”
Shekeptherpromise,andneveropenedherlipsalltherestoftheway.Buthereyesglowedwithangerandresolution.Forshewasastraight,bravewoman,aswellasapeevishone.
Philipacknowledgedherreprooftobetrue.Hedidnotcareaboutthebabyonestraw.Nevertheless,hemeanttodohisd