uty,andhewasfairlyconfidentofsuccess.IfGinowouldhavesoldhiswifeforathousandlire,forhowmuchlesswouldhenotsellhischild?Itwasjustacommercialtransaction.Whyshoulditinterferewithotherthings?Hiseyeswerefixedonthetowersagain,justastheyhadbeenfixedwhenhedrovewithMissAbbott.Butthistimehisthoughtswerepleasanter,forhehadnosuchgravebusinessonhismind.Itwasinthespiritofthecultivatedtouristthatheapproachedhisdestination.
Oneofthetowers,roughasanyother,wastoppedbyacross—thetoweroftheCollegiateChurchofSantaDeodata.ShewasaholymaidenoftheDarkAges,thecity’spatronsaint,andsweetnessandbarbarityminglestrangelyinherstory.Soholywasshethatallherlifeshelayuponherbackinthehouseofhermother,refusingtoeat,refusingtoplay,refusingtowork.Thedevil,enviousofsuchsanctity,temptedherinvariousways.Hedangledgrapesaboveher,heshowedherfascinatingtoys,hepushedsoftpillowsbeneathherachinghead.Whenallprovedvainhetrippedupthemotherandflungherdownstairsbeforeherveryeyes.Butsoholywasthesaintthatsheneverpickedhermotherup,butlayuponherbackthroughall,andthusassuredherthroneinParadise.Shewasonlyfifteenwhenshedied,whichshowshowmuchiswithinthereachofanyschool-girl.ThosewhothinkherlifewasunpracticalneedonlythinkofthevictoriesuponPoggibonsi,SanGemignano,Volterra,Sienaitself—allgainedthroughtheinvocationofhernametheyneedonlylookatthechurchwhichroseoverhergrave.Thegrandschemesforamarblefacadewerenevercarriedout,anditisbrownunfinishedstoneuntilthisday.ButfortheinsideGiottowassummonedtodecoratethewallsofthenave.Giottocame—thatistosay,hedidnotcome,Germanresearchhavingdecisivelyproved—butatalleventsthenaveiscoveredwithfrescoes,andsoaretwochapelsinthelefttransept,andthearchintothechoir,andtherearescrapsinthechoiritself.Therethedecorationstopped,tillinthefullspringoftheRenaissanceagreatpaintercametopayafewweeks’visittohisfriendtheLordofMonteriano.IntheintervalsbetweenthebanquetsandthediscussionsonLatinetymologyandthedancing,hewouldstrollovertothechurch,andthereinthefifthchapeltotherighthehaspaintedtwofrescoesofthedeathandburialofSantaDeodata.ThatiswhyBaedekergivestheplaceastar.
SantaDeodatawasbettercompanythanHarriet,andshekeptPhilipinapleasantdreamuntilthelegnodrewupatthehotel.Everyonetherewasasleep,foritwasstillthehourwhenonlyidiotsweremoving.Therewerenotevenanybeggarsabout.Thecabmanputtheirbagsdowninthepassage—theyhadleftheavyluggageatthestation—andstrolledabouttillhecameonthelandlady’sroomandwokeher,andsenthertothem.
ThenHarrietpronouncedthemonosyllable“Go!”
“Gowhere?”askedPhilip,bowingtothelandlady,whowasswimmingdownthestairs.
“TotheItalian.Go.”
“Buonasera,signorapadrona.SiritornavolontieriaMonteriano!”(Don’tbeagoose.I’mnotgoingnow.You’reintheway,too.)“Vorreiduecamere—”
“Go.Thisinstant.Now.I’llstanditnolonger.Go!”
“I’mdamnedifI’llgo.Iwantmytea.”
“Swearifyoulike!”shecried.“Blaspheme!Abuseme!Butunderstand,I’minearnest.”
“Harriet,don’tact.Oractbetter.”
“We’vecomeheretogetthebabyback,andfornothingelse.I’llnothavethislevityandslackness,andtalkaboutpicturesandchurches.ThinkofmotherdidshesendyououtforTHEM?”
“Thinkofmotheranddon’tstraddleacrossthestairs.Letthecabmanandthelandladycomedown,andletmegoupandchooserooms.”
“Ishan’t.”
“Harriet,areyoumad?”
“Ifyoulike.ButyouwillnotcomeuptillyouhaveseentheItalian.”
“Lasignorinasisentemale,”saidPhilip,“C’eilsole.”
“Poveretta!”criedthelandladyandthecabman.
“Leavemealone!”saidHarriet,snarlingroundatthem.“Idon’tcareforthelotofyou.I’mEnglish,andneitheryou’llcomedownnorheuptillhegoesforthebaby.”
“Laprego-piano-piano-ceun’altrasignorinachedorme—”
“Weshallprobablybearrestedforbrawling,Harriet.Haveyoutheveryslightestsenseoftheludicrous?”
Harriethadnotthatwaswhyshecouldbesopowerful.Shehadconcoctedthissceneinthecarriage,andnothingshouldbaulkherofit.Totheabuseinfrontandthecoaxingbehindshewasequallyindifferent.HowlongshewouldhavestoodlikeaglorifiedHoratius,keepingthestaircaseatbothends,wasnevertobeknown.Fortheyounglady,whosesleeptheyweredisturbing,awokeandopenedherbedroomdoor,andcameoutontothelanding.ShewasMissAbbott.
Philip’sfirstcoherentfeelingwasoneofindigna