gohome
,
they
—
they
are
in
a
great
hurry
!
"
says
the
younger
man
,
observing
the
displeased
astonishment
expressed
by
his
mother
's
countenance
,
and
with
a
lame
effort
at
explanation
.
"
So
they
seemed
when
first
we
caught
sight
of
them
,
"
retorts
she
dryly
.
"
They
—
they
are
not
going
out
at
all
at
present
,
they
—
they
do
not
wish
to
make
any
fresh
acquaintance
:
oh
,
by-the-bye
,
I
forgot
something
I
had
to
say
to
—
I
will
be
back
in
a
moment
!
"
So
saying
,
he
shoots
off
in
pursuit
of
the
retreated
figures
,
and
Mrs.
Byng
and
her
escort
are
again
left
tête-à-tête
.
"
Are
you
quite
sure
that
she
is
all
right
?
"
asks
the
lady
,
looking
at
Jim
with
a
penetrating
glance
that
he
does
not
enjoy
;
"
because
,
if
so
,
why
was
she
so
determined
not
to
know
me
?
"
"
How
can
I
tell
?
"
answers
he
testily
.
"
Perhaps
—
who
knows
?
"
—
laughing
unmirthfully
—
"
perhaps
she
was
not
sure
that
you
were
all
right
!
"
CHAPTER
XVI
.
"
Tous
les
hommes
se
haïssent
naturellement
.
Je
mets
en
fait
que
s'ils
savaient
exactement
ce
qu'ils
disent
,
les
uns
des
autres
,
il
n'y
aurait
pas
quatre
amis
dans
le
monde
.
"
Although
Mrs.
Byng
always
speaks
of
Miss
Wilson
as
"
Amelia
,
"
and
is
acquainted
with
every
detail
of
that
young
lady
's
uneventful
history
—
thanks
to
a
long
series
of
direct
and
interested
questions
,
addressed
through
a
considerable
number
of
years
,
to
her
friend
Jim
,
as
to
his
betrothed
—
she
has
no
personal
acquaintance
with
the
latter
.
She
is
so
determined
,
however
,
to
repair
this
omission
,
now
that
so
highly
favourable
an
opportunity
is
presented
as
their
common
stay
in
the
same
small
city
,
that
Jim
is
powerless
to
hinder
her
from
arranging
a
joint
expedition
of
the
two
parties
—
herself
and
her
son
on
the
one
side
,
and
Jim
with
his
future
wife
and
sister-in-law
on
the
other
,
to
Careggi
,
on
the
afternoon
of
the
same
day
as
he
had
witnessed
her
abortive
attempt
to
add
Elizabeth
Le
Marchant
and
her
mother
to
the
list
of
her
acquaintances
.
Amelia
,
is
,
for
a
wonder
,
free
from
home
claims
,
Sybilla
being
more
than
usually
bright
,
a
kind
friend
having
lately
provided
her
with
a
number
of
the
Lancet
,
containing
a
detailed
account
of
an
operation
,
which
it
seems
not
over-sanguine
to
expect
she
may
herself
be
able
to
undergo
.
We
all
have
our
Blue
Roses
,
and
to
"
undergo
operation
,
"
as
she
technically
phrases
it
,
is
Sybilla
Wilson
's
Blue
Rose
.
Cecilia
is
likewise
disengaged
.
The
latter
circumstance
is
matter
for
not
unmixed
rejoicing
to
Jim
,
Cecilia
's
future
connection
with
himself
being
too
close
for
him
to
relish
the
thought
of
her
somewhat
pronounced
wooing
of
Byng
being
exposed
in
all
its
naïveté
to
the
clear
if
good-humoured
eyes
of
Byng
's
mother
.
But
in
this
he
wrongs
Cecilia
.
The
garden-party
at
the
villa
on
Bellosguardo
had
proved
to
her
that
the
fruit
is
hung
too
high
for
her
fingers
to
reach
,
and
that
philosophy
,
which
had
enabled
her
genuinely
to
relish
the
wedding-cake
of
the
man
who
had
jilted
her
,
now
teaches
her
to
lay
to
heart
the
sarcastic
advice
offered
her
by
Jim
,
to
look
at
the
young
man
as
poor
women
look
at
diamonds
.
Beyond
one
or
two
trifling
gallantries
,
for
which
no
one
can
judge
her
harshly
,
she
leaves
him
alone
,
even
though
out
of
good-nature
,
and
from
inveterate
force
of
habit
,
he
gives
her
several
openings
to
make
love
to
him
.
The
day
is
one
of
even
Italy
's
best
,
an
air
as
soft
as
feathers
,
and
full
of
April
odours
—
a
bright
gay
sun
.
The
vines
are
rushing
into
leaf
;
they
that
ten
days
ago
looked
such
hopeless
sticks
;
little
juicy
leaves
uncurling
and
spreading
on
each
,
and
the
mulberry
trees
,
round
which
they
twine
,
are
rushing
out
too
,
at
the
triumphant
call
of
the
spring
.
The
party
being
of
the
unmanageable
number
five
,
has
to
be
divided
between
two
fiacres
,
whereof
Mrs.
Byng
,
in
pursuance
of
her
determination
to
know
Amelia
,
insists
upon
occupying
the
first
in
tête-à-tête
with
Miss
Wilson
,
while
Cecilia
and
the
two
men
fill
the
other
.
The
latter
makes
but
a
silent
load
.
Byng
is
,
for
him
,
out
of
spirits
,
and
finding
that
Cecilia
has
virtually
abandoned
her
suit
,
is
glad
to
lapse
into
his
own
reflections
.
His
example
is
followed
by
Jim
,
whose
temper
is
ruffled
by
being
again
obliged
to
defer
the
quest
he
is
still
feverishly
anxious
to
pursue
,
despite
the
shock
of
the
morning
's
meeting
at
the
Accademia
.
They
reach
the
villa
,
and
leave
their
vehicles
,
glad
to
think
that
two
of
the
perennially
tired
Florentine
cab-horses
will
have
a
pause
of
rest
,
and
,
having
shaken
off
a
tiresome
would-be
laquais
de
place
,
desirous
to
embitter
for
them
the
sweet
day
and
place
,
they
stray
at
will
through
the
garden
among
the
clipped
laurels
,
the
cypresses
,
the
gorgeous
red
rhododendrons
,
while
beds
of
mignonette
send
forth
such
a
steady
wave
of
poignant
sweetness
as
makes
the
sense
ache
with
ecstasy
of
pleasure
;
and
over
the
conservatory
hangs
a
wistaria
so
old
,
so
magnificent
,
with
such
a
Niagara
of
giant
flower
bunches
,
as
takes
an
English
breath
away
.
They
go
over
the
villa
itself
,
pass
through
the
room
,
and
by
the
bed
where
Lorenzo
,
with
the
grotesque
grim
face
,
Lorenzo
the
Magnificent
,
gave
his
last
sigh
.
It
would
make
Death
even
more
difficult
to
face
than
he
is
already
,
if
one
thought
one
should
have
to
meet
him
under
such
a
catafalque
.
As
they
issue
out
again
from
the
house
's
shadow
into
the
sun-drenched
garden
,
Mrs.
Byng
joins
Burgoyne
,
who
is
walking
a
little
apart
.
"
I
like
Amelia
,
"
she
says
confidentially
,
"
such
a
nice
pillowy
sort
of
woman
;
not
too
clever
,
and
oh
,
Jim
,
poor
soul
,
how
fond
she
is
of
you
!
"
It
must
always
be
pleasant
to
hear
that
the
one
absolutely
good
thing
which
this
life
has
to
offer
is
lavishly
heaped
upon
us
by
the
person
with
whom
we
are
to
pass
that
life
;
and
perhaps
pleasure
is
the
emotion
evidenced
by
the
silent
writhe
with
which
Jim
receives
this
piece
of
information
.
"
Not
,
of
course
,
that
she
told
me
so
in
so
many
words
,
"
continues
his
friend
,
perceiving
that
her
speech
is
received
in
a
silence
that
may
mean
disapproval
of
any
intrusion
into
the
sanctuary
of
his
affections
;
"
but
one
can
see
with
half
an
eye
:
poor
Amelia
,
she
beamed
all
over
when
I
said
one
or
two
little
civil
things
about
you
!
She
worships
the
very
ground
you
tread
on
!
"
He
writhes
again
.
"
I
hope
that
that
is
one
of
your
figures
of
speech
,
"
he
answers
constrainedly
.
The
not
unnatural
result
of
the
tone
in
which
he
utters
this
sentence
,
no
less
than
the
words
themselves
,
is
to
quench
the
fire
of
Mrs.
Byng
's
benevolent
eulogies
;
and
,
as
she
cannot
at
once
hit
upon
another
topic
,
and
is
by
no
means
sure
that
her
countenance
does
not
betray
the
rather
snubbed
dismay
produced
by
the
reception
of
her
amenities
,
she
is
not
sorry
when
Jim
presently
leaves
her
.
Being
,
however
,
of
a
very
sanguine
disposition
,
and
seeing
him
a
little
later
sitting
peacefully
on
a
garden-seat
beside
his
fiancée
,
she
hopes
that
her
words
,
though
not
very
handsomely
received
at
the
time
,
may
bear
fruit
later
for
Amelia
's
benefit
.
"
And
he
always
was
very
undemonstrative
,
"
she
adds
to
herself
consolatorily
.
"
Nobody
would
have
guessed
that
he
was
delighted
to
see
me
this
morning
;
and
yet
,
of
course
,
he
was
.
"
The
sun
is
growing
visibly
lower
,
and
the
Ave
Maria
comes
ringing
solemnly
from
the
city
.
The
seat
to
which
Jim
has
somewhat
remorsefully
led
his
lady-love
is
a
stone
bench
,
shaded
by
a
honeysuckle
bower
,
close
to
a
fountain
.
The
fountain
is
not
playing
now
;
but
round
about
it
first
a
marten
wheels
,
dipping
in
the
water
the
end
of
her
fleet
wings
;
then
a
little
bat
prematurely
flits
,
for
it
is
still
broad
daylight
.
Broad
indeed
and
bounteous
is
the
daylight
of
Italy
.
Around
them
is
the
lush
unmown
grass
;
full
of
homely
field-flowers
,
buttercups
,
catch-flies
,
daisies
,
ragged
robins
,
while
from
some
bush
near
by
a
nightingale
is
pouring
out
all
the
infinite
variety
of
her
ravishing
song
.
She
says
so
many
different
things
that
one
never
can
feel
sure
that
one
has
heard
all
that
she
has
to
say
.
Jim
leans
back
listening
,
with
his
hands
behind
his
head
,
steeped
in
a
half-voluptuous
sadness
.
He
is
oppressed
by
the
thought
of
Amelia
's
great
love
.
Is
the
nightingale
's
splendid
eloquence
really
the
voice
of
the
poor
dumb
passion
beside
him
,
lent
to
Amelia
to
plead
her
cause
?
The
high-flown
poetry
of
the
idea
fills
his
heart
with
an
imaginative
yearning
kindness
towards
her
.
He
is
in
the
act
of
turning
to
face
her
,
with
a
more
lover-like
speech
on
his
lips
than
has
hovered
there
for
years
,
when
Amelia
herself
anticipates
him
.
"
And
to
think
that
it
is
only
April
!
"
she
says
,
with
an
air
of
prosaic
astonishment
.
"
Last
April
we
had
four
inches
of
snow
on
the
front
drive
.
It
was
when
Cecilia
had
the
mumps
.
"
"
When
Cecilia
had
the
mumps
?
"
repeats
Burgoyne
in
a
rather
dazed
voice
.
"
I
did
not
know
that
Cecilia
had
ever
had
the
mumps
.
"
This
is
the
form
into
which
are
frozen
the
love-words
that
the
nightingale
and
the
perfume
of
the
Tuscan
flowers
and
the
Ave
Maria
had
so
nearly
brought
to
his
tongue
.
Had
Amelia
known
what
an
unwonted
burst
of
tenderness
her
unlucky
reminiscence
had
choked
,
she
would
have
regretted
it
probably
with
a
good
deal
deeper
bitterness
than
would
many
a
woman
with
a
happier
gift
of
utterance
.
But
she
is
blessedly
ignorant
of
what
Cecilia
's
mumps
have
robbed
her
,
and
presently
again
strikes
athwart
the
nightingale
's
song
with
the
placid
remark
:
"
I
like
your
friend
very
much
;
I
think
that
she
is
a
very
nice
woman
.
"
This
time
Burgoyne
has
no
difficulty
in
responding
immediately
.
Miss
Wilson
's
first
speech
had
so
effectually
chased
his
dreams
that
he
can
now
reply
with
commonplace
kindliness
:
"
She
has
just
been
button-holing
me
to
make
the
same
confidence
about
you
.
"
"
And
she
is
so
fond
of
you
,
"
continues
Amelia
.
He
laughs
.
"
She
has
just
confided
to
me
that
so
are
you
;
"
then
,
with
a
hurried
change
of
tone
,
in
dread
lest
the
last
speech
shall
call
out
some
expression
of
the
mute
pent
passion
always
lurking
in
her
patient
eyes
,
he
adds
lightly
,
"
I
seem
to
be
very
generally
beloved
!
"
What
effect
the
flat
fatuity
,
as
it
seems
to
Jim
himself
,
of
this
last
observation
has
upon
Amelia
,
does
not
appear
,
since
she
receives
it
in
silence
;
and
again
the
Ave
Maria
and
the
bird
divide
between
them
the
province
of
sound
.
As
the
great
sun
droops
,
the
honeysuckle
above
their
heads
seems
to
give
out
more
generously
its
strong
clean
sweetness
.
The
rest
of
the
party
have
drifted
away
out
of
sight
and
hearing
;
but
by-and-by
their
voices
are
again
heard
and
their
returning
forms
seen
.
As
they
draw
near
,
it
appears
that
their
original
number
of
three
has
been
augmented
by
the
addition
of
two
men
;
and
a
still
nearer
approach
reveals
who
the
two
men
are
.
Mrs.
Byng
leads
the
way
,
talking
animatedly
to
Mr.
Greenock
,
who
is
evidently
an
old
acquaintance
.
Byng
trails
after
them
by
himself
,
and
the
rear
is
brought
up
by
Cecilia
and
a
portly
clerically-dressed
figure
,
whom
Jim
at
once
recognises
as
the
Devonshire
clergyman
,
his
failure
in
obtaining
information
about
whom
has
embittered
and
fidgeted
his
whole
day
.
Here
then
is
the
opportunity
he
has
sought
brought
to
his
very
hand
.
And
yet
his
first
feeling
,
as
he
sees
the
complacent
priestly
face
,
and
the
deliberate
black
legs
pacing
beside
Cecilia
,
is
one
of
dismay
.
There
is
nothing
unlikely
in
the
supposition
that
he
may
have
been
presented
to
her
at
the
garden-party
at
the
Bellosguardo
villa
;
and
yet
he
now
realizes
with
a
shock
of
surprise
that
they
are
acquainted
,
and
,
if
acquainted
,
then
at
liberty
to
converse
upon
whatever
subject
may
best
recommend
itself
to
them
.
He
is
absolutely
powerless
to
put
any
check
upon
their
talk
,
and
yet
at
this
very
moment
he
may
be
narrating
to
her
that
story
which
his
own
loyalty
had
forbidden
him
to
overhear
.
The
first
couple
has
passed
,
so
absorbed
in
eager
question
and
answer
that
they
do
not
even
see
Burgoyne
and
his
betrothed
.
Mrs.
Byng
left
London
only
three
days
ago
,
and
Mr.
Greenock
might
return
thither
at
any
moment
that
he
chooses
;
and
yet
they
are
talking
of
it
with
a
wistful
fondness
that
might
have
beseemed
Dante
questioning
some
chance
wayfarer
to
Ravenna
as
to
the
prosperity
of
his
Florence
.
The
second
pair
's
voices
are
lower
pitched
,
and
their
topics
therefore
less
easy
to
ascertain
;
yet
by
Cecilia
's
gratified
and
even
hopeful
air
they
are
evidently
agreeable
ones
.
But
though
agreeable
,
there
is
no
evidence
of
their
being
,
by
their
riveting
ear
and
eye
,
of
the
nature
he
dreads
.
They
also
are
so
absorbed
in
each
other
as
to
have
no
attention
to
spare
for
the
quiet
silent
persons
sitting
on
the
stone
bench
.
Amelia
looks
after
them
with
a
benevolent
smile
.
Her
sense
of
humour
is
neither
keen
nor
quick
,
but
there
is
a
touch
of
very
mild
sarcasm
in
her
voice
,
as
she
says
,
watching
her
sister
's
retreating
figure
:
"
Cecilia
has
found
a
new
friend
,
a
clergyman
again
;
do
you
know
what
his
name
is
?
"
"
I
believe
it
is
Burton
or
Bruton
,
or
something
of
the
sort
,
"
replies
Jim
reluctantly
,
feeling
as
if
even
in
admitting
knowledge
of
the
stranger
's
surname
he
were
letting
out
a
dangerous
secret
.
"
I
should
have
thought
that
she
had
had
enough
of
the
Church
,
"
he
adds
with
a
very
much
more
pronounced
accent
of
satire
than
Miss
Wilson
's
.
"
She
has
not
taken
my
advice
of
sticking
to
the
laity
.
Shall
we
—
shall
we
follow
them
?
"
This
last
suggestion
is
the
result
of
a
vague
,
uneasy
feeling
that
,
by
keeping
within
earshot
,
he
may
exercise
some
check
upon
their
conversation
.
"
Why
should
we
?
"
replies
Amelia
,
for
once
in
her
life
running
counter
to
a
proposition
of
her
lover
's
,
and
turning
her
meek
eyes
affectionately
upon
him
;
"
we
are
so
well
here
,
are
not
we
?
and
"
—
laughing
—
"
we
should
spoil
sport
.
"
As
Jim
can
allege
no
adequate
reason
for
pursuing
Cecilia
and
her
latest
spoil
,
he
has
unwillingly
to
acquiesce
,
and
to
content
himself
with
following
them
with
his
eyes
,
to
gain
what
reassurance
he
can
from
the
expression
of
their
backs
.
But
the
peaceful
if
melancholy
restfulness
that
had
marked
the
first
part
of
his
abode
on
the
stone
seat
is
gone
,
past
recall
.
He
moves
his
feet
fidgetily
on
the
gravel
;
he
gets
up
,
and
throws
pebbles
into
the
fountain
;
he
snubs
an
officious
little
Italian
boy
who
brings
Amelia
a
small
handful
of
flowers
plucked
out
of
the
emerald
grass
.
Amelia
does
not
share
her
lover
's
uneasiness
,
as
indeed
why
should
she
?
She
puts
the
expected
tip
into
the
young
Tuscan
's
dirty
brown
hand
,
and
leans
her
head
enjoyingly
on
the
back
of
the
stone
seat
.
"
I
think
I
like
to
come
to
these
sort
of
places
with
you
even
better
than
to
picture-galleries
,
"
she
says
with
an
intonation
of
extreme
content
.
"
Do
you
,
dear
?
"
replies
he
absently
,
with
his
uneasy
eyes
still
searching
the
spot
at
which
Cecilia
and
her
escort
had
disappeared
.
"
Of
course
you
are
quite
right
:
'
God
made
the
country
,
and
man
made
the
—
—
'
Ah
!
"
The
substitution
of
this
ejaculation
for
the
noun
which
usually
concludes
the
proverb
is
due
to
the
fact
of
the
couple
he
is
interested
in
having
come
back
into
sight
,
retracing
their
steps
,
and
again
approaching
.
It
is
clear
as
they
come
near
that
the
desire
to
explore
the
villa
grounds
has
given
way
,
in
this
case
,
to
the
absorption
of
conversation
.
With
a
pang
of
dread
,
Jim
's
sharpened
faculties
realize
,
before
they
are
within
earshot
,
that
they
have
exchanged
the
light
and
banal
civilities
which
had
at
first
employed
them
for
talk
of
a
much
more
intimate
and
interesting
character
.
Cecilia
is
generally
but
an
indifferent
listener
,
greatly
preferring
to
take
the
lion
's
share
in
any
dialogue
;
but
now
she
is
all
silent
attention
,
only
putting
in
,
now
and
again
,
a
short
eager
question
,
while
her
companion
is
obviously
narrating
—
narrating
gravely
,
and
yet
with
a
marked
relish
.
Narrating
what
?
Jim
tells
himself
angrily
that
there
are
more
stories
than
one
in
the
world
;
that
there
is
no
reason
why
,
because
Cecilia
's
clerical
friend
is
relating
to
her
something
,
it
must
necessarily
be
that
particular
something
which
he
dreads
so
inexpressibly
;
but
he
strains
his
ears
as
they
pass
to
catch
a
sentence
which
may
relieve
or
confirm
his
apprehensions
.
He
has
not
to
strain
them
long
.
It
is
Cecilia
who
is
speaking
,
and
in
her
eagerness
she
has
raised
her
voice
.
"
You
may
depend
upon
me
;
I
assure
you
I
am
as
safe
as
a
church
;
if
I
had
chosen
I
might
have
made
a
great
deal
of
mischief
in
my
day
,
but
I
never
did
.
I
always
said
that
she
had
a
history
.
I
do
not
pretend
to
be
a
physiognomist
,
but
I
said
so
the
first
time
I
saw
her
.
I
knew
that
they
came
from
Devonshire
.
I
assure
you
I
am
as
safe
as
a
church
!
"
It
is
clear
that
the
clergyman
's
hesitation
,
already
perhaps
more
coy
than
real
,
is
unable
to
withstand
the
earnestness
of
Cecilia
's
asseverations
of
her
own
trustworthiness
.
He
has
already
opened
his
mouth
to
respond
when
an
unexpected
interruption
arrests
the
stream
of
his
eloquence
.
Jim
has
sprung
from
his
bench
,
and
thrust
himself
unceremoniously
between
the
two
interlocutors
.
"
Come
and
see
the
wistaria
,
"
he
says
,
brusquely
addressing
the
girl
;
"
you
were
not
with
us
when
we
were
looking
at
it
,
were
you
?
You
were
maintaining
the
other
day
that
wistaria
has
no
scent
;
come
and
smell
it
!
"
It
is
in
vain
that
Cecilia
protests
that
she
has
already
seen
quite
as
much
of
the
wistaria
as
she
wishes
;
that
she
had
never
denied
the
potency
of
its
perfume
;
that
her
legs
are
giving
way
beneath
her
from
fatigue
.
Jim
marches
her
relentlessly
away
,
nor
does
he
again
quit
her
side
until
he
sees
her
safely
seated
in
the
fiacre
which
is
to
carry
her
home
.
It
is
indeed
his
portion
to
have
a
tête-à-tête
drive
back
to
Florence
with
her
,
Byng
having
absently
stepped
into
the
vehicle
which
bears
the
other
ladies
.
He
draws
a
long
breath
as
they
jog
slowly
away
from
the
villa
,
leaving
the
clergyman
taking
off
his
tall
hat
,
with
a
baffled
and
offended
air
of
farewell
.
He
is
conscious
that
Cecilia
is
swelling
beside
him
with
feelings
no
less
wounded
,
even
for
some
moments
before
she
speaks
.
"
You
rather
cut
your
own
throat
,
"
she
says
,
in
an
affronted
voice
,
"
when
you
interrupted
me
and
Mr.
Burton
so
rudely
;
he
was
on
the
point
of
telling
me
something
very
interesting
about
your
dear
friends
the
Le
Marchants
;
he
knows
all
about
them
;
he
has
known
Elizabeth
ever
since
she
was
a
child
.
"
Even
across
Jim
's
alarm
and
anxiety
there
comes
a
flash
of
indignation
and
distaste
at
the
familiar
employment
of
the
name
that
even
to
himself
he
only
pronounces
on
his
heart
's
knees
.
"
Who
is
Elizabeth
?
Do
you
mean
Miss
Le
Marchant
?
"
"
Mr.
Burton
talked
of
her
as
'
Elizabeth
,
'
"
replies
Cecilia
,
with
a
still
more
offended
accent
at
the
rebuke
implied
in
his
words
;
"
one
naturally
would
of
a
person
whom
one
had
known
in
short
frocks
.
"
"
And
he
—
he
told
you
something
very
interesting
about
her
?
"
"
No
,
he
did
not
,
"
returns
Cecilia
snappishly
,
"
he
had
not
the
chance
;
he
was
just
beginning
when
you
rushed
in
like
a
bull
in
a
china
shop
,
and
now
"
—
in
a
key
of
excessive
vexation
—
"
I
shall
probably
never
have
another
chance
of
hearing
,
as
he
leaves
Florence
to-morrow
.
"
Jim
's
heart
gives
a
bound
.
"
Leaves
Florence
to-morrow
,
does
he
?
"
he
repeats
eagerly
.
"
I
do
not
know
why
you
should
seem
so
delighted
to
hear
it
,
"
rejoins
Cecilia
,
looking
at
him
from
under
her
smart
hat
with
a
mixture
of
surprise
and
resentment
.
"
I
do
not
see
anything
particularly
exhilarating
in
losing
an
agreeable
acquaintance
almost
as
soon
as
one
has
made
it
!
"
"
Perhaps
—
perhaps
it
was
a
false
alarm
,
"
says
Jim
,
set
,
to
some
extent
,
on
his
guard
by
her
evident
astonishment
at
the
keenness
of
his
interest
in
the
subject
;
"
perhaps
"
—
beginning
to
laugh
—
"
he
only
said
it
to
frighten
you
;
why
do
you
think
that
he
is
leaving
Florence
to-morrow
?
"
"
Because
he
told
me
so
,
"
answers
she
impatiently
;
"
he
is
at
the
Grande
Bretagne
,
and
he
was
complaining
of
not
being
comfortable
there
,
and
I
was
advising
him
to
move
to
another
hotel
,
and
he
said
,
'
Oh
no
,
it
was
not
worth
while
,
as
he
was
leaving
Florence
to-morrow
.
'
"
Jim
draws
a
long
breath
,
and
leans
back
in
his
corner
of
the
fiacre
.
He
has
gained
the
information
he
sought
.
It
has
come
to
his
hand
at
the
very
time
he
was
chafing
most
at
his
inability
to
go
in
quest
of
it
.
"
So
your
interruption
was
the
more
provoking
,
"
continues
Cecilia
,
her
indignation
puffing
out
and
ruffling
its
feathers
at
the
recollection
of
her
wrongs
,
"
as
it
was
our
last
chance
of
meeting
;
however
,
you
cut
your
own
throat
,
as
he
evidently
knew
something
very
interesting
about
your
dear
friends
;
something
which
he
does
not
generally
tell
people
,
and
which
he
would
not
have
told
me
only
that
he
saw
at
once
I
was
no
blab
.
"
Jim
shivers
.
He
had
only
just
been
in
time
then
—
only
just
in
time
to
stop
the
mouth
of
this
blatant
backbiter
in
priest
's
raiment
.
His
companion
looks
at
him
curiously
.
"
Are
you
cold
,
"
she
asks
,
"
or
did
a
goose
walk
over
your
grave
?
Why
did
you
shiver
?
"
He
pulls
himself
together
.
"
I
was
shivering
,
"
he
says
,
compelling
himself
to
assume
the
rallying
tone
in
which
he
is
apt
to
address
the
girl
beside
him
,
"
at
the
thought
of
the
peril
I
had
saved
you
from
.
My
poor
Cis
,
have
not
you
and
I
suffered
enough
already
at
the
hands
of
the
Church
?
"
She
reddens
.
"
Though
I
do
not
pretend
to
any
great
sensitiveness
on
the
subject
,
I
think
you
have
worn
that
old
joke
nearly
off
its
legs
.
"
But
during
the
rest
of
the
drive
she
utters
no
further
lament
over
her
lost
clergyman
.
CHAPTER
XVII
.
It
is
past
seven
o'clock
by
the
time
that
the
party
breaks
up
at
the
door
of
the
Anglo-Américain
,
and
the
dusk
is
gaining
even
upon
the
red
west
that
,
in
the
upper
sky
,
is
insensibly
melted
into
that
strange
faint
green
that
speaks
,
in
so
plain
a
language
,
of
past
and
future
fine
weather
.
"
Are
you
coming
to
look
in
upon
us
to-night
?
"
asks
Amelia
,
with
a
rather
wistful
diffidence
,
as
her
lover
holds
out
his
hand
in
farewell
to
her
.
He
hesitates
.
In
his
own
mind
he
had
planned
another
disposition
of
his
evening
hours
to
that
suggested
by
her
.
"
What
do
you
advise
?
"
he
asks
.
"
Shall
you
spend
the
evening
in
the
usual
way
?
"
"
I
suppose
so
,
"
she
answers
.
"
I
suppose
we
shall
read
aloud
;
you
know
father
likes
to
make
our
evenings
as
like
our
home
ones
as
possible
,
and
Sybilla
—
—
"
"
Then
it
is
no
use
my
coming
,
"
interrupts
he
hastily
.
"
I
should
have
no
good
of
you
;
"
then
,
seeing
her
face
fall
at
his
alacrity
in
seizing
a
pretence
for
escape
,
he
adds
,
"
but
,
of
course
,
if
you
wish
it
,
dear
—
if
it
would
give
you
any
satisfaction
—
—
"
"
But
it
would
not
,
"
cries
she
precipitately
,
anxious
as
usual
to
be
,
if
possible
,
beforehand
with
his
lightest
wish
;
"
when
you
are
by
,
I
always
lose
my
place
"
—
laughing
tremulously
—
"
and
father
scolds
me
!
No
,
you
had
far
better
not
come
.
I
must
not
be
greedy
"
—
in
a
lower
key
.
"
I
had
quite
half
an
hour
,
nearly
three-quarters
,
of
you
this
afternoon
.
"
Without
trusting
herself
to
any
further
speech
,
she
disappears
,
and
he
,
with
a
sigh
that
is
only
half
of
relief
,
turns
away
from
the
hotel
door
,
and
,
after
a
moment
's
hesitation
,
a
moment
's
glance
at
the
suave
darkening
sky
,
and
another
at
his
watch
,
begins
to
walk
briskly
—
not
in
the
direction
of
the
Minerva
.
It
is
really
not
late
,
not
much
beyond
canonical
calling
hours
,
and
he
is
almost
sure
that
they
dine
at
eight
.
His
face
is
set
in
the
direction
of
the
Piazza
d'Azeglio
,
as
he
addresses
these
reassuring
remarks
to
himself
.
This
is
no
case
of
self-indulgence
,
or
even
of
friendly
civility
.
It
is
a
question
of
common
humanity
.
Why
should
he
leave
them
to
endure
their
suspense
for
a
whole
night
longer
than
they
need
,
merely
to
save
himself
the
trouble
of
a
walk
beneath
the
darkly
splendid
sky-arch
,
through
the
cheerful
streets
,
still
full
of
leisurely
foot-passengers
,
of
the
sound
of
cracking
whips
and
rolling
carriages
?
He
reaches
No.
12
bis
,
and
finds
the
porter
's
wife
sitting
at
the
door
of
her
loge
,
and
smiling
at
him
with
all
her
white
teeth
,
as
if
she
knew
that
he
had
come
on
some
pleasant
errand
.
He
climbs
the
naked
stone
stairs
,
and
rings
the
bell
.
It
is
answered
by
Annunziata
,
who
,
smiling
too
,
as
if
she
were
saying
something
very
agreeable
,
conveys
to
him
that
the
signora
and
the
signorina
are
out
.
The
intelligence
baffles
him
,
as
he
had
not
at
all
expected
it
.
Probably
his
disconcertment
is
written
not
illegibly
on
his
features
,
as
Annunziata
begins
at
once
to
inform
him
that
the
signore
are
gone
to
drive
in
the
Cascine
,
and
that
she
expects
them
back
every
moment
.
It
is
a
good
while
before
he
quite
masters
her
glib
explanation
,
his
Italian
being
still
at
that
stage
when
,
if
the
careful
phrase-book
question
does
not
receive
exactly
the
phrase-book
answer
,
the
questioner
is
at
fault
.
But
the
smiling
invitation
of
the
amiable
ugly
face
,
and
the
hospitably
open
door
—
so
different
a
reception
from
what
the
old
bull-dog
of
an
English
nurse
would
have
accorded
him
—
need
no
interpreter
.
After
a
moment
's
hesitation
he
enters
.
He
will
wait
for
them
.
It
is
not
until
he
has
been
left
alone
for
a
quarter
of
an
hour
in
the
little
salon
that
he
has
time
to
ask
himself
nervously
whether
the
amount
of
his
acquaintance
with
them
,
or
the
importance
of
the
tidings
he
brings
,
justifies
his
thus
thrusting
himself
upon
their
evening
privacy
.
The
table
—
since
they
have
obviously
but
one
sitting-room
—
is
spread
for
their
simple
supper
—
a
coarse
white
cloth
,
a
wicker-covered
bottle
of
rough
Chian
wine
,
and
a
copper
pot
full
of
delicately
odorous
Freesias
.
He
wanders
restlessly
about
the
room
,
looking
at
the
photographs
.
Tom
—
can
it
be
Tom
?
—
with
a
moustache
,
Charles
with
a
beard
and
a
bowie-knife
,
Rose
dandling
her
baby
,
Miriam
hanging
over
her
new
husband
—
all
his
little
playfellows
!
How
far
the
wave
of
time
has
rolled
them
away
from
him
!
He
strolls
to
the
window
whence
,
at
sunset
,
the
green
shutters
have
been
thrown
back
,
and
stares
out
at
the
Piazza
garden
,
where
the
twilight
is
taking
all
the
colour
out
of
the
Judas
flowers
,
thence
to
the
piano
upon
which
Schubert
's
"
Trockne
Blumen
"
stands
open
.
Absently
he
repeats
aloud
the
song
's
joyous
words
:
"
Der
Lenz
wird
kommen
,
der
Winter
ist
aus
!
"
Is
her
"
Winter
aus
"
?
Judging
by
the
look
in
her
eyes
,
it
has
been
a
long
and
cruel
one
.
If
he
wishes
to
put
the
question
to
her
,
she
comes
in
just
in
time
to
answer
it
—
enters
laggingly
,
as
one
tired
,
blinking
a
little
from
the
sudden
crude
lamplight
after
the
soft
feather-handed
dusk
.
She
is
evidently
unprepared
to
find
anyone
in
the
room
,
and
gives
a
frightened
jump
when
she
sees
a
man
's
figure
approaching
her
.
Even
when
she
recognises
him
the
scared
look
lingers
.
It
is
clear
that
in
her
sad
experience
surprises
have
been
always
synonymous
with
bad
news
.
The
white
apprehension
written
on
her
small
face
makes
him
so
cordially
repent
of
his
intrusion
,
that
his
explanation
of
his
presence
is
at
first
perfectly
unintelligible
.
"
I
hope
you
will
excuse
my
taking
such
a
liberty
.
I
know
that
I
had
no
business
to
come
in
when
I
was
told
you
were
out
,
"
he
says
incoherently
,
"
but
—
I
thought
—
I
hoped
—
I
had
an
idea
—
that
you
might
be
glad
to
hear
—
—
"
He
stops
,
puzzled
how
to
word
his
piece
of
intelligence
,
whether
or
not
to
name
the
person
whose
presence
,
whose
very
existence
had
yesterday
seemed
to
inspire
with
such
terror
the
woman
before
him
.
She
has
sunk
down
upon
a
chair
,
holding
her
hat
,
which
she
had
taken
off
on
entering
the
room
,
nervously
clutched
in
her
hands
,
the
little
waves
of
her
hair
,
straightened
out
by
the
night
wind
,
invading
her
forehead
more
than
their
wont
and
giving
her
an
unfamiliar
look
.
"
To
hear
what
?
"
asks
Mrs.
Le
Marchant
,
who
,
following
her
daughter
more
leisurely
,
has
come
in
just
in
time
to
catch
the
last
few
words
of
Burgoyne
's
speech
dissevered
from
their
context
.
He
begins
that
speech
again
,
still
more
stammeringly
than
before
.
"
I
thought
you
might
be
glad
to
hear
that
the
—
the
inquiries
you
asked
me
—
I
mean
that
I
promised
to
make
—
that
the
person
relating
to
whom
I
—
I
made
inquiries
,
leaves
Florence
to-morrow
.
"
He
hears
a
long
sighing
breath
that
may
mean
relief
that
may
mean
only
distress
at
the
introduction
of
the
subject
,
from
the
chair
beside
him
,
while
the
elder
woman
says
in
a
low
abrupt
voice
:
"
To-morrow
?
Are
you
sure
?
How
do
you
know
?
"
"
He
said
so
himself
to-day
.
"
"
Have
you
met
him
?
Have
you
been
talking
to
him
?
"
It
seems
to
Jim
as
if
there
were
a
sharp
apprehension
mixed
with
the
abruptness
of
her
tone
,
as
she
puts
the
two
last
questions
.
He
makes
a
gesture
of
eager
denial
.
"
Heaven
forbid
!
I
have
taken
great
care
to
avoid
recalling
myself
to
his
memory
.
I
have
no
desire
to
renew
my
acquaintance
with
him
.
I
—
I
—
hate
the
sight
of
him
!
"
To
an
uninterested
bystander
there
would
have
been
something
ludicrous
in
the
boyish
virulence
of
the
expression
of
hatred
coming
from
so
composed
and
mature
a
man
's
mouth
as
Jim
's
.
But
neither
of
the
two
persons
who
now
hear
it
is
in
a
position
of
mind
to
see
anything
ridiculous
in
it
.
"
Then
how
do
you
know
that
it
is
true
?
"
"
He
told
an
—
an
acquaintance
of
mine
;
he
was
complaining
of
the
discomfort
of
his
hotel
,
and
,
on
her
recommending
him
to
change
it
,
he
answered
that
it
was
not
worth
while
,
as
he
was
leaving
Florence
to-morrow
.
"
Again
from
the
chair
beside
him
comes
that
long
low
sigh
.
This
time
there
can
be
no
question
as
to
its
quality
.
It
is
as
of
a
spirit
lifting
itself
from
under
a
leaden
load
.
For
a
few
moments
no
other
sound
breaks
the
stillness
.
Then
Mrs.
Le
Marchant
speaks
again
in
a
constrained
voice
:
"
We
are
extremely
obliged
to
you
for
having
taken
so
much
trouble
for
us
,
and
it
must
seem
very
strange
to
you
that
we
should
be
so
anxious
to
hear
that
this
—
this
person
has
left
Florence
;
but
in
so
small
a
place
one
is
sure
to
be
always
coming
into
collision
with
those
whom
one
would
rather
avoid
,
and
there
are
reasons
which
—
which
make
it
very
—
painful
to
us
to
meet
him
.
"
So
saying
,
she
tums
away
precipitately
,
and
leaves
the
room
hastily
,
by
another
door
from
that
by
which
they
both
entered
,
and
which
evidently
communicates
with
an
adjoining
bedroom
.
Elizabeth
remains
lying
back
in
her
chair
,
looking
as
white
as
the
tablecloth
.
She
is
always
white
,
but
usually
it
is
a
creamy
white
,
like
meadow-sweet
.
Out
of
her
eyes
,
however
,
has
gone
the
distressed
look
of
fear
,
and
in
them
is
dawning
instead
a
little
friendly
smile
.
"
You
must
have
thought
us
rather
impostors
when
you
saw
us
at
the
Accademia
this
morning
,
after
leaving
us
apparently
so
shattered
overnight
,
"
she
says
,
with
a
somewhat
deprecating
air
.
"
I
was
very
glad
to
find
you
so
perfectly
recovered
,
"
he
replies
,
but
he
does
not
say
it
naturally
.
When
a
person
,
habitually
truthful
,
slides
into
a
speech
not
completely
true
,
he
does
it
in
a
bungling
journeyman
fashion
;
nor
is
Burgoyne
any
exception
to
this
rule
.
"
I
think
we
are
a
little
like
india-rubber
balls
,
mammy
and
I
,
"
continues
Elizabeth
;
"
we
have
great
recovering
powers
;
if
we
had
not
"
(
stopped
for
a
second
by
a
small
patient
sigh
)
"
I
suppose
that
we
should
not
be
alive
now
.
"
He
does
not
interrupt
her
.
She
must
be
a
much
less
finely-strung
instrument
than
he
takes
her
for
if
she
does
not
divine
the
sympathy
of
his
silence
,
and
sympathy
so
much
in
the
dark
as
to
what
it
sympathizes
with
as
his
,
must
needs
walk
gropingly
,
if
it
would
escape
gins
and
pitfalls
.
"
But
we
should
not
have
gone
out
sight-seeing
this
morning
—
we
were
not
at
all
in
a
junketing
mood
—
if
it
had
not
been
for
Mr.
Byng
;
he
came
in
and
took
us
both
by
storm
.
It
is
difficult
,
"
her
face
dimpling
and
brightening
with
a
much
more
confirmed
smile
than
the
tiny
hovering
one
which
is
all
that
Jim
has
been
able
to
call
forth
—
"
it
is
difficult
to
resist
a
person
who
brings
so
much
sunshine
with
him
—
do
not
you
find
it
so
?
He
is
so
very
sunshiny
,
your
Mr.
Byng
.
We
like
sunshine
;
we
—
we
have
not
had
a
great
deal
of
it
.
"
It
is
on
the
very
edge
of
his
lip
to
tell
her
that
when
he
had
known
her
she
had
had
and
been
nothing
but
sunshine
.
But
he
recollects
in
time
her
prohibition
as
to
the
past
,
and
restrains
himself
.
"
When
you
look
so
kind
and
interested
,
"
she
cries
impulsively
,
sitting
up
in
her
chair
,
with
a
transparent
little
hand
on
each
arm
of
it
,
"
I
feel
a
fraud
.
"
She
stops
.
"
I
look
interested
because
I
feel
interested
,
"
returns
he
doggedly
;
"
fraud
or
not
—
but
"
(
in
a
distressed
voice
)
"
do
not
,
even
in
joke
,
call
yourself
ugly
names
—
fraud
or
not
,
you
cannot
hinder
me
.
"
"
Do
not
be
interested
in
me
,
"
says
she
,
in
her
plaintive
cooing
voice
;
"
we
are
very
bad
people
to
get
interested
in
,
we
are
not
repaying
people
to
be
interested
in
.
I
think
—
that
perhaps
"
(
slowly
and
dreamily
)
"
under
other
circumstances
we
might
have
been
pleasant
enough
.
Mammy
has
naturally
excellent
spirits
,
and
so
have
I
;
it
does
not
take
much
to
make
us
happy
,
and
even
now
I
often
feel
like
poor
little
Prince
Arthur
—
"
'
By
my
Christendom
,
So
I
were
out
of
prison
and
kept
sheep
,
I
should
be
as
merry
as
the
day
is
long
.
'
But
then
,
"
sighing
profoundly
,
"
the
moment
that
we
begin
to
feel
a
little
cheerful
,
something
comes
and
knocks
us
down
again
.
"
There
is
such
a
blank
hopelessness
in
the
tone
with
which
she
pronounces
the
last
words
,
and
,
in
his
almost
total
ignorance
of
the
origin
of
her
despair
,
it
is
so
impossible
to
put
his
compassion
into
fit
words
,
that
he
can
think
of
nothing
better
than
to
pull
his
chair
two
inches
nearer
her
,
to
assure
her
by
this
dumb
protest
of
how
little
inclined
he
is
to
accept
her
warning
.
"
Are
you
sure
that
he
is
really
gone
—
going
,
I
mean
,
"
she
asks
,
in
an
excited
low
voice
,
"
going
to-morrow
morning
,
as
you
say
?
Oh
,
I
wish
it
were
to-morrow
morning
!
But
perhaps
when
to-morrow
morning
comes
,
he
will
have
changed
his
mind
.
Was
he
quite
,
quite
sure
about
it
?
"
"
He
said
he
was
going
to-morrow
morning
,
"
replies
Jim
,
repeating
Cecilia
's
quotation
from
her
new
friend
's
conversation
with
conscientious
exactness
;
"
that
it
was
not
worth
while
to
change
his
hotel
,
as
he
was
leaving
Florence
to-morrow
morning
.
"
"
He
will
not
go
,
"
she
says
,
shaking
her
head
with
restless
dejection
;
"
nobody
but
would
be
loth
to
leave
this
heavenly
place
"
—
glancing
out
affectionately
through
the
open
window
,
even
at
the
commonplace
and
now
almost
night-shaded
Piazza
garden
—
"
we
shall
find
that
he
is
not
gone
after
all
.
"
"
Nothing
will
be
easier
to
ascertain
than
that
fact
,
"
says
Burgoyne
,
eagerly
catching
at
so
easy
an
opportunity
for
help
and
service
;
"
now
that
I
know
which
is
his
hotel
,
I
can
inquire
there
to-morrow
morning
,
and
bring
you
word
at
once
.
"
"
Could
you
,
would
you
?
"
cries
she
,
life
and
light
springing
back
into
her
dejected
eyes
at
his
proposal
;
"
but
no
,
"
with
an
accent
of
remorse
,
"
why
should
you
?
Why
should
we
keep
you
running
upon
our
errands
?
What
right
have
we
to
take
up
your
time
?
"
"
My
time
,
"
repeats
he
ironically
.
"
I
am
like
the
German
Prince
mentioned
by
Heine
,
who
spent
his
leisure
hours
—
hours
of
which
he
had
twenty-four
every
day
—
in
—
—
"
"
But
if
we
do
not
rob
you
,
"
interrupts
Elizabeth
,
looking
at
him
in
some
surprise
,
"
we
rob
Miss
—
Miss
Wilson
.
What
will
she
say
to
us
?
"
"
She
will
be
only
too
glad
,
"
replies
he
stiffly
,
a
douche
of
cold
water
thrown
on
his
foolish
heart
by
the
little
hesitation
which
had
preceded
her
pronunciation
of
Amelia
's
name
,
showing
that
her
interest
in
him
had
not
had
keenness
enough
even
to
induce
her
to
master
his
betrothed
's
appellation
.
"
Will
she
?
"
rejoins
Elizabeth
,
quite
ignorant
of
having
given
offence
,
and
with
her
eyes
fixed
rather
wistfully
upon
his
.
"
How
good
of
her
!
and
how
unlike
most
very
happy
people
!
Happy
people
are
generally
rather
exacting
;
but
she
looks
good
.
She
has
a
dear
face
!
"
He
is
silent
.
To
hear
the
one
woman
's
innocent
and
unconscious
encomiums
of
the
other
fills
him
with
an
emotion
that
ties
his
never
ready
tongue
.
She
mistakes
the
cause
of
his
muteness
.
"
I
am
afraid
I
have
vexed
you
,
"
she
says
,
sweetly
and
humbly
.
"
I
had
no
business
to
praise
her
to
you
;
it
was
like
praising
a
person
to
himself
;
but
do
not
be
angry
with
me
—
I
did
not
mean
to
be
impertinent
!
"
One
small
fragile
hand
is
hanging
over
the
arm
of
her
hard
lodging-house
arm-chair
,
and
before
he
has
an
idea
of
what
his
own
intentions
are
,
it
is
lying
,
without
any
asking
of
its
consent
,
in
his
.
"
I
will
not
—
I
will
not
let
you
say
such
things
,
"
he
says
,
trembling
.
"
She
is
good
:
she
has
a
dear
face
:
and
I
love
to
hear
you
say
so
!
May
I
—
may
I
bring
her
to
see
you
?
"
As
he
makes
this
request
,
he
feels
the
little
fingers
that
are
lying
in
his
palm
give
a
nervous
start
;
and
at
once
,
quietly
but
determinedly
,
the
captive
hand
is
withdrawn
.
It
and
its
fellow
fly
up
to
her
face
,
and
together
quite
cover
it
from
his
view
.
Though
,
as
I
have
said
,
they
are
small
,
yet
,
it
being
small
too
to
match
them
,
they
conceal
it
entirely
.
"
You
will
not
say
no
?
"
he
cries
anxiously
.
"
I
am
sure
you
will
not
say
no.
I
shall
feel
very
much
snubbed
if
you
do
.
"
Still
no
answer
.
Still
that
shielded
face
,
and
the
ominous
silence
behind
it
.
He
rises
,
a
dark
red
spreading
over
his
features
.
"
I
must
apologize
for
having
made
the
suggestion
.
I
can
only
beg
you
to
forget
that
it
was
ever
made
.
Good-bye
!
"
He
has
nearly
reached
the
door
,
when
he
hears
the
frou-frou
of
her
gown
,
and
turning
,
sees
that
her
unsteady
feet
have
carried
her
after
him
,
and
that
her
face
is
changing
from
crimson
to
white
and
back
again
with
startling
rapidity
.
"
I
thought
you
would
have
understood
,
"
she
says
faintly
.
"
I
thought
that
you
were
the
one
person
who
would
not
have
misunderstood
.
"
His
conscience
pricks
him
,
but
he
is
never
very
quick
to
be
able
to
own
himself
in
the
wrong
,
and
before
he
can
bring
himself
to
frame
any
sentence
that
smacks
of
apology
and
regret
,
she
resumes
,
with
a
little
more
composure
and
in
a
conventional
voice
:
"
You
know
—
we
told
you
—
even
at
Genoa
—
that
—
that
we
are
not
going
out
,
that
we
do
not
wish
to
make
any
new
acquaintances
!
"
"
I
know
,
"
replies
he
,
with
some
indignation
,
"
that
that
is
the
hollow
formal
bulletin
you
issue
to
the
world
in
general
,
but
I
thought
—
I
hoped
—
—
"
"
Do
not
bring
her
to
see
me
,
"
she
interrupts
,
abandoning
her
effort
for
composure
,
and
speaking
in
a
broken
voice
,
while
her
eyes
swim
in
tears
.
"
She
—
she
might
be
sorry
—
she
—
she
might
not
like
it
—
afterwards
!
"
He
looks
back
at
her
with
an
almost
terrified
air
.
Is
the
answer
to
her
sad
riddle
coming
to
him
thus
?
Has
he
had
the
brutality
to
force
her
into
giving
it
?
"
You
have
been
so
kind
in
not
asking
me
any
questions
,
you
have
even
given
up
alluding
to
old
times
since
you
saw
that
it
hurt
me
;
but
you
must
see
—
of
course
you
do
—
that
—
that
there
is
something
—
in
me
—
not
like
other
people
;
something
that
—
that
prevents
—
my
—
having
any
friends
!
I
have
not
a
friend
in
the
world
"
(
with
a
low
sob
)
"
except
my
mother
—
except
mammy
!
Do
you
think
"
(
breaking
into
a
watery
smile
)
"
that
it
is
very
silly
of
me
,
at
my
age
,
to
call
her
'
mammy
'
still
?
"
"
I
think
,
"
he
says
,
"
that
I
am
one
of
the
greatest
brutes
out
,
and
that
I
should
be
thankful
if
someone
would
kick
me
downstairs
.
"
And
with
this
robust
expression
of
self-depreciation
,
he
takes
his
hat
and
departs
.
CHAPTER
XVIII
.
"
Ihr
Blumen
alle
,
Heraus
!
Heraus
!
"
It
was
to
German
flowers
that
the
above
hest
was
addressed
.
If
they
obey
it
,
with
how
much
more
alacrity
do
the
Italian
ones
comply
with
its
glad
command
.
It
is
a
week
later
,
and
now
no
one
can
say
that
"
the
spring
comes
slowly
up
this
way
.
"
Vines
,
figs
,
and
mulberries
,
all
are
emulously
racing
out
,
and
the
corn
has
added
two
emerald
inches
to
its
juicy
blades
.
The
young
plane-trees
in
the
Piazza
d'Azeglio
,
so
skimpily
robed
when
first
Jim
had
rung
the
entresol
bell
of
No.
12
,
are
exchanging
their
"
unhandsome
thrift
"
for
an
apparel
of
plenteous
green
,
and
a
wonderful
Paulownia
is
beginning
to
hold
up
her
clusters
of
gloccinia
bells
.
Jim
has
watched
the
daily
progress
of
the
plane-leaves
from
the
low
window
of
No.
12
's
entresol
.
The
daily
progress
?
Is
it
possible
that
he
has
been
there
every
day
during
the
past
week
?
He
asks
himself
this
,
with
a
species
of
shock
;
and
it
is
with
a
sense
of
relief
that
he
finds
that
one
whole
day
has
intervened
,
during
which
he
had
not
heard
the
sound
of
the
electric
bell
thrilling
through
the
apartment
under
the
touch
of
his
own
fingers
.
What
can
have
taken
him
there
,
every
day
but
one
?
He
runs
over
,
in
his
mind
,
with
a
misgiving
as
to
their
insufficiency
,
the
reasons
of
his
visit
.
For
the
first
he
had
had
an
excellent
excuse
.
Surely
it
would
have
been
barbarous
not
to
have
imparted
to
the
anxiously-watching
pair
the
good
news
that
the
object
of
their
mysterious
terror
had
really
and
authentically
gone
!
On
the
second
day
it
seemed
quite
worth
while
to
take
the
walk
,
in
order
to
tell
them
that
he
had
accidentally
learned
the
clergyman
's
destination
to
be
Venice
,
and
his
intention
to
return
viâ
Milan
and
the
St.
Gothard
.
On
the
third
day
,
being
as
near
to
them
as
San
Annunziata
,
it
had
seemed
unfriendly
not
to
inquire
after
Mrs.
Le
Marchant
's
neuralgia
.
On
the
fourth
—
—
He
is
pulled
up
short
in
his
reminiscences
.
Why
had
he
gone
on
the
fourth
day
?
He
can
give
no
answer
to
the
question
,
and
slides
off
from
it
to
another
.
Which
was
the
fourth
day
?
Was
it
—
yes
,
it
was
the
one
on
which
the
wind
blew
as
coldly
east
as
it
might
have
done
across
Salisbury
Plain
's
naked
expanse
,
and
he
had
found
Elizabeth
sitting
on
a
milking-stool
shivering
over
a
poor
little
fire
of
green
wood
,
and
blowing
it
with
a
pair
of
bellows
.
He
had
helped
her
to
blow
,
and
between
them
they
had
blown
the
fire
entirely
away
,
as
often
happens
in
the
case
of
unskilled
handlers
of
bellows
,
and
Elizabeth
had
laughed
till
she
cried
.
And
meanwhile
,
how
many
times
has
he
been
within
the
portals
of
the
Anglo-Américain
?
With
all
his
arithmetic
he
cannot
make
it
more
than
twice
.
This
neglect
of
his
betrothed
,
however
,
is
not
of
quite
so
monstrous
a
cast
as
at
the
first
blush
it
may
appear
.
It
is
she
herself
who
,
true
to
her
life-long
principle
of
shielding
him
from
all
disagreeable
experiences
,
has
forbidden
him
her
door
.
He
can
aid
her
neither
to
bandage
her
father
's
swollen
foot
in
the
severe
gout-fit
under
which
he
is
groaning
,
nor
to
allay
Sybilla
's
mysterious
sufferings
,
which
always
display
a
marked
increase
in
acuteness
whenever
any
other
member
of
the
family
shows
a
disposition
to
set
up
claims
as
an
invalid
.
Cecilia
,
indeed
,
is
ready
enough
to
give
her
help
in
nursing
her
father
,
but
she
has
on
former
occasions
shown
such
an
unhappy
aptitude
for
tumbling
over
his
swathed
and
extended
leg
,
and
upsetting
his
physic
all
over
him
,
that
she
is
received
with
such
objurgations
as
his
cloth
will
permit
,
so
often
as
she
shows
her
short
nose
within
his
sick-room
.
Only
twice
in
a
whole
week
.
Can
Amelia
have
wished
to
be
taken
quite
so
literally
when
she
had
bidden
him
stay
away
?
There
is
only
one
answer
possible
to
this
question
,
and
he
shows
his
consciousness
of
it
by
at
once
raising
himself
out
of
the
chair
in
which
he
is
sunk
,
and
turning
his
steps
hastily
towards
her
.
It
is
morning
.
The
east
wind
is
clean
gone
,
and
the
streets
are
full
of
the
scent
of
the
innumerable
lilies
of
the
valley
,
of
which
everybody
's
hands
are
full
.
He
stops
a
minute
and
buys
a
great
sheaf
for
a
miraculously
small
sum
,
from
one
of
the
unnumbered
sellers
.
It
shall
make
his
peace
for
him
,
if
indeed
it
needs
making
,
which
it
has
never
done
yet
.
He
almost
smiles
at
the
absurdity
of
the
suggestion
.
He
finds
Cecilia
alone
in
the
sitting-room
,
Cecilia
sitting
by
the
window
reading
the
Queen
.
Upon
her
large
pink
face
there
is
a
puzzled
expression
,
which
is
perhaps
to
be
accounted
for
by
the
fact
that
the
portion
of
the
journal
which
she
is
perusing
is
that
entitled
"
Etiquette
,
"
and
under
it
are
the
answers
to
last
week
's
questions
,
upon
nice
points
of
social
law
,
which
,
if
you
do
not
happen
to
have
read
the
questions
,
have
undoubtedly
an
enigmatical
air
,
as
in
the
following
instances
:
"
Your
husband
takes
the
Baronet
's
daughter
,
and
you
follow
with
the
Prince
.
"
—
"
We
do
not
understand
your
question
—
babies
never
dine
out
,
"
etc.
Upon
Jim
's
entrance
Cecilia
lays
down
her
paper
,
and
at
once
offers
to
go
in
search
of
her
sister
,
with
whom
she
shortly
returns
.
He
had
been
quite
right
.
There
is
no
peace
to
make
.
Amelia
greets
him
with
her
usual
patient
and
perfectly
unrancorous
smile
,
but
his
second
glance
at
her
tells
him
that
she
is
looking
old
and
fagged
.
It
is
only
in
very
early
youth
that
vigils
and
worries
and
self-denials
do
not
write
their
names
upon
the
skin
.
"
How
—
how
pale
you
are
!
"
he
says
.
If
he
had
given
utterance
to
the
word
that
hovered
on
his
lips
,
he
would
have
cried
,
"
how
yellow
!
"
"
It
would
be
very
odd
if
she
did
not
,
"
says
Cecilia
with
a
shrug
,
looking
up
from
her
"
Etiquette
,
"
to
which
she
has
returned
;
"
she
has
sat
up
three
nights
with
father
,
and
last
evening
Sybilla
bid
us
all
good-bye
.
You
know
she
never
can
bear
anybody
else
to
be
ill
,
and
when
father
has
the
gout
she
bids
us
all
good-bye
—
and
Amelia
is
always
taken
in
and
sheds
torrents
of
tears
—
do
not
you
,
Amelia
?
"
Amelia
has
subsided
rather
wearily
into
a
chair
.
"
She
really
thinks
that
she
is
dying
,
"
says
she
apologetically
—
"
and
who
knows
?
some
day
perhaps
it
may
come
true
.
"
"
Not
it
,
"
rejoins
her
sister
,
with
an
exasperated
sniff
"
she
will
see
us
all
out
—
will
not
she
,
Jim
?
"
"
I
have
not
the
remotest
doubt
of
it
,
"
replies
he
heartily
;
and
then
his
conscience-struck
eyes
revert
to
his
betrothed
's
wan
face
,
all
the
plainer
for
its
wanness
.
"
No
sleep
,
no
fresh
air
,
"
in
an
injured
tone
,
checking
off
the
items
on
his
fingers
.
"
But
I
have
had
fresh
air
,
"
smiling
at
him
with
pale
affection
;
"
one
day
Mrs.
Byng
took
me
out
for
a
drive
.
Mrs.
Byng
has
been
very
kind
to
me
.
"
She
does
not
lay
the
faintest
invidious
accent
on
the
name
,
as
if
contrasting
it
with
another
whose
owner
had
been
so
far
less
kind
;
it
is
his
own
guilty
heart
that
supplies
the
emphasis
.
His
only
resource
is
an
anger
which
—
so
curiously
perverse
is
human
nature
—
is
not
even
feigned
.
"
You
can
go
out
driving
with
Mrs.
Byng
then
,
though
you
could
not
spare
time
to
come
out
with
me
,
"
he
says
in
a
surly
voice
.
She
does
not
defend
herself
but
her
lower
lip
trembles
.
"
Come
out
with
me
now
,
"
he
cries
,
remorse
giving
a
harshness
even
to
the
tone
of
the
sincerely-meant
invitation
.
"
You
look
like
a
geranium
in
a
cellar
;
it
is
a
divine
day
,
a
day
to
make
the
old
feel
young
,
and
the
young
immortal
;
come
out
and
stay
out
with
me
all
day
.
I
will
take
you
wherever
you
like
.
I
will
—
—
"
The
genuine
eagerness
of
his
proposal
has
tinged
her
sickly-coloured
cheek
with
a
healthier
hue
for
the
moment
,
but
she
shakes
her
head
.
"
I
could
not
leave
father
this
morning
;
he
will
not
take
his
medicine
from
anyone
else
,
and
he
likes
me
to
sit
with
him
while
he
eats
his
arrowroot
.
"
The
only
sign
of
approval
of
this
instance
of
filial
piety
given
by
Jim
is
that
he
rises
and
begins
to
stamp
irritably
about
the
room
.
"
He
is
really
not
at
all
exacting
,
"
continues
Amelia
in
anxious
deprecation
;
"
he
was
quite
pleased
just
now
when
I
told
him
that
Mrs.
Byng
was
going
to
take
me
to
a
party
at
the
Villa
Schiavone
this
afternoon
.
He
said
—
—
"
"
Mrs.
Byng
!
Mrs.
Byng
again
!
"
This
is
not
what
Mr.
Wilson
said
,
but
is
the
expression
of
the
unjust
wrath
which
Burgoyne
,
feeling
it
much
pleasanter
to
be
angry
with
someone
else
than
himself
is
artificially
and
not
unsuccessfully
fostering
.
