a room with a view- 第13部分

and　occasional　trees；　which　had　caught　the　fancy　of　Alessio

Baldovinetti　nearly　five　hundred　years　before。　He　had　ascended

it；　that　diligent　and　rather　obscure　master；　possibly　with　an　eye

to　business；　possibly　for　the　joy　of　ascending。　Standing　there；

he　had　seen　that　view　of　the　Val　d'Arno　and　distant　Florence；

which　he　afterwards　had　introduced　not　very　effectively　into　his

work。　But　where　exactly　had　he　stood？　That　was　the　question　which

Mr。　Eager　hoped　to　solve　now。　And　Miss　Lavish；　whose　nature　was

attracted　by　anything　problematical；　had　become　equally

enthusiastic。



But　it　is　not　easy　to　carry　the　pictures　of　Alessio　Baldovinetti

in　your　head；　even　if　you　have　remembered　to　look　at　them　before

starting。　And　the　haze　in　the　valley　increased　the　difficulty　of

the　quest。



The　party　sprang　about　from　tuft　to　tuft　of　grass；　their　anxiety

to　keep　together　being　only　equalled　by　their　desire　to　go

different　directions。　Finally　they　split　into　groups。　Lucy　clung

to　Miss　Bartlett　and　Miss　Lavish；　the　Emersons　returned　to　hold

laborious　converse　with　the　drivers；　while　the　two　clergymen；　who

were　expected　to　have　topics　in　common；　were　left　to　each　other。



The　two　elder　ladies　soon　threw　off　the　mask。　In　the　audible

whisper　that　was　now　so　familiar　to　Lucy　they　began　to　discuss；

not　Alessio　Baldovinetti；　but　the　drive。　Miss　Bartlett　had　asked

Mr。　George　Emerson　what　his　profession　was；　and　he　had　answered

〃the　railway。〃　She　was　very　sorry　that　she　had　asked　him。　She　had

no　idea　that　it　would　be　such　a　dreadful　answer；　or　she　would　not

have　asked　him。　Mr。　Beebe　had　turned　the　conversation　so

cleverly；　and　she　hoped　that　the　young　man　was　not　very　much　hurt

at　her　asking　him



〃The　railway！〃　gasped　Miss　Lavish。　〃Oh；　but　I　shall　die！　Of

course　it　was　the　railway！〃　She　could　not　control　her　mirth。　〃He

is　the　image　of　a　porteron；　on　the　South…Eastern。〃



〃Eleanor；　be　quiet；〃　plucking　at　her　vivacious　companion。　〃Hush！

They'll　hearthe　Emersons〃



〃I　can't　stop。　Let　me　go　my　wicked　way。　A　porter〃



〃Eleanor！〃



〃I'm　sure　it's　all　right；〃　put　in　Lucy。　〃The　Emersons　won't　hear；

and　they　wouldn't　mind　if　they　did。〃



Miss　Lavish　did　not　seem　pleased　at　this。



〃Miss　Honeychurch　listening！〃　she　said　rather　crossly。　〃Pouf！

Wouf！　You　naughty　girl！　Go　away！〃



〃Oh；　Lucy；　you　ought　to　be　with　Mr。　Eager；　I'm　sure。〃



〃I　can't　find　them　now；　and　I　don't　want　to　either。〃



〃Mr。　Eager　will　be　offended。　It　is　your　party。〃



〃Please；　I'd　rather　stop　here　with　you。〃



〃No；　I　agree；〃　said　Miss　Lavish。　〃It's　like　a　school　feast；　the

boys　have　got　separated　from　the　girls。　Miss　Lucy；　you　are　to　go。

We　wish　to　converse　on　high　topics　unsuited　for　your　ear。〃



The　girl　was　stubborn。　As　her　time　at　Florence　drew　to　its　close

she　was　only　at　ease　amongst　those　to　whom　she　felt　indifferent。

Such　a　one　was　Miss　Lavish；　and　such　for　the　moment　was

Charlotte。　She　wished　she　had　not　called　attention　to　herself；

they　were　both　annoyed　at　her　remark　and　seemed　determined　to　get

rid　of　her。



〃How　tired　one　gets；〃　said　Miss　Bartlett。　〃Oh；　I　do　wish　Freddy

and　your　mother　could　be　here。〃



Unselfishness　with　Miss　Bartlett　had　entirely　usurped　the

functions　of　enthusiasm。　Lucy　did　not　look　at　the　view　either。

She　would　not　enjoy　anything　till　she　was　safe　at　Rome。



〃Then　sit　you　down；〃　said　Miss　Lavish。　〃Observe　my　foresight。〃



With　many　a　smile　she　produced　two　of　those　mackintosh　squares

that　protect　the　frame　of　the　tourist　from　damp　grass　or　cold

marble　steps。　She　sat　on　one；　who　was　to　sit　on　the　other？



〃Lucy；　without　a　moment's　doubt；　Lucy。　The　ground　will　do　for　me。

Really　I　have　not　had　rheumatism　for　years。　If　I　do　feel　it

coming　on　I　shall　stand。　Imagine　your　mother's　feelings　if　I　let

you　sit　in　the　wet　in　your　white　linen。〃　She　sat　down　heavily

where　the　ground　looked　particularly　moist。　〃Here　we　are；　all

settled　delightfully。　Even　if　my　dress　is　thinner　it　will　not

show　so　much；　being　brown。　Sit　down；　dear；　you　are　too　unselfish；

you　don't　assert　yourself　enough。〃　She　cleared　her　throat。　〃Now

don't　be　alarmed；　this　isn't　a　cold。　It's　the　tiniest　cough；　and

I　have　had　it　three　days。　It's　nothing　to　do　with　sitting　here　at

all。〃



There　was　only　one　way　of　treating　the　situation。　At　the　end　of

five　minutes　Lucy　departed　in　search　of　Mr。　Beebe　and　Mr。　Eager；

vanquished　by　the　mackintosh　square。



She　addressed　herself　to　the　drivers；　who　were　sprawling　in　the

carriages；　perfuming　the　cushions　with　cigars。　The　miscreant；　a

bony　young　man　scorched　black　by　the　sun；　rose　to　greet　her　with

the　courtesy　of　a　host　and　the　assurance　of　a　relative。



〃Dove？〃　said　Lucy；　after　much　anxious　thought。



His　face　lit　up。　Of　course　he　knew　where；　Not　so　far　either。　His

arm　swept　three…fourths　of　the　horizon。　He　should　just　think　he

did　know　where。　He　pressed　his　finger…tips　to　his　forehead　and

then　pushed　them　towards　her；　as　if　oozing　with　visible　extract

of　knowledge。



More　seemed　necessary。　What　was　the　Italian　for　〃clergyman〃？



〃Dove　buoni　uomini？〃　said　she　at　last。



Good？　Scarcely　the　adjective　for　those　noble　beings！　He　showed

her　his　cigar。



〃Unopiupiccolo；〃　was　her　next　remark；　implying　〃Has　the

cigar　been　given　to　you　by　Mr。　Beebe；　the　smaller　of　the　two　good

men？〃



She　was　correct　as　usual。　He　tied　the　horse　to　a　tree；　kicked　it

to　make　it　stay　quiet；　dusted　the　carriage；　arranged　his　hair；

remoulded　his　hat；　encouraged　his　moustache；　and　in　rather　less

than　a　quarter　of　a　minute　was　ready　to　conduct　her。　Italians　are

born　knowing　the　way。　It　would　seem　that　the　whole　earth　lay

before　them；　not　as　a　map；　but　as　a　chess…board；　whereon　they

continually　behold　the　changing　pieces　as　well　as　the　squares。

Any　one　can　find　places；　but　the　finding　of　people　is　a　gift　from

God。



He　only　stopped　once；　to　pick　her　some　great　blue　violets。　She

thanked　him　with　real　pleasure。　In　the　company　of　this　common　man

the　world　was　beautiful　and　direct。　For　the　first　time　she　felt

the　influence　of　Spring。　His　arm　swept　the　horizon　gracefully；

violets；　like　other　things；　existed　in　great　profusion　there；

would　she　like　to　see　them？〃



〃Ma　buoni　uomini。〃



He　bowed。　Certainly。　Good　men　first；　violets　afterwards。　They

proceeded　briskly　through　the　undergrowth；　which　became　thicker

and　thicker。　They　were　nearing　the　edge　of　the　promontory；　and

the　view　was　stealing　round　them；　but　the　brown　network　of　the

bushes　shattered　it　into　countless　pieces。　He　was　occupied　in　his

cigar；　and　in　holding　back　the　pliant　boughs。　She　was　rejoicing

in　her　escape　from　dullness。　Not　a　step；　not　a　twig；　was

unimportant　to　her。



〃What　is　that？〃



There　was　a　voice　in　the　wood；　in　the　distance　behind　them。　The

voice　of　Mr。　Eager？　He　shrugged　his　shoulders。　An　Italian's

ignorance　is　sometimes　more　remarkable　than　his　knowledge。　She

could　not　make　him　understand　that　perhaps　they　had　missed　the

clergymen。　The　view　was　forming　at　last；　she　could　discern　the

river；　the　golden　plain；　other　hills。



〃Eccolo！〃　he　exclaimed。



At　the　same　moment　the　ground　gave　way；　and　with　a　cry　she　fell

out　of　the　wood。　Light　and　beauty　enveloped　her。　She　had　fallen

on　to　a　little　open　terrace；　which　was　covered　with　violets

from　end　to　end。



〃Courage！〃　cried　her　companion；　now　standing　some　six　feet　above。

〃Courage　and　love。〃



She　did　not　answer。　From　her　feet　the　ground　sloped　sharply　into

view；　and　violets　ran　down　in　rivulets　and　streams　and　cataracts；

irrigating　the　hillside　with　blue；　eddying　round　the　tree　stems

collecting　into　pools　in　the　hollows；　covering　the　grass　with

spots　of　azure　foam。　But　never　again　were　they　in　such　profusion；

this　terrace　was　the　well…head；　the　primal　source　whence　beauty

gushed　out　to　water　the　earth。



Standing　at　its　brink；　like　a　swimmer　who　prepares；　was　the　good

man。　But　he　was　not　the　good　man　that　she　had　expected；　and　he

was　alone。



George　had　turned　at　the　sound　of　her　arrival。　For　a　moment　he

contemplated　her；　as　one　who　had　fallen　out　of　heaven。　He　saw

radiant　joy　in　her　face；　he　saw　the　flowers　beat　against　her

dress　in　blue　waves。　The　bushes　above　them　closed。　He　stepped

quickly　forward　and　kissed　her。



Before　she　could　speak；　almost　before　she　could　feel；　a　voice

called；　〃Lucy！　Lucy！　Lucy！〃　The　silence　of　life　had　been　broken

by　Miss　Bartlett　who　stood　brown　against　the　view。







Chapter　VII：　They　Return



Some　complicated　game　had　been　playing　up　and　down　the　hillside

all　the　afternoon。　What　it　was　and　exactly　how　the　players

had　sided；　Lucy　was　slow　to　discover。　Mr。　Eager　had　met　them　with

a　questioning　eye。　Charlotte　had　repulsed　him　with　much　small

talk。　Mr。　Emerson；　seeking　his　son；　was　told　whereabouts　to　find

him。　Mr。　Beebe；　who　wore　the　heated　aspect　of　a　neutral；　was

bidden　to　collect　the　factions　for　the　return　home。　There　was　a

general　sense　of　groping　and　bewilderment。　Pan　had　been　amongst

themnot　the　great　god　Pan；　who　has　been　buried　these　two

thousand　years；　but　the　little　god　Pan；　who　presides　over　social

contretemps　and　unsuccessful　picnics。　Mr。　Beebe　had　lost　every

one；　and　had　consumed　in　solitude　the　tea…basket　which　he　had

brought　up　as　a　pleasant　surprise。　Miss　Lavish　had　lost　Miss

Bartlett。　Lucy　had　lost　Mr。　Eager。　Mr。　Emerson　had　lost　George。

Miss　Bartlett　had　lost　a　mackintosh　square。　Phaethon　had　lost　the

game。



That　last　fact　was　undeniable。　He　climbed　on　to　the　box

shivering；　with　his　collar　up；　prophesying　the　swift　approach　of

bad　weather。　〃Let　us　go　immediately；〃　he　told　them。　〃The

signorino　will　walk。〃



〃All　the　way？　He　will　be　hours；〃　said　Mr。　Beebe。



〃Apparently。　I　told　him　it　was　unwise。〃　He　would　look　no　one　in

the　face；　perhaps　defeat　was　particularly　mortifying　for　him。　He

alone　had　played　skilfully；　using　the　whole　of　his　i