Chapter 2

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.Youarousemycuriosity.Ismysister-in-lawtomarryanangel?” “Mr.Herriton,don’t—please,Mr.Herriton—adentist.Hisfather’sadentist.” Philipgaveacryofpersonaldisgustandpain.Heshudderedallover,andedgedawayfromhiscompanion.Adentist!AdentistatMonteriano.Adentistinfairyland!FalseteethandlaughinggasandthetiltingchairataplacewhichknewtheEtruscanLeague,andthePaxRomana,andAlarichimself,andtheCountessMatilda,andtheMiddleAges,allfightingandholiness,andtheRenaissance,allfightingandbeauty!HethoughtofLilianolonger.Hewasanxiousforhimself:hefearedthatRomancemightdie. Romanceonlydieswithlife.Nopairofpincerswilleverpullitoutofus.Butthereisaspurioussentimentwhichcannotresisttheunexpectedandtheincongruousandthegrotesque.Atouchwillloosenit,andthesooneritgoesfromusthebetter.ItwasgoingfromPhilipnow,andthereforehegavethecryofpain. “Icannotthinkwhatisintheair,”hebegan.“IfLiliawasdeterminedtodisgraceus,shemighthavefoundalessrepulsiveway.Aboyofmediumheightwithaprettyface,thesonofadentistatMonteriano.HaveIputitcorrectly?MayIsurmisethathehasnotgotonepenny?MayIalsosurmisethathissocialpositionisnil?Furthermore—” “Stop!I’lltellyounomore.” “Really,MissAbbott,itisalittlelateforreticence.Youhaveequippedmeadmirably!” “I’lltellyounotanotherword!”shecried,withaspasmofterror.Thenshegotoutherhandkerchief,andseemedasifshewouldshedtears.Afterasilence,whichheintendedtosymbolizetoherthedroppingofacurtainonthescene,hebegantotalkofothersubjects. Theywereamongolivesagain,andthewoodwithitsbeautyandwildnesshadpassedaway.Butastheyclimbedhigherthecountryopenedout,andthereappeared,highonahilltotheright,Monteriano.Thehazygreenoftheolivesroseuptoitswalls,anditseemedtofloatinisolationbetweentreesandsky,likesomefantasticshipcityofadream.Itscolourwasbrown,anditrevealednotasinglehouse—nothingbutthenarrowcircleofthewalls,andbehindthemseventeentowers—allthatwasleftofthefifty-twothathadfilledthecityinherprime.Somewereonlystumps,somewereincliningstifflytotheirfall,somewerestillerect,piercinglikemastsintotheblue.Itwasimpossibletopraiseitasbeautiful,butitwasalsoimpossibletodamnitasquaint. MeanwhilePhiliptalkedcontinually,thinkingthistobegreatevidenceofresourceandtact.ItshowedMissAbbottthathehadprobedhertothebottom,butwasabletoconquerhisdisgust,andbysheerforceofintellectcontinuetobeasagreeableandamusingasever.Hedidnotknowthathetalkedagooddealofnonsense,andthatthesheerforceofhisintellectwasweakenedbythesightofMonteriano,an