Chapter 6

tall?”heaskedher. “Mostawfully.”AndbythisbaldinterchangetheyconvincedeachotherthatRomancewashere. Harriet,meanwhile,hadbeencoughingominouslyatthedrop-scene,whichpresentlyroseonthegroundsofRavenswood,andthechorusofScotchretainersburstintocry.Theaudienceaccompaniedwithtappingsanddrummings,swayinginthemelodylikecorninthewind.Harriet,thoughshedidnotcareformusic,knewhowtolistentoit.Sheutteredanacid“Shish!” “Shutit,”whisperedherbrother. “Wemustmakeastandfromthebeginning.They’retalking.” “Itistiresome,”murmuredMissAbbott“butperhapsitisn’tforustointerfere.” Harrietshookherheadandshishedagain.Thepeoplewerequiet,notbecauseitiswrongtotalkduringachorus,butbecauseitisnaturaltobeciviltoavisitor.Foralittletimeshekeptthewholehouseinorder,andcouldsmileatherbrothercomplacently. Hersuccessannoyedhim.HehadgraspedtheprincipleofoperainItaly—itaimsnotatillusionbutatentertainment—andhedidnotwantthisgreatevening-partytoturnintoaprayer-meeting.Butsoontheboxesbegantofill,andHarriet’spowerwasover.Familiesgreetedeachotheracrosstheauditorium.Peopleinthepithailedtheirbrothersandsonsinthechorus,andtoldthemhowwelltheyweresinging.WhenLuciaappearedbythefountaintherewasloudapplause,andcriesof“WelcometoMonteriano!” “Ridiculousbabies!”saidHarriet,settlingdowninherstall. “Why,itisthefamoushotladyoftheApennines,”criedPhilip“theonewhohadnever,neverbefore—” “Ugh!Don’t.Shewillbeveryvulgar.AndI’msureit’sevenworseherethaninthetunnel.Iwishwe’dnever—” Luciabegantosing,andtherewasamoment’ssilence.Shewasstoutanduglybuthervoicewasstillbeautiful,andasshesangthetheatremurmuredlikeahiveofhappybees.Allthroughthecoloraturashewasaccompaniedbysighs,anditstopnotewasdrownedinashoutofuniversaljoy. Sotheoperaproceeded.Thesingersdrewinspirationfromtheaudience,andthetwogreatsextetteswererenderednotunworthily.MissAbbottfellintothespiritofthething.She,too,chattedandlaughedandapplaudedandencored,andrejoicedintheexistenceofbeauty.AsforPhilip,heforgothimselfaswellashismission.Hewasnotevenanenthusiasticvisitor.Forhehadbeeninthisplacealways.Itwashishome. Harriet,likeM.Bovaryonamorefamousoccasion,wastryingtofollowtheplot.Occasionallyshenudgedhercompanions,andaskedthemwhathadbecomeofWalterScott.Shelookedroundgrimly.Theaudiencesoundeddrunk,andevenCaroline,whonevertookadrop,wasswayingoddly.Violentwavesofexcitement,allarisingfromverylittle,wentsweepingroundthetheatre.Theclimaxwasreachedinthemadscene.Lucia,cladinwhite,asbefittedhermalady,suddenlygatheredupherstreaminghairandbowedheracknowledgmenttotheaudience.Thenfromthebackofthestage—shefeignednottoseeit—thereadvancedakindofbambooclothes-horse,stuckalloverwithbouquets.Itwasveryugly,andmostoftheflowersinitwerefalse.Luciaknewthis,andsodidtheaudienceandtheyallknewthattheclothes-horsewasapieceofstageproperty,broughtintomaketheperformancegoyearafteryear.Nonethelessdiditunloosethegreatdeeps.Withascreamofamazementandjoysheembracedtheanimal,pulledoutoneortwopracticableblossoms,pressedthemtoherlips,andflungthemintoheradmirers.Theyflungthemback,withloudmelodiouscries,andalittleboyinoneofthestageboxessnatcheduphissister’scarnationsandofferedthem.“Checarino!”exclaimedthesinger.Shedartedatthelittleboyandkissedhim.Nowthenoisebecametremendous.“Silence!silence!”shoutedmanyoldgentlemenbehind.“Letthedivinecreaturecontinue!”ButtheyoungmenintheadjacentboxwereimploringLuciatoextendhercivilitytothem.Sherefused,withahumorous,expressivegesture.Oneofthemhurledabouquetather.Shespurneditwithherfoot.Then,encouragedbytheroarsoftheaudience,shepickeditupandtossedittothem.Harrietwasalwaysunfortunate.Thebouquetstruckherfullinthechest,andalittlebillet-douxfelloutofitintoherlap. “Callthisclassical!”shecried,risingfromherseat.“It’snotevenrespectable!Philip!takemeoutatonce.” “Whoseisit?”shoutedherbrother,holdingupthebouquetinonehandandthebillet-douxintheother.“Whoseisit?” Thehouseexploded,andoneoftheboxeswasviolentlyagitated,asifsomeonewasbeinghauledtothefront.Harrietmoveddownthegangway,andcompelledMissAbbotttofollowher.Philip,stilllaughingandcalling“Whoseisit?”broughtuptherear.Hewasdrunkwithexcitement.Theheat,thefatigue,andtheenjoymenthadmountedintohishead. “Totheleft!”thepeoplecried.“Theinnamoratoistotheleft.” Hedesertedhisladiesandplungedtowardsthebox.Ayoungmanwasflungstomachdownwardsacrossthebalustrade.Philiphandedhimupthebouquetandthenote.Thenhisownhandswereseizedaffectionately.Itallseemedquitenatural. “Whyhaveyounotwritten?”criedtheyoungman.“Whydoyoutakemebysurprise?” “Oh,I’vewritten,”saidPhiliphilariously.“Ileftanotethisafternoon.” “Silence!silence!”criedtheaudience,whowerebeginningtohaveenough.“Letthedivinecreaturecontinue.”MissAbbottandHarriethaddisappeared. “No!no!”criedtheyoungman.“Youdon’tescapemenow.”ForPhilipwastryingfeeblytodisengagehishands.Amiableyouthsbentoutoftheboxandinvitedhimtoenterit. “Gino’sfriendsareours—” “Friends?”criedGino.“Arelative!Abrother!FraFilippo,whohascomeallthewayfromEnglandandneverwritten.” “Ileftamessage.” Theaudiencebegantohiss. “Comeintous.” “Thankyou—ladies—thereisnottime—” Thenextmomenthewasswingingbyhisarms.Themomentafterheshotoverthebalustradeintothebox.Thentheconductor,seeingthattheincidentwasover,raisedhisbaton.Thehousewashushed,andLuciadiLammermoorresumedhersongofmadnessanddeath. Philiphadwhisperedintroductionstothepleasantpeoplewhohadpulledhimin—tradesmen’ssonsperhapstheywere,ormedicalstudents,orsolicitors’clerks,orsonsofotherdentists.ThereisnoknowingwhoiswhoinItaly.Theguestoftheeveningwasaprivatesoldier.HesharedthehonournowwithPhilip.Thetwohadtostandsidebysideinthefront,andexchangecompliments,whilstGinopresided,courteous,butdelightfullyfamiliar.Philipwouldhaveaspasmofhorroratthemuddlehehadmade.Butthespasmwouldpass,andagainhewouldbeenchantedbythekind,cheerfulvoices,thelaughterthatwasnevervapid,andthelightcaressofthearmacrosshisback. Hecouldnotgetawaytilltheplaywasnearlyfinished,andEdgardowassingingamongstthetombsofancestors.HisnewfriendshopedtoseehimattheGaribalditomorrowevening.HepromisedthenherememberedthatiftheykepttoHarriet’splanhewouldhaveleftMonteriano.“Atteno’clock,then,”hesaidtoGino.“Iwanttospeaktoyoualone.Atten.” “Certainly!”laughedtheother. MissAbbottwassittingupforhimwhenhegotback.Harriet,itseemed,hadgonestraighttobed. “Thatwashe,wasn’tit?”sheasked. “Yes,rather.” “Isupposeyoudidn’tsettleanything?” “Why,nohowcouldI?Thefactis—well,Igottakenbysurprise,butafterall,whatdoesitmatter?There’snoearthlyreasonwhyweshouldn’tdothebusinesspleasantly.He’saperfectlycharmingperson,andsoarehisfriends.I’mhisfriendnow—hislong-lostbrother.What’stheharm?Itellyou,MissAbbott,it’sonethingforEnglandandanotherforItaly.Thereweplanandgetonhighmoralhorses.Herewefindwhatassesweare,forthingsgooffquiteeasily,allbythemselves.Myhat,whatanight!Didyoueverseeareallypurpleskyandreallysilverstarsbefore?Well,asIwassaying,it’sabsurdtoworryhe’snotaporkyfather.HewantsthatbabyaslittleasIdo.He’sbeenraggingmydearmother—justasheraggedmeeighteenmonthsago,andI’veforgivenhim.Oh,buthehasasenseofhumour!” MissAbbott,too,hadawonderfulevening,nordidsheeverremembersuchstarsorsuchasky.Herhead,too,wasfullofmusic,andthatnightwhensheopenedthewindowherroomwasfilledwithwarm,sweetair.Shewasbathedinbeautywithinandwithoutshecouldnotgotobedforhappiness.Hadsheeverbeensohappybefore?Yes,oncebefore,andhere,anightinMarch,thenightGinoandLiliahadtoldheroftheirlove—thenightwhoseevilshehadcomenowtoundo. Shegaveasuddencryofshame.“Thistime—thesameplace—thesamething”—andshebegantobeatdownherhappiness,knowingittobesinful.Shewasheretofightagainstthisplace,torescuealittlesoul—whowasinnocentasyet.Shewasheretochampionmoralityandpurity,andtheholylifeofanEnglishhome.Inthespringshehadsinnedthroughignoranceshewasnotignorantnow.“Helpme!”shecried,andshutthewindowasiftherewasmagicintheencirclingair.Butthetuneswouldnotgooutofherhead,andallnightlongshewastroubledbytorrentsofmusic,andbyapplauseandlaughter,andangryyoungmenwhoshoutedthedistichoutofBaedeker:— Poggibonizzifattiinla, CheMonterianosifacitta! Poggibonsiwasrevealedtoherastheysang—ajoyless,stragglingplace,fullofpeoplewhopretended.WhenshewokeupsheknewthatithadbeenSawston.