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with a sigh。
〃Oh； so he has a wife。〃
〃Dead； Miss Bartlett； dead。 I wonderyes I wonder how he has the
effrontery to look me in the face； to dare to claim acquaintance
with me。 He was in my London parish long ago。 The other day in
Santa Croce； when he was with Miss Honeychurch； I snubbed him。
Let him beware that he does not get more than a snub。〃
〃What？〃 cried Lucy； flushing。
〃Exposure！〃 hissed Mr。 Eager。
He tried to change the subject； but in scoring a dramatic point
he had interested his audience more than he had intended。 Miss
Bartlett was full of very natural curiosity。 Lucy； though she
wished never to see the Emersons again； was not disposed to
condemn them on a single word。
〃Do you mean；〃 she asked； 〃that he is an irreligious man？ We know
that already。〃
〃Lucy； dear〃 said Miss Bartlett； gently reproving her cousin's
penetration。
〃I should be astonished if you knew all。 The boyan innocent
child at the timeI will exclude。 God knows what his education
and his inherited qualities may have made him。〃
〃Perhaps；〃 said Miss Bartlett； 〃it is something that we had
better not hear。〃
〃To speak plainly；〃 said Mr。 Eager； 〃it is。 I will say no more。〃
For the first time Lucy's rebellious thoughts swept out in
wordsfor the first time in her life。
〃You have said very little。〃
〃It was my intention to say very little；〃 was his frigid reply。
He gazed indignantly at the girl； who met him with equal
indignation。 She turned towards him from the shop counter； her
breast heaved quickly。 He observed her brow； and the sudden
strength of her lips。 It was intolerable that she should
disbelieve him。
〃Murder； if you want to know；〃 he cried angrily。 〃That man
murdered his wife！〃
〃How？〃 she retorted。
〃To all intents and purposes he murdered her。 That day in Santa
Crocedid they say anything against me？〃
〃Not a word； Mr。 Eagernot a single word。〃
〃Oh； I thought they had been libelling me to you。 But I suppose
it is only their personal charms that makes you defend them。〃
〃I'm not defending them；〃 said Lucy； losing her courage； and
relapsing into the old chaotic methods。 〃They're nothing to me。〃
〃How could you think she was defending them？〃 said Miss Bartlett；
much discomfited by the unpleasant scene。 The shopman was
possibly listening。
〃She will find it difficult。 For that man has murdered his wife
in the sight of God。〃
The addition of God was striking。 But the chaplain was really
trying to qualify a rash remark。 A silence followed which might
have been impressive； but was merely awkward。 Then Miss Bartlett
hastily purchased the Leaning Tower； and led the way into the
street。
〃I must be going；〃 said he； shutting his eyes and taking out his
watch。
Miss Bartlett thanked him for his kindness； and spoke with
enthusiasm of the approaching drive。
〃Drive？ Oh； is our drive to come off？〃
Lucy was recalled to her manners； and after a little exertion the
complacency of Mr。 Eager was restored。
〃Bother the drive！〃 exclaimed the girl； as soon as he had
departed。 〃It is just the drive we had arranged with Mr。 Beebe
without any fuss at all。 Why should he invite us in that absurd
manner？ We might as well invite him。 We are each paying for
ourselves。〃
Miss Bartlett； who had intended to lament over the Emersons； was
launched by this remark into unexpected thoughts。
〃If that is so； dearif the drive we and Mr。 Beebe are going
with Mr。 Eager is really the same as the one we are going with
Mr。 Beebe； then I foresee a sad kettle of fish。〃
〃How？〃
〃Because Mr。 Beebe has asked Eleanor Lavish to come； too。〃
〃That will mean another carriage。〃
〃Far worse。 Mr。 Eager does not like Eleanor。 She knows it
herself。 The truth must be told； she is too unconventional for
him。〃
They were now in the newspaper…room at the English bank。 Lucy
stood by the central table； heedless of Punch and the Graphic；
trying to answer； or at all events to formulate the questions
rioting in her brain。 The well…known world had broken up； and
there emerged Florence； a magic city where people thought and did
the most extraordinary things。 Murder； accusations of murder；
A lady clinging to one man and being rude to anotherwere these
the daily incidents of her streets？ Was there more in her frank
beauty than met the eyethe power； perhaps； to evoke passions；
good and bad； and to bring them speedily to a fulfillment？
Happy Charlotte； who； though greatly troubled over things that
did not matter； seemed oblivious to things that did； who could
conjecture with admirable delicacy 〃where things might lead to；〃
but apparently lost sight of the goal as she approached it。 Now
she was crouching in the corner trying to extract a circular note
from a kind of linen nose…bag which hung in chaste concealment
round her neck。 She had been told that this was the only safe way
to carry money in Italy； it must only be broached within the
walls of the English bank。 As she groped she murmured： 〃Whether
it is Mr。 Beebe who forgot to tell Mr。 Eager； or Mr。 Eager who
forgot when he told us； or whether they have decided to leave
Eleanor out altogetherwhich they could scarcely dobut in any
case we must be prepared。 It is you they really want； I am only
asked for appearances。 You shall go with the two gentlemen； and I
and Eleanor will follow behind。 A one…horse carriage would do for
us。 Yet how difficult it is！〃
〃It is indeed；〃 replied the girl； with a gravity that sounded
sympathetic。
〃What do you think about it？〃 asked Miss Bartlett； flushed from
the struggle； and buttoning up her dress。
〃I don't know what I think； nor what I want。〃
〃Oh； dear； Lucy！ I do hope Florence isn't boring you。 Speak the
word； and； as you know； I would take you to the ends of the earth
to…morrow。〃
〃Thank you； Charlotte；〃 said Lucy； and pondered over the offer。
There were letters for her at the bureauone from her brother；
full of athletics and biology； one from her mother； delightful as
only her mother's letters could be。 She had read in it of the
crocuses which had been bought for yellow and were coming up
puce； of the new parlour…maid； who had watered the ferns with
essence of lemonade； of the semi…detached cottages which were
ruining Summer Street； and breaking the heart of Sir Harry Otway。
She recalled the free； pleasant life of her home； where she was
allowed to do everything； and where nothing ever happened to her。
The road up through the pine…woods； the clean drawing…room； the
view over the Sussex Wealdall hung before her bright and
distinct； but pathetic as the pictures in a gallery to which；
after much experience； a traveller returns。
〃And the news？〃 asked Miss Bartlett。
〃Mrs。 Vyse and her son have gone to Rome；〃 said Lucy； giving
the news that interested her least。 〃Do you know the Vyses？〃
〃Oh； not that way back。 We can never have too much of the dear
Piazza Signoria。〃
〃They're nice people； the Vyses。 So clevermy idea of what's
really clever。 Don't you long to be in Rome？〃
〃I die for it！〃
The Piazza Signoria is too stony to be brilliant。 It has no
grass； no flowers； no frescoes； no glittering walls of marble or
comforting patches of ruddy brick。 By an odd chanceunless we
believe in a presiding genius of placesthe statues that relieve
its severity suggest； not the innocence of childhood； nor the
glorious bewilderment of youth； but the conscious achievements of
maturity。 Perseus and Judith； Hercules and Thusnelda； they have
done or suffered something； and though they are immortal；
immortality has come to them after experience； not before。 Here；
not only in the solitude of Nature； might a hero meet a goddess；
or a heroine a god。
〃Charlotte！〃 cried the girl suddenly。 〃Here's an idea。 What if we
popped off to Rome to…morrowstraight to the Vyses' hotel？ For
I do know what I want。 I'm sick of Florence。 No； you said you'd
go to the ends of the earth！ Do！ Do！〃
Miss Bartlett； with equal vivacity； replied：
〃Oh； you droll person！ Pray； what would become of your drive in
the hills？〃
They passed together through the gaunt beauty of the square；
laughing over the unpractical suggestion。
Chapter VI： The Reverend Arthur Beebe； the Reverend Cuthbert
Eager； Mr。 Emerson； Mr。 George Emerson； Miss Eleanor Lavish； Miss
Charlotte Bartlett； and Miss Lucy Honeychurch Drive Out in
Carriages to See a View； Italians Drive Them。
It was Phaethon who drove them to Fiesole that memorable day； a
youth all irresponsibility and fire； recklessly urging his
master's horses up the stony hill。 Mr。 Beebe recognized him at
once。 Neither the Ages of Faith nor the Age of Doubt had
touched him； he was Phaethon in Tuscany driving a cab。 And it was
Persephone whom he asked leave to pick up on the way； saying
that she was his sisterPe