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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 instinct;
while the others had used scraps of their intelligence。 He alone
had divined what things were; and what he wished them to be。 He
alone had interpreted the message that Lucy had received five
days before from the lips of a dying man。 Persephone; who spends
half her life in the graveshe could interpret it also。 Not so
these English。 They gain knowledge slowly; and perhaps too late。
The thoughts of a cab…driver; however just; seldom affect the
lives of his employers。 He was the most competent of Miss
Bartlett's opponents; but infinitely the least dangerous。 Once
back in the town; he and his insight and his knowledge would
trouble English ladies no more。 Of course; it was most
unpleasant; she had seen his black head in the bushes; he might
make a tavern story out of it。 But after all; what have we to do
with taverns? Real menace belongs to the drawing…room。 It was of
drawing…room people that Miss Bartlett thought as she journeyed
downwards towards the fading sun。 Lucy sat beside her; Mr。 Eager
sat opposite; trying to catch her eye; he was vaguely suspicious。
They spoke of Alessio Baldovinetti。
Rain and darkness came on together。 The two ladies huddled
together under an inadequate parasol。 There was a lightning
flash; and Miss Lavish who was nervous; screamed from the
carriage in front。 At the next flash; Lucy screamed also。 Mr。
Eager addressed her professionally:
〃Courage; Miss Honeychurch; courage and faith。 If I might say so;
there is something almost blasphemous in this horror of the
elements。 Are we seriously to suppose that all these clouds; all
this immense electrical display; is simply called into existence
to extinguish you or me?〃
〃Noof course〃
〃Even from the scientific standpoint the chances against our
being struck are enormous。 The steel knives; the only articles
which might attract the current; are in the other carriage。 And;
in any case; we are infinitely safer than if we were walking。
Couragecourage and faith。〃
Under the rug; Lucy felt the kindly pressure of her cousin's
hand。 At times our need for a sympathetic gesture is so great
that we care not what exactly it signifies or how much we may
have to pay for it afterwards。 Miss Bartlett; by this timely
exercise of her muscles; gained more than she would have got in
hours of preaching or cross examination。
She renewed it when the two carriages stopped; half into
Florence。
〃Mr。 Eager!〃 called Mr。 Beebe。 〃We want your assistance。 Will you
interpret for us?〃
〃George!〃 cried Mr。 Emerson。 〃Ask your driver which way George
went。 The boy may lose his way。 He may be killed。〃
〃Go; Mr。 Eager;〃 said Miss Bartlett。 don't ask our driver; our
driver is no help。 Go and support poor Mr。 Beebe; he is nearly
demented。〃
〃He may be killed!〃 cried the old man。 〃He may be killed!〃
〃Typical behaviour;〃 said the chaplain; as he quitted the
carriage。 〃In the presence of reality that kind of person
invariably breaks down。〃
〃What does he know?〃 whispered Lucy as soon as they were alone。
〃Charlotte; how much does Mr。 Eager know?〃
〃Nothing; dearest; he knows nothing。 But〃 she pointed at the
driver…〃HE knows everything。 Dearest; had we better? Shall I?〃
She took out her purse。 〃It is dreadful to be entangled with
low…class people。 He saw it all。〃 Tapping Phaethon's back with her
guide…book; she said; 〃Silenzio!〃 and offered him a franc。
〃Va bene;〃 he replied; and accepted it。 As well this ending to
his day as any。 But Lucy; a mortal maid; was disappointed in him。
There was an explosion up the road。 The storm had struck the
overhead wire of the tramline; and one of the great supports had
fallen。 If they had not stopped perhaps they might have been
hurt。 They chose to regard it as a miraculous preservation; and
the floods of love and sincerity; which fructify every hour of
life; burst forth in tumult。 They descended from the carriages;
they embraced each other。 It was as joyful to be forgiven past
unworthinesses as to forgive them。 For a moment they realized
vast possibilities of good。
The older people recovered quickly。 In the very height of their
emotion they knew it to be unmanly or unladylike。 Miss Lavish
calculated that; even if they had continued; they would not have
been caught in the accident。 Mr。 Eager mumbled a temperate
prayer。 But the drivers; through miles of dark squalid road;
poured out their souls to the dryads and the saints; and Lucy
poured out hers to her cousin。
〃Charlotte; dear Charlotte; kiss me。 Kiss me again。 Only you can
understand me。 You warned me to be careful。 And II thought I
was developing。〃
〃Do not cry; dearest。 Take your time。〃
〃I have been obstinate and sillyworse than you know; far worse。
Once by the riverOh; but he isn't killedhe wouldn't be
killed; would he?〃
The thought disturbed her rep