Chapter 3
Opposite the Volterra gate of Monteriano, outside the city, is a veryrespectable white-washed mud wall, with a coping of red crinkled tilesto keep it from dissolution. It would suggest a gentleman's garden ifthere was not in its middle a large hole, which grows larger with everyrain-storm. Through the hole is visible, firstly, the iron gate that isintended to close it; secondly, a square piece of ground which, thoughnot quite, mud, is at the same time not exactly grass; and finally,another wall, stone this time, which has a wooden door in the middle andtwo wooden-shuttered windows each side, and apparently forms the facadeof a one-storey house.
This house is bigger than it looks, for it slides for two storeys downthe hill behind, and the wooden door, which is always locked, reallyleads into the attic. The knowing person prefers to follow theprecipitous mule-track round the turn of the mud wall till he can takethe edifice in the rear. Then--being now on a level with the cellars--helifts up his head and shouts. If his voice sounds like somethinglight--a letter, for example, or some vegetables, or a bunch offlowers--a basket is let out of the first-floor windows by a string,into which he puts his burdens and departs. But if he sounds likesomething heavy, such as a log of wood, or a piece of meat, or avisitor, he is interrogated, and then bidden or forbidden to ascend.The ground floor and the upper floor of that battered house are alikedeserted, and the inmates keep the central portion, just as in a dyingbody all life retires to the heart. There is a door at the top of thefirst flight of stairs, and if the visitor is admitted he will find awelcome which is not necessarily cold. There are several rooms, somedark and mostly stuffy--a reception-room adorned with horsehair chairs,wool-work stools, and a stove that is never lit--German bad tastewithout German domesticity broods over that room; also a living-room,which insensibly glides into a bedroom when the refining influence ofhospitality is absent, and real bedrooms; and last, but not least, theloggia, where you can live day and night if you feel inclined, drinkingvermouth and smoking cigarettes, with leagues of olive-trees andvineyards and blue-green hills to watch you.
It was in this house that the brief and inevitable tragedy of Lilia'smarried life took place. She made Gino buy it for her, because it wasthere she had first seen him sitting on the mud wall that faced theVolterra gate. She remembered how the evening sun had struck his hair,and how he had smiled down at her, and being both sentimental andunrefined, was determined to have the man and the place together. Thingsin Italy are cheap for an Italian, and, though he would have preferreda house in the piazza, or better still a house at Siena, or, bliss abovebliss, a house at Leghorn, he did as she asked, thinking that perhapsshe showed her good taste in preferring so retired an abode.
The house was far too big for them, and there was a general concourse ofhis relatives to fill it up. His father wished to make it a patriarchalconcern, where all the family should have their rooms and meet togetherfor meals, and was perfectly willing to give up the new practice atPoggibonsi and preside. Gino was quite willing too, for he was anaffectionate youth who liked a large home-circle, and he told it asa pleasant bit of news to Lilia, who did not attempt to conceal herhorror.
At once he was horrified too; saw that the idea was monstrous; abusedhimself to her for having suggested it; rushed off to tell his fatherthat it was impossible. His father complained that prosperity wasalready corrupting him and making him unsympathetic and hard; his mothercried; his sisters accused him of blocking their social advance. Hewas apologetic, and even cringing, until they turned on Lilia. Thenhe turned on them, saying that they could not understand, much lessassociate with, the English lady who was his wife; that there should beone master in that house--himself.
Lilia praised and petted him on his return, calling him brave and a heroand other endearing epithets. But he was rather blue when his clan leftMonteriano in much dignity--a dignity which was not at all impairedby the acceptance of a cheque. They took the cheque not to Poggibonsi,after all, but to Empoli--a lively, dusty town some twenty miles off.There they settled down in comfort, and the sisters said they had beendriven to it by Gino.
The cheque was, of course, Lilia's, who was extremely generous, and wasquite willing to know anybody so long as she had not to live with them,relations-in-law being on her nerves. She liked nothing better thanfinding out some obscure and distant connection--there were several ofthem--and acting the lady bountiful, leaving behind her bewilderment,and too often discontent. Gino wondered how it was that all his people,who had formerly seemed so pleasant, had suddenly become plaintiveand disagreeable. He put it down to his lady wife's magnificence, incomparison with which all seemed common. Her money flew apace, inspite of the cheap living. She was even richer than he expected; and heremembered with shame how he had once regretted his inability to acceptthe thousand lire that Philip Herriton offered him in exchange for her.It would have been a shortsighted bargain.
Lilia enjoyed settling into the house, with nothing to do except giveorders to smiling workpeople, and a devoted husband as interpreter. Shewrote a jaunty account of her happiness to Mrs. Herriton, and Harrietanswered the letter, saying (1) that all future communications should beaddressed to the solicitors; (2) would Lilia return an inlaid box whichHarriet had lent her--but not given--to keep handkerchiefs and collarsin?
"Look what I am giving up to live with you!" she said to Gino, neveromitting to lay stress on her condescension. He took her to mean theinlaid box, and said that she need not give it up at all.
"Silly fellow, no! I mean the life. Those Herritons are very wellconnected. They lead Sawston society. But what do I care, so long as Ihave my silly fellow!" She always treated him as a boy, which he was,and as a fool, which he was not, thinking herself so immeasurablysuperior to him that she neglected opportunity after opportunity ofestablishing her rule. He was good-looking and indolent; therefore hemust be stupid. He was poor; therefore he would never dare to criticizehis benefactress. He was passionately in love with her; therefore shecould do exactly as she liked.
"It mayn't be heaven below," she thought, "but it's better thanCharles."
And all the time the boy was watching her, and growing up.
She was reminded of Charles by a disagreeable letter from thesolicitors, bidding her disgorge a large sum of money for Irma, inaccordance with her late husband's will. It was just like Charles'ssuspicious nature to have provided against a second marriage. Gino wasequally indignant, and between them they composed a stinging reply,which had no effect. He then said that Irma had better come out and livewith them. "The air is good, so is the food; she will be happy here, andwe shall not have to part with the money." But Lilia had not the courageeven to suggest this to the Herritons, and an unexpected terror seizedher at the thought of Irma or any English child being educated atMonteriano.
Gino became terribly depressed over the solicitors' letter, moredepressed than she thought necessary. There was no more to do in thehouse, and he spent whole days in the loggia leaning over the parapet orsitting astride it disconsolately.
"Oh, you idle boy!" she cried, pinching his muscles. "Go and playpallone."
"I am a married man," he answered, without raising his head. "I do notplay games any more."
"Go and see your friends then."
"I have no friends now."
"Silly, silly, silly! You can't stop indoors all day!"
"I want to see no one but you." He spat on to an olive-tree.
"Now, Gino, don't be silly. Go and see your friends, and bring them tosee me. We both of us like society."
He looked puzzled, but allowed himself to be persuaded, went out, foundthat he was not as friendless as he supposed, and returned after severalhours in altered spirits. Lilia congratulated herself on her goodmanagement.
"I'm ready, too, for people now," she said. "I mean to wake you all up,just as I woke up Sawston. Let's have plenty of men--and make them bringtheir womenkind. I mean to have real English tea-parties."
"There is my aunt and her husband; but I thought you did no
t want toreceive my relatives."
"I never said such a--"
"But you would be right," he said earnestly. "They are not for you.Many of them are in trade, and even we are little more; you should havegentlefolk and nobility for your friends."
"Poor fellow," thought Lilia. "It is sad for him to discover that hispeople are vulgar." She began to tell him that she loved him just forhis silly self, and he flushed and began tugging at his moustache.
"But besides your relatives I must have other people here. Your friendshave wives and sisters, haven't they?"
"Oh, yes; but of course I scarcely know them."
"Not know your friends' people?"
"Why, no. If they are poor and have to work for their living I may seethem--but not otherwise. Except--" He stopped. The chief exception wasa young lady, to whom he had once been introduced for matrimonialpurposes. But the dowry had proved inadequate, and the acquaintanceterminated.
"How funny! But I mean to change all that. Bring your friends to see me,and I will make them bring their people."
He looked at her rather hopelessly.
"Well, who are the principal people here? Who leads society?"
The governor of the prison, he supposed, and the officers who assistedhim.
"Well, are they married?"
"Yes."
"There we are. Do you know them?"
"Yes--in a way."
"I see," she exclaimed angrily. "They look down on you, do they, poorboy? Wait!" He assented. "Wait! I'll soon stop that. Now, who else isthere?"
"The marchese, sometimes, and the canons of the Collegiate Church."
"Married?"
"The canons--" he began with twinkling eyes.
"Oh, I forgot your horrid celibacy. In England they would be the centreof everything. But why shouldn't I know them? Would it make it easier ifI called all round? Isn't that your foreign way?"
He did not think it would make it easier.
"But I must know some one! Who were the men you were talking to thisafternoon?"
Low-class men. He could scarcely recollect their names.
"But, Gino dear, if they're low class, why did you talk to them? Don'tyou care about your position?"
All Gino cared about at present was idleness and pocket-money, and hisway of expressing it was to exclaim, "Ouf-pouf! How hot it is in here.No air; I sweat all over. I expire. I must cool myself, or I shall neverget to sleep." In his funny abrupt way he ran out on to the loggia,where he lay full length on the parapet, and began to smoke and spitunder the silence of the stars.
Lilia gathered somehow from this conversation that Continental societywas not the go-as-you-please thing she had expected. Indeed she couldnot see where Continental society was. Italy is such a delightful placeto live in if you happen to be a man. There one may enjoy that exquisiteluxury of Socialism--that true Socialism which is based not on equalityof income or character, but on the equality of manners. In the democracyof the caffe or the street the great question of our life has beensolved, and the brotherhood of man is a reality. But is accomplished atthe expense of the sisterhood of women. Why should you not make friendswith your neighbour at the theatre or in the train, when you know andhe knows that feminine criticism and feminine insight and feminineprejudice will never come between you? Though you become as David andJonathan, you need never enter his home, nor he yours. All your livesyou will meet under the open air, the only roof-tree of the South, underwhich he will spit and swear, and you will drop your h's, and nobodywill think the worse of either.
Meanwhile the women--they have, of course, their house and their church,with its admirable and frequent services, to which they are escorted bythe maid. Otherwise they do not go out much, for it is not genteel towalk, and you are too poor to keep a carriage. Occasionally you willtake them to the caffe or theatre, and immediately all your wontedacquaintance there desert you, except those few who are expectingand expected to marry into your family. It is all very sad. But oneconsolation emerges--life is very pleasant in Italy if you are a man.
Hitherto Gino had not interfered with Lilia. She was so much older thanhe was, and so much richer, that he regarded her as a superior being whoanswered to other laws. He was not wholly surprised, for strange rumourswere always blowing over the Alps of lands where men and women had thesame amusements and interests, and he had often met that privilegedmaniac, the lady tourist, on her solitary walks. Lilia took solitarywalks too, and only that week a tramp had grabbed at her watch--anepisode which is supposed to be indigenous in Italy, though really lessfrequent there than in Bond Street. Now that he knew her better, hewas inevitably losing his awe: no one could live with her and keep it,especially when she had been so silly as to lose a gold watch and chain.As he lay thoughtful along the parapet, he realized for the first timethe responsibilities of monied life. He must save her from dangers,physical and social, for after all she was a woman. "And I," hereflected, "though I am young, am at all events a man, and know what isright."
He found her still in the living-room, combing her hair, for she hadsomething of the slattern in her nature, and there was no need to keepup appearances.
"You must not go out alone," he said gently. "It is not safe. If youwant to walk, Perfetta shall accompany you." Perfetta was a widowedcousin, too humble for social aspirations, who was living with them asfactotum.
"Very well," smiled Lilia, "very well"--as if she were addressing asolicitous kitten. But for all that she never took a solitary walkagain, with one exception, till the day of her death.
Days passed, and no one called except poor relatives. She began to feeldull. Didn't he know the Sindaco or the bank manager? Even the landladyof the Stella d'Italia would be better than no one. She, when she wentinto the town, was pleasantly received; but people naturally found adifficulty in getting on with a lady who could not learn their language.And the tea-party, under Gino's adroit management, receded ever and everbefore her.
He had a good deal of anxiety over her welfare, for she did notsettle down in the house at all. But he was comforted by a welcome andunexpected visitor. As he was going one afternoon for the letters--theywere delivered at the door, but it took longer to get them at theoffice--some one humorously threw a cloak over his head, and when hedisengaged himself he saw his very dear friend Spiridione Tesi of thecustom-house at Chiasso, whom he had not met for two years. What joy!what salutations! so that all the passersby smiled with approval on theamiable scene. Spiridione's brother was now station-master at Bologna,and thus he himself could spend his holiday travelling over Italy at thepublic expense. Hearing of Gino's marriage, he had come to see him onhis way to Siena, where lived his own uncle, lately monied too.
"They all do it," he exclaimed, "myself excepted." He was not quitetwenty-three. "But tell me more. She is English. That is good, verygood. An English wife is very good indeed. And she is rich?"
"Immensely rich."
"Blonde or dark?"
"Blonde."
"Is it possible!"
"It pleases me very much," said Gino simply. "If you remember, I alwaysdesired a blonde." Three or four men had collected, and were listening.
"We all desire one," said Spiridione. "But you, Gino, deserve your goodfortune, for you are a good son, a brave man, and a true friend, andfrom the very first moment I saw you I wished you well."
"No compliments, I beg," said Gino, standing with his hands crossed onhis chest and a smile of pleasure on his face.
Spiridione addressed the other men, none of whom he had ever seenbefore. "Is it not true? Does not he deserve this wealthy blonde?"
"He does deserve her," said all the men.
It is a marvellous land, where you love it or hate it.
There were no letters, and of course they sat down at the CaffeGaribaldi, by the Collegiate Church--quite a good caffe that for sosmall a city. There were marble-topped tables, and pillars terra-cottabelow and gold above, and on the ceiling was a fresco of the battle ofSolferino. One could not have desired a
prettier room. They had vermouthand little cakes with sugar on the top, which they chose gravely atthe counter, pinching them first to be sure they were fresh. And thoughvermouth is barely alcoholic, Spiridione drenched his with soda-water tobe sure that it should not get into his head.
They were in high spirits, and elaborate compliments alternatedcuriously with gentle horseplay. But soon they put up their legs on apair of chairs and began to smoke.
"Tell me," said Spiridione--"I forgot to ask--is she young?"
"Thirty-three."
"Ah, well, we cannot have everything."
"But you would be surprised. Had she told me twenty-eight, I should nothave disbelieved her."
"Is she SIMPATICA?" (Nothing will translate that word.)
Gino dabbed at the sugar and said after a silence, "Sufficiently so."
"It is a most important thing."
"She is rich, she is generous, she is affable, she addresses herinferiors without haughtiness."
There was another silence. "It is not sufficient," said the other. "Onedoes not define it thus." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Last montha German was smuggling cigars. The custom-house was dark. Yet Irefused because I did not like him. The gifts of such men do not bringhappiness. NON ERA SIMPATICO. He paid for every one, and the fine fordeception besides."
"Do you gain much beyond your pay?" asked Gino, diverted for an instant.
"I do not accept small sums now. It is not worth the risk. But theGerman was another matter. But listen, my Gino, for I am older thanyou and more full of experience. The person who understands us at firstsight, who never irritates us, who never bores, to whom we can pourforth every thought and wish, not only in speech but in silence--that iswhat I mean by SIMPATICO."
"There are such men, I know," said Gino. "And I have heard it said ofchildren. But where will you find such a woman?"
"That is true. Here you are wiser than I. SONO POCO SIMPATICHE LE DONNE.And the time we waste over them is much." He sighed dolefully, as if hefound the nobility of his sex a burden.
"One I have seen who may be so. She spoke very little, but she was ayoung lady--different to most. She, too, was English, the companion ofmy wife here. But Fra Filippo, the brother-in-law, took her back withhim. I saw them start. He was very angry."
Then he spoke of his exciting and secret marriage, and they made fun ofthe unfortunate Philip, who had travelled over Europe to stop it.
"I regret though," said Gino, when they had finished laughing, "that Itoppled him on to the bed. A great tall man! And when I am really amusedI am often impolite."
"You will never see him again," said Spiridione, who carried plenty ofphilosophy about him. "And by now the scene will have passed from hismind."
"It sometimes happens that such things are recollected longest. I shallnever see him again, of course; but it is no benefit to me that heshould wish me ill. And even if he has forgotten, I am still sorry thatI toppled him on to the bed."
So their talk continued, at one moment full of childishness andtender wisdom, the next moment scandalously gross. The shadows of theterra-cotta pillars lengthened, and tourists, flying through the PalazzoPubblico opposite, could observe how the Italians wasted time.
The sight of tourists reminded Gino of something he might say. "Iwant to consult you since you are so kind as to take an interest in myaffairs. My wife wishes to take solitary walks."
Spiridione was shocked.
"But I have forbidden her."
"Naturally."
"She does not yet understand. She asked me to accompany hersometimes--to walk without object! You know, she would like me to bewith her all day."
"I see. I see." He knitted his brows and tried to think how he couldhelp his friend. "She needs employment. Is she a Catholic?"
"No."
"That is a pity. She must be persuaded. It will be a great solace to herwhen she is alone."
"I am a Catholic, but of course I never go to church."
"Of course not. Still, you might take her at first. That is what mybrother has done with his wife at Bologna and he has joined the FreeThinkers. He took her once or twice himself, and now she has acquiredthe habit and continues to go without him."
"Most excellent advice, and I thank you for it. But she wishes to givetea-parties--men and women together whom she has never seen."
"Oh, the English! they are always thinking of tea. They carry it by thekilogramme in their trunks, and they are so clumsy that they always packit at the top. But it is absurd!"
"What am I to do about it?"
"Do nothing. Or ask me!"
"Come!" cried Gino, springing up. "She will be quite pleased."
The dashing young fellow coloured crimson. "Of course I was onlyjoking."
"I know. But she wants me to take my friends. Come now! Waiter!"
"If I do come," cried the other, "and take tea with you, this bill mustbe my affair."
"Certainly not; you are in my country!"
A long argument ensued, in which the waiter took part, suggestingvarious solutions. At last Gino triumphed. The bill came toeightpence-halfpenny, and a halfpenny for the waiter brought it upto ninepence. Then there was a shower of gratitude on one side and ofdeprecation on the other, and when courtesies were at their height theysuddenly linked arms and swung down the street, tickling each other withlemonade straws as they went.
Lilia was delighted to see them, and became more animated than Gino hadknown her for a long time. The tea tasted of chopped hay, and they askedto be allowed to drink it out of a wine-glass, and refused milk; but, asshe repeatedly observed, this was something like. Spiridione's mannerswere very agreeable. He kissed her hand on introduction, and as hisprofession had taught him a little English, conversation did not flag.
"Do you like music?" she asked.
"Passionately," he replied. "I have not studied scientific music, butthe music of the heart, yes."
So she played on the humming piano very badly, and he sang, not sobadly. Gino got out a guitar and sang too, sitting out on the loggia. Itwas a most agreeable visit.
Gino said he would just walk his friend back to his lodgings. As theywent he said, without the least trace of malice or satire in his voice,"I think you are quite right. I shall not bring people to the house anymore. I do not see why an English wife should be treated differently.This is Italy."
"You are very wise," exclaimed the other; "very wise indeed. The moreprecious a possession the more carefully it should be guarded."
They had reached the lodging, but went on as far as the Caffe Garibaldi,where they spent a long and most delightful evening.