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of Mr。 Emerson looking for his son； nor of Miss Bartlett looking
for Miss Lavish； nor of Miss Lavish looking for her
cigarette…case。 Like every true performer； she was intoxicated by
the mere feel of the notes： they were fingers caressing her own；
and by touch； not by sound alone； did she come to her desire。
Mr。 Beebe； sitting unnoticed in the window； pondered this
illogical element in Miss Honeychurch； and recalled the occasion
at Tunbridge Wells when he had discovered it。 It was at one of
those entertainments where the upper classes entertain the lower。
The seats were filled with a respectful audience； and the ladies
and gentlemen of the parish； under the auspices of their vicar；
sang； or recited； or imitated the drawing of a champagne cork。
Among the promised items was 〃Miss Honeychurch。 Piano。
Beethoven；〃 and Mr。 Beebe was wondering whether it would be
Adelaida； or the march of The Ruins of Athens； when his composure
was disturbed by the opening bars of Opus III。 He was in suspense
all through the introduction； for not until the pace quickens
does one know what the performer intends。 With the roar of the
opening theme he knew that things were going extraordinarily； in
the chords that herald the conclusion he heard the hammer strokes
of victory。 He was glad that she only played the first movement；
for he could have paid no attention to the winding intricacies of
the measures of nine…sixteen。 The audience clapped； no less
respectful。 It was Mr。 Beebe who started the stamping； it was all
that one could do。
〃Who is she？〃 he asked the vicar afterwards。
〃Cousin of one of my parishioners。 I do not consider her choice
of a piece happy。 Beethoven is so usually simple and direct in
his appeal that it is sheer perversity to choose a thing like
that； which； if anything； disturbs。〃
〃Introduce me。〃
〃She will be delighted。 She and Miss Bartlett are full of the
praises of your sermon。〃
〃My sermon？〃 cried Mr。 Beebe。 〃Why ever did she listen to it？〃
When he was introduced he understood why； for Miss Honeychurch；
disjoined from her music stool； was only a young lady with a
quantity of dark hair and a very pretty； pale； undeveloped face。
She loved going to concerts； she loved stopping with her cousin；
she loved iced coffee and meringues。 He did not doubt that she
loved his sermon also。 But before he left Tunbridge Wells he made
a remark to the vicar； which he now made to Lucy herself when she
closed the little piano and moved dreamily towards him：
〃If Miss Honeychurch ever takes to live as she plays； it will be
very exciting both for us and for her。〃
Lucy at once re…entered daily life。
〃Oh； what a funny thing！ Some one said just the same to mother；
and she said she trusted I should never live a duet。〃
〃Doesn't Mrs。 Honeychurch like music？〃
〃She doesn't mind it。 But she doesn't like one to get excited
over anything； she thinks I am silly about it。 She thinksI
can't make out。 Once； you know； I said that I liked my own
playing better than any one's。 She has never got over it。 Of
course； I didn't mean that I played well； I only meant〃
〃Of course；〃 said he； wondering why she bothered to explain。
〃Music〃 said Lucy； as if attempting some generality。 She could
not complete it； and looked out absently upon Italy in the wet。
The whole life of the South was disorganized； and the most
graceful nation in Europe had turned into formless lumps of
clothes。
The street and the river were dirty yellow； the bridge was dirty
grey； and the hills were dirty purple。 Somewhere in their folds
were concealed Miss Lavish and Miss Bartlett； who had chosen this
afternoon to visit the Torre del Gallo。
〃What about music？〃 said Mr。 Beebe。
〃Poor Charlotte will be sopped；〃 was Lucy's reply。
The expedition was typical of Miss Bartlett； who would return
cold； tired； hungry； and angelic； with a ruined skirt； a pulpy
Baedeker； and a tickling cough in her throat。 On another day；
when the whole world was singing and the air ran into the mouth。
like wine； she would refuse to stir from the drawing…room； saying
that she was an old thing； and no fit companion for a hearty
girl。
〃Miss Lavish has led your cousin astray。 She hopes to find the
true Italy in the wet I believe。〃
〃Miss Lavish is so original；〃 murmured Lucy。 This was a stock
remark； the supreme achievement of the Pension Bertolini in the
way of definition。 Miss Lavish was so original。 Mr。 Beebe had his
doubts； but they would have been put down to clerical narrowness。
For that； and for other reasons； he held his peace。
〃Is it true；〃 continued Lucy in awe…struck tone； 〃that Miss
Lavish is writing a book？〃
〃They do say so。〃
〃What is it about？〃
〃It will be a novel；〃 replied Mr。 Beebe； 〃dealing with modern
Italy。 Let me refer you for an account to Miss Catharine Alan；
who uses words herself more admirably than any one I know。〃
〃I wish Miss Lavish would tell me herself。 We started such
friends。 But I don't think she ought to have run away with
Baedeker that morning in Santa Croce。 Charlotte was most annoyed
at finding me practically alone； and so I couldn't help being a
little annoyed with Miss Lavish。〃
〃The two ladies； at all events； have made it up。〃
He was interested in the sudden friendship between women so
apparently dissimilar as Miss Bartlett and Miss Lavish。 They were
always in each other's company； with Lucy a slighted third。 Miss
Lavish he believed he understood； but Miss Bartlett might reveal
unknown depths of strangeness； though not perhaps； of meaning。
Was Italy deflecting her from the path of prim chaperon； which he
had assigned to her at Tunbridge Wells？ All his life he had loved
to study maiden ladies； they were his specialty； and his
profession had provided him with ample opportunities for the
work。 Girls like Lucy were charming to look at； but Mr。 Beebe
was； from rather profound reasons； somewhat chilly in his
attitude towards the other sex； and preferred to be interested
rather than enthralled。
Lucy； for the third time； said that poor Charlotte would be
sopped。 The Arno was rising in flood； washing away the traces of
the little carts upon the foreshore。 But in the south…west there
had appeared a dull haze of yellow； which might mean better
weather if it did not mean worse。 She opened the window to
inspect； and a cold blast entered the room； drawing a plaintive
cry from Miss Catharine Alan； who entered at the same moment by
the door。
〃Oh； dear Miss Honeychurch； you will catch a chill！ And Mr。 Beebe
here besides。 Who would suppose this is Italy？ There is my sister
actually nursing the hot…water can； no comforts or proper
provisions。〃
She sidled towards them and sat down； self…conscious as she
always was on entering a room which contained one man； or a man
and one woman。
〃I could hear your beautiful playing； Miss Honeychurch； though I
was in my room with the door shut。 Doors shut； indeed； most
necessary。 No one has the least idea of privacy in this country。
And one person catches it from another。〃
Lucy answered suitably。 Mr。 Beebe was not able to tell the ladies
of his adventure at Modena； where the chambermaid burst in upon
him in his bath； exclaiming cheerfully； 〃Fa niente； sono
vecchia。〃 He contented himself with saying： 〃I quite agree with
you； Miss Alan。 The Italians are a most unpleasant people。 They
pry everywhere； they see everything； and they know what we want
before we know it ourselves。 We are at their mercy。 They read our
thoughts； they foretell our desires。 From the cab…driver down
toto Giotto； they turn us inside out； and I resent it。 Yet in
their heart of hearts they arehow superficial！ They have no
conception of the intellectual life。 How right is Signora
Bertolini； who exclaimed to me the other day： 'Ho； Mr。 Beebe； if
you knew what I suffer over the children's edjucaishion。 HI
won't 'ave my little Victorier taught by a hignorant Italian
what can't explain nothink！'〃
Miss Alan did not follow； but gathered that she was being mocked
in an agreeable way。 Her sister was a little disappointed in Mr。
Beebe； having expected better things from a clergyman whose head
was bald and who wore a pair of russet whiskers。 Indeed； who
would have supposed that tolerance； sympathy； and a sense of
humour would inhabit that militant form？
In the midst of her satisfaction she continued to sidle； and at
last the cause was disclosed。 From the chair beneath her she
extracted a gun…metal cigarette…case； on which were powdered in
turquoise the initials 〃E。 L。〃
〃That belongs to Lavish。〃 said the clergyman。 〃A good fellow；
Lavish； but I wish she'd start a pipe。〃
〃Oh； Mr。 Beebe；〃 said Miss Alan； divided between awe and mirth。
〃Indeed； though it is dreadful for her to smoke； it is not quite
as dreadful as you suppose。 She took to it； practically in