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Persephone whom he asked leave to pick up on the way； saying
that she was his sisterPersephone； tall and slender and pale；
returning with the Spring to her mother's cottage； and still
shading her eyes from the unaccustomed light。 To her Mr。 Eager
objected； saying that here was the thin edge of the wedge； and
one must guard against imposition。 But the ladies interceded； and
when it had been made clear that it was a very great favour； the
goddess was allowed to mount beside the god。
Phaethon at once slipped the left rein over her head； thus
enabling himself to drive with his arm round her waist。 She did
not mind。 Mr。 Eager； who sat with his back to the horses； saw
nothing of the indecorous proceeding； and continued his
conversation with Lucy。 The other two occupants of the carriage
were old Mr。 Emerson and Miss Lavish。 For a dreadful thing had
happened： Mr。 Beebe； without consulting Mr。 Eager； had doubled
the size of the party。 And though Miss Bartlett and Miss Lavish
had planned all the morning how the people were to sit； at the
critical moment when the carriages came round they lost their
heads； and Miss Lavish got in with Lucy； while Miss Bartlett；
with George Emerson and Mr。 Beebe； followed on behind。
It was hard on the poor chaplain to have his partie carree thus
transformed。 Tea at a Renaissance villa； if he had ever meditated
it； was now impossible。 Lucy and Miss Bartlett had a certain
style about them； and Mr。 Beebe； though unreliable； was a man of
parts。 But a shoddy lady writer and a journalist who had murdered
his wife in the sight of Godthey should enter no villa at his
introduction。
Lucy； elegantly dressed in white； sat erect and nervous amid
these explosive ingredients； attentive to Mr。 Eager； repressive
towards Miss Lavish； watchful of old Mr。 Emerson； hitherto
fortunately asleep； thanks to a heavy lunch and the drowsy
atmosphere of Spring。 She looked on the expedition as the work of
Fate。 But for it she would have avoided George Emerson
successfully。 In an open manner he had shown that he wished to
continue their intimacy。 She had refused； not because she
disliked him； but because she did not know what had happened； and
suspected that he did know。 And this frightened her。
For the real eventwhatever it washad taken place； not in the
Loggia； but by the river。 To behave wildly at the sight of death
is pardonable。 But to discuss it afterwards； to pass from
discussion into silence； and through silence into sympathy； that
is an error； not of a startled emotion； but of the whole fabric。
There was really something blameworthy （she thought） in their
joint contemplation of the shadowy stream； in the common impulse
which had turned them to the house without the passing of a look
or word。 This sense of wickedness had been slight at first。 She
had nearly joined the party to the Torre del Gallo。 But each time
that she avoided George it became more imperative that she should
avoid him again。 And now celestial irony； working through her
cousin and two clergymen； did not suffer her to leave Florence
till she had made this expedition with him through the hills。
Meanwhile Mr。 Eager held her in civil converse； their little tiff
was over。
〃So； Miss Honeychurch； you are travelling？ As a student of art？〃
〃Oh； dear me； nooh； no！〃
〃Perhaps as a student of human nature；〃 interposed Miss Lavish；
〃like myself？〃
〃Oh； no。 I am here as a tourist。〃
〃Oh； indeed；〃 said Mr。 Eager。 〃Are you indeed？ If you will not
think me rude； we residents sometimes pity you poor tourists
not a littlehanded about like a parcel of goods from Venice to
Florence； from Florence to Rome； living herded together in
pensions or hotels； quite unconscious of anything that is outside
Baedeker； their one anxiety to get 'done' or 'through' and go on
somewhere else。 The result is； they mix up towns； rivers； palaces
in one inextricable whirl。 You know the American girl in Punch
who says： 'Say； poppa； what did we see at Rome？' And the father
replies： 'Why； guess Rome was the place where we saw the yaller
dog。' There's travelling for you。 Ha！ ha！ ha！〃
〃I quite agree；〃 said Miss Lavish； who had several times tried to
interrupt his mordant wit。 〃The narrowness and superficiality of
the Anglo…Saxon tourist is nothing less than a menace。〃
〃Quite so。 Now； the English colony at Florence； Miss Honeychurch
and it is of considerable size； though； of course； not all
equallya few are here for trade； for example。 But the greater
part are students。 Lady Helen Laverstock is at present busy over
Fra Angelico。 I mention her name because we are passing her villa
on the left。 No； you can only see it if you standno； do not
stand； you will fall。 She is very proud of that thick hedge。
Inside； perfect seclusion。 One might have gone back six hundred
years。 Some critics believe that her garden was the scene of The
Decameron； which lends it an additional interest； does it not？〃
〃It does indeed！〃 cried Miss Lavish。 〃Tell me； where do they
place the scene of that wonderful seventh day？〃
But Mr。 Eager proceeded to tell Miss Honeychurch that on the
right lived Mr。 Someone Something； an American of the best type
so rare！and that the Somebody Elses were farther down the
hill。 〃Doubtless you know her monographs in the series of
'Mediaeval Byways'？ He is working at Gemistus Pletho。 Sometimes
as I take tea in their beautiful grounds I hear； over the wall；
the electric tram squealing up the new road with its loads of hot；
dusty； unintelligent tourists who are going to 'do' Fiesole in an
hour in order that they may say they have been there； and I
thinkthinkI think how little they think what lies so near
them。〃
During this speech the two figures on the box were sporting with
each other disgracefully。 Lucy had a spasm of envy。 Granted that
they wished to misbehave； it was pleasant for them to be able to
do so。 They were probably the only people enjoying the
expedition。 The carriage swept with agonizing jolts up through
the Piazza of Fiesole and into the Settignano road。
〃Piano！ piano！〃 said Mr。 Eager； elegantly waving his hand over
his head。
〃Va bene； signore； va bene； va bene；〃 crooned the driver； and
whipped his horses up again。
Now Mr。 Eager and Miss Lavish began to talk against each other on
the subject of Alessio Baldovinetti。 Was he a cause of the
Renaissance； or was he one of its manifestations？ The other
carriage was left behind。 As the pace increased to a gallop the
large； slumbering form of Mr。 Emerson was thrown against the
chaplain with the regularity of a machine。
〃Piano！ piano！〃 said he； with a martyred look at Lucy。
An extra lurch made him turn angrily in his seat。 Phaethon； who
for some time had been endeavouring to kiss Persephone； had just
succeeded。
A little scene ensued； which； as Miss Bartlett said afterwards；
was most unpleasant。 The horses were stopped； the lovers were
ordered to disentangle themselves； the boy was to lose his
pourboire； the girl was immediately to get down。
〃She is my sister；〃 said he； turning round on them with piteous
eyes。
Mr。 Eager took the trouble to tell him that he was a liar。
Phaethon hung down his head； not at the matter of the accusation；
but at its manner。 At this point Mr。 Emerson； whom the shock of
stopping had awoke； declared that the lovers must on no account
be separated； and patted them on the back to signify his
approval。 And Miss Lavish； though unwilling to ally him； felt
bound to support the cause of Bohemianism。
〃Most certainly I would let them be；〃 she cried。 〃But I dare say
I shall receive scant support。 I have always flown in the face of
the conventions all my life。 This is what I call an adventure。〃
〃We must not submit；〃 said Mr。 Eager。 〃I knew he was trying it
on。 He is treating us as if we were a party of Cook's tourists。〃
〃Surely no！〃 said Miss Lavish； her ardour visibly decreasing。
The other carriage had drawn up behind； and sensible Mr。 Beebe
called out that after this warning the couple would be sure to
behave themselves properly。
〃Leave them alone；〃 Mr。 Emerson begged the chaplain； of whom he
stood in no awe。 〃Do we find happiness so often that we should
turn it off the box when it happens to sit there？ To be driven by
lovers A king might envy us； and if we part them it's more
like sacrilege than anything I know。〃
Here the voice of Miss Bartlett was heard saying that a crowd
had begun to collect。
Mr。 Eager； who suffered from an over…fluent tongue rather than a
resolute will； was determined to make himself heard。 He addressed
the driver again。 Italian in the mouth of Italians is a
deep…voiced stream； with unexpected cataracts and boulders to
preserve it from monotony。 In Mr。 Eager's mouth it resembled
nothing so much as an acid whistling fountain which played ever
higher and higher； and quicke