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 repulsed1 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 factions2 for the return home. There was a general sense of groping and bewilderment. Pan had been amongst them--not 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 solitude3 the tea-basket which he had brought up as a pleasant surprise. Miss Lavish4 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, prophesying5 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.
"Apparently6. I told him it was unwise." He would look no one in the face; perhaps defeat was particularly mortifying7 for him. He alone had played skilfully8, using the whole of his instinct, while the others had used scraps9 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 grave--she 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 infinitely10 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 tavern11 story out of it. But after all, what have we to do with taverns12? Real menace belongs to the drawing-room. It was of drawing-room people that Miss Bartlett thought as she journeyed downwards13 towards the fading sun. Lucy sat beside her; Mr. Eager sat opposite, trying to catch her eye; he was vaguely14 suspicious. They spoke15 of Alessio Baldovinetti.
Rain and darkness came on together. The two ladies huddled16 together under an inadequate17 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 blasphemous18 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?"
"No--of 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. Courage--courage and faith."
Under the rug, Lucy felt the kindly19 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 pointed20 at the driver-"HE knows everything. Dearest, had we better? Shall I?" She took out her purse. "It is dreadful to be entangled21 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 miraculous22 preservation23, and the floods of love and sincerity24, which fructify25 every hour of life, burst forth26 in tumult27. They descended28 from the carriages; they embraced each other. It was as joyful29 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 mumbled30 a temperate31 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 I--I thought I was developing."
"Do not cry, dearest. Take your time."
"I have been obstinate32 and silly--worse than you know, far worse. Once by the river--Oh, but he isn't killed--he wouldn't be killed, would he?"
The thought disturbed her repentance33. As a matter of fact, the storm was worst along the road; but she had been near danger, and so she thought it must be near to every one.
"I trust not. One would always pray against that."
"He is really--I think he was taken by surprise, just as I was before. But this time I'm not to blame; I want you to believe that. I simply slipped into those violets. No, I want to be really truthful34. I am a little to blame. I had silly thoughts. The sky, you know, was gold, and the ground all blue, and for a moment he looked like some one in a book."
"In a book?"
"Heroes--gods--the nonsense of schoolgirls."
"And then?"
"But, Charlotte, you know what happened then."
Miss Bartlett was silent. Indeed, she had little more to learn. With a certain amount of insight she drew her young cousin affectionately to her. All the way back Lucy's body was shaken by deep sighs, which nothing could repress.
"I want to be truthful," she whispered. "It is so hard to be absolutely truthful."
"Don't be troubled, dearest. Wait till you are calmer. We will talk it over before bed-time in my room."
So they re-entered the city with hands clasped. It was a shock to the girl to find how far emotion had ebbed35 in others. The storm had ceased, and Mr. Emerson was easier about his son. Mr. Beebe had regained36 good humour, and Mr. Eager was already snubbing Miss Lavish. Charlotte alone she was sure of--Charlotte, whose exterior37 concealed38 so much insight and love.
The luxury of self-exposure kept her almost happy through the long evening. She thought not so much of what had happened as of how she should describe it. All her sensations, her spasms39 of courage, her moments of unreasonable40 joy, her mysterious discontent, should be carefully laid before her cousin. And together in divine confidence they would disentangle and interpret them all.
"At last," thought she, "I shall understand myself. I shan't again be troubled by things that come out of nothing, and mean I don't know what."
Miss Alan asked her to play. She refused vehemently41. Music seemed to her the employment of a child. She sat close to her cousin, who, with commendable42 patience, was listening to a long story about lost luggage. When it was over she capped it by a story of her own. Lucy became rather hysterical43 with the delay. In vain she tried to check, or at all events to accelerate, the tale. It was not till a late hour that Miss Bartlett had recovered her luggage and could say in her usual tone of gentle reproach:
"Well, dear, I at all events am ready for Bedfordshire. Come into my room, and I will give a good brush to your hair."
With some solemnity the door was shut, and a cane44 chair placed for the girl. Then Miss Bartlett said "So what is to be done?"
She was unprepared for the question. It had not occurred to her that she would have to do anything. A detailed45 exhibition of her emotions was all that she had counted upon.
"What is to be done? A point, dearest, which you alone can settle."
The rain was streaming down the black windows, and the great room felt damp and chilly46, One candle burnt trembling on the chest of drawers close to Miss Bartlett's toque, which cast monstrous47 and fantastic shadows on the bolted door. A tram roared by in the dark, and Lucy felt unaccountably sad, though she had long since dried her eyes. She lifted them to the ceiling, where the griffins and bassoons were colourless and vague, the very ghosts of joy.
"It has been raining for nearly four hours," she said at last.
Miss Bartlett ignored the remark.
"How do you propose to silence him?"
"The driver?"
"My dear girl, no; Mr. George Emerson."
Lucy began to pace up and down the room.
"I don't understand," she said at last.
She understood very well, but she no longer wished to be absolutely truthful.
"How are you going to stop him talking about it?"
"I have a feeling that talk is a thing he will never do."
"I, too, intend to judge him charitably. But unfortunately I have met the type before. They seldom keep their exploits to themselves."
"Exploits?" cried Lucy, wincing48 under the horrible plural49.
"My poor dear, did you suppose that this was his first? Come here and listen to me. I am only gathering50 it from his own remarks. Do you remember that day at lunch when he argued with Miss Alan that liking51 one person is an extra reason for liking another?"
"Yes," said Lucy, whom at the time the argument had pleased.
"Well, I am no prude. There is no need to call him a wicked young man, but obviously he is thoroughly52 unrefined. Let us put it down to his deplorable antecedents and education, if you wish. But we are no farther on with our question. What do you propose to do?"
An idea rushed across Lucy's brain, which, had she thought of it sooner and made it part of her, might have proved victorious53.
"I propose to speak to him," said she.
Miss Bartlett uttered a cry of genuine alarm.
"You see, Charlotte, your kindness--I shall never forget it. But--as you said--it is my affair. Mine and his."
"And you are going to IMPLORE54 him, to BEG him to keep silence?"
"Certainly not. There would be no difficulty. Whatever you ask him he answers, yes or no; then it is over. I have been frightened of him. But now I am not one little bit."
"But we fear him for you, dear. You are so young and inexperienced, you have lived among such nice people, that you cannot realize what men can be--how they can take a brutal55 pleasure in insulting a woman whom her sex does not protect and rally round. This afternoon, for example, if I had not arrived, what would have happened?"
"I can't think," said Lucy gravely.
Something in her voice made Miss Bartlett repeat her question, intoning it more vigorously.
"What would have happened if I hadn't arrived?"
"I can't think," said Lucy again.
"When he insulted you, how would you have replied?"
"I hadn't time to think. You came."
"Yes, but won't you tell me now what you would have done?"
"I should have--" She checked herself, and broke the sentence off. She went up to the dripping window and strained her eyes into the darkness. She could not think what she would have done.
"Come away from the window, dear," said Miss Bartlett. "You will be seen from the road."
Lucy obeyed. She was in her cousin's power. She could not modulate56 out the key of self-abasement in which she had started. Neither of them referred again to her suggestion that she should speak to George and settle the matter, whatever it was, with him.
Miss Bartlett became plaintive57.
"Oh, for a real man! We are only two women, you and I. Mr. Beebe is hopeless. There is Mr. Eager, but you do not trust him. Oh, for your brother! He is young, but I know that his sister's insult would rouse in him a very lion. Thank God, chivalry58 is not yet dead. There are still left some men who can reverence59 woman."
As she spoke, she pulled off her rings, of which she wore several, and ranged them upon the pin cushion. Then she blew into her gloves and said:
"It will be a push to catch the morning train, but we must try."
"What train?"
"The train to Rome." She looked at her gloves critically.
The girl received the announcement as easily as it had been given.
"When does the train to Rome go?"
"At eight."
"Signora Bertolini would be upset."
"We must face that," said Miss Bartlett, not liking to say that she had given notice already.
"She will make us pay for a whole week's pension."
"I expect she will. However, we shall be much more comfortable at the Vyses' hotel. Isn't afternoon tea given there for nothing?"
"Yes, but they pay extra for wine." After this remark she remained motionless and silent. To her tired eyes Charlotte throbbed60 and swelled61 like a ghostly figure in a dream.
They began to sort their clothes for packing, for there was no time to lose, if they were to catch the train to Rome. Lucy, when admonished62, began to move to and fro between the rooms, more conscious of the discomforts63 of packing by candlelight than of a subtler ill. Charlotte, who was practical without ability, knelt by the side of an empty trunk, vainly endeavouring to pave it with books of varying thickness and size. She gave two or three sighs, for the stooping posture64 hurt her back, and, for all her diplomacy65, she felt that she was growing old. The girl heard her as she entered the room, and was seized with one of those emotional impulses to which she could never attribute a cause. She only felt that the candle would burn better, the packing go easier, the world be happier, if she could give and receive some human love. The impulse had come before to-day, but never so strongly. She knelt down by her cousin's side and took her in her arms.
Miss Bartlett returned the embrace with tenderness and warmth. But she was not a stupid woman, and she knew perfectly66 well that Lucy did not love her, but needed her to love. For it was in ominous67 tones that she said, after a long pause:
"Dearest Lucy, how will you ever forgive me?"
Lucy was on her guard at once, knowing by bitter experience what forgiving Miss Bartlett meant. Her emotion relaxed, she modified her embrace a little, and she said:
"Charlotte dear, what do you mean? As if I have anything to forgive!"
"You have a great deal, and I have a very great deal to forgive myself, too. I know well how much I vex68 you at every turn."
"But no--"
Miss Bartlett assumed her favourite role, that of the prematurely69 aged70 martyr71.
"Ah, but yes! I feel that our tour together is hardly the success I had hoped. I might have known it would not do. You want some one younger and stronger and more in sympathy with you. I am too uninteresting and old-fashioned--only fit to pack and unpack72 your things."
"Please--"
"My only consolation73 was that you found people more to your taste, and were often able to leave me at home. I had my own poor ideas of what a lady ought to do, but I hope I did not inflict74 them on you more than was necessary. You had your own way about these rooms, at all events."
"You mustn't say these things," said Lucy softly.
She still clung to the hope that she and Charlotte loved each other, heart and soul. They continued to pack in silence.
"I have been a failure," said Miss Bartlett, as she struggled with the straps75 of Lucy's trunk instead of strapping76 her own. "Failed to make you happy; failed in my duty to your mother. She has been so generous to me; I shall never face her again after this disaster."
"But mother will understand. It is not your fault, this trouble, and it isn't a disaster either."
"It is my fault, it is a disaster. She will never forgive me, and rightly. Fur instance, what right had I to make friends with Miss Lavish?"
"Every right."
"When I was here for your sake? If I have vexed77 you it is equally true that I have neglected you. Your mother will see this as clearly as I do, when you tell her."
Lucy, from a cowardly wish to improve the situation, said:
"Why need mother hear of it?"
"But you tell her everything?"
"I suppose I do generally."
"I dare not break your confidence. There is something sacred in it. Unless you feel that it is a thing you could not tell her."
The girl would not be degraded to this.
"Naturally I should have told her. But in case she should blame you in any way, I promise I will not, I am very willing not to. I will never speak of it either to her or to any one."
Her promise brought the long-drawn interview to a sudden close. Miss Bartlett pecked her smartly on both cheeks, wished her good-night, and sent her to her own room.
For a moment the original trouble was in the background. George would seem to have behaved like a cad throughout; perhaps that was the view which one would take eventually. At present she neither acquitted78 nor condemned79 him; she did not pass judgment80. At the moment when she was about to judge him her cousin's voice had intervened, and, ever since, it was Miss Bartlett who had dominated; Miss Bartlett who, even now, could be heard sighing into a crack in the partition wall; Miss Bartlett, who had really been neither pliable81 nor humble82 nor inconsistent. She had worked like a great artist; for a time--indeed, for years--she had been meaningless, but at the end there was presented to the girl the complete picture of a cheerless, loveless world in which the young rush to destruction until they learn better--a shamefaced world of precautions and barriers which may avert83 evil, but which do not seem to bring good, if we may judge from those who have used them most.
Lucy was suffering from the most grievous wrong which this world has yet discovered: diplomatic advantage had been taken of her sincerity, of her craving84 for sympathy and love. Such a wrong is not easily forgotten. Never again did she expose herself without due consideration and precaution against rebuff. And such a wrong may react disastrously85 upon the soul.
The door-bell rang, and she started to the shutters86. Before she reached them she hesitated, turned, and blew out the candle. Thus it was that, though she saw some one standing87 in the wet below, he, though he looked up, did not see her.
To reach his room he had to go by hers. She was still dressed. It struck her that she might slip into the passage and just say that she would be gone before he was up, and that their extraordinary intercourse88 was over.
Whether she would have dared to do this was never proved. At the critical moment Miss Bartlett opened her own door, and her voice said:
"I wish one word with you in the drawing-room, Mr. Emerson, please."
Soon their footsteps returned, and Miss Bartlett said: "Good-night, Mr. Emerson."
His heavy, tired breathing was the only reply; the chaperon had done her work.
Lucy cried aloud: "It isn't true. It can't all be true. I want not to be muddled89. I want to grow older quickly."
Miss Bartlett tapped on the wall.
"Go to bed at once, dear. You need all the rest you can get."
In the morning they left for Rome.
整个下午，上下山坡时都在进行一场错综复杂的游戏。至于进行的是什么游戏，玩游戏的人究竟谁和谁是一方，露西过了好久才明白。伊格先生用一种询问的目光看她们。夏绿蒂则一直在闲谈，用这办法来抵制伊格先生。艾默森先生在找他的儿子，人们指点他到哪里去找。毕比先生保持着中立者的激动的外表，被吩咐把各方面的人集合起来，准备回家。大家心里都不踏实，感到惶惑不安。潘神混进他们中间了——不是已被埋葬两千年的潘大神（译注：①潘，希腊神话中的畜牧神，是田野、森林、野兽、羊群的守护神。），而是主管社交方面发生的使人尴尬的小插曲与不成功的郊游的潘小神。毕比先生和所有的人失散了，独自一人享用了食品篮里的东西，他所以带着食品篮，原是想出其不意，让大家高兴高兴的。拉维希小姐和巴特利特小姐失散了。露西和伊格先生失散了。艾默森先生和乔治失散了。巴特利特小姐还失落了一块方的防水胶布。法厄同则在游戏中成了输家。
最后的那个事实是否认不了的。他爬上驾车座，浑身哆嗦，把领子翻了起来，预言风暴即将来临。
“我们马上离开这里吧，”他对大家说。“那位少爷要走回去了。”
“一直走到家？那他可要走好几个钟头呢！”毕比先生说。
“显然如此。我对他讲过这样做很不明智。”他不愿正眼看任何人；也许他对失败特别感到可耻。只有他一个人曾熟练地玩游戏，把全部天生的能耐都用上去了，而其他人只用了点滴的聪明才智。只有他一个人预见这到底是怎么一回事，并希望是怎么一回事。只有他一个人对露西五天前从一个奄奄一息的人的口中得到的信息作出了解释。普西芬尼——她一半生命等于是在坟墓里度过的——也能解释这个信息。可是这些英国人解释不了。他们了解情况相当缓慢，往往也许太迟了。
然而一个车夫的想法，不管多么公正，不太可能影响雇用他的人的生活。他是巴特利特小姐最大的劲敌，可也是最最不危险的对手。一旦回到了城里，他那洞察事物的本领与他所了解的情况就不会使英国女士们感到烦恼了。当然啰，这是一件非常不愉快的事；她在灌木丛中看到了他的一头黑发；他很可能在小酒店里把这事加以宣扬。不过，话说回来，小酒店和我们又有什么关系呢？真正的威胁来自客厅。马车载着巴特利特小姐，迎着夕阳，飞驰下山，这时她考虑的就是客厅里的人士。露西坐在她的旁边；伊格先生坐在对面，企图引起她的注意；他隐隐约约地感到有些可疑。他们谈论着阿莱西奥‘巴尔多维内蒂。
天色暗下来，同时下起了雨。两位女士蜷缩在一把遮蔽不了的阳伞下面。一道闪电掠过，在前面马车里的拉维希小姐，本来已够紧张的了，这时尖叫起来。接着又是一道闪电，露西也尖叫起来。伊格先生带着他职业的特点对她说：
“勇敢些，霍尼彻奇小姐，要有勇气和信念。如果我可以这样说的话，这样的风雨交作，雷电交加，几乎多少带些亵渎神灵的成分。难道我们真以为这么些云朵，这一切雷电的狂肆暴虐，都仅仅是为了消灭你我才应召出现的吗？”
“不——当然不——”
“即使从科学的观点来看，我们这些人不被雷电击中的可能性实在太大了。那些用餐的钢刀是唯一可能导电的物件，却都在另一辆马车里。再说，我们在车子里无论如何比在下面步行要安全得多。勇敢些——要有勇气和信念。”
露西感到她表姐的手在毛毯下面友好地按了她一下。有时候我们非常需要同情的表示，以致无暇顾及这一表示到底意味着什么，或者以后我们可能为此付出多少代价。巴特利特小姐这一及时锻炼肌肉的动作使她的收获比她几小时的说教或盘问所获得的要大得多。
两辆马车停下来，即将进入佛罗伦萨，巴特利特小姐又重复一次她的那个动作。
“伊格先生！”毕比先生叫道。“我们需要你的帮助。你替我们做做翻译好吗？”
“乔治！”艾默森先生①（译注：①他突然想起儿子是一路走回去的。）大声说。“问问你们的车夫，乔治从哪条路走的。这孩子可能迷路了。他可能被人杀死呢。”
“过去吧，伊格先生，”巴特利特小姐说。“不，别问我们的车夫；我们的车夫帮不了忙。过去扶扶可怜的毕比先生吧；他快神经错乱啦。”
“他可能被人杀死！”那老人叫道。“他可能被人杀死！”
“典型的表现，”副牧师一面下马车，一面说。“在现实面前，这种人免不了是要精神崩溃的。”
“他知道什么？”一等到她们俩单独在一起，露西就低声对巴特利特小姐说。“夏绿蒂，伊格先生到底知道多少？”
“什么也不知道，最最亲爱的；他什么也不知道。不过”——她指指车夫——“他可什么都知道，最最亲爱的，我们还是最好表示一下？要我来干吗？”她取出钱袋。“和下等人缠在一起太可怕了。他什么都看见了。”她用旅游指南轻轻地敲了敲法厄同的背，说，“不要对人说！”随手给他一法郎。
“好吧，”他回答，收下了这一法郎。他的一天就这样结束了，像往常一样。可是露西，一个人间的年轻姑娘，对他感到很失望。
大路前方发生了一起爆炸事故。风暴击中了有轨电车的架空电缆，一个大支架倒下来了。要是他们没有停车，他们很可能会受伤的。他们都愿意把这次脱险看做一个奇迹，于是每时每刻都可能促使生命开花结果的爱与真诚像山洪一样突然爆发了。他们从马车上下来，相互拥抱。有的人过去行为不够检点，现在得到别人的宽恕，固然心情愉快，但宽恕别人的人的心情也同样愉快。在那一瞬间，他们使善良由巨大的可能性变为现实。
年纪大一些的人很快便恢复到先前的状态。他们虽然万分激动，却知道这种情绪有失君子风度与大家闺秀的风范。拉维希小姐估计，即使他们刚才继续前进，也不会遇上这一事故。伊格先生低声做起适度的祷告来。可是车夫们赶了好几英里又暗又脏的路，向林中仙子与圣徒倾诉自己的衷肠，而露西也向她的表姐诉说。
“夏绿蒂，亲爱的夏绿蒂，吻我吧。再吻我一次。只有你才理解我。你警告过我要谨慎。而我——我却以为我一直在变得成熟呢。”
“不要哭，最亲爱的。慢慢说。”
“我一直很固执，也很愚蠢——比你了解的更糟，糟糕得多。有一次在河边——噢，不过他没有被杀死—一他不会被杀死的，是吗？”
这一念头干扰了她的悔恨心情。事实上，一路上风雨有增无减；但她曾经面临危险，因此以为每个人都一定面临着危险。
“我想不会的。人们总该祈祷不要发生那样的事情。”
“他真是这样——我想他当时是完全出乎意料，就像我以前那样。不过这次不能怪我；我要你相信这一点。我完全是滑入那些紫罗兰花丛的。不，我要把全部真实情况讲出来。我也有些该责怪的地方。我有荒唐的想法。你知道，天空是金色的，大地全是蓝色的，就在那一刹那，他看上去像小说里的人物。”
“小说里的？”
“英雄——神——女学生的胡思乱想。”
“后来呢？”
“可是，夏绿蒂，你是知道后来发生了什么事的。”
巴特利特小姐沉默不语。她确实没有什么再需要了解的了。她的观察力相当敏锐，这时，她满怀深情地把她的年轻表妹拉到自己身边。在整个回家路上，露西怎么也控制不住连连深深地叹息，身躯不断地颤动。
“我要把真实情况讲出来，”她低声说。“把全部真实情况讲出来可真不容易啊！”
“别操心了，最亲爱的。等你平静下来再说。我们睡觉前在我房间里再细谈吧。”
于是她们紧紧地握着手，重新进入了这个城市。姑娘发现其他人的激情大大地减退了，觉得十分震惊。这时风暴已经停止，艾默森先生对儿子也不那么着急了。毕比先生又变得兴致勃勃起来，而伊格先生已经在开始冷落拉维希小姐了。露西感到使她放心的只有夏绿蒂一夏绿蒂，她的外表掩盖了非常深刻的洞察力与爱。
自我暴露这一种奢侈享受使得她几乎愉快地度过了漫长的黄昏。她考虑得更多的倒不是发生了什么事，而是她应该如何描述这事。她的种种感受、阵阵迸发的勇气、有时感到的莫名其妙的欢乐、说不清楚的不满足的感觉，都应该细致地在她表姐的面前和盘托出。然后两个人一起，推心置腹地对这一切进行清理并作出解释。
她想：“我终于会理解自己了。再也不会为那些无中生有、莫名其妙的事情庸人自扰了。”
艾伦小姐请她弹琴。她言词激烈地拒绝了。这时在她看来，演奏音乐似乎只是一种儿戏。她紧挨着她表姐坐着，而她表姐正以值得赞美的耐心在听别人叙述失落行李的详细经过。等那人讲完了，表姐讲了一番她自己失落行李的经历，竟讲得更精彩。这一耽搁，可使露西差一点歇斯底里发作。她试图阻止她讲下去，或者无论如何要加快故事的进程，但是都没有成功。直到夜深了，巴特利特小姐才讲完找回她的行李的经过，用她那习以为常的温和的自责口吻说：“唔，亲爱的，不管怎样，我已作好梦游贝德福德郡（译注：贝德福郡在英格兰中部）的准备了。到我的房间来吧，我替你好好把头发梳理一下。”
房门被郑重其事地关上了，给姑娘放好了一把藤椅。然后巴特利特小姐说：
“那么怎么办呢？”
对这个问题露西没有思想准备。她根本没有想到她必须采取什么行动。她原来想做的无非是详细地展示她的感情而已。
“怎么办呢？最亲爱的，这个问题只有你自己能解决。”
雨水从黑色窗户上淌下来，这间大房间又湿又冷。五斗橱上点燃着一支蜡烛，紧靠着巴特利特小姐的小圆帽，摇曳的烛光在上了闩的门上投下各种稀奇古怪、阴森恐怖的黑影。在黑暗中，一辆电车呼啸而过，露西感到说不出的悲哀，虽然她停止流泪已好一会儿了。她抬眼望着天花板，上面的鹰头狮身双翅怪兽与巴松管看上去很模糊，没有什么颜色，它们都是欢乐的幻影。
“雨已经下了快四小时了，”她终于开口了。
巴特利特小姐没有理会这句话。
“你说怎么能使他不讲出去？”
“你说的是车夫？”
“不，亲爱的小姐，不；是乔治·艾默森先生。”
露西开始在房间里来回走动。
她终于说话了，“我弄不明白。”
其实她很明白，不过她已不再希望把全部真实情况说出来了。
“你有什么办法可以阻止他讲出去？”
“我有一种感觉，他是永远也不会讲的。”
“我也想对他尽量估计得宽厚一点。不过，不幸的是，这种类型的人我以前见过。他们对自己的那些辉煌成就难以保密。”
“那些辉煌成就？”露西叫喊道，对这个词用了可怕的复数不禁眉头皱了一下。
“我可怜的好姑娘，难道你以为这是他第一次吗？过来，听我说。我只是从他自己讲的话里得出这个结论的。你还记得吗，那天吃午饭时，他和艾伦小姐争论，说喜欢了一个人，就多了一个理由去喜欢另一个人？”
“记得，”露西说，当时这个论点很中她的心意。
“好了，我可不是那种假正经的女人。没有必要把他说成是个不安好心的青年，不过，很清楚，他一点儿教养也没有。这一点，如果你愿意的话，我们可以归诸于他的可悲的祖先与教育。但是我们的问题还是停在老地方。你提个建议，该怎么办？”
露西的头脑中突然掠过一个念头，要是她早些时候就想到这个念头，而且使它成为她的一部分，那么这个念头很可能已被证明是能奏效的。
“我建议和他谈一次，”她说。
巴特利特小姐发出了一声真正惊慌的叫声。
“你知道，夏绿蒂，你的好心——我将永远铭记心中。不过，——正像你所说的——这是我的事情。我的和他的事情。”
“因此你将恳求他，请求他不要声张？”
“当然不是这样。但是不会有什么困难的。不管你问他什么，他总回答是或不；这样就过去了。过去我怕他。不过现在我一点儿也不怕了。”
“可是我们替你害怕啊，亲爱的。你非常年轻，缺乏经验，一直生活在好心人中间，以致你根本不可能认识到男人会坏到什么地步～他们会欺负一个女人，残酷无情地从中找到乐趣，但是女人们并不集合在她的周围来保护她。譬如说，今天下午，要是我没有及时赶到，那么会发生什么事情呢？”
“我想象不出，”露西严肃地说。
她嗓音中的某种变化使巴特利特小姐重复她的问话，并且特别使劲用了拖音。
“要是我没有及时赶到，那么会发生什么事情呢？”
“我想象不出，”露西又一次回答。
“他欺负你的时候，你打算怎样对付？”
“我当时来不及思考。你就来了。”
“对，不过你现在能否告诉我你那时会怎么干？”
“我会——”句子说了一半，她便顿住了。她走到淌着雨水的窗子面前，眼睛用力朝黑暗中看。她想不出她当时会怎么干。
“不要站在窗前，亲爱的，”巴特利特小姐说。“街上的人看得见你。”
露西服从了。她听任表姐的摆布。她一开始的基调就是贬低自己，现在也不可能改变嗓门，不唱这个调子。两人都没有再提露西的建议：她将和乔治谈一次，同他一起解决这个问题，不管到底是什么问题。
巴特利特小姐变得哀伤起来。
“但愿有一个真正的男子汉！我们只是两个女人，你和我。对毕比先生没有什么可以指望的。倒是伊格先生，不过你不信任他。要是你弟弟在这里就好了！他虽然年轻，但是我知道他姐姐受的欺侮会激发他成为一头雄狮。感谢上帝，骑士行为还没有完全消灭。毕竟还有一些男入能够尊敬女性。”
她一面说，一面把戒指脱掉，她手上原戴着好几只呢，她把它们并排放在缝针垫上。接着，她在一副手套里吹了口气说：
“赶早车将非常紧张，可是我们非得试试。”
“什么车？”
“去罗马的火车。”她带着挑剔的眼光望着她的手套。
这通知轻松地发布了，它被姑娘同样轻松地接受了。
“去罗马的火车什么时候开？”
“八点。”
“贝尔托利尼太太会恼火的。”
“我们必须好好应付她，”巴特利特小姐说，不想说她早已通知房东太太了。
“她会要我们付足一个礼拜的房金与伙食费的。”
“我想她会的。无论如何，我们在维斯一家饭店住得将会舒服得多。那里的午后茶点不是免费供应的吗？”
“是的，不过酒他们要额外收费。”
说完这句话，她便一动也不动，不再开口了。凭她的疲惫的目光看来，夏绿蒂像梦幻中的幽灵那样搏动着，膨胀着。
她们开始收拾衣服，整理行装，因为时间非常紧，如果她们打算赶开往罗马的那班火车的话。露西在获得告诫后，便开始在两间房之间来回跑动，在烛光下整理行装非常不方便，她的这一感觉压倒了一种隐隐约约的不祥之感。夏绿蒂讲究实际，但能力不强，跪在一只空箱旁，试图在箱子里铺书，书有大有小，有厚有薄，总是铺不平。她叹了两三口气，由于老是弯着腰，她感到背疼，尽管她处理人际关系很在行，她觉得正在变老了。姑娘进入房间时．听见她在叹气，这时又兜起了一阵她常有的那种莫名其妙的感情冲动。她只感到假使她能给别人或从别人那里得到一些人类的爱，那么蜡烛就会明亮一些，收拾行李也会容易一些，整个世界也会快乐一些。这种冲动以前她也有过，不过从来没有像今天这样强烈。她在她表姐身边跪下，把她搂在怀里。
巴特利特小姐也热情和温柔地拥抱露西。但她不是个愚蠢的女人，完全清楚露西并不爱她，只是需要她来承受爱罢了。因此，过了好一会儿，她才用一种使人感到不妙的口气说道：
“最亲爱的露西，不知道你会不会原谅我？”
露西立刻警觉起来，凭着过去的惨痛经验，知道原谅巴特利特小姐意味着什么。她的感情平静下来，拥抱得稍为松弛了一些，说：
“亲爱的夏绿蒂，你这是什么意思？好像我有什么地方可以原谅你似的！”
“你有许多，而我也有许多地方需要原谅自己。我很清楚，每一次我都惹你生气。”
“不过，不是这么回事——”
巴特利特小姐扮演起她最喜欢扮演的角色，那就是一位富于自我牺牲精神的未老先衰的女人。
“噢，是的！我觉得我们一起旅行并不像我所希望的那样，是一次成功的旅游。我本来应该明白这是不可能会成功的。你需要一个更年轻、更强健而更能同情你的人做伴。我这个人太枯燥乏味，过时哕！——只配给你收拾行李和打开行李。”
“请你——”
“我唯一的安慰是你找到了更加适合你的口味的人，这样可以常常让我留在家里。对于一位小姐的举止应该怎么样，我有我自己的粗浅的看法，但是我希望，除了必要外，我没有强加于你。不管怎么样，关于这两间房间还是你作了主张的。”
“你不要这样讲话，”露西柔声说。
她对自己和夏绿蒂彼此全心全意地热爱着对方，仍然抱着希望。她们没有再说话，继续整理行装。
“我一直是个失败者，”巴特利特小姐一面说，一面费力地替露西的箱子而不是替自己的箱子系上皮带。“我没能使你高兴；没能尽到我对你妈妈应负的责任。她对我非常慷慨；经过了这场灾难，我再也没有脸去见她了。”
“不过妈妈会明白的。这次麻烦不是你的过错，而且也算不上一场灾难。”
“是我的过错，也正是一场灾难。她永远也不会原谅我，而且完全有理由这样做。譬如说，我有什么权利同拉维希小姐交朋友？”
“你有一切权利。”
“在我为了你才到这里来的一段时间里？要是我的确惹你生气了，那么同样我也的确没有照看好你。你告诉你妈妈时，她看这件事将会和我一样清楚。”
露西从懦弱的愿望出发，想弥补事态，说：
“为什么妈妈需要知道呢？”
“可你什么事都告诉她的吧？”
“我想一般说来我是这样做的。”
“我不敢破坏你对她的信任。这种信任多少是神圣的。除非你认为这件事你不能告诉她。”
姑娘可不愿意把人格降低到这个地步。
“我当然应该告诉她。不过，万一她有怪你的意思，我答应你我就不会告诉她。我非常愿意不告诉她。这件事无论对她或者对其他人我永远不会提起。”
她的许诺使这一次拖得很长的交谈一下子结束了。巴特利特小姐潇洒地在她的两颊轻轻地亲了一下，祝她晚安，便把她打发到她自己的房间去了。
原先的麻烦暂时退居幕后。乔治的行为看来自始至终就像是个无赖；也许这就是人们最终会采取的对他的看法。当前她既不宣告他无罪，也不宣判他有罪；她并不作出判决。正当她要对他进行判断时，表姐的声音便插进来了，打那时起，控制局面的是巴特利特小姐；甚至现在都可以听到巴特利特小姐对着隔墙的一道裂缝在叹气；巴特利特小姐真正可算是一个既不言听计从，又不低声下气，也不自相矛盾的人。她像一位伟大的艺术家那样辛勤地工作；在一段时期内——的确，在好多年内——她似乎无所作为，不过到了最后却呈献给姑娘一幅完整的画，那是个没有欢乐也没有爱的世界，在这个世界里，青年人冲向毁灭，直到他们学会变得聪明些——那是个充满戒备与障碍的羞怯的世界，我们也许可以从那些最最充分利用了戒备与障碍的人身上作出判断：戒备与障碍可能使人避开邪恶，但是看来它们不会给人带来善良。
露西忍受着人间迄今为止所发现的最难以忍受的委屈：她的诚挚、她对同情与爱的渴望，被人施展了圆滑的手腕所利用了。这样的委屈是不会轻易忘却的。从此以后．她在袒露心迹以前都要郑重考虑和万分小心，免得被碰回来。而这种委屈会对心灵产生极其严重的影响。
门铃响了，她向百叶窗走去。她还没有走到窗前便犹豫起来，转过身子，吹灭了蜡烛。就这样，她看见下面有一个人影站在雨里，而他，虽然在抬头往上看，但没有看到她。
他要回到自己的房间，必须经过她的房间。她还没有换衣服。她突然闪过一个念头，她满可以偷偷地溜到过道里，仅仅告诉他第二天他起身时，她将已离开了，还有，他们这一段奇特的交往也就结束了。
她到底敢不敢这样做，始终没有得到证实。就在这个紧要关头，巴特利特小姐打开她自己的房门，只听得她的声音说：
“对不起，艾默森先生，我想在客厅里同你讲一句话。”
过了一会儿，又响起了他们的脚步声。巴特利特小姐说：“晚安，艾默森先生。”
他那沉重、疲乏的喘气声是唯一的回答；这位少女监护人完成了她的任务。
露西出声叫道：“这不是真的。这一切不可能都是真的。我不想变得浑浑噩噩。我要很快成长起来。”
巴特利特小姐轻轻地叩墙。
“亲爱的，马上去睡吧。你需要你能得到的全部休息。”
第二天早晨她们动身到罗马去了。
收听单词发音 |
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repulsed
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| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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factions
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| 组织中的小派别，派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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prophesying
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的现在分词 ) | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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mortifying
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| adj.抑制的，苦修的v.使受辱( mortify的现在分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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scraps
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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taverns
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| n.小旅馆，客栈，酒馆( tavern的名词复数 ) | |
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downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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blasphemous
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| adj.亵渎神明的，不敬神的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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fructify
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| v.结果实；使土地肥沃 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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temperate
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| adj.温和的，温带的，自我克制的，不过分的 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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ebbed
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的过去式和过去分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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spasms
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| n.痉挛( spasm的名词复数 )；抽搐；（能量、行为等的）突发；发作 | |
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unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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commendable
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| adj.值得称赞的 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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plural
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| n.复数；复数形式；adj.复数的 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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modulate
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| v.调整，调节(音的强弱)；变调 | |
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plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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58
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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discomforts
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| n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 )；不愉快，苦恼 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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vex
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| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
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prematurely
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| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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72
unpack
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| vt.打开包裹（或行李），卸货 | |
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73
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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74
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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75
straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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76
strapping
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| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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79
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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80
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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81
pliable
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| adj.易受影响的；易弯的；柔顺的，易驾驭的 | |
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82
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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83
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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84
craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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85
disastrously
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| ad.灾难性地 | |
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86
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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87
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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88
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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89
muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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