Chapter 7

Chapter 7

At about nine o'clock next morning Perfetta went out on to
the loggia, not to look at the view, but to throw some dirty
water at it. "Scusi tanto!" she wailed, for the water
spattered a tall young lady who had for some time been
tapping at the lower door.

"Is Signor Carella in?" the young lady asked. It was no
business of Perfetta's to be shocked, and the style of the
visitor seemed to demand the reception-room. Accordingly
she opened its shutters, dusted a round patch on one of the
horsehair chairs, and bade the lady do herself the
inconvenience of sitting down. Then she ran into Monteriano
and shouted up and down its streets until such time as her
young master should hear her.

The reception-room was sacred to the dead wife. Her
shiny portrait hung upon the wall--similar, doubtless, in all
respects to the one which would be pasted on her tombstone.
A little piece of black drapery had been tacked above the
frame to lend a dignity to woe. But two of the tacks had
fallen out, and the effect was now rakish, as of a
drunkard's bonnet. A coon song lay open on the piano, and
of the two tables one supported Baedeker's "Central Italy,"
the other Harriet's inlaid box. And over everything there
lay a deposit of heavy white dust, which was only blown off
one moment to thicken on another. It is well to be
remembered with love. It is not so very dreadful to be
forgotten entirely. But if we shall resent anything on
earth at all, we shall resent the consecration of a deserted
room.

Miss Abbott did not sit down, partly because the
antimacassars might harbour fleas, partly because she had
suddenly felt faint, and was glad to cling on to the funnel
of the stove. She struggled with herself, for she had need
to be very calm; only if she was very calm might her
behaviour be justified. She had broken faith with Philip
and Harriet: she was going to try for the baby before they
did. If she failed she could scarcely look them in the face
again.

"Harriet and her brother," she reasoned, "don't realize
what is before them. She would bluster and be rude; he
would be pleasant and take it as a joke. Both of them--even
if they offered money--would fail. But I begin to understand
the man's nature; he does not love the child, but he will be
touchy about it--and that is quite as bad for us. He's
charming, but he's no fool; he conquered me last year; he
conquered Mr. Herriton yesterday, and if I am not careful he
will conquer us all today, and the baby will grow up in
Monteriano. He is terribly strong; Lilia found that out,
but only I remember it now."

This attempt, and this justification of it, were the
results of the long and restless night.