MISS BROWN A NOVEL  BY VERNON LEE AUTHOR OF ‘EUPHORION , ’ ‘BELCARO , ’ ETC.  IN THREE VOLUMES  VOL. I .  WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS EDINBURGH AND LONDON  MDCCLXXXIV  All Rights Reserved  TO HENRY JAMES , I DEDICATE , FOR GOOD LUCK , MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT A NOVEL .  BOOK I .  MISS BROWN .  CHAPTER I .  IT was melancholy to admit that Italy also had ceased to interest him , thought Hamlin , as he smoked his cigarette on the hillside above the Villa Arnolfini ; melancholy , although , in truth , he had suspected as much throughout the journey , and , indeed , before starting .  Pale , milky morning sky , deepening into luminous blue opposite the fast‐rising sun ; misty blue‐green valley bounded by unsubstantial Apennine peaks and Carrara crags ; yellow shimmer of vines and of maize , green sparkle of pine and fir branches , glitter of vermilion sand crumbling under his feet among the sear grass and the brown cistus tufts , — all these things seemed to have lost for him their emotional colour , their imaginative luminousness .  He tried to realise the time when all these things had given him a thrill , had gone to his head , nay , when the mere sense of being in Italy had done so ; but now the very words “ thrill ” and “ intoxication ” seemed false , disgusting , and vulgar .  Formerly , at least , such things had soaked into him , dyed his mind with colour , saturated it with light ; instead of remaining , as now , so separate from him , so terribly external , that to perceive them required almost an effort .  He and the world had been becoming paler in the last three years ; it was melancholy , but that seemed quite natural and in keeping ; and besides , a washed‐out world , a man with worn‐out feelings , have quite as much psychologic interest for a poet as the reverse .  Walter Hamlin had never been your splash‐of‐scarlet and dash‐of‐orange‐and‐skyblue , lust‐and‐terror kind of lyrist ; but he had begun his poetical career with a quiet concentra‐ tion of colour , physical and moral , which had made his earliest verses affect one like so many old church windows , deep flecks of jewel lustre set in quaint stiff little frames , with a great deal of lead between , and supreme indifference to anatomy and perspective .  And as a painter ( perhaps just because , despite his own contrary opinion ) — he certainly had less original genius as painter than as poet — he had continued in this habit of gemlike harmonies of colour ; but in his poetry , and in his reality as a man , it struck him that he had little by little got paler and paler , colours turning gradually to tints , and tints to shadows ; pleasure , pain , hope , despair , all reduced gradually to a delicate penumbra , a diaphanous intellectual pallor , of which this utter listlessness , this indifference even to having grown indifferent , was , as it were , the faint key‐note .  The world was a pale and prismatic mist , full of vague , formless ghosts , in which it was possible to see only as far as to‐day ; and , indeed , why wish to see that paler to‐day called to‐morrow ?  Perhaps there was a little depression added to Hamlin’s usual listlessness .  It had given him a kind of little shock to see Melton Perry again , after those twelve or thirteen years ; bringing back to him the time when he had been the most brilliant and eccentric of that little knot of æsthetic undergraduates , at whose strange doings as Greek gods , and Provençal poets , and Norse heroes , Oxford had murmured in those philistine days , and which had welcomed young Hamlin , with his girlish beauty and pre‐Raphaelite verses , as a sort of mixture of Apollo and Eros , sitting at the head of the supper‐table dressed in green silk , with rose garlands on his head , while Perry led a chorus of praise , dressed in indigo velveteen , with peacocks’ feathers in his button‐hole , and silver‐gilt grasshoppers in his hair .  Poor old Perry !  Absurd days those were , thought Hamlin , as he walked slowly towards the house , through the grass and hemlock bending with dew , pushing aside the fig branches and vine trails along the narrow path between the terraced olives ; absurd days those , and at which he could now , having grown grave and listless , only faintly smile .  Still the sight of Perry had brought back to him that recurring sense that all those absurd lads of long‐gone days , turned humdrum dons , and parsons , and squires for the most part , had had a something , a spontaneity , an aristocratic fibre , a sort of free‐bornness , which he missed among the clique‐and‐shop shoddy æstheticism with which he now associated , and which sang his praises as those boys had sung them so many years before .  Professional poetry !  professional art !  faugh !  thought Hamlin ; it was that feeling which had been making London odious to him of late , and sent him abroad , he knew not whither .  He was a poet himself , and a painter also , to be sure ; but somehow he liked to feel ( and yet it oppressed him ) that he was not of the same stock as his fellow‐workers — that he had his coats made by less romantic tailors , and cut his hair and beard in less pictorial style .  The sense of his difference from all those pen‐ and‐pencil‐driving men of genius , those reviewer‐poets and clerk‐poets , those once‐a‐week‐studio‐receiving painters ; the sense of the dust and smoke , as it were , of the æsthetic factory , had been choking him of late : he would rather go and associate only with well‐dressed numskulls , go and flirt with empty‐headed Faubourg St Germain ladies , or emptier‐headed Monte Carlo ladies — he would not touch pen or brush for years .  It had been silly to accept Perry’s invitation to spend September at the Villa Arnolfini ; he had accepted , thinking of Perry as he had been , a wild , roistering , half‐French creature , brought up at Louis‐le‐Grand , and telling wicked French stories .  Good heavens !  what a change !  When the wretched , thin , wasted , depressed‐looking creature , fit for a medieval picture of mansuetude , had greeted him by night at the nearest station , and had driven him in the gig , he had been quite unable to realise that this was indeed Melton Perry .  But he had understood all , all , when , in the bleak drawing‐room , in the glare of an ill‐ trimmed lamp , that lank , limp , lantern‐jawed leering creature with a Sapphic profile had come forward and seized him by both hands , and kissed them , crying —  “ Dear Mr Hamlin , I must kiss the hands that have opened the paradise of body and soul to so many of us .  ”  She , and her speech , and the damp dab on his hands , had passed before him like a nightmare ; he felt that he would never be able to disassociate Mrs Melton Perry from that horrible smell of ill‐trimmed , flickering oil‐lamp .  It seemed to him dreadful — a sort of hideous , harpy‐like proceeding — that his old friend should have thus been metamorphosed .  “ You see , ” Perry had said , “ I must paint things — well — not the sort of things I exactly admire , — because , you see , there’s Mrs Perry and the children — five girls , — and last year’s baby .  ”  Perry’s depressed voice had remained in Hamlin’s ears .  This was the end of a bright , original fellow — married for love , too !  And six children !  Hamlin had already made up his mind that he could not possibly hold out long at the Villa Arnolfini .  That Mrs Perry , with her leering Sapphic profile , her almost amorous admiration , the limp gown , the five girls , and last year’s baby , the all‐pervading smell of oil‐lamp , were too much for him .  In three days , he calculated , he might decently , on some pretext , slip off to Florence .  And then — why , from Florence he might go to America .  He thought all those big hotels , with the fifteen hundred inmates and thirteen brass bands , all that tremendous strain , telegraph‐telephone vulgarity , might be refreshing .  Hamlin had got to the bottom of the hill , and in front of him , nestled among the olives and the vines , rose the Villa Arnolfini , a time‐ and weather‐stained Tuscan country‐house , with its rose‐hedges gone wild among the beans and artichokes , its grotesque ivy‐draped terra‐cotta statues , its belvedere towers , from whose crannied sides and yellow lichened tiles the pigeons swept down on to the lawn of overgrown grass , thick with dew in the blue morning shadow .  It had a sort of half‐romantic , half‐idyllic charm , which Hamlin could not help recognising : it certainly was better than an American hotel , with ten lifts , thirteen brass bands , and fifteen hundred inmates .  But , like everything else , it was a snare ; for behind those sleepy‐looking green shutters were the pink and blue chromo‐lithograph pot‐boilers of Melton Perry , were the five girls and the last year’s baby , nay , were the Sapphic leer and limp dresses of Mrs Melton Perry herself .  Making these reflections , Hamlin pushed open the green and blistered house‐door and entered the wide hall , with rickety eighteenth‐century chairs and tables marshalled round the walls .  There was one good thing about his hosts , he thought , and that was , that they had no common breakfast , but invited their guests to do whatsoever they pleased in the early morning .  The hall was very silent , and Ham‐ lin wondered how he should get any breakfast .  It struck him that he had better go and ring the bell in his bedroom .  But on going upstairs he found there was no sign of a bell either in it or in the vast scantily furnished drawing‐room , where a thick layer of dust reposed on tables and mirrors , and the smell of last night’s oil‐lamp still lingered .  He saw the open door of Perry’s studio ; it was empty , and so was the adjoining dressing‐room , where boots and canvases littered the floor .  But on the mirror was a paper , on which was written in the largest characters : “ I am gone to sketch at the Lake of Massaciuccoli ; shan’t be back till lunch ; please look after Hamlin .  ”  “ Confound it !  ” thought Hamlin , “ am I to be left in tête‐à‐tête with Mrs Perry all the morning ?  ” But since Melton Perry thought nothing of leaving his guest alone all the morning , he too — the guest — might surely be permitted to slip away after breakfast from the effusive æstheticism of his hostess .  Having found no sign of life on the first floor , Hamlin went down‐stairs once more , and proceeded to ramble about in search of breakfast , or , at least , of some servant .  The ground‐floor seemed to consist entirely of servants’ rooms , offices , and strange garners , where sacks of potatoes , garden‐tools , silkworm‐mats , and various kinds of pods were gathered together .  They were all empty ; and empty likewise was the kitchen , its brass saucepans and huge spits left invitingly for any one who might care to step through the open garden‐door .  But next to the kitchen was a sort of nursery , at least so he judged from the children’s chairs and battered dolls lying about — and here a table was spread with cups and saucers and jugs , and a cut loaf and a plate of figs. “ This looks more like it , ” thought Hamlin , wondering what had become of the inmates of this mysterious abode of sleep .  Suddenly he heard children talking in a room at the end of the passage , and a sort of subdued , deep , melancholy chant , like some church song .  He went to the door whence came the sounds , and knocked gently .  The childish chattering did not stop , nor the fitful gusts of chant — deep , nasal , but harmonious and weird , with curious , sudden , metallic falsetto notes , less like the voice of a woman than of a youth .  Hamlin knocked again , and receiving no notice , boldly opened the door and stood on the threshold .  He was struck by the sight which met him .  The room was low and vaulted , with walls entirely frescoed with dark‐blue skies sprinkled with birds , mountains like cheeses , rivers , box‐like houses , people fishing , and plentiful ducks and parrots on perches ; a faint green shimmer of leaves came through the open windows ; three or four little yellow‐headed children were scrambling on the floor , struggling violently over the funeral of a doll in a biscuit‐tin .  In the middle of the room was a large deal table , covered with singed flannel , on the corner of which stood a brasier with some flat‐irons , and a heap of crumpled pink pinafores ; and behind this table , her tall and powerful figure , in a close‐fitting white vest and white skirt , standing out against the dark‐blue painted wall and the green shimmer from outside , was a young woman bending over a frock which she was ironing , her bare brown arms going up and down along the board ; her massive and yet girlish body bending with the movement , and singing that strange chant which Hamlin had heard from outside .  “ I beg your pardon , ” said Hamlin , in Italian , as he stood in the doorway .  The children looked round , tittered , and made remarks in shrill whispers ; the girl stopped her work , stood erect , putting her iron on the brasier , and stared full at Hamlin with large wide‐opened eyes of strange dark‐greyish blue , beneath heavy masses of dark lustreless hair , crimped naturally like so much delicate black iron wire , on her narrow white brow .  “ I beg your pardon , ” said Hamlin again ; “ but can you tell me how I may get some breakfast ?  ”  He could not help smiling in proffering this innocent request , so serious and almost tragic was the face of the girl .  “ It’s Mr Hamlin , ” tittered the children , rolling under the table , and hanging to the table‐cloth .  The young woman eyed Hamlin for a second in no very gracious manner ; then answered , with a certain contemptuous listlessness in her slightly hollowed pale cheeks and beautifully curled but somewhat prominent lips —  “ I don’t know anything about your breakfast , sir .  ” She spoke , to his surprise , in perfect English , with only the faintest guttural Italian accent .  “ Mr Perry went to sketch at Massaciuccoli early this morning , and took the boy with him ; Mrs Perry may never be disturbed till nine ; and the cook is gone to Lucca for provisions .  ”  “ That’s very sad , ” remarked Hamlin , laughing , and looking at this curious and picturesque being .  The girl seemed annoyed at being discovered in that guise , for she pulled down her white sleeves quickly .  “ I suppose the cook has orders about your breakfast , ” she said , in a tone which seemed to put an end to the conversation ; and she took up her iron once more .  “ Mrs Perry did not think you would want anything so early ; the cook will be back about nine .  ”  But Hamlin would not be shaken off ; the fact was , he enjoyed watching this beautiful sullen creature much as he might have enjoyed watching a cat whom he had disturbed in its sleep .  “ Nine o’clock !  ” he said ; “ that’s a long time to wait .  Couldn’t you give me something to eat ?  I saw a table spread in the next room .  ”  The girl put down her iron with a sort of subdued irritation of manner .  “ It’s the children’s breakfast , sir , ” she answered ; “ we have neither tea nor coffee .  ”  “ We have milk , ” said the eldest of the little girls pertly , “ and figs. ”  “ Milk and figs !  ” exclaimed Hamlin ; “ why , that’s a breakfast for the gods !  and won’t you , ” he went on rather appealingly — “ won’t you share a little of it with me ?  ”  “ You are Mrs Perry’s guest , ” said the girl more sullenly than ever , “ and of course you are welcome to anything you choose .  ”  Hamlin felt rather taken aback .  “ Indeed !  ” he said .  “ I don’t wish to do anything against the habits of the house , or disagreeable to you .  ”  “ It is not against any rules , ” she answered .  “ If you will excuse me , I will see whether the milk is heated .  The children will show you the way .  ”  CHAPTER II .  HAMLIN felt rather contrite and humiliated as he sat down at the square table , with the two eldest children , pert little rosy and flaxen things , on either side of him , and the three little ones staring at him , and then suddenly making convulsive dives under the table‐cloth and behind each other’s shoulders opposite .  He was the furthest possible removed from the kind of young man who persecutes pretty housemaids .  Whatever vagaries he might have had in his life , they were not of that sort ; and now , although he had merely intended to ask for some breakfast , he found himself somehow in the position of pushing his presence upon a servant girl .  He was vexed with himself , and became very grave , scarcely answering the chatter of the children by his side .  “ And you know , ” said the eldest child , a pretty little minx of eleven , fully conscious of her charms , “ mamma told us you were the great poet , and she read us a poem of yours about Sir Troilus .  Mamma always reads poetry to us — and we liked it so much , — and I liked all about where he kisses the lady so much , and her purple dress with the golden roses , and then about Love , where he comes and takes her by the throat , and chokes her , and makes her feel like a furnace .  Mamma says it’s just like love .  Mr Thaddeus Smith was in love with the gardener’s girl when he came here last year , mamma says .  ”  “ Good heavens !  ” thought Hamlin , “ what a mamma and what children !  ”  “ And mamma told us to get some myrtles and put them in your room , ” blurted out a smaller one .  “ Hush , Winnie !  You know you shouldn’t tell , ” said the eldest .  “ And you know , ” insisted the younger , in her little , impertinent lisp , “ mamma said we should put the myrtles , because you made poems about myrtles ; and we were to have had on our best frocks , and met you in the hall , and — ”  “ Hush , Winnie !  ”  “ And thrown roses on the floor before you ; only then papa got a telegram saying you were coming by the late train , and we had to go to bed — ”  Miss Winnie’s revelations and her sister’s expostulations were interrupted by the entry of the nurse , or governess , or whatever else she might be , carrying a large jug of milk .  She had slipped on a skirt and loose jacket of striped peasant cotton , which at a distance looked like a dull , rich purple .  She sat down at the head of the table , and began silently helping the hot milk .  “ May I cut the bread for you ?  ” asked Hamlin , feeling quite shy from her silence .  “ I don’t think you will know how to do it , ” she answered .  “ We have only yesterday’s bread at this hour , until the cook returns from market .  ” When the milk was helped and the bread cut , she said , rather sharply —  “ Now , children , say your prayer .  ”  The children immediately set up a shrill chorus ; the elder , who wished to show off , slowly — the little ones , who were hungry , quicker ; an absurdly pseudo‐poetical thanksgiving , which reminded Hamlin of the sort of poetry presented to rich foreigners by needy Italians on creamy , embossed , and illuminated paper .  He was struck by the fact that the girl did not join , but waited passively through this religio‐poetical ceremony ; doubtless , he thought , because she was a Catholic .  “ That’s mamma’s Tuesday hymn , ” said Winnie ; “ she makes a different one for each day of the week .  ”  Whereupon the children fell vigorously to their breakfast of bread and milk .  Heaven knows when Hamlin had eaten bread and milk last — probably , he thought , not since he had been out of frocks ; but it seemed to him pleasant and pastoral .  He would have enjoyed this improvised breakfast had the children chattered less incessantly ( Hamlin did not care for children ) , and had he not continued to feel rather as if he had been courting a nursemaid .  The young woman had as much as she could do in pouring out more milk , giving out more figs , and cutting more slices of bread and butter for the children ; and her conversation was entirely engrossed in admonitions to them not to spill their milk , not to jump on their chairs , not to talk with their mouths full , and so forth .  She seemed determined , in her sullen indifferent way , to make Hamlin understand that he might intrude his person at that breakfast‐table , but that he had no chance of intruding his personality upon her notice .  But her very indifference afforded Hamlin an opportunity , and , as it were , a right , to examine her appearance : one may surely look at a person who obstinately refuses to notice one .  She was very beautiful , and even more than beautiful — strange .  She seemed very young , certainly , thought Hamlin — not more than nineteen at most ; but her face , though of perfectly smooth complexion , without furrow or faintest wrinkle , was wholly unyouthful ; the look was not of age , for you could not imagine her ever growing old , but of a perfect negation of youth .  Hamlin tried to think what she might have been as a child , looking round on the childish faces about him , but in vain .  The complexion was of a uniform opaque pallor , more like certain old marble than ivory ; indeed you might almost imagine , as she sat motionless at the head of the table , that this was no living creature , but some sort of strange statue — cheek and chin and forehead of Parian marble , scarcely stained a dull red in the lips , and hair of dull wrought‐iron , and eyes of some mysterious greyish‐blue , slate‐tinted onyx : a beautiful and sombre idol of the heathen .  And the features were stranger and more monumental even than the substance in which they seemed carved by some sharp chisel , delighting in gradual hollowing of cheek and eye , in sudden cutting of bold groove and cavity of nostril and lip .  The forehead was high and narrow , the nose massive , heavy , with a slight droop that reminded Hamlin of the head of Antinous ; the lips thick , and of curiously bold projection and curl ; the faintly hollowed cheek subsided gradually into a neck round and erect like a tower , but set into the massive chest as some strong supple branch into a tree‐trunk .  He wondered as he looked at her ; and wondered whether this strange type , neither Latin nor Greek , but with something of Jewish and something of Ethiopian subdued into a statuesque but most un‐Hellenic beauty , had met him before .  The nearest approach seemed to be certain mournful and sullen heads of Michaelangelo , the type was so monumental , and at the same time so picturesque ; and as he looked at the girl , it seemed , despite its strangeness , as if , at some dim distant time , he had seen and known it well before .  He looked at her with the curiosity of an artist examining a model , or a poet trying to solve a riddle ; there was , he felt conscious , nothing insolent or offensive in his stare .  Yet he felt he must break the silence ; so , with real indifference , he suddenly asked —  “ How is it that you speak English so marvellously well ?  No one would ever guess that you were not English .  ”  “ I am English , ” answered the girl .  English nationality had explained many otherwise unaccountable mixed types to Hamlin ; but this took him by surprise , and left him utterly incredulous .  This girl certainly was no Englishwoman — a Jewess , perhaps .  No , never ; no Jewess was ever so pure and statuesque of outline : some Eastern , dashed with Hindoo or Negro ; they were much coarser , more common , of far more obvious , less subtle beauty .  “ You mean English by adoption , ” he suggested , “ surely not by blood ?  ”  “ My mother was an Italian .  I think her family came from Sicily or Sardinia , or somewhere , where there are Spaniards and Moors , ” she answered ; “ but my father was Scotch .  He came from Aberdeen .  ”  “ Have you ever been in Scotland ?  ” he asked , just by way of saying something to mitigate the personalness of his previous questions .  “ No , ” she answered , and her lips closed as with a spring ; then she added , as if to close all further conversation , “ I was born in Italy ; my father was employed at Spezia in the docks .  ”  The eldest Miss Perry raised her pretty little sentimental head pertly .  “ Annina’s father was one of those who make the big men‐of‐war at Spezia .  ”  “ Oh , you know , we once went with papa , and saw a man‐of‐war , and all the boilers and big , big cannons , ” interrupted a smaller one .  “ And he was a bad , bad man , ” went on the eldest , composedly .  “ He used to drink quantities of acquavite ; and one day when he had drunk so much acquavite , do you know what he did ?  He tried to throw Annina’s mother out of the window , and then shot himself with a revolver .  ”  Hamlin listened as the cruel words dribbled out , and stared at the childish face .  He had never taken any interest in children ; but he had never thought that a child could be so deliberately ( as it seemed to him ) malignant .  The words made his ears burn , and he felt indignant , confused , and humiliated , as if he were a party to them .  He did not look at the girl ; but he somehow saw , or felt , the sullen , suppressed bitterness of shame in her tragic face .  “ And is it true , ” interrupted Winnie , “ that you are going to do our picture ?  Mamma said you would want to paint us angels or fairies .  All the painters paint us , because , mamma says , we are the most beautiful children in Florence .  They always give us chocolate and marrons glacés to keep us quiet .  ”  CHAPTER III .  WHEN breakfast was over , and she had made the children fold up their napkins , the nurse took what remained of figs , bread , and milk to lock up in the kitchen .  Mildred , the eldest of the little Perrys , sidled up to Hamlin , as he stood on the doorstep leading into the vineyard , lighting a cigarette , and asked whether he would not like to see her garden .  Hamlin looked down upon the innocent‐looking little fiend with a sort of disgust and contempt .  “ Thank you , ” he said ; “ gardens aren’t much in my line .  ”  The little thing scowled at this rebuff of her fascinations .  But a sudden thought struck Hamlin .  “ Yes , by the way , ” he said , “ I do take an interest in gardens sometimes .  Come and show me yours .  ”  Mildred slipped her arm through his — a long‐legged , fair‐haired , pre‐Raphaelite child , in much‐darned stockings and patched pinafore — Winnie , the second , a rounder , more comfortable , cherubic beauty , seized his hand .  He let himself be led along , among the prattle of the little one and the assumed shyness of the elder , through the vineyard , where the tall , red‐tipped sorghum brooms stood among the trailing pumpkins and the tufts of fennel , to a small grove behind the house , in whose shade were four little raked‐up spaces , with drooping marigolds and zinnias stuck into the earth , and small box sprigs .  “ This is my garden !  ” cried Winnie , dragging him along , and pointing to the melancholy little patch .  “ I have marigolds , and sunflowers , and red beans and potatoes .  ”  “ And this is mine , ” said Mildred , raising her big blue eyes .  “ I call it the garden of Acrasia ; because mamma told us once about Sir Guyon — ”  “ Won’t you give us anything to buy seeds with ; we want tomato seeds , ” clamoured Winnie .  “ Hush , Winnie !  I wonder you’re not ashamed !  ” cried Mildred .  “ They are very good sort of gardens , ” said Hamlin , fishing in his waistcoat for loose silver , while the children looked at him with beaming eyes ; “ here — I hope your tomatoes may prosper and prove eatable .  ”  Then he suddenly turned to Mildred .  “ Come here , ” he ordered , “ I want to speak to you ; ” and he sat down on a stone bench under a plane‐tree , in which the cicala was sawing away with all his might .  Mildred stood in front of him , wondering , half hoping for the usual request that she should sit for an angel or a fairy .  “ Look here , ” said Hamlin , quietly ; “ I want to know how you would feel if your papa had been in the habit of drinking too much acquavite , and had shot himself after trying to murder your mamma , and some nasty little girl blurted it all out at breakfast to a perfect stranger ?  ”  The child flushed with surprise and anger ; she looked as if she would have scratched Hamlin’s eyes out .  But he looked steadily in her face , and he was a stranger , a gentleman , a man , and not her papa ; circumstances which entirely overawed her .  She recovered her composure marvellously , and answered after a moment’s reflection , “ My papa is a gentleman , and Annina’s papa was a common man — a mascalzone , ” — with considerable triumph at her dignified argument .  “ Your papa is a gentleman , ” replied Hamlin , sternly ; “ I have known him long before you were born .  But remember , if you say cruel things which hurt people’s feelings , whether they be gentle people or servants , however much your papa may be a gentleman , you won’t be a lady .  ”  And Hamlin left the little Perrys to muse upon this moral truth .  He felt quite excited ; and when the excitement had subsided , he felt quite astonished at himself .  He could scarcely realise that he himself had actually been meddling in other people’s affairs , had been reading a lesson to other people’s children , all about a little girl saying offensive things to her nurse .  It was so strange that it quite humiliated him : he had first pushed his company on to a nursemaid , and then , unasked , fought the nursemaid’s battle .  This confounded Perry household !  Was it going to turn him also into a ridiculous caricature ?  He went up‐stairs and wrote some business letters , and corrected a lot of proof of his new book .  Then he thought it would be pleasanter to correct the remainder in the garden ; so he brought down his writing‐case , and established himself on the grass behind the house .  The first‐floor balcony and the roof projected a deep shade ; and on the high grass flickered shadows of plane‐trees and laurels , as through their branches there flickered the pale‐blue sky .  The swifts flew round the eaves with sharp noise , the cicalas sawed in the trees ; all was profoundly peaceable .  But suddenly , from the first‐floor windows came a vague sound of childish sobbing , a confused murmur as if of consolation .  Then a pause , after which a well‐known voice arose shrill in glib Italian .  “ Annina , how dare you distress the signorina Mildred ?  How dare you say cruel things to my poor , poor sensitive child ?  ”  “ I have said nothing cruel to the signorina Mildred , ” answered a deep , quiet voice ; “ the signorina Mildred went to show her garden to Mr Hamlin , and then came back crying .  I asked her what had happened , but she refused to tell me .  I have nothing to do with her tears .  ”  “ How dare you tell such an untruth ?  ” shrieked Mrs Perry .  “ The signorina Mildred said something about your father at breakfast , and you , like a little viper , turned round upon the poor little darling .  She is nearly in hysterics !  You little serpent !  ”  “ It is one of Miss Mildred’s usual lies , ” answered the other voice calmly — “ una delle solite bugíe .  ”  Hamlin had been admitted too much into confidence .  He took up his writing things hastily , and removed to the furthest end of the garden , out of reach of the dispute .  This was the pretty result of his interference !  He had merely got this poor devil of a nursemaid into a scrape .  It was the fit punishment for his folly in going out of his way to meddle with other folk .  He was very much annoyed ; he had been dragged into a sordid woman’s squabble ; Mrs Perry’s scolding had seemed addressed to him .  At the same time , he did feel indignant that the girl should be treated in this fashion : such a splendid , queenly creature slanged by a sentimental , æsthetic fishwife , as he defined his hostess to himself .  The return of Melton Perry interrupted his reflections .  Perry was quite astonished to find him up , and extremely distressed at his having had no regular breakfast .  “ You see , ” he said , “ Mrs Perry is very delicate — in short , scarcely fit for any kind of household bother , — so that — ”  “ Oh , ” answered Hamlin , “ I had a capital breakfast with your children .  ”  Then they fell to talking of old times ; and little by little there emerged from out of the overworked , henpecked Melton Perry of the present , the resemblance of the proud and brilliant Melton Perry of the past .  “ Of course , ” said Perry , as they sat smoking in the sheltered studio — “ of course I’m very happy , and that sort of thing .  My wife — well , she’s a little impetuous , and I don’t always agree about her way of bringing up the children — but there’s no saying that she isn’t an immensely superior kind of woman .  I don’t always agree with her , mind you ; but she has the true poetic temperament , and ” — here he made an evident effort — “ she keeps me up to the mark with my work .  I was always a lazy hound , you know , and all that .  In short , I know I’m quite a singularly fortunate man .  Nevertheless , — well , I tell you my frank opinion about matrimony : never do it ; the odds are too great .  My own belief is , that , especially for an artist , it’s a fellow’s ruin .  Mine , you see , is an exceptional position .  But if you take my advice , old man , never marry .  ”  “ I don’t think there is the faintest chance , ” answered Hamlin .  “ Women have got to bore me long ago : all that in my poems is mere recollections of the past — descriptions of a myself which has long come to an end .  ”  “ I’m glad of it , ” replied Perry .  “ It is a foolish thing to get tied to a woman .  ”  “ Foolish indeed !  ” thought Hamlin , looking from his shabby , depressed old comrade , to the blazing sunsets and green moonlights on the easels about them .  CHAPTER IV .  DURING luncheon , no mention was made of the nursemaid into whose concerns Hamlin had that morning intruded ; but at dinner , Hamlin’s sense of the question being a sore one , and of being himself mixed up in it , gave way before his curiosity to solve the riddle of the strange‐type which had taken him so by surprise .  “ That is a very strange‐looking girl you have in your service , ” he remarked to his hostess , over their grapes and thin wine .  “ The cook ?  ” cried Mrs Perry .  “ Isn’t she a divine creature ?  I call her Monna Lisa’s younger sister .  ”  “ I don’t know your cook by sight , ” he answered .  “ I mean the other young woman they call Annina — ”  Mrs Perry’s brow darkened .  “ The nurse — or governess , — I don’t know exactly how to describe her , — of your little girls .  ”  “ My children’s maid , ” answered Mrs Perry , with considerable emphasis .  “ Thank heaven , my children have never had and shall never have any other nurse or any other governess than their own mother .  ”  “ Well , now , Julia , ” remonstrated her husband , “ I think , you know , that’s pushing it a little too far .  ”  “ My children shall never learn anything from a menial , ” insisted Mrs Perry , “ neither to walk bodily , nor morally , nor intellectually , as long as I am alive .  ”  “ Good heavens !  ” thought Hamlin , “ what a bandy‐legged family they are likely to turn out !  ”  “ I suppose you mean Annie , ” said Perry .  “ Yes , she’s a good girl , and a good‐looking girl .  ”  “ You are mad , Melton , ” cried Mrs Perry , “ with your idea of goodness and good looks !  ”  “ I think her extraordinarily good‐looking , ” put in Hamlin , enjoying the authority of his own verdict .  “ I always told you so , ” replied Perry .  “ When I say good‐looking , ” corrected Hamlin , “ I don’t mean it at all in the ordinary sense .  There are dozens of Italian girls five times as pretty as that girl , and I daresay most people don’t think her at all attractive .  ”  “ Yes , ” burst out Mrs Perry , “ vulgar minds and eyes never appreciate the higher beauty .  They see only the body .  ”  “ This is exactly a question of the body , ” went on Hamlin .  “ That girl is one of the most singular types I have ever come across .  She is like some of Michaelangelo’s women , but even stranger — a superb creature .  ”  The revelation of her maid’s beauty by so great an authority as Hamlin quite dazzled and delighted Mrs Perry .  “ All our servants are handsome , ” she said ; “ the cook’s the finest Leonardo da Vinci type — when you see her you will want to do her picture , Mr Hamlin , as Venus Mystica , ” and Mrs Melton Perry set her meagre features and wide‐opening mouth into a mystic smile , intimating that she knew a great deal about Venus Mystica , and her guest doubtless likewise .  “ And the footman ” .  .  .  she went on .  “ Errand‐boy , ” corrected Mr Perry , suddenly , emboldened by his friend’s presence .  “ The footman is quite a type of manly beauty — a young Hercules , — such a neck and shoulders and arms — and a head like a cameo .  I always make it a rule to engage only handsome servants , because it spiritualises the minds of our children to be brought up constantly surrounded by beautiful human forms .  ”  “ I see , ” answered Hamlin drily , entirely neglecting his opportunity of making the usual reply to this remark — namely , that the young Perrys were so abundantly provided with beautiful human form in the person of their mother that any other was superfluous .  “ That girl you noticed has rather a curious history , ” said Perry .  “ Indeed !  ” answered Hamlin ; “ she looks as if she ought to have some sort of tragic past — a kind of Brynhilt or Amazon .  ”  “ It’s tragic enough if you like , but it’s unfortunately not at all poetical , ” replied Perry .  “ There is poetry in all suffering , Melton , ” corrected his wife gravely .  “ Well , this girl is the daughter of a Scotch mechanic , a very clever fellow , I believe , who fell in love with the Italian maid of some old friends of ours , and followed her to Italy .  He got a very good position in the docks at Spezia , but then the other chaps caballed against him , and made him lose his place .  They had to live from hand to mouth for a long while , doing odd jobs for the railway company ; he squandered his money also on inventions , so , little by little , he and his wife and children got into great distress .  Then he took to drinking , poor devil !  ( I’m sure I should have done so long before ; ) and one day that he had again been done out of a place by some Italian scoundrel , he tried to throw his wife out of the window , and then shot himself .  It was a dreadful business .  ”  “ He was a great republican , poor dear , ” added Mrs Perry .  “ I’m a republican too , a socialist — quite a dreadful creature , Mr Hamlin .  ”  “ What became of the wife and children ?  ” asked Hamlin .  “ The children had all died by this time , except Annie ; and the poor wife was quite broken in health .  There was a nephew of the husband’s , a Scotch lad , quite a boy , who was awfully plucky and worked for them for some time .  Then the widow died ; and an old friend of ours , old Miss Curzon , the famous singer that had been — perhaps you may have heard of her — took Annie into her house .  ”  “ Darling Miss Curzon !  ” exclaimed Mrs Perry .  “ She was the noblest woman that ever lived .  How she loved me !  I always say that I lost my voice — I had a lovely voice before my marriage — when dear darling Miss Curzon died .  ”  “ Miss Curzon was an excellent old woman , ” went on Perry : “ she took Annie when she was eleven , and kept her in her house and educated her till her own death two years ago ; ” and Perry sighed , as he peeled a hard white peach .  “ Then I said to my husband , ‘Perry , this child is a legacy to us from our dearest friend , ’ ” went on Mrs Perry , solemnly ; “ ‘we are not rich , but Heaven will send us enough for our children and this child ; and if it don’t , why , we must do without.’ ”  “ So she has been with you ever since ?  ”  “ Yes , ” answered Perry , sharply ; “ and I should like her to remain for the children’s sake , only that I feel the girl ought to look out for some better place .  ” And he turned rather gloomily to his wife .  Mrs Perry answered his look with one of sweet and ineffable astonishment .  She naturally viewed all her property , servants , children , husband , etc. , as emanations from herself — that is to say , from perfection , and consequently as more perfect than other folk’s property , servants , children , husbands , although occasionally falling short of this ineffable origin ; and she accepted , with alacrity and pleasure , the belief in the transcendent beauty of the nursemaid whom she had shrieked at only a few hours before .  She was quite reconciled to her , evidently .  “ And what is this girl’s name ?  ” asked Hamlin .  “ Anne , ” answered Perry — “ Anne Brown .  ”  CHAPTER V.  THUS it came about that Walter Hamlin , of Wotton Hall , pre‐Raphaelite poet and painter , made acquaintance with Anne Brown , nurse , or as Mrs Perry defined it , children’s maid at the Villa Arnolfini .  The whole of the two following days , Hamlin neither saw nor particularly remembered the strange girl whose champion he had constituted himself against the little Perrys .  An old chaise , with an older pony , was produced from the neighbouring farmhouse , and Mr and Mrs Melton Perry took it by turns to drive their guest along the dusty roads to the old town of Lucca , to various villas , and other sights of the neighbourhood .  In the evening Perry led his friend out for a stroll among the vineyards and the olives , and across the low hills covered with bright green pines and dark cypresses .  At the end of the third day , Hamlin , while smoking after dinner with his host , insinuated to Perry that he really thought he must be pushing on to Florence .  A look of blank terror overspread poor Perry’s face .  “ Nonsense !  ” he cried — “ don’t say that ; don’t leave me in the lurch yet .  ”  “ You see , ” said Hamlin , hypocritically , “ I intend going to America ; and I really think I ought to do a little work before leaving Italy .  ”  “ What sort of work ?  ”  “ Why , I suppose — I think — I ought to take this opportunity of working a little at one of my pictures for the next Grosvenor .  ”  “ Which picture ?  ” asked Perry , eagerly .  “ I really scarcely know .  I suppose I ought to be making some studies for Circe and the child Comus .  ”  “ Child Comus !  ” exclaimed Perry .  “ Why , I’ve the very thing you want here at hand .  Such a Comus for you !  There’s not a model in all Florence will suit you so well ; it’s the farmer’s son .  Such legs , and such a chest !  ”  “ I don’t intend doing him naked , ” answered Hamlin , whose strong point was not anatomy .  “ Naked or not , he’s what you want .  The head , since you don’t care for legs and chest .  You shall have him to‐morrow ; and you can work much better here than in that swelter at Florence — ”  “ In short , ” burst out poor Perry , “ don’t leave me yet , old fellow .  You don’t know what it is for me to have you here — I feel quite another man .  It seems to me as if I were ten years younger .  The fact is , don’t you know , a man’s never the same when once married ; it’s a weight round his neck .  Don’t go away yet , dear old Watty , for the sake of auld lang syne .  ”  Hamlin could not help being touched by the way in which his old friend threw himself on his compassion .  Poor old Perry !  How dreadfully dreary and broken‐spirited he must be when all alone with that awful wife of his !  “ Well , I’m willing enough to stay , if you’ll keep me , ” answered Hamlin .  “ That’s right !  ” cried Perry , squeezing his hand .  “ Keep me from growing into a turnip for a little longer , for goodness’ sake .  ”  So the next morning the farmer’s boy was sent for , and Hamlin began , in a desultory way , to make some studies for his picture .  The fact was , he was so utterly indifferent as to all his own movements , that it was an absolute relief to be pinned down to one place by his old friend .  Accordingly he unpacked his things , and prepared to stay at the Villa Arnolfini until the Perrys should themselves return to Florence in October .  Little by little he got to arrange his day so as to avoid as far as possible the dreaded tête‐à‐tête with Mrs Perry ; spending the morning lying on the sear grass or the fallen fir‐needles under Melton Perry’s sketching umbrella ; and locking himself up during the afternoon with the pretext of his picture .  Locking himself up , and sometimes unlocking the door and letting the lank and limp lady come and sit in his improvised studio , entertaining him with her views on life , poetry , art , love ; and invariably representing herself as the devoted slave of a kind of fierce and gloomy lover‐husband of the Othello description .  During this first week of his stay at the Villa Arnolfini , Hamlin did not lose sight of the Perrys’ strange nursemaid .  The girl’s exotic , and , so to speak , tragic style of beauty , had made a great impression upon him , but a sort of impression such as only a temper entirely artistic could receive .  He was interested in Anne Brown , but not in the whole of Anne Brown .  He wished to see more of her , but to see more only of her superb physical appearance , and of that sullen , silent , almost haughty manner which accompanied it .  As to anything there might be , intellectual or moral , behind this beautiful and dramatic creature , he did not care in the least , and would much rather have seen nothing of it .  So far , she was striking , admirable , picturesque , consistent ; further details might merely spoil the effect .  Hence it was that , although he made several sketches of her head from memory , and although he rhymed the first half of a sonnet upon the strange fate which had , to put it in plain prose , given the beauty of an Amazon to a nursemaid , he instinctively abstained from seeking in any way to renew the acquaintance which he had made that first morning .  The picturesque and imaginative figure was just in the right light and at the right distance , — a single movement , and all the picturesqueness and strangeness might vanish .  Walter Hamlin had had but too many instances of the melancholy results of trying to approach and become familiar with creatures who had caught his æsthetic and poetic fancy .  He often saw her hurrying ( if she might ever be said to hurry , for there was something wonderfully measured about her ) to and fro , filling up , it would seem , the gaps in Mrs Perry’s rather theoretical housekeeping ; and sometimes , passing through the ground‐floor passage , he would also see her ironing , like that first time , or laboriously presiding over the little Perrys’ lessons ; for it appeared that Mrs Perry’s intellectual guidance of her children consisted in telling them the plots of novels and repeating choice poetry , leaving such mechanical matters as reading and writing to what she called a menial .  And even more frequently Hamlin would meet her taking the children for a walk , or sitting in the vineyard sewing or reading , while they built houses of leaves and sticks , and cooked dinners of maize‐grains and unripe figs. Hamlin scarcely ever spoke to her ; and if the children forced him to remain and examine their houses or their dinners , he would watch the girl , but without the slightest desire of entering into conversation .  He wished to know only as much as he could see of her .  But this much which he saw inspired him with a kind of respect , — a respect not for Anne Brown , nursemaid or nursery‐governess of Mrs Melton Perry , but respect for a beautiful and solemn kind of Valkyr or Amazon ; for there is no doubt that to certain temperaments not given to respect for social distinctions or religious institutions , or even the kind of moral characteristics held to be worthy of respect by ordinary folk , there is something actually venerable in some kinds of beauty : the man respects the unknown woman as a goddess , and respects himself for having discovered her divinity .  So that , habitually and instinctively , Hamlin displayed towards the young woman a degree of courtesy which astonished the little Perrys , who had seen young men flirt with various of their mother’s carefully selected beautiful servants , but never treat them , as Miss Mildred expressed it , as if they were funerals passing .  All of which distant respect Anne Brown received coldly , as if it were a matter of course ; showing astonishment only on one occasion , when Hamlin answered , being requested to lift little Winnie into the branches of an olive‐tree — “ You must first ask permission of Miss Brown .  ”  The girl looked up from her work , and fixed her great greyish‐blue eyes upon him in wonder .  No one had ever called her Miss Brown before .  Thus things might have continued , and Hamlin have left the Villa Arnolfini with only a few lines of a sonnet on the fly‐leaf of his ‘Vita Nuova’ — a few scratched‐out sketches of a face with strange , curling full lips , and masses of wiry hair , in his sketchbook — and a daily fainter remembrance of Mrs Perry’s nurse ; when one day he took it into his head to construct a kind of medieval costume for his peasant‐boy model , and accordingly went to Mrs Perry for assistance in sewing together the various shreds of old brocade and satin which he had bought at Lucca , the various bits of weather‐stained cotton which he had obtained by barter from the peasants .  Mrs Perry , lying languidly on a sofa in her dusty boudoir , littered over with books and reviews , afforded him a variety of valuable pieces of information upon harmonies of colours and the magic of folds ; but when it came to practical tailoring , she smiled with reproachful gentleness , and , clapping her hands , called out for Annie .  Annie — that is to say , Anne Brown — emerged from an adjacent room , silent and sullen as usual ; but when she understood that the job was for Hamlin , she seemed suddenly to develop a certain interest in it .  The pieces of stuff were spread out on the drawing‐room table , and Hamlin proceeded to explain what manner of garment he wanted , Mrs Perry joining in from the next room with various bewildering instructions .  The girl immediately understood ; but the piece of work was complicated and tiresome .  The stuff had several times to be sewn together , tried on to the live model , and then taken down‐stairs to be altered .  “ Won’t you sit down and do it here , Miss Brown ?  ” Hamlin at length suggested .  The girl hesitated for a moment , and then settled herself to sew at the table of the empty drawing‐room .  Hamlin went into the studio next door , and tried to draw a little ; but he felt himself attracted to go and watch the girl as she leaned over the table , or sat with her beautiful head bending over her sewing .  Every now and then she looked up to ask him some question : a regal , tragic , out‐of‐our‐world , almost weird face , the contrast of which with her prosiac questions about seams and tucks was almost comic .  Hamlin looked at her as he might have looked at a beautiful cathedral front ; and he began to feel that kind of anticipated regret at the thought of losing sight of something beautiful and rare , that almost painful desire to keep at least some durable likeness of it , which , in former years , had often tormented him in the midst of the enjoyment of lovely things .  He did not see his way to introducing Anne Brown into any picture ; nay , he perhaps did not even think of his work ; but he determined that he must have a likeness of her to take away with him .  Accordingly , that same evening , as he was seated with the Perrys in front of the villa , watching the stars gradually lighting themselves in the bright metallic blue sky , Hamlin suddenly turned to his hostess , and asked her whether she thought it would be possible for him to make a sketch of Anne Brown .  “ I may want her for a picture some day , ” he added , half hypocritically .  Mrs Perry’s enthusiasm was immediately kindled .  “ Oh !  ” she exclaimed , “ paint a picture of her as the Witch of Atlas , with a red cloak and red roses all about her , and a background of cactuses and aloes all twisting and writhing , and looking as if they gibbered .  Do paint her like that , dear Mr Hamlin — and Mildred and Winnie will do for attendant spirits .  Begin to‐morrow — you shall have her to sit to you all day ; and she has such lovely arms and shoulders , you must paint her in some kind of dress that will show them .  ”  “ I think it’s rather cool of you to promise Annie as a sitter in that way , ” put in Melton Perry — “ especially with so few clothes on , Julia .  ”  “ Why not ?  ” asked Mrs Perry , in astonishment .  “ If she is beautiful she must be painted .  She shall begin sitting to‐morrow morning .  ”  “ She shan’t do anything of the kind !  ” exclaimed Perry , suddenly .  “ I don’t see at all what right we have to dispose of her .  We pay her wages as a servant for our children , not as a model for our visitors .  ”  “ I never dreamed of Miss Brown being in any way compelled to sit , ” remonstrated Hamlin , rather indignantly .  “ I only wanted your assistance in asking whether she would .  ”  “ Of course she will , ” insisted Mrs Perry .  “ Why , I wonder what great hardship there is in sitting for one’s likeness ?  Haven’t I done it hundreds of times ?  When a woman is beautiful , it’s her duty ; that’s what I was always told .  ”  “ It may be the duty of a lady , Julia , ” answered Mr Perry , gloomily , “ and it may be yours ; but it isn’t the duty of a servant girl — the difference lies in that .  ”  “ Well , ” retorted Mrs Perry , angrily , “ I think you don’t show much appreciation of the honour of having one of the greatest of living painters in our house , Perry .  I do , and I shall see to his having the proper model .  ”  “ Please , I entreat you , dear Mrs Perry , ” cried Hamlin , “ do let the matter go — it really is of no consequence ; and , indeed , it would be in the last degree distasteful to me to have an unwilling sitter .  ”  “ You shall have a willing one , Mr Hamlin ; ” and Mrs Perry walked off with dignity .  Melton Perry suddenly shook off his languor , and started after his wife .  “ Julia , ” he cried , “ do leave it to me — I’ll speak to Annie — only do leave it to me .  ”  “ I see no reason for this , ” she answered .  “ Then I shall speak to Annie at once , ” replied Perry .  “ There’s been far too much of this turning of servants into models in this house , ” he said , turning to Hamlin .  “ Mrs Perry can’t be got to see that it isn’t at all the right sort of thing .  I don’t mind so much with the others , for I suppose they’re a parcel of sluts ; but Annie is another matter .  I don’t mind it’s being you , you know , old fellow ; but I object to the principle .  Annie !  Annie !  I want to speak to you a moment , ” and Mr Perry went into the house .  After a moment he returned .  “ I’ve spoken to her , Hamlin , ” he said .  “ I told her that she was just what you wanted for the Lady Guenevere or the Lady of the Lake , or some lady or other — all a lie ; but you see I didn’t wish her to know it was merely because she’s handsome .  I told her she was like a portrait of one of these persons .  Please don’t tell her she’s not .  I really expected she’d refuse ; and I said to her , ‘Annie , mind you don’t let the mistress force you into sitting ; don’t do it to please anybody.’ I’m really quite surprised , for she’s such a very reserved girl always ; but then she is an obliging creature too , and I think she’ll do more to please me than perhaps my wife , because I always let her understand that this isn’t a good place at all , and that she ought to try for another .  Well , she says she’ll sit ; but not till after the ironing is done in the morning .  I proposed half‐past nine — will that do ?  ”  “ Thank you , ” answered Hamlin , putting his hand on Perry’s shoulder ; “ you’re a good old creature , Perry .  ”  CHAPTER VI .  HAMLIN did not succeed in doing much that first sitting .  He had thought that Anne Brown’s head would be an easy one to sketch ; but it proved just the reverse .  Those salient and outlandish features , which he had thought he could catch in half an hour , were turned into caricature by the slightest exaggeration , and exaggeration was almost inevitable .  He made several beginnings , and scratched them all out ; and at the end of a couple of hours he felt that he positively could not go on ; he had become quite fidgety over his work .  “ I have bungled everything , ” he said at last , rising , “ and kept you here for nothing , Miss Brown .  The fact is , that you are far more difficult to draw than I expected .  ”  He felt very humiliated at having , as it were , to confess himself a bad artist before such a model .  “ Try again , ” suggested Perry .  “ I daresay Annie will sit for you again — won’t you , Annie ?  ”  “ If Mr Hamlin wishes me to sit , certainly , ” answered the girl simply .  “ She is confoundedly difficult to draw , ” said Hamlin , when she had turned her back .  “ She’s difficult because she’s a kind of mystery , ” explained Perry .  “ I’ve felt it ever since we have had her .  One thinks there must be something behind that face , and yet it seems to be a mere blank .  My belief is , that people of this condition of life often have very little character — at least none in particular developed .  Because , after all , it’s talking and jawing about things which don’t matter a pin that develops our character .  The people who have no opportunity for that remain quite without character , until some day they are forced to choose whether they’ll be self‐sacrificing creatures or mean pigs .  ”  “ There’s something in that , ” answered Hamlin , tearing up his abortive sketches in a huff ; “ but it is hard that a man should be unable to copy the shape of a handsome face as he would copy the shape of a handsome vase , without wondering what there may be inside .  ”  The fact was , that the utter silence of his model , and his own utter silence , except when begging her to turn a little more in this direction or that , made Hamlin nervous .  He had , of course , sketched and painted scores of people who had sat as utterly silent as Anne Brown , but then Anne Brown was not a model of that kind .  Indifferent as he felt towards the hidden reality of this girl , he was , nevertheless , fully conscious that she was a personality , something much more than a mere form ; or rather , the form itself was suggestive of something more .  It would be an easy thing to have to sketch Michaelangelo’s Dawn , or his Delphic Sibyl become living flesh , in utter silence with those eyes fixed upon one .  If only he could speak to her , or make her speak , he was persuaded it would be much easier ; but for some unaccountable reason it seemed impossible to set up a conversation .  One morning accident came to Hamlin’s assistance .  Strolling about after breakfast , he found in a corner of the vineyard , where the trampled grass revealed the recent presence of the little Perrys , a couple of books carefully buried under a heap of dead leaves just where he chanced to walk .  The children had evidently hidden them out of mischief .  One was a cheap copy of Dante , with notes — the other an Italian grammar .  Turning to the fly‐leaf he found , written in a curious hand , a stiff imitation of English tradesmen’s writing , the name “ Anne Brown .  ” He wiped the books , for they were wet with dew , and deposited them upon the window‐sill of the nursery .  At half‐past nine the girl came to the studio .  She had been sitting a little while , when Hamlin , bending over his work , suddenly broke the silence —  “ I find we have a common friend , Miss Brown , ” he said .  The girl , without stirring , opened her large eyes .  “ A common friend ?  ” she asked , with a scarcely perceptible agitation in her quiet manner ; then added , “ I suppose you mean Mr Perry ; I haven’t many friends now anywhere .  ”  “ Oh !  this is the friend of a great many people — thousands — besides ourselves , so you need not feel jealous ; his name is Dante .  ”  “ Indeed !  ” answered Anne Brown , and relapsed into silence .  But silence did not suit Hamlin .  “ I found two books belonging to you in the vineyard early this morning , ” he continued ; “ and I put them on the nursery window‐sill .  ”  “ Thank you , ” replied Miss Brown , in her taciturn manner ; “ I missed them last night .  ”  “ I was indiscreet enough to wonder whether you and I cared for the same things in Dante , ” pursued Hamlin ; “ so I ventured to open the book .  I found you had marked the passage about Provenzano .  ”  “ Yes , ” said Miss Brown .  “ How is it that you marked Provenzano , and did not mark Ugolino , I wonder ?  ”  “ I don’t care about Ugolino .  He was a traitor .  ”  “ Do you consider that traitors ought to be starved to death ?  ” asked Hamlin , with a smile .  “ I don’t think any one ought to be starved to death , ” she answered very seriously ; “ it is too dreadful .  But I don’t care about Ugolino , because he was a traitor ; and the Archbishop was a traitor too .  There is no one to be glad or sorry about .  ”  “ And Francesca da Rimini ?  Do you find there is nothing to care for or be sorry about in her ?  ”  A faint redness welled up under the uniform brown pallor of Anne Brown’s face .  “ The husband was quite right , ” she said , after a pause .  “ You are very severe , ” remarked Hamlin — “ much more severe than Dante .  He was sorry for them .  ”  “ They were quite happy , ” she answered .  “ They did not mind being killed ; they did not mind being driven about in the wind , of course ” — then she stopped short suddenly .  “ Why of course ?  ” and Hamlin went on scraping at his pencil .  “ Because I don’t think one would mind , if people cared for one , being driven about in the wind like that .  Lots of people have been driven about in revolutions , and put into dungeons together , and so on .  If they had put papa in prison , I should have wanted to go in with him , ” — for once she spoke with a certain amount of vehemence .  Hamlin looked up from his pencil‐cutting .  The expression which he suddenly met in her face made him feel that at last he had what he wanted .  It was a curious mixture , possible only in those strange features , of a kind of passionate effort with dogged determination : the head a little lifted , cheeks and lips firmly set ; but in the eyes , and even in the curl of the close‐set lips , a sort of strain , as of a person trying to inhale a larger amount of air , or to take in a larger sight .  In a second it was gone .  “ That is what I want !  ” thought Hamlin ; “ the Amazon or Valkyr — as I thought .  ”  “ Tell me why you care for Provenzano , ” he went on , now much more interested in his work again .  “ Because he was so proud , and did not like to do humble things , ” she answered ; “ and yet he begged in the streets for a ransom for his friend .  ”  She showed no desire to say more , and Hamlin was now engrossed in his work .  They exchanged but a few trivial remarks during the rest of the sitting .  The girl seemed to have contracted a habit of silence , to break through which required a positive effort .  When the sitting had come to an end , Hamlin asked whether she could possibly give him another .  She hesitated .  “ If Mrs Perry wishes it , of course , ” she answered .  “ Excuse me , ” corrected Hamlin .  “ Mrs Perry’s consent may be necessary for you ; but for me , the sitting depends upon your wishes , Miss Brown .  ”  “ I don’t care one way or another , ” she answered hurriedly .  Mrs Perry of course gave her consent .  She had carefully collected and pieced the scattered remnants of yesterday’s abortive sketches , and Hamlin found her pasting them on to cardboard .  “ Do let me keep them , dear Mr Hamlin , ” cried Mrs Perry ; “ they are the most precious things I possess .  ”  “ They are horrible rubbish ; ” and Hamlin rudely tore them to shreds .  “ If you want something of mine , I will make you a sketch of little Winnie — only please don’t keep these fearful things .  ”  “ Thank you , thank you so much !  ” she exclaimed — “ but oh , mayn’t I keep this ?  it is such a lovely head !  ”  “ It’s the head of Miss Brown , ” he answered angrily .  “ You don’t care for it much on her shoulders , — why should you care for it on my paper — an abominable caricature ?  Really , I must be permitted to tear it up ” — and he tore it into a heap of little pieces .  The next day but one he had another sitting from Anne Brown ; and he was so pleased with his drawing , that he begged for permission to finish it in colours .  During these additional sittings there was not much conversation .  The Dante topic was perfectly worn to shreds , till at last it seemed as if it could be made to go no further .  In despair , Hamlin remembered the Italian grammar which he had picked up together with the Dante .  “ What do you want with an Italian grammer ?  ” he asked .  “ You surely don’t require to study it yourself , Miss Brown ?  ”  “ I want to teach some day , ” she answered .  “ Do you mean to teach the Perry children ?  ”  “ Oh no — to teach , to be a daily governess , what we call a parlatrice here .  It is not difficult .  The lessons are all conversation .  Many English ladies want those sort of lessons .  I know a girl , the daughter of Mrs Perry’s dressmaker , who gives ten lessons every day , and and gets two francs a lesson .  ”  “ Ten lessons a‐day !  But that’s fearful .  What awful slavery !  Surely you don’t want to do that ?  ”  “ I wish I could .  I should be so happy .  ”  “ Then you want to leave the Perrys ?  ”  “ I want to give up being a servant .  ”  Hamlin paused , and looked at this superb and regal creature .  He did not know what to say .  “ You don’t care for children ?  ” he asked at random .  “ I don’t know .  I don’t care for these children , ” she answered bluntly .  “ I thought women always liked children .  ”  She smiled bitterly .  “ Oh , ” she said , “ children are worse sometimes than grown people ; and then one can’t resent it , or answer bad words , or strike them , just because they are children .  ”  “ Then you think you would prefer being a teacher of Italian ?  ”  “ Oh yes , I must become that some day ; I study when I have a little time .  A teacher talks with ladies , and talks about all sorts of things .  ”  “ How do you mean — about all sorts of things ?  ”  “ About things — which are not things to eat , or mend , or clean , — about books , and places , and people .  ”  Hamlin could not help smiling .  “ Is that such a rare pleasure ?  ” he asked , thinking not of the girl with whom he was talking , but of those weary æsthetic discussions which he had left behind him in London .  “ Miss Curzon used to talk about books to me — and about music , sometimes , ” said the girl .  “ She made me read Shakespeare with her .  That is long , long ago .  ”  “ And since then .  Do you never talk about such things ?  ”  “ Never .  ”  “ Never ?  ”  Anne Brown raised her eyes quietly .  “ Never , except with you , sir .  ”  Hamlin did not answer .  Towards the end of the sitting , he suddenly looked up .  “ Have you ever read the ‘Vita Nuova , ’ Miss Brown ?  ” he asked .  “ What’s the ‘Vita Nuova’ ?  ”  “ It is a little book by Dante , in prose and verse , telling how he met Beatrice , and then how she died .  It is much more beautiful than the ‘Divina Commedia.’ ”  She looked incredulous .  “ Is it more beautiful than Bertran del Bornio , where he carried his head like a lantern ?  Or Bocca degli Abati , where they all change into snakes ?  Or Cacciaguida when he prophesies about Dante’s exile ?  ”  “ It is quite different — all about beautiful things , and love .  ”  “ I don’t care for that .  ”  “ You must read it some day , though .  ”  Miss Brown was silent , and relapsed into her usual sullen appearance .  “ I say , Hamlin , old fellow , ” said Perry , as they walked up and down in the garden that evening , “ do you care to see the festival at Lucca to‐morrow ?  I’m going to take the children in for a treat , and I shall take Annie too — for she never gets any amusement , poor girl .  I’ve hired a waggonette — will you be of the party ?  ”  “ Will you let me think about it , Perry ?  I don’t much go in for festivals .  ”  “ This is a picturesque affair — really worth seeing .  ”  “ By the way , ” asked Hamlin , “ I have nearly finished my sketch of Miss Brown , and I should like — I suppose I ought — to make her some little present .  ”  “ I wouldn’t , ” answered Melton Perry sharply ; “ she’s an odd girl , and you might just hurt her feelings .  You see her father was a republican , and that sort of thing , so she’s got all sorts of notions about equality and so forth .  Awful bosh , of course , but still I think it’s as well she should have them as not .  ”  “ I didn’t mean any money , ” said Hamlin , feeling himself grow red at the mere thought .  “ Then , if you will run the risk , give her some school‐books .  You know she wants to set up as a teacher .  Grammars — that sort of thing .  ”  Hamlin made a gesture of disgust .  “ Horrible !  — to give her grammars !  ”  “ It’s what she wants .  ”  “ Why , it would seem — well — it would be like encouraging her to become a daily governess .  ”  “ That’s just what I wish to do .  ”  Hamlin did not answer .  The idea of Anne Brown giving lessons at two francs the hour jarred upon him .  CHAPTER VII .  EARLY the following morning Hamlin was awakened by the wheels of the waggonette and the bells of the horses .  Then came the excited voices of children ; the sound of slammed doors and precipitate steps on the stairs ; and finally the rattle and jingle of departure .  He had declined being one of the boisterous expedition to Lucca , for he detested children in general , and the little Perrys in particular ; and a day in the empty house ( for Mrs Perry was going to see some friends at a neighbouring villa ) had seemed to him delightful .  He opened his shutters and saw , in the crisp pale‐blue morning , the carriage sweeping round the corner of a narrow lane , the children’s hats , Anne Brown’s red shawl , the coachman’s grey coat , brush rapidly along a tall box hedge .  If there was a thing Hamlin hated more than another , it was a holiday , a crowd , a lot of people on a jaunt .  After breakfast he went to the studio and sat down before his sketches of Miss Brown .  They were unsatisfactory , but they were as good as he could hope to make them .  He had fancied that a coloured sketch of her head would be all that he could possibly want ; but he now recognised that , after all , the head , beautiful and singular as it was , was yet the least part of the matter .  It was the girl’s gait , her way of carrying her head and neck , her movements when at work , her postures when in repose — a number of things of which that head gave no indication , and which , indeed , it was difficult to render in painting , since it was all movement .  He had scribbled a few lines — just fragmentary metaphors and scraps of description — suggested to him by Anne Brown , and wondered what use he would make of them ; indeed , what use he could make of Anne Brown altogether .  Here was a splendid model , a splendid heroine , but he was in the mood neither for painting nor for poetry writing .  He put a background of dark bay trees to one of his sketches , and then regretted having put it in at all .  He no longer felt inclined to work ; and , all of a sudden , an unaccountable fancy struck him to follow the holiday‐makers — to go quietly into town — to see them , without , perhaps , letting himself be seen .  The sun was already high as he walked , or rather waded , along the dusty road , with its garlands of dust‐engrained vines hanging from tree to tree on either side ; its dust‐stifled marsh‐flowers in the ditch ; its white farmhouses , and white stone heaps , white upon white , brilliant , relentlessly white , under the deep blue autumn sky .  Before him the bullock‐carts , with sleepy drivers prostrate on their back , moved in a white cloud ; a whirlwind of dust was raised by every cariole , heavily laden with singing and yelling peasants , which dashed past .  Within sight of the rampart trees , like a pleasant oasis of leafage in the treeless green desert of the town , the crowd of vehicles of all sorts began .  Under the red brick gate , with its statue of Justice and motto “ Libertas , ” there was a perfect block of carts , gigs , bullocks , horses , and screaming country folk .  Hamlin wriggled through , and slipped along in the scant shade of the narrower streets — empty and desolate on that holiday — ribbons of brilliant light cut into , bordered by the black shadows of overhanging roofs and balconies .  A great buzz of voices came from the square of the cathedral ; peasants and townsfolk elbowing about , people at booths yelling their wares , boys screeching on whistles and trumpets , cathedral bell tolling , and all the neighbouring church bells clattering and jangling .  From the windows of the blackened palaces fluttered strips of crimson and yellow brocade ; across the street , from balcony to balcony , and from twisted iron torchholder to twisted iron bridle‐ring , were slung garlands of coloured lamps for the evening’s illumination ; and in the midst of all rose the cathedral front , its tiers and tiers of twisted and sculptured pillarets , with the massive grey belfry soaring by its side into the high blue sky .  Hamlin pushed his way in at one of the side gates ; a rolling of organs , and quavering of choir voices , and clash of brass instruments ; a hot mouthful of heavy , incense‐laden atmosphere ; a compact moving human mass beneath the Gothic arches ; beams of light flickering among clouds of dust , and incense and taper smoke high in the arched nave ; constellations of lights on altar , and organ‐loft , and chandelier , yellow specks in the mid‐day twilight of the cathedral ; something tawdry , hushed , unbreathable , and yet impressive and beautiful .  Hamlin gradually made his way to the side of the altar‐steps .  This part of the cathedral was full of women — provincial great ladies , and shopkeepers’ wives and daughters in their Sunday clothes , brilliant caricatures of last year’s Paris fashions — close packed together on reserved seats , enjoying the incense , the lights , the music , the holiness of the ceremony , the clothes of their neighbours , the appealing glances of the young men in elaborate silk and alpaca summer coats , with artistically combed‐up heads of hair , sucking their canes all about the altar .  Hamlin’s entry , however quiet , was soon perceived , and the eyes of all this womankind were fixed upon the sight , rare in that country town , of an Englishman ; and white silk bonnets , and black lace veils , and big red fans , and fuzzy yellow and smooth black heads , leant towards each other , — while questions went round in a whisper , who was the forestiere — the handsome forestiere — small , slight , meagre , white , with the light hair and moustache , and that melancholy face like a woman’s ?  Hamlin was quickly bored by all this magnificence ; jostled to pieces , stifled by the heat , and incense , and heavy smell of the crowd .  He was going out , when , as his eyes wandered from the silver and lights of the altar , and the shining mitres and stoles of the priests , to that sea of heads and bonnets and hats in the nave , they were suddenly and unexpectedly arrested on the side steps of the high altar just opposite to him .  There , among a lot of heads , but high above them , was a head half covered with coarse black lace and crisp dark hair half turned away from him ; a majestic sweep of cheek and jaw , a solemn bend of neck .  A moment later the bell tinkled for the elevation of the Host , the organ burst forth into a rapid jig , and the church was a sea of bent heads , of kneeling and stooping men and women .  As the people suddenly sank like a wave about the steps , there remained , stranded as it were , and rising conspicuous , the tall and massive figure of Miss Brown .  She was standing on the altar‐steps , whose orange‐red baize cloth threw up faint yellowish tints on to her long dress of some kind of soft white wool , while the crimson brocade on wall and column formed a sort of dull red background .  In the mixed light of the yellow tapers and the grey incense‐laden sunbeams , her face acquired a diaphanous pallor , as if of a halo surrounding it , as she stood , her hands hanging loosely clasped , looking calmly upon the bowed‐down crowd below .  One minute , and the bell tinkling again , the people rose with a muffled , shuffling noise , and hid her from Hamlin .  The organ and bells were pealing , the voices and violins rising shrill , the incense curling up in grey spirals into the sunbeams among the crimson hangings .  The sonnet of Guido Cavalcanti , about the Madonna picture , enshrined at Or San Michele behind the blazing tapers , and in which he recognised his lady , came into Hamlin’s mind , with the sound of the music and the fumes of the incense ; and together with it , a remembrance , a sort of picture , hopelessly jumbled , of Laura in the church at Avignon that Good Friday , and Beatrice among the blazing lights of the Heavenly Rose .  The Mass was over , and people began to stir and leave the cathedral .  Why had she remained standing while all the others had knelt ?  Perhaps from some Scotch puritanism ; it was incongruous , thought Hamlin .  But at the same time he felt that , while incongruous in one way — for she ought certainly to have knelt like the others — it had in another respect completed an effect ; this disbelieving girl had herself become , as it were , the Madonna of the place .  He stood aside and let the crowd slowly pass out .  Suddenly he saw , among the moving sea of heads , the flaxen curls of the little Perrys — the reddish beard of Melton Perry — the head , half covered with black lace and towering above the others , of Miss Brown .  She was leading the two smaller children , and looked anxious in that great crowd .  Up went one of the little yellow heads ; she had taken the child in her arms .  All of a sudden her eyes caught those of Hamlin standing close by , and yet separated from him by an impassable gulf of people .  Her own lit up , and with them her whole face , in a smile , which he had never seen before .  At last , near the church door , the crowd bore his friends straight towards him .  “ What !  here after all !  ” cried Perry .  “ Up to some mischief , you cunning dog !  ”  “ Up to the mischief of watching these good people’s devotion , ” answered Hamlin .  “ Why did you come ?  ” asked the children eagerly .  “ I suppose because I thought I should like to amuse myself after all , ” answered Hamlin .  They were out on the cathedral steps , in the full glare of the blue sky .  Outside a fountain was playing , penny whistles and trumpets shrilled on all sides , and the people at the stalls shrieked and bellowed out their wares to the motley crowd pouring out of the church .  The children cast eyes of longing upon the booths , decorated with tricolour flags and sprigs of green , full of gaudy dolls , and squeaking wooden dogs , and tin trumpets , and drums ; upon the tables , covered with bottles shaped like pyramids , and china men , and Garibaldi busts , full of red and yellow and green stuff , and with piles of cakes with little pictures of saints stuck in the middle of them .  “ Buy us something , ” cried the little ones to their father and Hamlin ; and they squeezed through the crowd , and began to hesitate before the varied splendours of the fair .  “ You look very happy , Miss Brown , ” said Hamlin , as they were waiting while the children made their choice .  For really the girl looked quite radiant , — an expression of unwonted happiness , of freedom and amusement , shone through her quiet , almost solemn , face , like sunshine through a thin film of mist , all the richer for being half suppressed .  “ It is all so beautiful , ” she answered , looking round at the square surrounded by high black palaces draped with crimson brocade , and terraces covered with green , and at the cathedral , carved like a precious casket , beneath the blue sky .  “ Not more beautiful than at the Villa Arnolfini , surely ?  ”  She paused .  “ No , not more beautiful ; but more — I don’t know what .  ”  “ More cheerful ?  ”  She shook her head .  “ Yes ; but not so much that ; more free — more — I don’t know how to call it .  ”  The children were laden with lollipops and sixpenny toys .  “ Come , ” said Perry suddenly , very cheerful , in his unaccustomed freedom from his better half , “ you must choose a fairing , Annie .  What will you have ?  — a doll ?  — a beautiful yellow ’kerchief with purple flowers , warranted the very worst colours in creation ?  some gingerbread ?  — a penny whistle ?  No , I’m sure you’re dying for some literature ” — and he turned to a stone bench under a palace , where twopenny books were piled up , and quantities of leaflets of ballads , and lives of saints , and romantic histories , were strung to the wall .  “ Oh !  ” he said , “ there’s nothing for Annie here — she hates saints and knights and poetry ; we must get her a book on the ‘Rights of Man , ’ or a ‘History of the French Revolution , ’ at the bookseller’s in Via Fillungo .  But this is just what suits Hamlin ” — and throwing down a heap of coppers , he filled his hands with printed leaflets .  “ The tremendous adventures of the Giant Ferracciù , ” he read ; “ the lamentable history of Lucia of Lamermoor ; the loves of Irminda and Astolfo ; the complaint of the beautiful Fair‐haired One , — these are the things for a poet , ” and he stuffed them into Hamlin’s pockets .  “ Don’t be ridiculous , Melton , ” cried Hamlin .  “ Ridiculous !  ” exclaimed Perry .  “ Who talks of things being ridiculous ?  I’m in good earnest ” — and as they went along he began declaiming , with appropriate gestures , a ballad composed by some printer’s prentice from the libretto of an old opera .  The children shrieked with laughter at papa’s voice and faces ; and Anne Brown burst into a curious subdued laugh , which , although scarcely audible , was extremely childish .  As they walked along the narrow crowded streets towards the inn where they were to have dinner , Perry kept on ahead with the two elder children , and Hamlin hung back with Miss Brown and the two younger .  “ Did you like the ceremony in the cathedral , Miss Brown ?  ” he asked , irresistibly drawn on to understand why she had not knelt like the others .  “ It was very beautiful , ” she said ; “ and such beautiful vestments !  Did you see the white and gold embroidery of the bishop ?  — and the purple dresses of the canons ?  — oh , it was lovely !  But it makes me angry to see such things .  ”  “ Why so ?  ”  “ Because it is dreadful — don’t you think ?  — to see all those people kneeling down and believing in all that nonsense .  ”  “ How do you know it is nonsense ?  It seems to me very beautiful and consoling .  ”  She turned her big grey‐blue eyes upon him .  “ You don’t mean that you believe in all that mummery ?  ” she asked , searchingly and reproachfully — “ you who have studied so much ; you don’t believe that they can make God come down with their mutterings and kneelings ?  ”  “ I don’t believe it , ” answered Hamlin , with some embarrassment ; “ but I think it is very beautiful , and those who do believe in it are very happy .  ”  “ But you don’t think it is right that people should believe in falsehoods , and be the slaves of wicked priests ?  ”  “ How rabid you are !  ” laughed Hamlin .  “ No , I don’t believe ; but I like to see others believing .  ”  “ I don’t ; ” and after a minute she added , “ Don’t you believe in anything at all ?  ”  “ Perhaps I do , ” he said , fixing his eyes upon her .  “ I believe in beauty — I believe that is the one true thing in life .  ”  “ I don’t know what you mean , ” she answered ; “ but it seems to me dreadful that people should believe in priests and kings , and all sorts of lies .  ”  They relapsed into silence .  As they walked along , Hamlin stole glances at his companion , walking stately and serious like a saint or a sibyl by his side .  He wondered what this girl would have been had she lived three or four centuries back .  All this common modern radicalism distressed him in her — it had no colour and no perfume .  Yet , after all , it was but the modern accessory instead of the medieval .  This was the way in which beauty and romance were wasted nowadays — wasted , he thought , half consciously , yet not perhaps entirely , since it went to make up a characteristic whole .  Melton Perry took them to the chief inn of the place for dinner .  He let each of the children choose whatever she preferred , ordered several bottles of Asti spumante , and gave it them to drink in champagne‐glasses .  The one or two furtive English spinsters who were sipping their tea and reading their “ Murray ” at the other tables of the huge dining‐room , profusely ornamented with casts from the antique , and with cut‐paper fiy‐floppers , looked up with surprise at the festive party headed by Perry .  After dinner the two little ones began to hang their heads in the hot room , and gave signs of going to sleep .  “ Good gracious !  ” said Perry , in a consternation , “ what are we to do with these wretched infants ?  They’ll just prevent our taking a stroll in the town before returning home .  ”  “ I think the best thing will be for them to sleep a little , sir , ” suggested Anne Brown .  “ I will tuck them up on the sofa , and stay with them here while you and Mr Hamlin take Miss Mildred and Miss Winnie for a walk .  ”  “ But I can’t think of leaving you behind , Annie , ” cried Perry .  , “ I know how much you would like to see the town .  ”  “ I saw part of it this morning , ” she swered ; “ and I really would just as soon stay with the children here .  ” There was no gainsaying her ; so the two men sallied forth with the two elder children on a walk through the crowded and bannered streets ; while Anne Brown remained sitting in the stuffy inn dining‐room by the side of the torpid little ones .  When they were out an idea suddenly struck Hamlin : this was the opportunity of getting a present for Anne Brown .  He left Perry regaling the children on ices at a café opposite the Church of St Michael , which rose like a great marble bride‐cake into the bright blue sky , and made his way to a bookstall which he had noticed in the morning .  He asked for the ‘Vita Nuova.’ The old bookseller looked over a number of little schedules in his desk , and produced several copies , new and second‐hand .  They did not please Hamlin .  At last he displayed a tiny Giunti volume , just delicately yellowed by age , and bound in vellum .  Hamlin bought it , and secreted it in his pocket , and then joined Perry .  They went to the stable , where all the carioles from the country put up , and ordered the waggonette to be at the inn door in an hour .  But as they were slowly mounting the wide stone staircase , with the eternal plaster dancing nymphs tripping it on each landing , Perry’s eye fell upon a large bill pasted upon the opposite wall , — the playbill of the Teatro del Giglio , — on which , among the names of singers , fiddlers , chorus‐directors , scene‐painters , theatre tailors , and hairdressers , streamed , in scarlet letters , the title “ Semiramide .  ”  “ Tò !  ” cried Milton Perry , with the Tuscan expression for a sudden bright thought ; “ what do you two young minxes say to going to hear an opera for the first time in your lives ?  ”  “ Oh , papa !  ” shrilled Mildred .  “ Oh , papa !  ” echoed Winnie , catching hold of his knees —  “ Not so quick !  ” exclaimed Perry ; “ I’m by no means so sure of it .  What’s to become of the two sleepy little worms ?  ”  “ Send them home with Annie , ” suggested Mildred , promptly ; “ and you’ll take us home later .  ”  “ Nothing of the kind , my young woman , ” he answered sternly .  “ If any one goes to the opera it shall be Annie .  Make up your mind for that .  ”  The dining‐room was deserted .  On a sofa near the open window lay the two tiny girls , propped up with cushions ; Anne Brown , surly , flopping away the flies which buzzed about them , and reading a newspaper .  She was resting the paper on her knees , and supporting her head with one hand , while the other moved slowly with the cut‐paper flopper ; and in this position the young nursemaid struck Hamlin as a resuscitation , but more beautiful and even stranger , of one of Michaelangelo’s prophetic women .  “ I say , Annie , ” ’ cried Perry , “ what do you say to taking these two brats to the opera this evening ?  ”  Anne Brown started up .  “ To the opera , sir ?  ” she cried , flushing with pleasure .  “ Yes ; these creatures have never been .  They’re giving ‘Semiramide’ to‐night .  I think it’s a good opera for children to begin with ; because it will teach them betimes the unhappy complications which are apt to result from murdering one’s husband , and trying to marry one’s son unawares .  I’ll take the little ones back to the villa in half an hour , and quiet Mrs Perry’s feelings .  Mr Hamlin will be delighted to accompany you and mesdemoiselles my daughters , to the theatre , and then bring you home .  It won’t last late .  ”  “ But , ” exclaimed Anne Brown , — “ oh , how good of you , sir !  — but are you sure you would not like to stay for the opera yourself ?  I could take the little ones home .  ”  “ No , thank you , Annie .  The fact is , I never have approved of Rossini’s music .  Ever since my earliest infancy I have been shocked by its want of earnestness ; what I like is a symphony in P minor , with plenty of chords of the diminished seventeenth .  That’s the right sort of thing , isn’t it , Hamlin ?  ”  A few minutes later Perry went away with the two little girls , leaving Mildred and Winhie with Anne Brown .  Hamlin accompanied them down‐stairs to the waggonette .  “ I will go to the theatre and secure a box , ” he said , “ and order a trap to take us back .  ”  “ All right !  ” cried Perry , as the waggonette rolled off .  “ Mind you don’t let those children bore you or worry poor Annie too much ; and don’t leave them alone the whole afternoon .  ”  But , for some unaccountable reason , Hamlin did leave them alone the whole afternoon .  After he had secured the box and ordered the carriage , he felt a sort of unwillingness to go back to the inn , perhaps unconsciously , to sit opposite the Perrys’ nursemaid ; so he walked about the town till tea‐time , not troubling himself to inquire whether Anne Brown and the children might not prefer a stroll on the ramparts to the monotony of sitting for two mortal hours in the inn dining‐room .  CHAPTER VIII .  AT dusk they hurriedly drank some of the thin yellow hotel‐tea ; and then hastened to the theatre across the twilit street and square , where the garlands of Venetian lanterns were beginning to shine like jewels against the pale‐blue evening sky .  Hamlin offered Anne Brown his arm , but she asked him to give it to Winnie Perry .  “ Mildred shall take mine , ” she said — “ that’s the best way in case of a crowd .  ”  A crowd , alas !  there was not ; the liveried theatre servants ( doubtless the same , in yellow striped waistcoats and drab gaiters , who carried out Semiramis’s throne , when the drop‐scene fell ) made profuse bows to the little party , and handed them at least half‐a‐dozen playbills , each as large as an ordinary flag .  The children had never been in a theatre before , and were in a high state of delight at the lights , the gilding , the red plush , the scraping of fiddles ; especially at being in a box , although the box on this occasion cost only about half as much as would a single seat in an English playhouse .  Gradually the theatre filled ; the boxes with people of quality from surrounding villas , gentlemen displaying an ampleness of shirt‐front , and ladies an ampleness of bosom conceivable only by the provincial mind ; the pit with townsfolk and officers : the whole company staring with eyes and opera‐glasses , talking , singing , rapping with sticks and sabres till the overture began to roll out , when the audience immediately set up a kind of confused hum , supposed to be the melody of the piece , and which half drowned the meagre orchestra .  Then the opera began — an opera such as only the misery and genius of Italy could produce .  There was a triumphal procession of six ragamuffins in cotton trousers and with brass kettle‐covers on their heads , marching round and round the stage , bearing trophies of paper altar‐flowers and coffee‐biggins ; there was a row of loathsome females , bloated or fleshless , in draggled robes too short or too long , shrieking out of tune in the queen’s chamber — and four rapscallions in nightgowns and Tam‐o’Shanters , and beards which would not stick on , standing round the little spirit‐lamp burning in front of Baal’s statue ; there was the little black leathern portmanteau containing the Babylonian regalia , which a nigger with a black‐crape face carried after the Prince Arsaces ; and there was the “ magnificent apartment in the palace of Nineveh , disclosing a delicious view of the famous hanging gardens , ” as described by the libretto , and furnished solely with a rush‐bottomed chair and a deal table , the table‐cloth of which was so short that Semiramis was obliged to lean her arm on it to prevent its slipping off , which , however , it finally did .  Moreover , an incalculable amount of singing out of tune and pummelling one’s chest in moments of passion .  No training , no dresses , no scenery , no orchestra .  Still in this miserable performance there was an element of beauty and dignity , a something in harmony with the grand situation and glorious music : a splendidly made Semiramis , quite regal in her tawdry robes , who showered out volleys of roulades as a bird might shower out its trills ; another young woman , plain , tall , and slight , playing the prince in corselet and helmet , with quite magnificent attitudes of defiance and command , with bare extended arm and supple wrist .  The two girls who played the principal parts were sisters , and although they had certainly never sung much with a teacher , they must have sung a great deal together ; and their voices and style melted into each other quite as if it were all a spontaneous effusion on their part .  All the realities which money can get , dress , voice , training , accessories , scenery , utterly wanting ; but instead , in the midst of pauperism , something which money cannot always get , a certain ideal beauty and charm .  Anne Brown was intensely interested in the performance ; indeed , quite as much so , though in another way , as the children .  During the intervals between the acts , she could speak of nothing but the story of Semiramis , and wonder what would happen next .  Hamlin could scarcely help laughing at the concern which she manifested each time that the hero Arsace was bullied by the wicked Assur ; but he could not laugh at the tragic way in which she conceived the whole situation .  To him all that florid music of Rossini would already have destroyed any seriousness there might have been in the matter ; but to Anne Brown it seemed as if all these splendid vocalisations took the place of the visible pomp and magnificence of Assyrian royalty : for her the heroes and heroines , the magi and satraps , were clad , not in the calico and tinsel of the theatre tailor , but in the musical splendours of Rossini .  Hamlin , to say the truth , found the performance very wearisome ; he had been bored by Semiramide too often with Tietiens and Trebelli , to find it particularly interesting at the Teatro del Giglio of Lucca .  He sat looking on listlessly , not so much at the stage as at the girl who was leaning out of the box before him , watching each movement of her hand and neck , as she devoured the performance with eyes and ears .  But when at last there came the grand scene between Semiramis and her son , whatsoever was good in the performance suddenly burst forth ; the two young women sang with a sort of spontaneous passion , a delight in the music and their own voices and themselves ; and when , Semiramis having let down her back hair ( as distressed heroines always do ) from utter despair , Prince Arsaces , not to be outdone , pulled off his helmet , letting down his or her back hair also , and the two sank into each other’s arms and began the great duet , even Hamlin felt in a kind of way that this was passionate , and tragic , and grand .  Anne Brown was seated sidewise in the front of the box , resting her mass of iron‐black hair on her hand , her other hand lying loosely on her knees .  Her chest heaved under her lace mantilla , and her parted lips quivered .  It seemed to Hamlin as if this were the real Semiramis , the real mysterious king‐woman of antiquity — as if the music belonged in some sort of ideal way to her .  When the curtain had fallen amid the yells of applause , she remained silent , letting Hamlin help her on with her shawl without turning her eyes from the stage .  The lights were rapidly put out .  “ We must go , Miss Brown , ” cried Hamlin , “ otherwise we shall be left in the dark .  ”  She turned , took little Winnie by the hand , and followed him , who led the elder Perry child , prattling loudly , to the stairs .  There was a great crowd going down , whistling and humming tunes from the opera .  From the force of habit Hamlin again offered Anne Brown his arm .