even become hard to understand that she could have gone on all
these years without him。 She had missed him so those six weeks of
the Easter vacation； she had revelled so in his three queer little
letters； half…shy； half…confidential； kissed them； and worn them in
her dress！ And in return had written him long； perfectly correct
epistles in her still rather quaint English。 She had never let him
guess her feelings； the idea that he might shocked her
inexpressibly。 When the summer term began； life seemed to be all
made up of thoughts of him。 If； ten years ago； her baby had lived；
if its cruel deathafter her agonyhad not killed for good her
wish to have another； if for years now she had not been living with
the knowledge that she had no warmth to expect； and that love was
all over for her； if life in the most beautiful of all old cities
had been able to grip herthere would have been forces to check
this feeling。 But there was nothing in the world to divert the
current。 And she was so brimful of life； so conscious of vitality
running to sheer waste。 Sometimes it had been terrific； that
feeling within her； of wanting to liveto find outlet for her
energy。 So many hundreds of lonely walks she had taken during all
these years； trying to lose herself in Naturehurrying alone；
running in the woods； over the fields； where people did not come；
trying to get rid of that sense of waste； trying once more to feel
as she had felt when a girl； with the whole world before her。 It
was not for nothing that her figure was superb； her hair so bright
a brown； her eyes so full of light。 She had tried many
distractions。 Work in the back streets； music； acting； hunting；
given them up one after the other； taken to them passionately
again。 They had served in the past。 But this year they had not
served。 。 。 。 One Sunday； coming from confession unconfessed； she
had faced herself。 It was wicked。 She would have to kill this
feelingmust fly from this boy who moved her so！ If she did not
act quickly； she would be swept away。 And then the thought had
come： Why not？ Life was to be livednot torpidly dozed through in
this queer cultured place； where age was in the blood！ Life was
for loveto be enjoyed！ And she would be thirty…six next month！
It seemed to her already an enormous age。 Thirty…six！ Soon she
would be old； actually oldand never have known passion！ The
worship； which had made a hero of the distinguished…looking
Englishman； twelve years older than herself； who could lead up the
Cimone della Pala； had not been passion。 It might； perhaps； have
become passion if he had so willed。 But he was all form； ice；
books。 Had he a heart at all； had he blood in his veins？ Was
there any joy of life in this too beautiful city and these people
who lived in itthis place where even enthusiasms seemed to be
formal and have no wings； where everything was settled and
sophisticated as the very chapels and cloisters？ And yet； to have
this feeling for a boyfor one almost young enough to be her son！
It was soshameless！ That thought haunted her； made her flush in
the dark； lying awake at night。 And desperately she would pray
for she was devoutpray to be made pure； to be given the holy
feelings of a mother； to be filled simply with the sweet sense that
she could do everything； suffer anything for him； for his good。
After these long prayers she would feel calmed； drowsy； as though
she had taken a drug。 For hours； perhaps； she would stay like
that。 And then it would all come over her again。 She never
thought of his loving her； that would beunnatural。 Why should he
love her？ She was very humble about it。 Ever since that Sunday；
when she avoided the confessional； she had brooded over how to make
an endhow to get away from a longing that was too strong for her。
And she had hit on this planto beg for the mountains； to go back
to where her husband had come into her life； and try if this
feeling would not die。 If it did not； she would ask to be left out
there with her own people； away from this danger。 And now the
foolthe blind foolthe superior foolwith his satiric smile；
his everlasting patronage； had driven her to overturn her own plan。
Well； let him take the consequences； she had done her best！ She
would have this one fling of joy； even if it meant that she must
stay out there； and never see the boy again！
Standing in her dusky hall； where a faint scent of woodrot crept
out into the air； whenever windows and doors were closed； she was
all tremulous with secret happiness。 To be with him among her
mountains； to show him all those wonderful； glittering or tawny
crags； to go with him to the top of them and see the kingdoms of
the world spread out below； to wander with him in the pine woods；
on the Alps in all the scent of the trees and the flowers； where
the sun was hot！ The first of July； and it was only the tenth of
June！ Would she ever live so long？ They would not go to San
Martino this time； rather to Cortinasome new place that had no
memories！
She moved from the window； and busied herself with a bowl of
flowers。 She had heard that humming sound which often heralded her
husband's approach； as though warning the world to recover its good
form before he reached it。 In her happiness she felt kind and
friendly to him。 If he had not meant to give her joy； he had
nevertheless given it！ He came downstairs two at a time； with that
air of not being a pedagogue； which she knew so well； and； taking
his hat off the stand； half turned round to her。
〃Pleasant youth； young Lennan； hope he won't bore us out there！〃
His voice seemed to have an accent of compunction； to ask pardon
for having issued that impulsive invitation。 And there came to her
an overwhelming wish to laugh。 To hide it； to find excuse for it；
she ran up to him； and； pulling his coat lapels till his face was
within reach； she kissed the tip of his nose。 And then she
laughed。 And he stood looking at her； with his head just a little
on one side； and his eyebrows just a little raised。
IV
When young Mark heard a soft tapping at his door； though out of
bed； he was getting on but dreamilyit was so jolly to watch the
mountains lying out in this early light like huge beasts。 That one
they were going up； with his head just raised above his paws；
looked very far away out there！ Opening the door an inch； he
whispered：
〃Is it late？〃
〃Five o'clock； aren't you ready？〃
It was awfully rude of him to keep her waiting！ And he was soon
down in the empty dining…room； where a sleepy maid was already
bringing in their coffee。 Anna was there alone。 She had on a
flax…blue shirt； open at the neck； a short green skirt； and a grey…
green velvety hat； small； with one black…cock's feather。 Why could
not people always wear such nice things； and be as splendid…
looking！ And he said：
〃You do look jolly； Mrs。 Stormer！〃
She did not answer for so long that he wondered if it had been rude
to say that。 But she DID look so strong； and swift； and happy…
looking。
Down the hill； through a wood of larch…trees； to the river； and
across the bridge； to mount at once by a path through hay…fields。
How could old Stormer stay in bed on such a morning！ The peasant
girls in their blue linen skirts were already gathering into
bundles what the men had scythed。 One； raking at the edge of a
field； paused and shyly nodded to them。 She had the face of a
Madonna； very calm and grave and sweet； with delicate arched brows
a face it was pure pleasure to see。 The boy looked back at her。
Everything to him； who had never been out of England before； seemed
strange and glamorous。 The chalets； with their long wide burnt…
brown wooden balconies and low…hanging eaves jutting far beyond the
walls； these bright dresses of the peasant women； the friendly
little cream…coloured cows； with blunt； smoke…grey muzzles。 Even
the feel in the air was new； that delicious crisp burning warmth
that lay so lightly as it were on the surface of frozen stillness；
and the special sweetness of all places at the foot of mountains
scent of pine…gum； burning larch…wood； and all the meadow flowers
and grasses。 But newest of all was the feeling within hima sort
of pride； a sense of importance； a queer exhilaration at being
alone with her； chosen companion of one so beautiful。
They passed all the other pilgrims bound the same waystout square
Germans with their coats slung through straps； who trailed behind
them heavy alpenstocks； carried greenish bags； and marched stolidly
at a pace that never varied； growling； as Anna and the boy went by：
〃Aber eilen ist nichts！〃
But those two could not go fast enough to keep pace with their
spirits。 This was no real climbjust a training walk to the top
of the Nuvolau； and they were up before noon； and soon again
descending； very hungry。 When they entered the little dining…room
of the Cinque Torre Hutte； they found it occupied by a party of
English people； eating omelettes； who looked at Anna with faint
signs of recognition； but did not cease talking in voices that all
had a certain half…languid precision； a slight but brisk pinching
of sounds； as if determined not to tolerate a drawl； and yet to
have one。 Most of them had field…glasses slung round them； and
cameras were dotted here and there about the room。 Their faces
were not really much alike； but they all had a peculiar drooping
smile； and a particular lift of the eyebrows； that made them seem
reproductions of a single type。 Their teeth； too； for the most
part were a little prominent； as though the drooping of their
mouths had forced them forward。 They were eating as people eat who
distrust the lower senses； preferring not to be compelled to taste
or smell。
〃From our hotel；〃 whispered Anna； and； ordering red wine and
schnitzels； she and the boy sat down。 The lady who seemed in
command of the English party inquired now how Mr。 Stormer washe
was not laid up； she hoped。 No？ Only lazy？ Indeed！ He was a
great climber； she believed。 It seemed to the boy that this lady
somehow did not quite approve of them。 The talk was all maintained
between her； a gentleman with a crumpled collar and puggaree；