NELLA. [Throwing wood into the stove.] Che tua sia benedetta per
rammentarmelo! Questi Inglesi non si contentono del sole. (Bless you
for remembering it. These English are not content with the sun.)
[Leaving only a vase of flowers upon the table, they hurry out with the
breakfast things. At the same moment, FORTUNE, a manservant, enters,
showing in MRS. THORPE and the REV. AMOS WINTERFIELD. GERTRUDE THORPE
is a pretty, frank-looking young woman of about seven and twenty. She
is in mourning, and has sorrowful eyes and a complexion that is too
delicate, but natural cheerfulness and brightness are seen through all.
AMOS is about forty--big, burly, gruff; he is untidily dressed, and
has a pipe in his hand. FORTUNE is carrying a pair of freshly-cleaned
tan-coloured boots upon boot-trees.]
GERTRUDE. Now, Fortune, you ought to have told us downstairs that Dr.
Kirke is with Mrs. Cleeve.
AMOS. Come away, Gerty. Mrs. Cleeve can't want to be bored with us just
now.
FORTUNE. Mrs. Cleeve give 'er ordares she is always to be bored wiz
Madame Thorpe and Mr. Winterfield.
AMOS. Ha, Ha!
GERTRUDE. [Smiling.] Fortune!
FORTUNE. Besides, ze doctares vill go in 'alf a minute, you see.
GERTRUDE. Doctors!
AMOS. What, is there another doctor with Dr. Kirke?
FORTUNE. Ze great physician, Sir Brodrick.
GERTRUDE. Sir George Brodrick? Amos!
AMOS. Doesn't Mr. Cleeve feel so well?
FORTUNE. Oh, yes. But Mrs. Cleeve 'appen to read in a newspapare zat
Sir George Brodrick vas in Florence for ze Paque--ze Eastare. Sir
Brodrick vas Mr. Cleeve's doctor in London, Mrs. Cleeve tell me, so'e
is acquainted wiz Mr. Cleeve's inside.
AMOS. Ho, ho!
GERTRUDE. Mr. Cleeve's constitution, Fortune.
FORTUNE. Excuse, madame. Zerefore Mrs. Cleeve she telegraph for Sir
Brodrick to come to Venise.
AMOS. To consult with Dr. Kirke, I suppose.
FORTUNE. [Listening.] 'Ere is ze doctares.
[DR. KIRKE enters, followed by SIR GEORGE BRODRICK. KIRKE is a shabby,
snuff-taking old gentleman--blunt but kind; SIR GEORGE, on the
contrary, is scrupulously neat in his dress, and has a suave,
professional manner. FORTUNE withdraws]
KIRKE. Good morning, Mr. Winterfield. [To GERTRUDE.] How do you do, my
dear? You're getting some colour into your pretty face, I'm glad to
see. [To SIR GEORGE.] Mr. Winterfield--Sir George Brodrick. [SIR
GEORGE and AMOS shake hands.]
KIRKE. [To SIR GEORGE.] Mrs. Thorpe. [SIR GEORGE shakes hands with
GERTRUDE.] Sir George and I started life together in London years ago;
now he finds me here in Venice. Well we can't all win the race--eh?
SIR GEORGE. My dear old friend! [To GERTRUDE.] Mr Cleeve has been
telling me, Mrs. Thorpe, how exceedingly kind you and your brother have
been to him during his illness.
GERTRUDE. Oh, Mr. Cleeve exaggerates our little services.
AMOS. I've done nothing.
GERTRUDE. Nor I.
DR. KIRKE. Now, my dear!
GERTRUDE. Dr Kirke, you weren't in Florence with us; you're only a
tale-bearer.
DR. KIRKE. Well, I've excellent authority for my story of a young woman
who volunteered to share the nursing of an invalid at a time when she
herself stood greatly in need of being nursed.
GERTRUDE. Nonsense! [To SIR GEORGE.] You know, Amos--my big brother
over there--Amos and I struck up an acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs.
Cleeve at Florence, at the Hotel d'Italie, and occasionally one of us
would give Mr Cleeve his dose while Poor Mrs. Cleeve took a little rest
or drive--but positively that's all.