On the morning after their arrival our travellers--the younger ones
especially--were all impatience to see something of the fair city of
Florence, so famed, moreover, for the beauty of its position; and the
scene, as they looked from the windows of the hotel, inclined them to
join in singing its praises.
The fine quay of the Lung' Arno; the river itself flowing along calmly,
and glittering beneath the sun's bright rays; the hill on the opposite
side with its olive-trees and gardens, relieved here and there by an
imposing building, were all beautiful seen from a distance. The narrow
dusty roads between high walls, the faded and dried-up appearance of
all around, are then hidden; but a closer view raises a sigh for the
lovely lanes with their flowery hedges, and the fresh green verdure
of our own dear country, or even of the neighbourhood of Rome, where
the dampness of the climate counteracts the effect of the scorching
sun, and prevents, in some degree, the washed-out look which is so
striking everywhere about Florence. When our friends come to explore
that which looks so pretty from the hotel windows, they may, perhaps,
be tempted to think that the beauty of the country round Florence has
been overrated, and, were it not rash to say so, even to prefer the
charms of some of the other towns which they passed through on their
way from Rome. They must, however, visit the "lions" within the gates
before they extend their excursions beyond them; and although it is
very possible that they may be slightly disappointed with the latter,
they certainly cannot be with the former. With such treasures as those
which adorn her galleries of the Uffizi, the Pitti, and the Belle Arti,
surely Florence could afford to be surnamed _la brutta_ instead of _la
bella_! Yes, she might well dispense with all exterior loveliness,
and pointing to the long line of celebrated men to whom she has given
birth, say, in the words of the mother of the Gracchi, "Here are my
jewels!" As it is, Nature too has been bountiful to Florence, for she
has undoubtedly given her a large share of beauty in addition to all
the rest.
Their first visit was to the Uffizi, and in the far-famed tribune
they saw, with wondering eyes, Mr. and Mrs. Penton, and her brother,
Mr. Barkley. As they shook hands with Mrs. Penton, and expressed
some surprise at seeing them there, since they supposed them to be in
Naples, she replied, "We did go to Naples on the evening after Mrs.
Elton's ball, and we spent a week there; then Edmund"--looking towards
Mr. Barkley, who was in another part of the room--"came to us from
Sicily; we sailed direct to Leghorn, and arrived here yesterday."
"You certainly have lost no time," said Mrs. Adair; "for we came
straight from Rome, and yet we only arrived yesterday. We travelled
however by the Perugia route, which is a long one, but oh, how
beautiful!"
"So every one says. We were, however, pressed for time, and therefore
we had to get over the ground as quickly as possible; but how we shall
ever tear Edmund away from Florence is more than I can say. You know my
brother, do you not?"
"Yes,--that is, Flora and I know him, but the Blakes have never met
him; he would, I am sure, find Mr. Blake a delightful companion; he
knows Florence so well, and is quite an enthusiastic admirer of its
works of art; in fact, he is a most desirable guide to them."
"Then please to ask him if I may introduce my brother; to make his
acquaintance would be quite a _trouvaille_ for Edmund." Mrs. Penton
was one of those who like to introduce French words into their
conversation. "Gerald and I, not being such worshippers of painting,
should be quite exhausted if we attempted to keep pace with him; it is
so fatiguing to look up at pictures for any length of time. We have
been here more than an hour already, and I do not want to be tired
before the afternoon, when we intend to drive in the Cascine to see the
_beau monde_ of Florence; so it will be an excellent thing if we can
get Edmund and Mr. Blake together, and then I can make Gerald take me
home."
Accordingly Mrs. Adair turned to Mr. Blake, who was near to them,
examining a picture, and said that Mrs. Penton wished to introduce
him to her brother; and Mrs. Penton added, "Edmund will have a double
pleasure in making your acquaintance, as Mrs. Adair tells me you are a
_connaisseur_ here."
"It is indeed true that I am a warm admirer of the great treasures
which Florence contains, but I have no claim to the title of
_connaisseur_. I shall be most happy, however, to be introduced to your
brother, and to give him any information I possess about the Florentine
galleries,--they are old acquaintances of mine, but strangers, I
suppose, to him."
"Yes, it is our first visit to Florence; we only arrived yesterday. Let
us go to Edmund!"
They crossed to Mr. Barkley, and his sister--laying her hand upon his
shoulder--said, "Edmund, I have just met Mrs. Adair, her daughter, and
some friends of theirs, whom I had the pleasure of meeting in Rome. Mr.
Blake knows Florence _à coeur_, I believe, and he kindly says that this
knowledge is at your service: Mr. Blake--my brother, Mr. Barkley."
They bowed, and Mr. Barkley said, "I am most grateful for your kind
offer, Mr. Blake, and shall gladly avail myself of it."
After a few moments of conversation Mrs. Penton said, "You must speak
to the Adairs, Edmund; but first tell me, where is Gerald?"
"I think he went into that room," pointing to the door on the left side
of the tribune.
"Will you then take me to my husband, Mr. Blake, while Edmund goes to
the Adairs?"
Mrs. Penton made this request in the manner and tone of voice of one
who feels certain that any man--even an old one--would be pleased at
being asked to walk with her.
Mr. Barkley was like Mrs. Penton, but handsomer, and, apparently,
of superior intelligence. His complexion was dark--if black hair,
eyebrows, and moustache, with grey eyes and a pale face, constitute
the dark style; his well-formed forehead was almost ivory-like in its
whiteness, his nose straight and finely cut, and his mouth small and
sufficiently expressive, without, however, being very remarkable for
that distinctive quality. He was just the sort of man that the greatest
number of women rave about,--quite a _héros de roman_, with his
tall, straight figure, and air of refinement. Nevertheless there was
something wanting; it was not a face which gave one the idea that its
possessor was a man of courage--we mean _moral_ courage, or fortitude;
nor did his fair and delicately-moulded hands redeem his face: they
were not hands formed for a firm grasp, or to hold on steadfastly
through time and difficulty. He was, however, generally considered to
be quite an Adonis, a lady-killer. Of this he was fully conscious, but
he had far too keen a sense of what is really worthy to be admired ever
to betray this consciousness in his manner or conversation; and towards
women he was almost chivalrous in his courtesy and deference,--another
reason, doubtless, why he was so great a favourite with them.
Meanwhile he went to speak to the Adairs, and was introduced to Mrs.
Blake, Mina, and Marie.
Mrs. Penton returned in a few moments with her husband and Mr. Blake,
and, addressing her brother, she said, "Edmund, Gerald and I are
going; but I suppose you will not come with us?"
"Nay; here is something more attractive," answered Mr. Barkley, with a
smile and a bow towards the three girls who were standing together.
"But you will come to drive in the Cascine, will you not? There will, I
suppose, be plenty of attraction for you there, in the youth and beauty
of Florence."
"Then you may depend upon me."
Did Mrs. Penton divine what her brother's wishes were? For she turned
to Mrs. Adair, and said, "We shall have a vacant seat in the carriage;
will you allow one of your young ladies to accompany us?"
"With pleasure."
"Then I will call at a little after four. But which of them am I to
have the honour of chaperoning?"
"Marie," replied Flora, quickly. "Mina and I are great walkers, and
shall probably go for a walk in the country with Mr. Blake."
Mr. and Mrs. Penton left the tribune, but the rest of the party
remained. Mr. Blake and Mr. Barkley agreed to go on the following day
to the Accademia delle belle Arti and also to San Marco. "I know a good
little Padre there," said Mr. Blake, "who will show us everything. He
and I are the best of friends, although I cannot help regretting his
blindness in matters of faith. And I dare say he has the same sort of
feeling towards me."
"No doubt he has," replied Mr. Barkley, laughingly; "and I, as you
probably know, side with the Padre."
"Oh, yes,--I know that you do; so I must be upon my guard, as you will
be two to one. But the ladies have gone on; we had better follow them."
They left the tribune, and went into the small rooms on the right-hand
side of it, and there they found the ladies. Marie and Flora were
standing together,--the former talking eagerly of the goodness of Flora
in wishing her to drive with the Pentons instead of herself. To all of
which Flora answered--
"I deserve no praise whatever, for I really do not care to go. I shall
be quite as much pleased to have a nice long walk, which would only
tire you. You don't know, Mignonne, how often an appearance of goodness
may spring from indifference. You may indeed enjoy your drive without
imagining that I have made any sacrifice whatsoever in not going."
Just then Mr. Barkley joined them, and asked what they were talking
about so earnestly?
"My share in the conversation," said Flora, "consisted in trying to
persuade Marie that I am not making any sacrifice in giving her my
place for the drive this afternoon,--indeed, as I have already told
her, I shall prefer a walk to driving up and down a public promenade,
with nothing but fashion to look at."
It is probable that an Adonis like Mr. Barkley found it rather
difficult to believe that any girl should prefer a walk with other
ladies, or, at least, with an old gentleman, to a drive in _his_
society; and he said, with a smile, "It is fortunate for our
vanity that at least one of you wishes to come out with us. We
shall do everything in our power to make it an agreeable drive to
Mademoiselle----I have not caught her name."
"Arbi," replied Flora.
"Thank you;" then turning to Marie, he continued--"Then, Mademoiselle
Arbi, we may expect to have the pleasure of your company this
afternoon?"
"_Oui, Monsieur_," replied Marie, blushing. Whenever she was eager
about anything, or particularly shy, as she was at that moment, she
spoke French.
Flora now moved on after the others, who had gone into the next room,
and Marie followed her as closely as possible, in terror at the thought
of having to keep up a _tête-à-tête_ talk with Mr. Barkley.
The conversation now became general, and naturally turned upon
painting; so, between talking of, and admiring, the many beautiful
works contained in the Uffizi, the hours sped on until past two
o'clock. It was then decided that they should go home for luncheon, and
take a rest before the fatigues of the afternoon began.
After leaving the gallery, they stopped to _flâner_ a little in the
Arcades. Mr. Barkley had succeeded very fairly in dispelling Marie's
shyness of him. He made her laugh merrily at his account of some of
his adventures in Sicily, and his ridiculous mistakes in the language,
which he then knew but slightly. His French, however, was perfect; and
this was to Marie a great boon. He purposely lingered at one of the
stalls, explaining something which he had pointed out to her, until
the others had got into the Piazza della Signoria; and having thus
managed that she should walk home with him, he exclaimed, "I declare
they are half way across the Piazza! What a hurry they are in! But do
not tire yourself; we shall easily keep them in sight, and that is all
we require. But that we _must_ do, or we should not find our way to our
hotels."
He took care, however, not to overtake them before they reached the
hotel, at the door of which they had to wait a minute or two for Marie.
When she and her cavalier did come up, Mr. Blake said, "Can you find
the road to your abode, Mr. Barkley; or shall I accompany you?"
"Thank you, it is so near that I cannot mistake my way. Good morning."