At the dining table, Evelyn could see that trenches had been invisibly drawn and she was glad to find herself opposite Miss Everly and next to the socialist. The reverend placed himself at the head of the table （of course） and Evelyn was grateful that whatever grace he said, was said silently. The Brown sisters made a fuss of sitting opposite the Luggs and the Luggs were simply happy to be at a table with only English people. Evelyn looked over at the other table and couldn’t work out if the four still waiting for their soup were sleeping or dead.
The reverend did the honours with the wine, and after the soup had been cleared, Evelyn dabbed her mouth with the linen and answered the question at hand.
I have a view, she said most emphatically.
I don’t, said Mr Collins. I have the cortile.
I, too, have a view, said Miss Everly. As befits my status.
Miss Everly is a poet, said Mr Collins.
Are you really? said Evelyn.
For my sins.
Which are countless—
Mr Collins!
According to your verse, that is, Miss Everly.
You’ve read me, Mr Collins? said Miss Everly.
How could I not?
Miss Skinner? said Miss Everly. Do me the honour of telling me what you saw when you looked out of your window for the first time. Be robust and adventurous. Hold nothing back, and Miss Everly closed her eyes, ready to receive the descriptive benediction （her words）。
Mr Collins leant in close to Evelyn and said, She asks the same of everyone when they arrive. Make it good.
Evelyn cleared her throat. She said, I saw a lone rower carving across the Arno. The foothills were darkening, and the cypress trees around San Miniato were topped by a ghostly mist. Ochre walls appeared more golden as the sun softened. Lights appeared throughout the city and took their place on the surface of the river. The rower slipped through this spectacle of light. Water dripped off the blades of his oars, and momentarily, I was in that drip. Falling into the green twilight depths of history.
You have silenced the room, said the reverend.
The elderly twins applauded.
The lady poet laughed, She is smitten already! You have caught the fever of Firenze! Oh, my dear Miss Skinner, there is no turning back. You shall die with those lights in your eyes. Miss Skinner has turned looking into loving! The first rule of art. Looking into loving! Oh welcome, my dear! Welcome!
Mr Collins stood up and replenished the wine glasses. He said, Reverend Hyndesight? What delights await you the other side of the shutter? Vista or cortile?
Cortile, said the reverend, wishing to move away from this subject.
Washing lines and dripping undergarments for us, isn’t it, reverend? said Mr Collins.
Really, Mr Collins, said the elderly twin sisters in unison.
He does it on purpose, said Miss Everly. He likes to shock.
I like to reposition.
Bravo word, said Miss Everly.
And what on earth does that mean? said the reverend.
It’s a changing world, was all Mr Collins said. Evelyn caught him looking over at the painting of Queen Victoria. Out with the old, he mouthed to Evelyn and raised his eyebrows.
Mr Collins is a philosopher, said Miss Everly.
Soi-disant, said the reverend to the newly married couple, who he planned to take under his large vestal wing.
Humanist, said Mr Collins.
Humorist, said Miss Everly.
Evelyn looked back and forth, following the conversations and consigning to memory who said what and how they said it. English through and through, they were, and they expressed an excess of bonhomie like those without lifebelts on a sinking ship.
She liked Miss Everly immensely, and she liked Mr Collins too, as he reminded her of her father – when he was younger, of course. And yet she was most intrigued by the maid waiting in the corner of the room, staring at her. She didn’t know what it was that made her heart thump so furiously, and at first thought it might have been the soup.
Miss Skinner, you’re positively red! said Miss Everly indiscreetly. Are you hot?
No. I—
It’s the wine—
Maybe a slight fever—？
All the travelling—？
No, said Miss Skinner, I’m … I’m decidedly happy. That’s all. To meet you all. And to be here in this moment in time.
Reciprocal sentiments were scattered like sugar beads and in the midst of it all, Reverend Hyndesight made an ill-timed proclamation. He said, I shall be delivering a sermon at St Mark’s English Church this Sunday if anyone is interested? Anyone? he said again. Luckily the stew was carried in by the maid at that moment, saving anyone from answering.
Beef stew again, said Mr Collins.
We presume it’s beef, said Miss Everly. But I, for one, haven’t seen the elderly concierge for a while.