Jenny | Page 4

Rome." Poor mother - how was she? He had often been impatient with
her these last years. He unpacked the thing and had a look at it - it was
probably meant for a scent-bottle. He added a few words to his
mother's card that he managed the language all right, and that to
bargain in the shops was an easy matter.
The food was good, but dear. Never mind, once he was more at home
here he would soon learn how to live cheaply. Satisfied and exhilarated
by the wine, he started to walk in a new direction, past long, low,
dilapidated houses, through an archway on to a bridge. A man in a
barrier hut stopped him and made him understand that he had to pay a
soldo. On the other side of the bridge was a large, dark church with a
dome.
He got into a labyrinth of dark, narrow bits of streets - in the
mysterious gloom he surmised the existence of old palaces with
projecting cornices and lattice windows side by side with miserable
hovels, and small church-fronts in between the rows of houses. There
were no pavements and he stepped into refuse that lay rotting in the
gutter. Outside the narrow doors of the lighted taverns and under the
few street lamps he had a vague glimpse of human forms.
He was half delighted, half afraid - boyishly excited, and wondering at
the same time how he was to get out of this maze and find the way to
his hotel at the ends of the earth - take a cab, he supposed.
He passed down another narrow, almost empty street. A small strip of
clear, blue sky was visible between the high houses with their frameless
windows, looking like black holes cut in the wall. On the uneven stone

bridge dust and straw and bits of paper were tossed about by a light
gust of wind.
Two women, walking behind him, passed him close under a lamp. He
gave a start: they were the ones he had noticed that afternoon in the
Corso and believed to be Norwegian. He recognized the light furs of
the taller one.
Suddenly he felt an impulse to try an adventure - to ask them the way,
so as to hear if they were Norwegian - or Scandinavian at any rate, for
they were certainly foreigners. With slightly beating heart he started to
walk after them.
The two young girls stopped outside a shop, which was closed, and
then walked on. Helge wondered if he should say "Please" or "Bitte" or
"Scusi" - or if he should blurt out at once "Undskyld" - it would be
funny if they were Norwegians.
The girls turned a corner; Helge was close upon them, screwing up
courage to address them. The smaller one turned round angrily and said
something in Italian in a low voice. He felt disappointed and was going
to vanish after an apology, when the tall one said in Norwegian: "You
should not speak to them, Cesca - it is much better to pretend not to
notice."
"I cannot bear that cursed Italian rabble; they never will leave a woman
alone," said the other.
"I beg your pardon," said Helge, and the two girls stopped, turning
round quickly.
"I hope you will excuse me," he muttered, colouring, and, angrily
conscious of it, blushed still deeper. "I only arrived from Florence
today, and have lost my way in these winding streets. I thought you
were Norwegian, or at any rate Scandinavian, and I cannot manage the
Italian language. Would you be kind enough to tell me where to find a
car? My name is Gram," he added, raising his hat again.

"Where do you live?" asked the taller girl.
"At a place called the Albergo Torino, close to the station," he
explained.
"He should take the Trastevere tram at San Carlo ai Catenari," said the
other.
"No; better take a No. 1 at the new Corso."
"But those cars don't go to the Termini," answered the little one.
"Yes, they do. Those that have San Pietro, stazione Termini, written on
them," she explained to Helge.
"Oh, that one! It runs past Capo le Case and Ludovisi and an awful
long way about first - it will take an hour at least to the station with that
one."
"No, dear; it goes direct - straight along Via Nazionale."
"It does not," insisted the other; "it goes to the Lateran first."
The taller girl turned to Helge: "The first turning right will take you
into a sort of market. From there you go along the Cancellaria on your
left to the new Corso. If I remember rightly, the tram stops at the
Cancellaria - somewhere near it anyway - you will see the