Whosoever Shall Offend | Page 7

lived, near the Forum of Trajan. They
appeared almost directly, the Contessa in grey with a grey veil and
Aurora dressed in a lighter shade, the thick plaits of her auburn hair tied
up short below her round straw hat, on the theory that she was still a
school-girl, whose skirt must not quite touch the ground, who ought not
to wear a veil, and whose mind was supposed to be a sensitive blank,
particularly apt to receive bad impressions rather than good ones. In
less than a year she would be dancing all night with men she had
scarcely heard of before, listening to compliments of which she had
never dreamt--of course not--and to declarations which no right-minded

girl one day under eighteen could under any circumstances be thought
to expect. Such miracles as these are wrought by the eighteenth
birthday.
Corbario's eyes looked from the mother to the daughter, as he and
Marcello stood on the pavement to let them get in. The Contessa
touched his outstretched hand without restraint but without cordiality,
smiling just as much as was civil, and less readily than would have
been friendly. Aurora glanced at him and laughed prettily without any
apparent reason, which is the privilege of very young girls, because
their minds are supposed to be a blank. Also because her skirt must not
quite touch the ground, one very perfect black silk ankle was distinctly
visible for a moment as she stepped into the carriage. Note that from
the eve of her eighteenth birthday till she is old enough to be really
wicked no well-regulated young woman shows her ankles. This also is
one of the miracles of time.
Marcello blushed faintly as he sat down beside Aurora. There were
now five in the big carriage, so that she was between the two men; and
though there was enough room Marcello felt the slight pressure of her
arm against his. His mother saw his colour change, and looked away
and smiled. The idea of marrying the two in a few years had often
crossed her mind, and she was pleased whenever she saw that Marcello
felt a little thrill of emotion in the girl's presence. As for Aurora, she
looked straight before her, between the heads of the two elder women,
and for a long time after they had started she seemed absorbed in
watching the receding walls of the city and the long straight road that
led back to it. The Contessa and her friend talked quietly, happy to be
together for a whole day. Corbario now and then looked from one to
the other, as if to assure himself that they were quite comfortable, and
his still face wore an unchanging look of contented calm as his eyes
turned again to the sunlit sweep of the low Campagna. Marcello looked
steadily away from Aurora, happily and yet almost painfully aware that
her arm could not help pressing against his. The horses' hoofs beat
rhythmically on the hard high road, with the steady, cheerful energy
which would tell a blind man that a team is well fed, fresh from rest,
and altogether fit for a long day's work. The grey-haired coachman sat

on his box like an old dragoon in the saddle; the young groom sat bolt
upright beside him with folded arms, as if he could never tire of sitting
straight. The whole party looked prosperous, harmonious, healthy, and
perfectly happy, as if nothing in the least unpleasant could possibly
happen to them, still less anything terrible, that could suddenly change
all their lives.
One of fate's favourite tricks is to make life look particularly gay and
enjoyable, and full of sunshine and flowers, at the very moment when
terror wakes from sleep and steps out of the shadow to stalk abroad.
The cottage where the party were going to spend the next few days
together was built like an Indian bungalow, consisting of a single story
surrounded by a broad, covered verandah, and having a bit of lawn in
front. It was sheltered by trees, and between it and the beach a bank of
sand from ten to fifteen feet high ran along the shore, the work of the
southwest gales during many ages. In many places this bank was
covered with scrub and brushwood on the landward side.
A little stream meandered down to the sea on the north side of the
cottage, ending in a pool full of tall reeds, amongst which one could get
about in a punt. The seashore itself is very shelving at that place, and
there is a bar about a cable's length out, over which the sea breaks with
a tremendous roar during westerly storms. Two hundred yards from the
cottage, a large hut had been built for the men-servants and