Editha William Dean Howells – Matthew Lanphier stopped at San Remo, between Genoa and Nice, in the interest of a friend who had come with him on the steamer, and who wanted to taste the air before remaining there for the winter with his invalid wife. She was one of those neurasthenics who really carries her climate – always bad – with her, but she decided on San Remo; and Lanfear was willing to spend a few days observing and inspecting a place which he was quite sure would be unfavourable.
His train was quite late, and the sunset was disappearing behind the Italian coast behind the French sky when he got out of the car and looked for a porter to collect his bag. His wandering gaze fell upon the anxious figure, which, like the anxious face of the younger, older, older man, expressed a kind of perplexity, as it stood laden with umbrellas, bags, bundles, and covers, and no one could stop him. I felt incapacitated. The movements of the tall young girl, a traveling scarf slipping from her hand, had the effect of running away from her through the waiting room door to the bench. When she reached him, in spite of his appeals, she sat blankly, and seemed so distant from the commotion of the platform and the rattle of the train as if she were sitting in a quiet garden seat with her thoughts.
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In his thick insanity, which Lanphear found pathetic, the old gentleman looked at her, and then suddenly asked, “Are you an American?”
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We had known each other in some mysterious way abroad, and Lanphier did not try to deny the fact.
“Oh, well, then,” said the stranger, as if that fact had made everything right, “will you tell my daughter on that bench by the door”—she pointed to her bag and to a piece of the carpet. The roll dropped down under his arm—”That I’ll stay with him while I take care of the trunks? Tell him not to move until I come. Hey! Here! Take it, will you?” she grabbed one’s sleeve
Jo came in quietly, and put her load on him, and then pushed the man in the direction of the baggage room with a kind of control over the situation that seemed to Lanphier to have stemmed from desperation rather than experience.
Lanphear stood hesitating for a moment. Then a look fell on the girl on the bench, who bent forward a little to shield her face from the veil hanging from her pretty hat, with something strangely alluring in the self-confidence expressed in him on the basis of a pure countryman. Realized to be, he determined to do only what he would be asked. By then the girl had lifted her veil, and as he approached, she looked at his suspiciously smiling face instead of looking at the setting sun through the part of the wall behind the stopping train.
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Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said. “I know I’d be fine right here, if they had sunsets like this every day.”
There was something so normal in her expression that Lanfear dismissed the painful notion. “Please,” he said. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. I’m not glad—you must excuse me, but your father wanted me to ask you to wait here for him while he collects his things— “
“My father?” He paused, suspicious of the look the girl looked at him. “My father is not here!”
“Please,” said Lanphier. “I must have been mistaken. The gentleman who got off the train with you—a short, stout gentleman with gray hair—I understood that he said you were his daughter—he asked me to bring this message—”
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“It’s my fault, no doubt about it. He may have pointed it out to someone else and I was wrong. I’m very sorry if I’ve caused any trouble—”
“San Remo,” replied Lanfear. “If you don’t want to stay here, your train will be leaving shortly.”
“I was about to come down, I think,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go any further than this.” She leaned against the bars of the bench and raised one slender hand.
Something was wrong. Lanfear felt it now, in spite of his perfect composure and self-possession; Maybe because of this. He didn’t mean to be there to talk to her, but he had no real right to leave her, even though she was practically fired, and she was clearly quite capable of taking care of herself. , Or maybe she was in a country where there was helplessness. Men were not an asset for any woman. He could not go on without a little effort to be useful.
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“Please,” he said. “May I help you call a car; Or take care of your hand luggage – it’s getting dark – maybe your maid -“
The girl raised her eyebrows again, with the same nervousness she had shown when she mentioned her father. ,
“All alone,” she said with passivity, in which there was no temper, no emotion unless it had a certain tinge of dignity. About the same time, looking around and behind her, she cried out with joy, “Ah, there you are!” And Lanfear turned and saw them fighting, and heard the voice of the short, burly old gentleman who had sent him to attack them. “I knew you would come soon!”
“Well, I also thought it was long enough,” said the gentleman, then turned politely to Lanfear. “I am afraid that even this gentleman has thought about it for a long time; But I couldn’t have done it a moment ago.”
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“Oh yes, indeed,” said the girl indifferently, and then, as they passed by, she turned to him, shining brightly, as he stood up and raised his hat. “thank you so much!” He said in a low voice that he already looks attractive.
Lanfior himself was going to Sardegna, but while bowing out he now decided on another hotel.
Whatever it was, the mystery that the brave little fat father had so feigned had evidently a sickly quality of unease in it, and Lanphier could not contain his youthful delight in the deep beauty of the girl’s eyes and eyes. Her hair, her pale, irregular, shapely face, her thin body and her waddling gait. He was in the presence of something else, something that appealed to his scientific side, something that was more human than what was human in him, and it embarrassed him in another sense. Unless she was in her right mind, there was no way to explain her behavior except some whim, which itself was little short of insanity. She must have thought that she knew him when he came to her, and when he said her first words; But when he tried to reform her, she would not change; And why did he abandon his father, and why did he welcome him with joy when he returned to him? She knew that he intended to stop at San Remo, but when she asked where he was staying, she did not know where. She was some kind of invalid intentionally, because she said that she would be fine under the kind of sunset that is now occurring, but what kind of invalid was she?
Lanphier’s question persisted all night and her night worsened with coughing in the next room. None of the hotels in San Remo receive patients suffering from consumption, but none is free from bronchial cough. If it’s in the room next to yours, it keeps you awake, but it’s not pulmonary; You can take comfort in your vigilance from this fact. However, Lanphier felt that she had a poor dinner and did not like her morning coffee. He thought that by some foolish carelessness he had put her away from the Grand Hotel Sardegna, and he walked towards it along the palm-fringed promenade, in the pleasant morning light, the tideless sea on the other side. The restless was across the beach. lines. of the railway which forms its boundary. On the way he was met by groups of beautiful Ligurian women, who were marching straight ahead with burdens on their heads, or riding donkeys carrying casks of wine along the way, or following donkey-drawn carts. Was Women of all countries in the summer fashion of London, Berlin, St. There were crowds at the track in Petersburg, Paris and New York. The sky was so deep blue, so liquid that he thought he could take it in his hand and make it flow again like water. Out to sea, he gazed at the fishing boats lying motionless in the distance and the coastal steamers plying between Nice and Genoa, leaving a thin cloud of smoke between him and their white sails. with the express purpose of ensuring
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