A Room with a View - E. M. Forster [64]
“She came back yesterday.”
“I suppose she had a good time?”
“Yes, very,” said Freddy, taking up a book. “She and Cecil are thicker than ever.”
“That’s good hearing.”
“I wish I wasn’t such a fool, Mr. Beebe.”
Mr. Beebe ignored the remark.
“Lucy used to be nearly as stupid as I am, but it’ll be very different now, mother thinks. She will read all kinds of books.”
“So will you.”
“Only medical books. Not books that you can talk about afterwards. Cecil is teaching Lucy Italian, and he says her playing is wonderful. There are all kinds of things in it that we have never noticed. Cecil says—”
“What on earth are those people doing upstairs? Emerson—we think we’ll come another time.”
George ran down-stairs and pushed them into the room without speaking.
“Let me introduce Mr. Honeychurch, a neighbour.”
Then Freddy hurled one of the thunderbolts of youth. Perhaps he was shy, perhaps he was friendly, or perhaps he thought that George’s face wanted washing. At all events he greeted him with, “How d’ye do? Come and have a bathe.”
“Oh, all right,” said George, impassive.
Mr. Beebe was highly entertained.
“‘How d’ye do? how d‘ye do? Come and have a bathe,’” he chuckled. “That’s the best conversational opening I’ve ever heard. But I’m afraid it will only act between men. Can you picture a lady who has been introduced to another lady by a third lady opening civilities with ‘How do you do? Come and have a bathe’? And yet you will tell me that the sexes are equal.”
“I tell you that they shall be,” said Mr. Emerson, who had been slowly descending the stairs. “Good-afternoon, Mr. Beebe. I tell you they shall be comrades, and George thinks the same.”
“We are to raise ladies to our level?” the clergyman inquired.
“The Garden of Eden,” pursued Mr. Emerson, still descending, “which you place in the past, is really yet to come. We shall enter it when we no longer despise our bodies.”
Mr. Beebe disclaimed placing the Garden of Eden anywhere.
“In this—not in other things—we men are ahead. We despise the body less than women do. But not until we are comrades shall we enter the garden.”
“I say, what about this bathe?” murmured Freddy, appalled at the mass of philosophy that was approaching him.
“I believed in a return to Nature once. But how can we return to Nature when we have never been with her? To-day, I believe that we must discover Nature. After many conquests we shall attain simplicity. It is our heritage.”
“Let me introduce Mr. Honeychurch, whose sister you will remember at Florence.”
“How do you do? Very glad to see you, and that you are taking George for a bathe. Very glad to hear that your sister is going to marry. Marriage is a duty. I am sure that she will be happy, for we know Mr. Vyse, too. He has been most kind. He met us by chance in the National Gallery, and arranged everything about this delightful house. Though I hope I have not vexed Sir Harry Otway. I have met so few Liberal landowners, and I was anxious to compare his attitude towards the game laws with the Conservative attitude.
Ah, this wind! You do well to bathe. Yours is a glorious country, Honeychurch!”
“Not a bit!” mumbled Freddy. “I must-that is to say, I have to—have the pleasure of calling on you later on, my mother says, I hope.”
“Call, my lad? Who taught us that drawing-room twaddle? Call on your grandmother! Listen to the wind among the pines! Yours is a glorious country.”
Mr. Beebe came to the rescue.
“Mr. Emerson, he will call, I shall call; you or your son will return our calls before ten days’ interval. It does not count that I helped you with the stair-eyes yesterday. It does not count that they are going to bathe this afternoon.”
“Yes, go and bathe, George. Why do you dawdle talking? Bring them back to tea. Bring back some milk, cakes, honey. The change will do you good. George has been working very hard at his office. I can’t believe he’s well.”
George bowed his head, dusty and sombre, exhaling the peculiar smell of one who has handled furniture.
“Do you really want this bathe?” Freddy asked him. “It is only a pond, don’t you know. I dare say you are used to something better.