“But Diana must not do too much,” said Mrs. Norton, “after such a long journey. She must keep quite quiet for a day or two, and lie on the sofa. Indeed I should have the blinds down, if she would be guided by me. She must not try her nerves too much.”
“Have I any nerves?” said Diana, laughing; “to lie on the sofa would make an end of me. But I don’t think I am good for sight-seeing. It is quite enough at present to say when one wakes, This is Italy. Fancy being in Italy! What could one desire more?”
“But, dear Diana, that is nothing!” cried Sophy, great in her superior knowledge. “Wait till you have seen Pisa properly—oh, only wait a little! You don’t know—you can’t imagine how nice it is?”
Mrs. Hunstanton cast a look of impatience upon this outburst of enthusiasm. She had put up with these little women good-humouredly enough hitherto, and had been rather grateful for their good offices in respect to Reginald; but Diana’s presence made a change. Their little ways exasperated her as soon as their protectress and patron appeared on the scene. They were Diana’s folly—they were the one thing unaccountable in her, at least the most prominent thing; and as soon as Mrs. Hunstanton saw that familiar smile of kindness on Diana’s lip, she became censorious, critical, impatient, as when she was at home.
“There are much finer places in the world than Pisa,” she said. “We need not raise Diana’s expectations; but still there is something to see, and Mr. Hunstanton——”
“Oh, but please, Diana, let Mr. Pandolfini go too!” cried Sophy, irrepressible. “No one knows so well as he does; and he is so clever and so good-natured. He will take you everywhere. I never understood anything till he explained it. Oh please, Mrs. Hunstanton, let Mr. Pandolfini take Diana! He is the best.”
“Sophy!” said her aunt in an undertone, raising a warning finger. “It is not that she does not appreciate dear Mr. Hunstanton—he is always so kind; but Mr. Pandolfini being a stranger——”
“Oh, I am not jealous for my husband,” said Mrs. Hunstanton, with a laugh.
Sophy did not appreciate either the warning or the displeasure. She babbled on about the sights she had seen, while Diana listened and admired. She knew a great deal more, and had seen a great deal more than Diana, not only the Cathedral and the Campo Santo, but an alabaster shop which Mr. Pandolfini had told her was very good, and not so dear as some of the others; and where Sophy had bought the dearest little pair of oxen with a funny waggon, “just like what you see the peasants have,” she said, with a sense of knowing all about it which was very pleasant. Diana put up her letters composedly, and let the girl run on. Mrs. Hunstanton felt that she herself would have been quite incapable of so much patience, and this made her still more angry in spite of herself. But she had made up her mind to stay them out, and got rid of them at last triumphantly, by reminding Sophy that there was choir-practice that afternoon at the Winthrops, who had “interested themselves very much” in the English service, and were very musical. This master-stroke left Mrs. Hunstanton in possession of the field. She breathed a sigh of relief when they were gone.
“That little Sophy is beyond anything,” she cried. “Why, she patronises you, Diana, for being foolish enough to send her to Italy when she had no more need to go——”