CHAPTER IV.
THE TWO LITTLE WOMEN.
“So you have been happy,” said Miss Trelawny. She was in her room at her hotel, lying upon a sofa, not because of fatigue so much as to please the two little women who were fluttering about her, and to whom it was a matter of conventional necessity, that having just “come off a journey,” a lady ought to be fatigued and should “lie down.” Diana, in her perfect health and vigour, had thrown off all her tiredness in a night’s rest; but Mrs. Norton did not think this possible, and was doubtful even whether it was right.
“Oh, very happy,” said Sophy; “everybody has been kind to us. We have had the most delightful parties—little dances even: and almost everybody has a reception one night in the week. And it is so beautiful! and all the churches and things to go and see; and the alabaster shops: and Mr. Pandolfini has been so kind.”
“Yes, Diana, it has been very nice indeed,” said her aunt; “everybody is kind, as Sophy says. So interested in her, seeing that she was delicate——”
“Oh, auntie, I am not delicate now—my cough is quite, quite gone. I feel as if I could do anything. Fancy, Diana, Mr. Pandolfini took us all over the Cathedral and up the Leaning Tower, and to see everything; and then there was a little impromptu dance at the Winthrops—Americans, you know—and I danced—I danced with him alone four dances. I was quite ashamed of myself——”
“Is Mr. Pandolfini him alone?” said Diana, laughing; “but what does all this mean? For I thought Mrs. Hunstanton said there was no society in Pisa——”
“She must have been in an ill temper that day,” said Sophy; “there never was such delightful society anywhere, never! Oh, Diana, you will enjoy it so; everything is so lovely! The Cathedral alone, when you go over it as you ought, and the Campo Santo, and all the pictures. Mr. Pandolfini knows them all, every one, and tells you everything. Oh, Mr. Pandolfini is so kind!”
“Ah, little one, is it so?” said Diana, looking up at her with a smile. But Mrs. Norton interposed hastily—
“Sophy always thinks everybody is so kind that shows a natural interest in her. She is so ridiculously humble-minded. But even a virtue should not be carried too far, should it? We must not say a word against Mrs. Hunstanton, who has been a very good friend to us; but what she said about society was quite a mistake. The society is very good. I need not tell you, my dear Diana, that Sophy is a little goose, and knows nothing: all society is good to her when people are kind to her; but I have a little more experience. The Hunstantons themselves, of course we know what they are—very good friends to us and very nice, and everything one could desire—but not perhaps, you know, the very crême de la crême.”
“Ah, indeed,” said Diana, with a smile; “and who then are the crême de la crême?”