"
His brow contracted.
"So I saw. Were you indeed? Andate via! sono occupato!" The
last remark was made to a vender of panoramic photographs who was
approaching with a courteous smile. "I am about to venture a
suggestion. Would you and Miss Honeychurch be disposed to join me
in a drive some day this week--a drive in the hills? We might go
up by Fiesole and back by Settignano. There is a point on
that road where we could get down and have an hour's ramble on
the hillside. The view thence of Florence is most beautiful--far
better than the hackneyed view of Fiesole. It is the view that
Alessio Baldovinetti is fond of introducing into his pictures.
That man had a decided feeling for landscape. Decidedly. But who
looks at it to-day? Ah, the world is too much for us."
Miss Bartlett had not heard of Alessio Baldovinetti, but she knew
that Mr. Eager was no commonplace chaplain. He was a member of
the residential colony who had made Florence their home. He knew
the people who never walked about with Baedekers, who had learnt
to take a siesta after lunch, who took drives the pension
tourists had never heard of, and saw by private influence
galleries which were closed to them.
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