't profess to understand her. Her character is not easily sounded. But
no doubt she has the puritanical spirit in a rather rare degree. I daily thank
the fates that my wife grew up apart from that branch of the family. Of all the
accursed - But this is an old topic; better not to heat one's self uselessly.«
    »A Puritan at Naples,« mused Mallard. »The situation is interesting.«
    »Very. But then she doesn't really live in Naples. From the first day she
has shown herself bent on resisting every influence of the place. She won't
admit that the climate benefits her; she won't allow an expression of interest
in anything Italian to escape her. I doubt whether we shall ever get her even to
Pompeii. One afternoon I persuaded her to walk up here with me, and tried to
make her confess that this view was beautiful. She grudged making any such
admission. It is her nature to distrust the beautiful.«
    »To be sure. That is the badge of her persuasion.«
    »Last Sunday we didn't know whether to compassionate her or to be angry with
her. The Bradshaws are at Mrs. Gluck's. You know them by name, I think? There
again, an interesting study, in a very different way. Twice in the day she shut
herself up with them in their rooms, and they held a dissident service. The
hours she spent here were passed in the solitude of her own room, lest she
should witness our profane enjoyment of the fine weather. Eleanor refrained from
touching the piano, and at meals kept the gravest countenance, in mere kindness.
I doubt whether that is right. It isn't as though we were dealing with a woman
whose mind is hopelessly - immatured; she is only a girl still, and I know she
has brains if she could be induced to use them.«
    »Mrs. Baske has a remarkable face, it seems to me,« said Mallard.
    »It enrages me to talk of the matter.«
    They were now on the road which runs along the ridge of Posillipo; at a
point where it is parted only by a low wall from the westward declivity, they
paused and looked towards the setting sun.
    »What a noise from Fuorigrotta!« murmured Spence, when he had leaned for a
moment on the wall. »It always amuses me. Only in this part of the world could
so small a place make such a clamour.«
    They were looking away from Naples.