"That will do to talk about," said Dolly; "but it does not touch the question."
"Not touch the question! I beg your pardon--but it does touch it most essentially. Do you think it makes no difference to a man what sort of a dinner he eats?"
"A great difference _to_ some men; but does it make much difference in him?"
"Yes," said Rupert; and "Yes!" said Lawrence, with a unanimity which made Dolly smile. "I can tell you," the latter went on, "a man is one thing or another for the day, according to whether he has had a good breakfast or a bad one."
"I understand. That's temper."
"It is not temper at all. It is physical condition."
"It's feeling put to rights, _I_ think," said Rupert.
"I suppose all these people are suited, in their several ways," said Dolly. "Will mother like Venice, Mr. St. Leger, when we get there? What is it like?"
"Like a city afloat. _You_ will like it, for the strangeness and the beautiful things you will find there. I can't say about Mrs. Copley, I'm sure."
"What do they drink there?" said Rupert. "Water?"
"Well, not exactly. You can judge for yourself, my good fellow."
"But that is Italy," said Dolly. "I suppose there is no beer or porter?"
"Well, you can find it, of course, if you want it; there are people enough coming and going that _do_ want it; but in Venice you can have pure wine, and at a reasonable price, too."
"At hotels, of course," said Dolly faintly.
"Of course, at some of them. But I was not thinking of hotels."
"Of what, then?"
"Wine-shops.''
"Wine-shops! Not for people who only want a glass, or two glasses?"
"Just for them. A glass or two, or half a dozen."
"Restaurants, you mean?"
"No, I do not mean restaurants. They are just wine-shops; sell nothing but wine. Odd little places. There's no show; there's no set out; there are just the casks from which the wine is drawn, and the glasses-mugs, I should say; queer things; pints and quarts, and so on. Nothing else is there, but the customers and the people who serve you."
"And people go into such places to drink wine? merely to drink, without eating anything?"
"They can eat, if they like. There are street venders, that watch the custom and come in immediately after any one enters; they bring fruit and confections and trifles."
"You do not mean that _gentlemen_ go to these places, Mr. St. Leger?"
"Certainly. The wine is pure, and sold at a reasonable rate. Gentlemen go, of course--if they know where to go."
Dolly's heart sank. In Venice this!--where she had hoped to have her father with her safe. She had known there was wine enough to be had in hotels; but that, she knew too, costs money, if people will have it good; and Mr. Copley liked no other. But cheap wine-shops, "if you know where to go,"--therefore retired and comparatively private places,--were _those_ to be found in Venice, the goal of her hopes?
Dolly's cheeks grew perceptibly pale.
"What is the matter, Miss Dolly?" Lawrence asked, watching her. But Dolly could not answer; and she thought he knew, besides.
"There is no harm in pure wine," he went on.
Dolly flashed a look at him upon that, a most involuntary, innocent look; yet one which he would have worked half a day for if it could have been obtained so. It was eloquent, it was brilliant, it was tender; it carried a fiery appeal against the truth of his words, and at the same time a most moving deprecation of his acting in consonance with them. She dared not speak plainer, and she could not have spoken plainer, if she had talked for an hour. Lawrence would have urged further his view of the subject, but that look stopped him. Indeed, the beauty of it put for the moment the occasion of it out of his head.
Thanks to Rupert's efficient agency, they were able to spend that night at Utrecht, and the next day went on. It seemed to Dolly that every hour was separating her further from her father; which to be sure literally was true; nevertheless she had to give herself up to the witchery of that drive. The varied beauty, and the constant novelty on every hand, were a perpetual entertainment. Mrs. Copley even forgot herself and her grievances in looking out of the carriage windows; indeed, the only trouble she gave was in her frequent changing places with Dolly to secure now this and now that view.
"We haven't got such roads in Massachusetts," remarked Rupert. "This is what I call first-rate going."
"Have you got such anything else there?" Lawrence inquired smoothly.
"Not such land, I'm bound to say."
"No," said Dolly, "this is not in the least like Massachusetts, in anything. O mother, look at those cattle! why there must be thousands of them; how beautiful! You would not find such an immense level green plain in Massachusetts, Mr. St. Leger. I never saw such a one anywhere."
Mrs. Copley took that side of the carriage.
"It wouldn't be used for a pasture ground, if we had it there," said Rupert.
"Perhaps it would. I fancy it is too wet for grain," St. Leger answered.
"Now here is a lake again," said Dolly. "How large, and how pretty!
Miles and miles, it must be. How pretty those little islands are, Mr.
Babbage!"
Mrs. Copley exchanged again, and immediately burst out--
"Dolly, Dolly, did you see that woman's earrings? I declare they were a foot long."
"I beg your pardon--half a foot, Mrs. Copley."
"What do you suppose they are made of?"
"True gold or silver."
"Mercy! that's the oddest thing I've seen yet. I suppose Holland is a very rich country."
"And here come country houses and gardens again," said Dolly. "There's a garden filled with marble statues, mother."
Mrs. Copley shifted her seat to the other side to look at the statues, and directly after went back to see some curiously trimmed yews in another garden. So it went on; Dolly and her mother getting a good deal of exercise by the way. Mrs. Copley was ready for her dinner, and enjoyed it; and Dolly perceiving this enjoyed hers too.
Then they were delighted with Arnheim. They drove into the town towards evening; and the quaint, picturesque look of the place, lying bright in the sunshine of a warm September day, took the hearts of both ladies.
The odd gables, the endless variety of building, the balconies hung with climbing vines; and above all, the little gardens, gay with fall flowers and furnished with arbours or some sort of shelter, under some of which people were taking tea, while in others the wooden tables and chairs stood ready though empty, testifying to a good deal of habitual out-of-door life; they stirred Dolly's fancy and Mrs. Copley's curiosity. Both of them were glad to spend the night in such a pretty place.
After they had had supper comfortably, Dolly left her mother talking to St. Leger and slipped out quietly to take a walk, having privately summoned Rupert to attend her. The walk was full of enjoyment. It lasted a good while; till Dolly began to grow a little tired, and the evening light was dying away; then the steps slackened which had been very brisk at setting out, and Dolly began to let her thoughts go beyond what was immediately before her. She was very much inclined to be glad now of Rupert's presence in the party. She perceived that he was already devoted to her service; not with Mr. St. Leger's pretensions, but with something more like the adoration a heathen devotee pays to his goddess. Rupert already watched her eyes and followed her wishes, sometimes before they were spoken. It was plain that she might rely upon him for all to which his powers would reach; and a strong element of good-will began to mix with her confidence in him. What could she do, to help make this journey a benefit to the boy?
He had known little of good or gentle influences in his life; yet he was gentle himself and much inclined to be good, she thought. And he might be very important to her yet, before she got home.