But after having been very sick,
just to arrive at Calais and not be sick was happiness, and it was
there that the real splendour of what they were doing first began to
warm their benumbed spirits. It got hold of Mrs. Wilkins first, and
spread from her like a rose-coloured flame over her pale companion.
Mellersh at Calais, where they restored themselves with soles because
of Mrs. Wilkins's desire to eat a sole Mellersh wasn't having--Mellersh
at Calais had already begun to dwindle and seem less important. None
of the French porters knew him; not a single official at Calais cared a
fig for Mellersh. In Paris there was no time to think of him because
their train was late and they only just caught the Turin train at the
Gare de Lyons; and by the afternoon of the next day when they got into
Italy, England, Frederick, Mellersh, the vicar, the poor, Hampstead,
the club, Shoolbred, everybody and everything, the whole inflamed sore
dreariness, had faded to the dimness of a dream.
Chapter 5
It was Cloudy in Italy, which surprised them. They had expected
brilliant sunshine. But never mind: it was Italy, and the very clouds
looked fat. Neither of them had ever been there before. Both gazed
out of the windows with rapt faces. The hours flew as long as it was
daylight, and after that there was the excitement of getting nearer,
getting quite near, getting there.
Pages:
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67