How much they wished their mothers had made them learn Italian
when they were little. If only now they could have said, "Please sit
round the right way and look after the horse." They did not even know
what horse was in Italian. It was contemptible to be so ignorant.
In their anxiety, for the road twisted round great jutting rocks,
and on their left was only the low wall to keep them out of the sea
should anything happen, they too began to gesticulate, waving their
hands at Beppo, pointing ahead. They wanted him to turn round again and
face his horse, that was all. He thought they wanted him to drive
faster; and there followed a terrifying ten minutes during which, as he
supposed, he was gratifying them. He was proud of his horse, and it
could go very fast. He rose in his seat, the whip cracked, the horse
rushed forward, the rocks leaped towards them, the little fly swayed,
the suit-cases heaved, Mrs. Arbuthnot and Mrs. Wilkins clung. In this
way they continued, swaying, heaving, clattering, clinging, till at a
point near Castagneto there was a rise in the road, and on reaching the
foot of the rise the horse, who knew every inch of the way, stopped
suddenly, throwing everything in the fly into a heap, and then
proceeded up at the slowest of walks.
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