Close opposite, wedged between mean
houses, there rose up one of the great towers. It is your
tower: you stretch a barricade between it and the hotel, and
the traffic is blocked in a moment. Farther up, where the
street empties out by the church, your connections, the
Merli and the Capocchi, do likewise. They command the
Piazza, you the Siena gate. No one can move in either but
he shall be instantly slain, either by bows or by crossbows,
or by Greek fire. Beware, however, of the back bedroom
windows. For they are menaced by the tower of the
Aldobrandeschi, and before now arrows have stuck quivering
over the washstand. Guard these windows well, lest there be
a repetition of the events of February 1338, when the hotel
was surprised from the rear, and your dearest friend--you
could just make out that it was he--was thrown at you over
the stairs.
"It reaches up to heaven," said Philip, "and down to the
other place." The summit of the tower was radiant in the
sun, while its base was in shadow and pasted over with
advertisements. "Is it to be a symbol of the town?"
She gave no hint that she understood him. But they
remained together at the window because it was a little
cooler and so pleasant. Philip found a certain grace and
lightness in his companion which he had never noticed in
England. She was appallingly narrow, but her consciousness
of wider things gave to her narrowness a pathetic charm. He
did not suspect that he was more graceful too.
Pages:
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132