‘Is it better than your book?’ said the charioteer, whose reins were clearly only play to him, and who was much more occupied with his companion.  She glanced round at him, with the very June evening in her eyes, dews and sunbeams and all.

’Better than most of the books that ever were written, I suppose.  But the book was not bad, Mr. Rollo.’

‘What book was it? to be mentioned in the connection.’

’ “I Promessi Sposi.” ’

’Unknown to me.  Give me an idea of it—­while we are getting up this hill—­there’ll be something else to talk of afterwards.’

’Two people are betrothed, and proceed to get into all manner of difficulties.  That is the principal idea so far.  I haven’t come to the turn of the story, which takes the thread out of its tangle.’

’A very stupid idea!  Yet you said the book was not a bad book?’ he said, looking gravely round upon her.

’No, indeed.  And the idea is not stupid, in the book I mean, because the people could not help themselves, and so you get interested for them.’

‘Do you get interested in people who cannot help themselves?’

’Yes, I think so—­always,—­people who cannot in the impossible sense.  Not those who don’t know or wont try.  But my words did not mean just that.  I should have said, help it—­help being in difficulties.’

‘I believe people can get out of difficulties,’ said Rollo.  ‘What was the matter with these?’

’O the difficulties were piled on their heads by other people.  Lucia was a peasant, but she was “si bella” that one of the grandees wanted to get her away from Renzo.’

‘I don’t see the difficulties yet.  What next?’

‘No, of course you don’t!’ said Wych, warming in defense of her book.  ’But if some Don Rodrigo forbade somebody to marry you—­and then sent a party to run away with your bride—­so that she had to go into a convent and you wander round the world in ill humour—­I daresay your clearness of vision would improve.’

‘I dare say it would,’ said Rollo, passing a hand over his eyes,—­’I think it would have to grow worse before all those events could happen!  But on the highest round of that ladder of impossibilities, I think I should see my way into the convent,—­and escape the ill humour.’

’But Lucia would not be shut up from you, but from the grandee.  It would only make matters worse to bring her out.’

‘Not for me,’ said Rollo.  ’It might for the book, because, as you say, then the interest would be gone.  Do you think the people in a book are real people?—­while you are reading it?’

’Not quite—­they might have been real.  I don’t feel just as if I should if I knew they were.’

‘In that case the interest would be less?’ he said, with a laughing look.

’Yes—­or at least different.  There are so many things to qualify your interest in real living people.’