“The marchese, sometimes, and the canons of the
Collegiate Church.”

“Married?”

“The canons—­” he began with twinkling eyes.

“Oh, I forgot your horrid celibacy.  In England they would be the centre of everything.  But why shouldn’t I know them?  Would it make it easier if I called all round?  Isn’t that your foreign way?”

He did not think it would make it easier.

“But I must know some one!  Who were the men you were talking to this afternoon?”

Low-class men.  He could scarcely recollect their names.

“But, Gino dear, if they’re low class, why did you talk to them?  Don’t you care about your position?”

All Gino cared about at present was idleness and pocket-money, and his way of expressing it was to exclaim, “Ouf-pouf!  How hot it is in here.  No air; I sweat all over.  I expire.  I must cool myself, or I shall never get to sleep.”  In his funny abrupt way he ran out on to the loggia, where he lay full length on the parapet, and began to smoke and spit under the silence of the stars.

Lilia gathered somehow from this conversation that Continental society was not the go-as-you-please thing she had expected.  Indeed she could not see where Continental society was.  Italy is such a delightful place to live in if you happen to be a man.  There one may enjoy that exquisite luxury of Socialism—­that true Socialism which is based not on equality of income or character, but on the equality of manners.  In the democracy of the caffe or the street the great question of our life has been solved, and the brotherhood of man is a reality.  But is accomplished at the expense of the sisterhood of women.  Why should you not make friends with your neighbour at the theatre or in the train, when you know and he knows that feminine criticism and feminine insight and feminine prejudice will never come between you?  Though you become as David and Jonathan, you need never enter his home, nor he yours.  All your lives you will meet under the open air, the only roof-tree of the South, under which he will spit and swear, and you will drop your h’s, and nobody will think the worse of either.

Meanwhile the women—­they have, of course, their house and their church, with its admirable and frequent services, to which they are escorted by the maid.  Otherwise they do not go out much, for it is not genteel to walk, and you are too poor to keep a carriage.  Occasionally you will take them to the caffe or theatre, and immediately all your wonted acquaintance there desert you, except those few who are expecting and expected to marry into your family.  It is all very sad.  But one consolation emerges—­life is very pleasant in Italy if you are a man.