Roman Summer Read Online Free Page A

squares paved and worn to pebble smoothness by two thousand years of use. Where her eyes were for the majesty and history of age-old things, Ci cely’s were for people and children and the changing kaleidoscope of the ordinary street scene.
    She would watch, fascinated, the commonest of Roman sights—a street- corner argument in which gesticulating hands and lifting shoulders were as expressive as the busy tongues, and she would join the audience for a Punch and Judy show in the Borghese Gardens simply for the pleasure of watching the children entranced. After a time Ruth realised she must come to a compromise between her duty to Ci cely as she saw it and Cicely ’s own idea of the use to be made of her summer in Rome. But that was after a particularly disastrous morning at the Vatican Museum and following a somewhat heated argument with Erle .
    Ruth had warned that their sightseeing would involve, first, a long queue-wait outside and then at least hour-long walking through the magnificent Raphaelite gall eries with the prize of the Sistine Chapel at the end of the tour. Ci cely had complied, though none too enthusiastically. She took considerably more pleasure in glimpses of the Vatican gardens than she did of the myriad-coloured frescoes and paintings; she even viewed the Sistine Chapel as a duty, and by the end of the morning her relations with Ruth were considerably strained.
    She was sulky at lunch and afterwards said she was going to take a book into the nearby Borghese Gardens. Ruth had a lesson to give to a pupil, who had only just left when Erle called. They hadn’t seen much of him since Cicely’s arrival and he came unannounced today. He asked where Cicely was and Ruth, telling him, added: ‘We “did” the Vatican Museum this morning, and in consequence we’re not on the best of terms, I’m afraid.’
    Erle laughed. ‘What did I tell you? The child is only sixteen and you’ve probably been cramming culture down her throat.’
    ‘It’s what her mother sent her here for ,” objected Ruth.
    ‘You should still dilute the dose.’
    ‘But if you’re going to see the Vatican Museum, you’re going to see it, and it takes hours from start to finish. I think Cicely was cross principally because her feet in sandals hurt her. Yet I’d told her to wear sensible shoes.’
    ‘And she didn’t, and now is “not amused”?’
    ‘Distinc tl y not. I’m in the doghouse for “dragging” her there.’
    Erle said unsympathetically, ‘It could be you’ve only yourself to blame. I wouldn’t put it past you to have made out an ironclad itinerary and a rigid timetable, and woe betide anyone who dares to upset it !’
    Hurt, Ruth protested, ‘ Why wouldn’t you put it past me?’
    ‘Because, at a guess, you’re of the Boy-stood-on-the- bu rn ing-deck mentality. Give you a trust to fulfil and you’ll fulfil it to its last letter—right?’
    Knowing it about herself, Ruth said, ‘And what’s so wrong with that?’
    ‘Nothing—so long as it’s only yourself you’re caging inside a set of rules. Doesn’t Cicely ever play?’
    ‘Play?’
    ‘ At parties, for instance. You should give one for her.’
    ‘I don’t know enough people of her age to invite.’
    ‘Then I’d better give one. And you could do worse by her than taking her to, say, the Piazza Venezia, where she’s got half a dozen streets raying out, giving her a city map and telling her to explore by herself.’
    ‘I’m supposed to chaperon her.’
    ‘Tcha! The letter of the law again. I’m not suggesting you abandon her at midnight, and the only way to learn any city is to walk about it on your own two feet. Which reminds me—can you drive a car in Italy?’
    ‘I used to, and I’ve kept my driving licence renewed. Why?’
    ‘Because it’s what I came to tell you—that I’ve had another telephone talk with Mrs. Mordaunt and she’d like me to hire a car for you to take Cicely about. So I’m laying on a little 500 for you; they’re