THE VILLA TRE CIPRESSI CONCEALED itself to the last, blotted out among the trees of its hillside; a long lane with broken-down walls led circuitously to its gates through olive gardens. Since the last date of the Villa’s habitation the surface of the lane must have deteriorated; it was impossible now to imagine the burnished, sleek rushing down it of cars or the thin-shod delicate stepping of the Russian ladies. Miss Fitzgerald’s party going forward in the leisurely and spread-out manner called in Ireland ‘strealing’ had begun to feel a profound disbelief in the existence of the Villa. Miss Fitzgerald had, however, in doing them the honours of what had been a private experience, constituted herself their hostess, and they hesitated to suggest this disbelief to her otherwise than obliquely, by a disposition to linger, sweep the hill with a glance then gaze back through the olive trees, or to seat themselves at intervals, with some obvious thought of encampment, along the smoother parts of the walls. In the selection of them for a social bouquet there had been nothing striking except in a last addition – Mr Milton went on nearly everybody’s picnics (it seemed a destiny beyond his influence); Miss Pym, as half of a duality, had been inevitable; Mrs Hillier had been led to tolerate these two good women who did not know India and this parson who did not play bridge by her passion for villa gardens. It was Ronald who had been the master-stroke; he redeemed the bunch of them and made their grouping together seem superbly conscious and studied, suggesting depths of art behind its effect of naivety. So at least Mr Milton felt that Ronald must be thinking, and he did not doubt that Ronald was right.

After a series of sharp turns the Villa gates stared down on them, aware, one might have supposed, by their triumphant whorls and scrolls of painted ironwork, of all they gained by presenting themselves so suddenly. A mild ascent led up to them, and the three cypresses, which had an air of drawing together in council, dominated the approach. They came up rather breathlessly and stood behind Miss Fitzgerald in silence, as though they were prepared to rush the opening, while she sent the great key she had produced beforehand screeching round in the lock. Then they pressed in behind her, looking to left and right of them up at the palm trees or between the boles which had an exotic, rather horrible fatness. The tangled gloom and the expanse of silence swallowed up their cries of admiration. Miss Fitzgerald, after checking off with nods of satisfaction all she still found here, invited Ronald to tell her whether this was not all he had hoped.