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Updated: May 9, 2025
"Worse!" exclaimed Aaron Sisson. "How's that?" "Why, because, in a way the people of India have an easier time even than the people of England. Because they have no responsibility. The British Government takes the responsibility. And the people have nothing to do, except their bit of work and talk perhaps about national rule, just for a pastime." "They have to earn their living?" said Sisson.
When he returned with his flute, which he was screwing together, Manfredi had come with the tray and the three cocktails. The Marchesa took her glass. "Listen, Manfredi," she said. "Mr. Sisson is going to play, quite alone in the sala. And I am going to sit here and listen." "Very well," said Manfredi. "Drink your cocktail first. Are you going to play without music?" "Yes," said Aaron.
Get up now, we're going indoors." "What do you reckon stars are?" he persisted. Aaron Sisson stood on the edge of the light, smilingly staring at the scene, like a boy out of his place, but stubbornly keeping his ground. "Get up now," said Josephine. "We've had enough." But Jim would not move. Robert went with the bicycle lamp and stood at Aaron's side.
The hollow dark countryside re-echoed like a shell with shouts and calls and excited voices. Restlessness and nervous excitement, nervous hilarity were in the air. There was a sense of electric surcharge everywhere, frictional, a neurasthenic haste for excitement. Every moment Aaron Sisson was greeted with Good-night Good-night, Aaron Good-night, Mr. Sisson.
"And so, Mr. Sisson, you have no definite purpose in coming to Italy?" "No, none," said Aaron. "I wanted to join Lilly." "But when you had joined him ?" "Oh, nothing stay here a time, in this country, if I could earn my keep." "Ah! earn your keep? So you hope to earn your keep here? May I ask how?" "By my flute." "Italy is a poor country." "I don't want much." "You have a family to provide for."
Aaron Sisson was the last man on the little black railway-line climbing the hill home from work. He was late because he had attended a meeting of the men on the bank. He was secretary to the Miners Union for his colliery, and had heard a good deal of silly wrangling that left him nettled.
Lilly pointed quickly round. Then he said to Aaron: "Were you coming to see me, Sisson? You'll come in, won't you?" Aaron nodded rather stupidly and testily. His eyes looked angry. Somebody stuck his hat on his head for him, and made him look a fool. Lilly took it off again, and carried it for him. He turned and the crowd eased.
Sisson, who is a mountaineer, speedily fitted me out for storm or calm as only a mountaineer could, with warm blankets and a week's provisions so generous in quantity and kind that they easily might have been made to last a month in case of my being closely snowbound.
He sat without looking round, a remote, abstract look on his face. He was very pale, and seemed-inwardly absorbed. The party threw off their wraps and sat around. Josephine turned to Aaron Sisson, who sat with a glass of whiskey in his hand, rather slack in his chair, in his thickish overcoat. He did not want to drink.
In the bottoms, under the trees, it was very dark. But a lamp glimmered in front of the "Royal Oak." This was a low white house sunk three steps below the highway. It was darkened, but sounded crowded. Opening the door, Sisson found himself in the stone passage. Old Bob, carrying three cans, stopped to see who had entered then went on into the public bar on the left.
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