THE COLLECTED EDITION OF
THE WORKS OF W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM
W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM
THE
PAINTED VEIL
LONDON
WILLIAM HEINEMANN LTD
". . . the painted veil which those who live call Life."
PREFACE
This story was suggested by the lines of Dante that runas follows:
E riposato della lunga via,
Seguitò 'l terzo spirito al secondo,
Ricorditi di me, che son la Pia:
Siena mi fé; disfecemi Maremma:
Salsi colui, che, 'nnanellata pria
Disposando m'avea con la sua gemma.
"Pray, when you are returned to the world, and restedfrom the long journey," followed the third spirit on thesecond, "remember me, who am Pia. Siena made me,Maremma unmade me: this he knows who afterbetrothal espoused me with his ring."
I was a student at St. Thomas's Hospital and the Easter vacation gave mesix weeks to myself. With my clothes in a gladstone bag and twentypounds in my pocket I set out. I was twenty. I went to Genoa and Pisaand then to Florence. Here I took a room in the via Laura, from thewindow of which I could see the lovely dome of the Cathedral, in theapartment of a widow lady, with a daughter, who offered me board andlodging (after a good deal of haggling) for four lire a day. I am afraidthat she did not make a very good thing out of it, since my appetite wasenormous, and I could devour a mountain of macaroni withoutinconvenience. She had a vineyard on the Tuscan hills, and myrecollection is that the Chianti she got from it was the best I haveever drunk in Italy. Her daughter gave me an Italian lesson every day.She seemed to me then of mature age, but I do not suppose that she wasmore than twenty-six. She had had trouble. Her betrothed, an officer,had been killed in Abyssinia and she was consecrated to virginity. Itwas an understood thing that on her mother's death (a buxom,grey-haired, jovial lady who did not mean to die a day before the dearLord saw fit) Ersilia would enter religion. But she looked forward tothis with cheerfulness. She loved a good laugh. We were very gay atluncheon and dinner, but she took her lessons seriously, and when I wasstupid or inattentive rapped me over the knuckles with a black ruler. Ishould have been indignant at being treated like a child if it had notreminded me of the old-fashioned pedagogues I had read of in books andso made me laugh.
I lived laborious days. I started each one by translating a few pages ofone of Ibsen's plays so that I might acquire mastery of technique andease in writing dialogue; then, with Ruskin in my hand, I examined thesights of Florence. I admired according to instructions the tower ofGiotto and the bronze doors of Ghiberti. I was properly enthusiasticover the Botticellis in the Uffizi and I turned the scornful shoulder ofextreme youth on what the master disapproved of. After luncheon I had myItalian lesson and then going out once more I visited the churches andwandered day-dreaming along the Arno. When dinner was done I went out tolook for adventure, but such was my innocence, or at least my shyness, Ialways came home as virtuous as I had gone out. The Signora, though shehad given me a key, sighed with relief when she heard me come in