A Room with a View Page #3

I do declare we're lost.

No, Miss Bartlett,

you will not look into your Baedeker.

Two lone females in an unknown city,

that's what I call an adventure.

We will simply drift.

One always has to be wide open.

I think Miss Lucy is.

- Open to what, Miss Lavish?

- To physical sensation.

I'll let you into a secret.

I have my eye on your cousin.

For a character in your novel?

The young English girl, transfigured by Italy.

And why should she not be transfigured?

It happened to the Goths.

Signorina?

The smell!

A true Florentine smell. Inhale, my dear.

Deeper.

Every city, let me tell you, has its own smell.

Grazie.

How are you now?

Perfectly well. Absolutely well.

Then, let's go home.

There's no point in our stopping.

How very kind you've been.

I can go alone. Thank you.

- My photographs!

- What photographs?

I must have dropped them

in the square. Would you be so kind...?

Miss Honeychurch!

You're not fit enough to go alone.

- I am.

- No, you're not!

- But...

- Then I don't get the photographs.

Besides, that way,

you'd have to fly over the wall.

Sit down and don't move until I come back.

Isn't it extraordinary?

I mean, Italians are so kind, so lovable,

and yet at the same time so violent.

Mr. Emerson?

I've never been so ashamed.

I can't think what came over me.

It's perfectly natural.

I nearly fainted myself.

Well, I owe you a thousand apologies.

And... I want to ask you a great favor.

You know how silly people are.

Gossiping.

Ladies especially, I'm afraid.

- You understand what I mean?

- No.

I mean, would you not mention it to anyone,

my foolish behavior.

What was that?

I believe it was my photographs!

I didn't know what to do with them.

They were covered with blood.

There. Now I've told you.

Something tremendous has happened.

Well, thank you... again.

How quickly accidents happen.

Then one returns to the old life.

I don't.

I mean... something's happened to me.

And to you.

- No!

- She is my sister.

- We ought not to allow this.

- They're doing no harm.

You can't object in such a landscape.

As long as she is his sister.

So, Miss Honeychurch, you're traveling.

As a student of art?

- No, I'm afraid not.

- As a student of human nature like myself?

- I'm here as a tourist.

- Indeed?

We residents sometimes pity

you poor tourists not a little.

Handed about like parcels

from Venice to Florence to Rome,

unconscious of anything outside Baedeker,

anxious to get done and go on elsewhere.

I abhor Baedeker.

I'd fling every copy in the Arno.

Towns, rivers, palaces,

all mixed up in an inextricable whirl.

Over there, Miss Honeychurch,

the villa of my dear friend Lady Laverstock,

at present busy

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