A Room with a View Page #4

with a Fra Angelico definitive study.

And, on your left - no, just there -

Mr. Henry Burridge lives.

An American of the best type. So rare!

Doubtless you know his monographs

in "Medieval Byways".

Your father, Mr. Emerson, is a journalist?

- He used to be.

- He's retired? And you, yourself?

I'm on the railways.

You know the American girl

in "Punch" who says to her father,

"Say, Poppa, what did we see in Rome?"

The father replies,

"Guess Rome was where we saw the yellow dog."

Yellow dog!

There's traveling for you!

What?! Stop at once!

I'm not having this.

Ferma la carrozza subitol

Have we bolted?

What? Is Phaethon misbehaving

with his Persephone?

- Please, I'll deal with them.

- Leave them.

Do we find happiness

so often that we should turn it away?

Scendal

Beauty!

Espoirl

Is that your son?

Could that be the silent, dour George?

He's saying his creed.

One more lump,

if I might trouble you, Mr. Beebe.

Joy!

Beauty!

Joy...!

He's declaring the eternal "yes".

And a spoon, if there is one.

Love!

- What's that?

- The gentlemen are doubtless having a game.

Why don't you join them, dear?

I want to stop here with you.

Observe my foresight. I never venture forth

without my mackintosh squares.

At any time, one may have to sit

on damp ground or cold marble.

Lucy, you have the other one.

Come on, I insist. The ground will do for me.

I have not had rheumatism for years,

and if I feel a twinge I'll stand up.

And she never went back to Weybridge?

Her friend had to return without her.

She remained at Monteriano.

And did she really...?

No, no. Don't be alarmed. This is not a cold.

Just a slight cough.

I've had it for three days.

Nothing to do with sitting on the ground.

I shall go and find Mr. Beebe.

Oh, do, dear. He will be so pleased.

- Did she really marry this Italian?

- In the church at Monteriano.

A youth. Ten years younger than herself.

Eleanor!

PUCCINI'S "CHI IL BEL SOGNO

DI DORETTA" FROM "LA RONDINE")

Excuse me.

Dove Mr. Beebe?

Buoni uomini?

I think there is something

in the Italian landscape

which inclines

even the most stolid to romance.

It reminds me somewhat

of the country around Shropshire.

Where I once spent a holiday

at the home of my friend Miss Apesbury.

And I divine it, Charlotte.

You had an adventure there.

Vain to deny it.

Lucy!

Mr. Eager, do come and join us.

Miss Honeychurch is feeling unwell.

Andiamo.

Andiamol

George. George.

- Aren't you coming with us?

- I'll walk.

Are you sure?

Courage, Miss Honeychurch, and faith.

Do you suppose this display is called

into existence to extinguish you or me?

Even scientifically, the chances

against being struck are enormous.

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