PART ONE Chapter I : The Bertolini “ The Signora had no business to do it , ” said Miss Bartlett , “ no business at all .
She promised us south rooms with a view close together , instead of which here are north rooms , looking into a courtyard , and a long way apart .
Oh , Lucy ! ”
“ And a Cockney , besides ! ”
said Lucy , who had been further saddened by the Signora ’s unexpected accent .
“ It might be London . ”
She looked at the two rows of English people who were sitting at the table ; at the row of white bottles of water and red bottles of wine that ran between the English people ; at the portraits of the late Queen and the late Poet Laureate that hung behind the English people , heavily framed ; at the notice of the English church ( Rev. Cuthbert Eager , M. A. Oxon . )
, that was the only other decoration of the wall .
“ Charlotte , do n’t you feel , too , that we might be in London ?
I can hardly believe that all kinds of other things are just outside .
I suppose it is one ’s being so tired . ”
“ This meat has surely been used for soup , ” said Miss Bartlett , laying down her fork .
“ I want so to see the Arno .
The rooms the Signora promised us in her letter would have looked over the Arno .
The Signora had no business to do it at all .
Oh , it is a shame ! ”
“ Any nook does for me , ” Miss Bartlett continued ; “ but it does seem hard that you should n’t have a view . ”
Lucy felt that she had been selfish .
“ Charlotte , you must n’t spoil me : of course , you must look over the Arno , too .
I meant that .
The first vacant room in the front -- ” “ You must have it , ” said Miss Bartlett , part of whose travelling expenses were paid by Lucy ’s mother -- a piece of generosity to which she made many a tactful allusion .
“ No , no .
You must have it . ”
“ I insist on it .
Your mother would never forgive me , Lucy . ”
“ She would never forgive me . ”
The ladies ’ voices grew animated , and -- if the sad truth be owned -- a little peevish .
They were tired , and under the guise of unselfishness they wrangled .
Some of their neighbours interchanged glances , and one of them -- one of the ill-bred people whom one does meet abroad -- leant forward over the table and actually intruded into their argument .
He said : “ I have a view , I have a view . ”
Miss Bartlett was startled .
Generally at a pension people looked them over for a day or two before speaking , and often did not find out that they would “ do ” till they had gone .
She knew that the intruder was ill-bred , even before she glanced at him .
He was an old man , of heavy build , with a fair , shaven face and large eyes .
There was something childish in those eyes , though it was not the childishness of senility .
What exactly it was Miss Bartlett did not stop to consider , for her glance passed on to his clothes .
These did not attract her .
He was probably trying to become acquainted with them before they got into the swim .
So she assumed a dazed expression when he spoke to her , and then said : “ A view ?
Oh , a view !
How delightful a view is ! ”
“ This is my son , ” said the old man ; “ his name ’s George .
He has a view too . ”
“ Ah , ” said Miss Bartlett , repressing Lucy , who was about to speak .
“ What I mean , ” he continued , “ is that you can have our rooms , and we ’ll have yours .
We ’ll change . ”
The better class of tourist was shocked at this , and sympathized with the new-comers .
Miss Bartlett , in reply , opened her mouth as little as possible , and said “ Thank you very much indeed ; that is out of the question . ”
“ Why ? ”
said the old man , with both fists on the table .
“ Because it is quite out of the question , thank you . ”
“ You see , we do n’t like to take -- ” began Lucy .
Her cousin again repressed her .
“ But why ? ”
he persisted .
“ Women like looking at a view ; men do n’t . ”
And he thumped with his fists like a naughty child , and turned to his son , saying , “ George , persuade them ! ”
“ It ’s so obvious they should have the rooms , ” said the son .
“ There ’s nothing else to say . ”
He did not look at the ladies as he spoke , but his voice was perplexed and sorrowful .
Lucy , too , was perplexed ; but she saw that they were in for what is known as “ quite a scene , ” and she had an odd feeling that whenever these ill-bred tourists spoke the contest widened and deepened till it dealt , not with rooms and views , but with -- well , with something quite different , whose existence she had not realized before .
Now the old man attacked Miss Bartlett almost violently : Why should she not change ?
What possible objection had she ?
They would clear out in half an hour .
Miss Bartlett , though skilled in the delicacies of conversation , was powerless in the presence of brutality .
It was impossible to snub any one so gross .
Her face reddened with displeasure .
She looked around as much as to say , “ Are you all like this ? ”
And two little old ladies , who were sitting further up the table , with shawls hanging over the backs of the chairs , looked back , clearly indicating “ We are not ; we are genteel . ”
“ Eat your dinner , dear , ” she said to Lucy , and began to toy again with the meat that she had once censured .
Lucy mumbled that those seemed very odd people opposite .
“ Eat your dinner , dear .
This pension is a failure .
To-morrow we will make a change . ”
Hardly had she announced this fell decision when she reversed it .
The curtains at the end of the room parted , and revealed a clergyman , stout but attractive , who hurried forward to take his place at the table , cheerfully apologizing for his lateness .
Lucy , who had not yet acquired decency , at once rose to her feet , exclaiming : “ Oh , oh !
Why , it ’s Mr. Beebe !
Oh , how perfectly lovely !
Oh , Charlotte , we must stop now , however bad the rooms are .
Oh ! ”
Miss Bartlett said , with more restraint : “ How do you do , Mr. Beebe ?
I expect that you have forgotten us : Miss Bartlett and Miss Honeychurch , who were at Tunbridge Wells when you helped the Vicar of St. Peter ’s that very cold Easter . ”
The clergyman , who had the air of one on a holiday , did not remember the ladies quite as clearly as they remembered him .
But he came forward pleasantly enough and accepted the chair into which he was beckoned by Lucy .
“ I AM so glad to see you , ” said the girl , who was in a state of spiritual starvation , and would have been glad to see the waiter if her cousin had permitted it .
“ Just fancy how small the world is .
Summer Street , too , makes it so specially funny . ”
“ Miss Honeychurch lives in the parish of Summer Street , ” said Miss Bartlett , filling up the gap , “ and she happened to tell me in the course of conversation that you have just accepted the living -- ” “ Yes , I heard from mother so last week .
She did n’t know that I knew you at Tunbridge Wells ; but I wrote back at once , and I said : ‘ Mr. Beebe is -- ’” “ Quite right , ” said the clergyman .
“ I move into the Rectory at Summer Street next June .
I am lucky to be appointed to such a charming neighbourhood . ”
“ Oh , how glad I am !
The name of our house is Windy Corner . ”
Mr. Beebe bowed .
“ There is mother and me generally , and my brother , though it ’s not often we get him to ch ---- The church is rather far off , I mean . ”
“ Lucy , dearest , let Mr. Beebe eat his dinner . ”
“ I am eating it , thank you , and enjoying it . ”
He preferred to talk to Lucy , whose playing he remembered , rather than to Miss Bartlett , who probably remembered his sermons .
He asked the girl whether she knew Florence well , and was informed at some length that she had never been there before .
It is delightful to advise a newcomer , and he was first in the field .
“ Do n’t neglect the country round , ” his advice concluded .
“ The first fine afternoon drive up to Fiesole , and round by Settignano , or something of that sort . ”
“ No ! ”
cried a voice from the top of the table .
“ Mr. Beebe , you are wrong .
The first fine afternoon your ladies must go to Prato . ”
“ That lady looks so clever , ” whispered Miss Bartlett to her cousin .
“ We are in luck . ”
And , indeed , a perfect torrent of information burst on them .
People told them what to see , when to see it , how to stop the electric trams , how to get rid of the beggars , how much to give for a vellum blotter , how much the place would grow upon them .
The Pension Bertolini had decided , almost enthusiastically , that they would do .
Whichever way they looked , kind ladies smiled and shouted at them .
And above all rose the voice of the clever lady , crying : “ Prato !
They must go to Prato .
That place is too sweetly squalid for words .
I love it ; I revel in shaking off the trammels of respectability , as you know . ”
The young man named George glanced at the clever lady , and then returned moodily to his plate .
Obviously he and his father did not do .
Lucy , in the midst of her success , found time to wish they did .
It gave her no extra pleasure that any one should be left in the cold ; and when she rose to go , she turned back and gave the two outsiders a nervous little bow .