A Room with a View

She was then no longer either deferential or patronizing; no longer either a rebel or a slave. The kingdom of music

s escaped us, and thinking how we could worship him and love him, would he but translate his visions into human words, and

window open. Passion was there, but it could not be easily labelled; it slipped between love and hatred and jealousy, and all the furniture of the pictorial style. And she was tragical only in the sense that she was great, for she loved to play on the side of Vic

t she made no reply, dispersed to their rooms to write up their diaries or to sleep. She took no notice of Mr. Emerson looking for his son, nor of Miss Bartlett looking for Miss Lavish, nor of Miss Lavish l

ted the drawing of a champagne cork. Among the promised items was "Miss Honeychurch. Piano. Beethoven," and Mr. Beebe was wondering whether it would be Adelaida, or the march of The Ruins of Athens, when his composure was disturbed by the opening bars of Opus III. He was in suspense all through the introduction, for not until the pace quickens does one know what the performer intends. With the roar of th

he asked the v

happy. Beethoven is so usually simple and direct in his appeal that it is s

oduce

and Miss Bartlett are full o

r. Beebe. "Why ever

le, undeveloped face. She loved going to concerts, she loved stopping with her cousin, she loved iced coffee and meringues. He did not doubt that she loved his sermon a

live as she plays, it will be ver

e re-entere

just the same to mother, and she said s

. Honeychurc

about it. She thinks-I can't make out. Once, you know, I said that I liked my own playing better th

, wondering why she

looked out absently upon Italy in the wet. The whole life of the South was disorganiz

hills were dirty purple. Somewhere in their folds were concealed Miss Lavish

music?" sa

will be sopped,"

deker, and a tickling cough in her throat. On another day, when the whole world was singing and the air ran into the mouth, like

astray. She hopes to find the t

nsion Bertolini in the way of definition. Miss Lavish was so original. Mr. Beebe had his doubts, but th

in awe-struck tone, "that M

do s

is it

Italy. Let me refer you for an account to Miss Catharine Ala

ht to have run away with Baedeker that morning in Santa Croce. Charlotte was most annoyed at

at all events,

known depths of strangeness, though not perhaps, of meaning. Was Italy deflecting her from the path of prim chaperon, which he had assigned to her at Tunbridge Wells? All his life he had loved to study maiden ladies; they were his specialty, and his professi

he foreshore. But in the south-west there had appeared a dull haze of yellow, which might mean better weather if it did not mean worse. She opened t

ere besides. Who would suppose this is Italy? There is my sister ac

scious as she always was on entering a room wh

oom with the door shut. Doors shut; indeed, most necessary. No one has the l

people. They pry everywhere, they see everything, and they know what we want before we know it ourselves. We are at their mercy. They read our thoughts, they foretell our desires. From the cab-driver down to-to Giotto, they turn us inside out, and I resent it. Yet in their heart of hearts they are-h

ted in Mr. Beebe, having expected better things from a clergyman whose head was bald and who wore a pair of russet whis

cause was disclosed. From the chair beneath her she extracted a gun-metal

e clergyman. "A good fellow, Lavi

or her to smoke, it is not quite as dreadful as you suppose. She took to it, practically in desp

that?" a

ve a little ink, please?' But you know what Italians are, and meanwhile the Grotto fell roaring on to the beach, and the saddest thing of all is that she cannot remember what she has written. The poor thing was very ill after it, and so got tempted into cigarettes. It is a great secret, but I am glad to say that she is writing another novel. She told Teresa and Miss Pole the other day th

ted remarks, giving them unexpected beauty, just as in the decaying autumn woods there sometimes rise odours remi

ly like to say unwomanly, but she behaved

an anecdote which he knew she would be unab

iss Pole, the lady who has so much yellow hair, takes lemon

ocial resources were endless, went out to order som

d so: 'There, Miss Lavish, is one who can confute you better than I,' and pointed to that beautiful picture of Lord Tennyson. Then Miss Lavish said: 'Tut! The early Victorians.' Just imagine! 'Tut! The early Victorians.' My sister had gone, and I felt bound to speak. I said: 'Miss Lavish, I am an early Victorian; at least, that is to say, I will hear no breath of censure against our dear Queen.' It was horrible speaking. I reminded her how the Queen had been to Ireland when she did not want to go, and I must say she was dumbfounded, and made no reply. But, unluckily, Mr. Emerson overheard this part, and called in his deep voice: 'Quite

tory," said Mr. Beeb

shall go alone.' She went. At the end of five minutes she returned

happened?"

s Lavish will never dare to tell, and Mr.

on, is he nice or not ni

ested that she should sett

is so silly, and then I do not mind him.

hed disapprovingly. Mr. Beebe, whom the con

class him as nice, Miss Alan, af

r gossips. No, I cannot forget how they behaved at Mr. Eager's lecture at Santa Croce. Oh, poor Miss Hon

following her. Miss Bartlett, smarting under an obligation, would scarcely be civil. The case of Lucy was different. She had given him a hazy account of her adventures in Santa Croce, and he gathered that the two men had made a curious and possibly concerted attempt to annex her, to show her the world from their own

e thought the Emersons were nice; not that she saw anythi

you to go out with them, dear?"

like it, and said something

on't understand our ways.

as almost as silent as the son. He wondered whether he would not plan a pleasant day for these folk before they left-some expedition,

e Arno lost its muddy solidity and began to twinkle. There were a few streaks of bluish-green among the clouds, a few pa

ss Alan in a voice of relief.

want to go round the town in the circu

be, who felt responsible for her in the

etters. If you do want to go out alo

r, you know,"

someone who reads me

ed to Mr. Beebe as to say that she would only go for a l

be, as they watched her from the window, "and sh