A Room with a View

This is not at all what we were led to expect.

I thought we were going to see the Arno.

The signora distinctly wrote...

south rooms with a view and close together...

instead of which she has given us north rooms without a view...

and a long way apart.

Tsk.

We must hurry and get dressed, dear...

or we'll miss our dinner, on top of everything else.

She had no business to do it.

No business at all.

Any nook does for me, but it does seem hard that you shouldn't have a view.

No, you must have a view too.

- Buonasera. - Buonasera.

Miss Lavish, what a recommendation for a place.

Indeed, Miss Alan, it is a recommendation.

Between the squalor of London and the squalor of Prato...

there is a great gulf fixed.

It is only by going off the track that you get to know the country.

See the little towns...

Gubbio, Settignano...

Galluzzo...

San Gimignano, Monteriggioni.

They're a mixture of the almost primitive with the anciently classical...

that I find irresistible.

- Miss Pole? - Yes, Mr. Emerson.

What is that you're taking? It's not lemonade, is it?

Yes, it is lemonade.

Put it away, Miss Pole. Right away.

Lemonade is nothing but acidity. It's very bad for the stomach.

Oh!

I shall tell the signora...

that the next south room view available is to be given to you, Lucy.

- Why not to you, surely? - No, I insist.

This meat has surely been boiled...

for st... Ooh! For stock.

It's lost all its flavor.

Monteriggioni is not only quaint...

but there one meets the Italians unspoiled...

in all their simplicity and charm.

Wasn't Monteriggioni where we saw the cornflowers, Teresa?

An entire carpet of them.

Oh, it was delightful.

I find the cornflower the most delightful of flowers.

Don't you, Miss Lavish?

I prefer something bolder...

the reckless rose...

the tempestuous tulip.

Your mother would never forgive me if I took the view.

Mother would want you to have it.

On no account. The view of the Arno is yours.

I don't know why we're arguing, because we don't have it.

- We have no view. - I have a view.

I have a view. And so does George.

My son George here.

You can have our rooms, and we'll have yours.

We can change.

But why shouldn't you have them?

Thank you very much indeed.

We could not impose on your kindness.

Why?

- You see, we wouldn't... - Hush, Lucy.

Women like looking at a view.

Men don't. George, persuade them.

It's obvious they should have the rooms. There's nothing else to say.

- Signora? - No. No, thank you.

Why shouldn't you change? We could clear out in half an hour, 15 minutes.

It's ridiculous, these niceties.

They go against common sense. Every kind of sense.

I don't care what I see outside. My vision is within.

Here is where the birds sing. Here is where the sky is blue.

Come, Lucy.

Oh, let them have their view if they want it.

Why shouldn't they, if they want it?

George, go after them.

What an impossible person.

- He meant to be kind. - Oh, please, leave this to me.

I know how to deal with these people.

Charlotte, you dealed rudely. You dealed wrongly.

This pensione is a failure.

Tomorrow we'll make a change.

- It's Mr. Beebe. - Who?

Charlotte, we can't change now.

- Mr. Beebe. - Don't you remember us?

Miss Bartlett and Miss Honeychurch.

- We met at Tunbridge Wells. - That very cold Easter.

How do you do? How do you do?

I've heard from Mother you are to be our vicar.

Yes, I move into the rectory at Summer Street in June.

We did feel so sorry for you in the dining room.

Mr. Emerson is so tactless.

But he meant to be kind.

This old gentleman and his son offered us their rooms with a view for ours...

which have no view.

It was most indelicate.

But things that are indelicate can sometimes be beautiful.

Yes!

I am the chaperone to my young cousin Lucy.

It would be a serious thing if I were to put her under an obligation...

to people of whom I know nothing.

I don't think much harm could have come of accepting.

There, Charlotte.

So you think I ought to have accepted?

You think I have been narrow-minded.

I never suggested that.

If you will allow me, I would be happy to act as intermediary...

with Mr. Emerson.

I do not think he would take advantage of your acceptance...

nor expect any gratitude.

He has rooms he does not value and he thinks you would value them.

Charlotte, please.

My own wishes, dearest Lucy, are unimportant in comparison with yours.

I am only here through your kindness.

If you want me to turn these gentlemen out of their rooms, I will do it.

Would you then, Mr. Beebe...

kindly tell Mr....

Emerson.

Emerson... we accept his offer?

I would like to thank your father personally for his kindness to us.

You can't. He's in his bath.

I would have given the larger room to you...

but I happen to know that it was the young man's.

In my small way, I am a woman of the world...

and I know where things can lead to.

Whatever does it mean?

Oh, Lucy.

Get dressed, dear, or the better part of the day will be gone.

Well, you said you liked cornflowers.

So we brought you cornflowers.

Oh, how kind!

They're your type of flowers. They have your personality.

- I'd like to see them in your hair. - Oh!

- Mr. Emerson! - There are no jewels more becoming to a lady.

May I say something rather daring?

Oh, Mr. Beebe, you sound like Miss Lavish.

Don't say you're writing a novel too.

If I were, you would be my heroine.

And I should write:

"If Miss Honeychurch ever takes to live as she plays...

it will be very exciting, both for us and for her."

Mother doesn't like me playing Beethoven.

She says I'm always peevish afterwards.

Naturally, one would be... stirred up.

Won't you play some more?

No, I think I'll go out.

Alone? Is that wise, Miss Honeychurch?

To be wise, one might have stayed at home at Summer Street.

I'll not go far. I promise.

I'm sorry.

Whatever's the matter with dear Miss Lucy?

I put it down to too much Beethoven.

I heard her beautiful playing.

Miss Catharine, you have flowers in your hair.

Buongiorno. Buongiorno, Ferdinando!

We salute thee.

The bronze came from Turkish cannons...

captured by the knights of San Stefano.

Come along.

- Stop a minute. - Hmm?

Let that man go on, or I shall have to speak to him.

Oh, the Britisher abroad.

It's very naughty of me, but I would set an examination paper at Dover...

and turn back any tourists that couldn't pass it.

Whenever you feel inclined, dear people...

to speak in that way...

of a sculpted drapery...

be assured...

Miss, this sepolcro no very good.

You go see glia ffreschi di Giotto.

Cappella Peruzzi, Cappella Bardi very good.

- No, thank you. - Ah, Giotto scolaro di Cimabue.

Kept the sheep on the mountain.

- Make a picture of the sheep. - No, thank you.

I very... good speak English.

Do go away, please.

Cappella Peruzzi, glia ffreschi di Giotto.

- Come here. - No.

If you can guide your eyes around the window...

you will see here in the chapel...

these superb frescoes by Giotto...

depicting the life of St. Francis.

On the left at the top, there he is, renouncing his worldly goods.

And on your right, the fourth pope.

And here he is preaching to the bishops.

And there he is undergoing a... trial by fire...

before the sultan.

And here...

Ah, Mr. Eager. Good morning.

You see me. I'm leading a little private tour of my own.

Here he is on his deathbed, surrounded...

Mr. Eager is our English chaplain here in Florence.

...now unhappily ruined by restoration...

is untroubled by the snares of anatomy and perspective.

Look at that fat man there. He must weigh as much as I do...

but he's floating up into the sky like an air balloon.

Remember the facts about this church of Santa Croce...

how it was built by faith in the full fervor of medievalism.

Built by faith, indeed. That simply means the workers weren't paid properly.

Pardon me. The chapel is somewhat small for two parties.

We will incommode you no longer.