dd (ORCHESTRA: CLASSICAL)
dd (WOMAN SINGING OPERA IN ITALIAN)
dd (CONTINUES)
(BELLS PEALING)
(SIGHS)
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.
(SIGHS)
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...
- (INSECT BUZZING) - 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.
(BELLS CHIMING)
- 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.
(SIGHS)
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.
LUCY: 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?
(BELL TOLLING)
(KNOCKING)
Oh, Lucy.
Get dressed, dear, or the better part of the day will be gone.
(BELLS TOLLING)
dd (PIANO CONTINUES)
(CHUCKLES)
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."
(CHIMES TINKLING)
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. - (CHUCKLING)
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.
MAN: Whenever you feel inclined, dear people...
to speak in that way...
of a sculpted drapery...
be assured... (CONTINUES, FAINT)
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.
(SPEAKS ITALIAN)
- Make a picture of the sheep. - No, thank you.
I very... (ITALIAN) good speak English.
Do go away, please.
Cappella Peruzzi, glia ffreschi di Giotto.
- Come here. - No. (MUTTERS)
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.
(CHUCKLES) 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. - (STAMMERS)
Mr. Eager, there's plenty of room for all of us.
You don't have to, uh...
Oh, dear. Oh, dear.
EAGER: Gather round, everybody.
You may observe here in the Peruzzi Chapel...
as well as in the place from which we have just been expelled...
the special character of Giotto...
among the great painters of Italy.
- (SPEAKING ITALIAN) - He was a practical fellow.
My poor boy has brains, but he's very muddled.
But why should he be?
Well may you ask.
But think how he's been brought up...
free from all the superstition that leads men...
to hate one another in the name of God.
I must go. My cousin will be most anxious.
I don't require you to fall in love with my boy, but please try to help him.
If only one could stop him from brooding.
And on what?
The things of the universe.
I don't believe in this world sorrow. Do you?
No. No, I don't. Not at all, Mr. Emerson.
Well, there you are.
Then make my boy realize...
that at the side of the everlasting "why"...
there is a "yes"...
and a "yes" and a "yes"!
Has your son no particular hobby?
I mean, I generally forget my worries at the piano...
and collecting stamps did no end of good for my brother Freddy.
You must excuse me, Mr. Emerson.
My cousin will be most anxious if I don't get back this instant.
- Poor girl. - "Poor girl?"
On the contrary, I think myself a very fortunate girl.
I'm thoroughly happy and having a splendid time.
Thank you very much. Good-bye.
dd (ORGAN)
Look at that adorable wine cart.
How he stares at us, dear, simple soul.
I love these little dark alleys.
They're all peasants, you know. Come along.
I do declare we're lost.
No, Miss Bartlett, you will not look into your Baedeker.
Two lone females in an unknown city...
Now, that's what I call an adventure.
We will simply drift.
One has always to be open, wide open.
- I think Miss Lucy is. - Open to what, Miss Lavish?
- To physical sensation. - (GASPS)
I will let you into a secret, Miss Bartlett.
I have my eye on your cousin, Miss Lucy Honeychurch.
Oh, for a character in your novel, Miss Lavish?
The young English girl transfigured by Italy.
And why should she not be transfigured?
It happened to the Goths.
- Signorina? - (SPEAKING ITALIAN)
Signorina.
The smell.
A true Florentine smell. Inhale, my dear.
- (SNIFFS) - Deeper.
Every city, let me tell you, has its own smell.
Grazie.
(BELLS JINGLING)
(MEN ARGUING IN ITALIAN)
(SHOUTS)
How are you now?
Perfectly well.
A... 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 out there in the square.
Would you be so very kind, uh...
- Miss Honeychurch! - (GASPS)
You're not fit enough to go home alone.
- Yes, I am. Thank you very much. - No, you're not.
- But I had rather go... - Then I don't get the photographs.
Besides, that way, you'd have to fly over the wall.
Now, please, sit down and don't move till I come back.
(MEN SHOUTING IN ITALIAN)
(SHOUTING)
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 much ashamed of myself in my life.
- 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, as a great favor...
You know how silly people are.
Gossiping.
(CHUCKLES)
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 you threw away.
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 these accidents do happen.
And 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.
I'm not sure we ought to allow this.
- They aren't doing any harm. - Oh, Mr. Eager.
I cannot see that you should 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.
Perhaps as a student of human nature like myself?
- I'm here as a tourist. - EAGER: Are you indeed?
Do not think me rude.
We residents sometimes pity you poor tourists not a little.
Handed about like a parcel of goods...
from Venice to Florence, Florence to Rome...
quite unconscious of anything outside Baedeker...
their one anxiety to get done or through and go on somewhere else.
I abhor Baedeker.
If it were left to me, every copy should be flung into the Arno.
Towns, rivers, palaces, all mixed up in one inextricable whirl.
(YAWNS)
Over there, please observe, Miss Honeychurch...
the villa of my dear friend Lady Helen Laverstock...
at present busy with a Fra Angelico definitive study.
And on your left...
No, just there...
Mr. Henry Burrage lives.
An American of the best type. So rare.
Doubtless you know his monographs in the series of Medieval Byways.
(SPEAKING ITALIAN)
(ITALIAN)
Your father, I believe, Mr. Emerson, is a journalist?
- He used to be. - Uh, he's retired?
- And you, yourself? - I'm on the railways.
You know the American girl in Punch who says to her father...
"Say, Papa, what did we see in Rome?"
The father replies, "Guess Rome was the place where we saw the yellow dog."
(LAUGHING)
The yellow dog! There's traveling for you.
What? Stop! Stop at once!
(SPEAKING ITALIAN)
What did we... (EMERSON STAMMERS)
I'm not having this.
(SHOUTING IN ITALIAN)
- (HORSE WHINNIES) - Have we bolted?
Have we bolted?
(ITALIAN)
(ITALIAN CONTINUES)
(ITALIAN)
What? Is Phaethon misbehaving with his Persephone?
- Please, I know how to deal with these people. - Leave them alone.
Do we find happiness so often we should turn it off the box when it happens to sit there?
(SPEAKING ITALIAN)
(ITALIAN)
Beauty!
(GEORGE SHOUTS)
- Is that your son? - (GEORGE CONTINUES SHOUTING)
Could that be the silent, dour George?
He's saying his creed.
Trust!
One more lump, if I might trouble you, Mr. Beebe.
- Joy! - Thank you.
Beauty!
(VOICE BREAKING) Truth!
(SHOUTS)
He's declaring the eternal "yes."
And a spoon, if there is one.
Love!
- What's that? - Hmm?
Oh, the gentlemen are doubtless having a game.
Why don't you join them, dear?
Because 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.
There, Lucy. 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 shall stand up.
And she never went back to Weybridge?
Her friend had to return without her.
She remained at Monteriano.
And... And did she really?
(CLEARING THROAT)
No, no. Don't be alarmed. This is not a cold.
It's just a slight cough. I've had it for three days.
It has nothing to do with sitting on the ground.
Very well. I shall go and find Mr. Beebe.
Oh, do, do, dear. Yes.
He will be so pleased.
And did she really marry this Italian?
In the church at Monteriano.
A youth, 10 years younger than herself.
(GASPS) Tsk. Eleanor.
dd (WOMAN SINGING OPERA)
Excuse me.
Dov'e Mr. Beebe?
Buoni uomini?
I have a theory...
that there is something in the Italian landscape...
which inclines even the most stolid nature 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.
(GIGGLING)
- Feign to deny it. - (GIGGLES)
Lucy!
(THUNDER RUMBLING)
Mr. Eager, do come and join us.
Miss Honeychurch is feeling unwell.
Yes. Of course.
CHARLOTTE: Andiamo.
Andiamo.
George. George.
- George, aren't you going to come with us? - I'll walk.
Walk?
Are you sure?
(ITALIAN)
(ITALIAN CONTINUES)
(THUNDER RUMBLING)
Courage, Miss Honeychurch. Courage and faith.
Do you suppose that all this immense electrical display...
is simply called into existence to extinguish you or me?
Even from a scientific standpoint...
the chances against our being struck are enormous.
The steel picnic knives...
the only articles which might attract the current...
are in the other carriage.
- (THUNDERCLAP) - (SQUEALS)
What is to be done?
How do you propose to silence him?
- The driver? - My dear girl, no.
Mr. George Emerson.
I don't wish to judge him uncharitably...
but I know he will talk.
He will not. He never talks.
One's lucky to get as much as a "yes" or "no" out of him.
(GRUNTS)
Unfortunately, I have met the type before.
They seldom keep their exploits to themselves.
Exploits?
Very well.
I'll speak to him.
Oh, no, my dear Lucy.
No, I think it is for me to do that.
He should have been here at least an hour ago...
even if he did walk all the way.
Don't stand there, dear.
You will be seen from the outside.
The moment he comes, I shall face him.
Oh, no, my dear, you will do no such thing.
Oh, my poor dear girl, you are so young.
And you've always lived among such nice people.
You cannot realize what men can be.
This afternoon, for example, if I had not arrived...
what would have happened?
I can't think.
Answer me, Lucia.
What would have happened if I had not appeared?
You did appear!
Oh, I have vexed you at every turn.
It's true.
I am too old for you.
And too dull.
It will be a push to catch the morning train, but we must try.
Oh, I have failed in my duty to your mother.
She will never forgive me when you tell her.
Come away from the window!
She will certainly blame me when she hears of it.
Certainly.
And deservedly.
Why need Mother hear of it?
Well, you tell her everything.
Don't you?
I suppose I do, generally.
There's such a beautiful confidence between you.
One would hate to break it.
And as I have said before, I am to blame.
I wouldn't want Mother to think so.
She will think so...
if you tell her.
I shall never speak of it...
either to Mother or to anyone.
We'll both be as silent as the grave.
You'd better get to bed, dear. We have to make an early start.
But, of course, we have not had a full week.
I reserved the rooms for a week like you wrote you wanted.
Yes, but we've only had half a week...
so by my calculations, we owe you half the price.
I'm the loser. I could have let them rooms five times over.
I've been turning people away right and left. (ITALIAN)
(ITALIAN)
(THUNDERCLAP)
(BELL RINGS)
- Buonasera. - Buonasera.
Grazie.
Lucy!
We must get packed immediately. Immediately!
(POUNDS ON DOOR)
I wish one word with you, Mr. Emerson, in the drawing room, please.
I don't see you ought to go peeping like that.
You know Cecil actually asked my permission...
but when he comes to the point, he can't manage without me.
- Nor me. - You?
- He asked my permission also. - How very odd. Whatever did you say?
- I said no. - What?
I can't help it. It's the way he put it.
He said, didn't I think it would be a splendid thing for Lucy if he married her...
and wasn't I off my head with joy?
So I said no, I wasn't.
Ridiculous child.
You think you're so holy and truthful...
- when really it's only abominable conceit. - Look out.
I promessi sposi.
She has accepted me.
I-I'm so glad.
Oh, dear Cecil, what joy.
Well, welcome as one of the family.
Thank you.
(CLEARS THROAT)
Mother?
Lucy.
(MOTHER GIGGLING)
LUCY: Freddy!
(LAUGHING)
- Mr. Beebe. - Thank you, Mary.
Hello, Mr. Vyse. I've come for some tea.
Do you suppose I shall get it?
Food is the one thing one does get here.
Yes.
What an extraordinary thing.
One of Freddy's bones.
Oh, Freddy's terrible.
A most unpromising youth.
So unlike his sister.
You think his sister is promising?
I have a pet theory about Miss Honeychurch.
Does it not strike you as odd that she should play so wonderfully...
play Beethoven with such passion, and live so quietly?
I suspect that one day...
music and life will mingle.
Then she will be wonderful in both.
I trust that day is at hand.
She has just promised to marry me.
I'm sorry if I've given you a shock.
I really am most awfully sorry.
I'd no idea you were so intimate with her.
Really, Mr. Vyse, you should have stopped me.
Shall we join the others?
Congratulations.
Blessings.
Your vicar's benediction.
I want you to be supremely happy.
And supremely good, both as man and wife, mother and father.
And now I want my tea.
Just in time. How dare you be so serious.
WOMAN: Summer Street will never be the same.
MAN: It's far too small for anyone, the least like ourselves.
It might attract the wrong type of tenant.
The train service has improved so.
Fatal improvement to my mind.
What are five miles from the station in these days of bicycles?
Sir Harry, how would you like spinsters as tenants in Cissie Villa?
Oh, most certainly.
That is, if they are gentlewomen.
Oh, indeed they are, though at present homeless, so they write.
Miss Teresa and Miss Catharine Alan.
I met them in Italy.
Oh, Sir Harry, beware of these gentlewomen.
Beware of women altogether. Only let to a man.
Provided, of course, he's clean.
Mother, you'd be the first to love the Miss Alans.
I don't think I'd like anyone at that pensione of yours.
Wasn't there a lady novelist and a free-thinking father and son?
WOMAN: What is your profession, Mr. Vyse?
I have no profession.
My attitude... quite an indefensible one...
is that so long as I'm no trouble to anyone...
I have the right to do as I like.
It is, I daresay, an example of my decadence.
You're very fortunate.
The possession of leisure is a wonderful opportunity.
(CHUCKLING) Don't slouch, Lucy.
Go and talk to Mrs. Pool. Ask her about her leg.
Would Cecil and I be missed very much, do you think, if we went for a walk?
I think it would be all right.
Don't get your frock muddied, hmm?
(HAMMERING)
It's so disgusting...
the way an engagement is regarded as public property.
All those old women smirking.
One has to go through it, I suppose.
They won't notice us so very much next time.
But my point is, their whole attitude is wrong.
An engagement...
horrid word in the first place...
is a private matter and should be regarded as such.
- Oh. - (HAMMERING)
There's your philosophizing parson.
- Don't you like Mr. Beebe either? - I never said so.
I consider him far above the average.
Mr. Beebe, I've had such a wonderful idea.
I'm going to write our Miss Alans... Miss Teresa and Miss Catharine...
and ask them to take Sir Harry's villa.
Oh.
In my opinion, Sir Harry deserves a tenant as vulgar as himself.
Oh, Mr. Vyse, he's really very nice, you know.
Gentlewomen. Ugh!
Acting the little god down here...
with his gentility and his patronage and his sham aesthetics...
and everyone is taken in.
Well, I'll write to them, and if you would also send a word?
Certainly. Yes, indeed.
A highly suitable addition to our little community.
Goodness. How cross you are!
(VEHICLE APPROACHING)
It was that miserable tea party and all those dreadful people.
And not being alone with you.
Hmm.
dd (HUMMING)
Italy and London are the places where I feel I truly belong.
I am something of an inglese italianato...
e un diavolo incarnato.
You know the proverb?
I somehow think that you feel more at home with me in a room...
never in the real country like this.
Do you know, I think you're right.
When I do think of you, it is always in a room.
This is the Sacred Lake.
Hmm. Very picturesque, but hardly a lake.
More of a puddle.
Freddy loves to bathe here.
He's very fond of it.
And you?
I used to bathe here too...
until I was found out.
- Lucy. - Hmm?
Yes, I suppose we ought to be going.
I want to ask you something that I have never asked before.
What, Cecil?
Yes?
Up till now, I have never kissed you.
No. You haven't.
May I now?
Well, of course you may, Cecil.
You might before. I can't run at you, you know.
Hmm. W...
- I'm sorry. - No.
You know, Mother's right. Those people Charlotte and I met at the pensione...
They were... all of them... rather extraordinary.
(THUNDER RUMBLING)
(THUNDERCLAP)
LUCY'S VOICE: Our neighbor and old friend, Sir Harry Otway...
has a little villa in Summer Street for which he's trying to find a tenant.
I immediately thought of you.
"Sir Harry's house has an added attraction...
that it stands exactly across the road...
from the Reverend Beebe's church.
And I've told him of my plan to lure you hither...
and he is in complete agreement...
and says he is writing today to urge you to consider...
our little corner of Surrey.
Yours sincerely, Lucy Honeychurch."
- Oh! - There.
dd (PIANO: MID-TEMPO)
dd (CONTINUES)
- Good night. - Good night.
Oh, dear.
- Good night. - Good night.
- Good night. See you Friday. - Good night.
That will be all, Rose. Thank you.
Thank you, madam.
- Good night, Rose. - Good night, sir.
Make Lucy one of us.
Lucy's becoming wonderful. Wonderful.
Her music always was wonderful.
Yes, but she's purging off that Honeychurch taint.
Most excellent Honeychurches, but you know what I mean.
She isn't always quoting the servants or asking how the pudding is made.
Cecil, mind you marry her next January.
Her music, the style of her...
How she kept to Schubert when, like an idiot, I wanted Beethoven.
Schubert was right for this evening.
Do you know, Mother, I shall have our children educated just like Lucy.
Bring them up among honest country folk for freshness...
send them to Italy for... subtlety.
And then... not till then bring them to London.
Not a day beyond January.
Cecil.
Darling.
So, you do love me, little thing?
(CLOCK BELL CHIMING)
(LAUGHS)
(GRUNTS)
- (LAUGHING) - (GIRL GRUNTS)
(LUCY LAUGHING)
- (FREDDY LAUGHING) - Hey!
Lucy!
Lu... I'm trying to get her attention to show her this letter from the Miss Alans.
Oh, the tiresome Miss Alans.
How I hate their iffing and butting.
Oh, well, they've made their mind up now. They're really coming.
I had a letter from Miss Teresa who wanted to know how often the butcher called.
Apparently, my reply impressed her favorably.
- Lucy? - Go for her.
Get her round the shins with the racquet.
- (SCREAMS) - Freddy, be careful!
You really are savages, you know.
Impossible to make oneself heard.
Don't you want to know what the Miss Alans have to say?
FREDDY: Who are the Miss Alans?
Sir Harry's new tenants at the villa.
- That wasn't the name. - Wasn't whose name?
Sir Harry's new tenants.
I met him this morning, and he said...
"Ahem. Honeychurch. Ahem.
I have at last procured some really desirable tenants."
I said, "Hooray, old chap" and slapped him on the back.
Exactly. The Miss Alans.
Rather not. It's more like Anderson.
Oh, good gracious. I knew there'd be another muddle.
I'm always right.
Only another muddle of Freddy's...
who doesn't even know the name of the other people.
Yes, I do. I've got it. It was Emerson.
What a weathercock Sir Harry is.
Emerson? Well, I hope they're the right kind of people.
Yes, Freddy, there is a right sort and a wrong sort.
These must be the right sort because they're friends of Cecil's.
- Cecil? - So you and the other county families...
will be able to call in perfect safety.
- Cecil? - We did meet some Emersons in Florence.
Don't you remember? The oddest people, Mrs. Honeychurch.
The queerest people. But we rather liked them, didn't we?
Emerson's a common enough name.
- "So really desirable, Honeychurch. - No!
- I've just telegraphed to them." - Don't be silly, Freddy.
You always overdo it when you play.
Really, most remarkable people. Father and son, you know.
The father's something of a radical.
Good at heart, I believe.
The son, full of possibilities.
Don't move.
Stay where you are.
Ginevra de' Benci.
Did you know you were a Leonardo...
smiling at things beyond our ken?
Cecil, what's this about Sir Harry's new tenants?
Yes, I, even I have found him tenants for his Cissie Villa.
I've won a great victory for the comic muse.
Cecil, after all the trouble I took over the Miss Alans.
Well, of course, I prefer to have nice friends of yours.
Friends of mine? Lucy, the whole joke is to come.
They're absolute strangers whom I happened to meet in the National Gallery.
They had been to Italy, a father and a son... the oddest couple.
In the course of conversazione...
they said they wanted a country cottage...
and did I know of one?
A simple burrow they could call their own...
where they could smell the earth.
Of course, London has its own character.
But we've a longing for green things growing. Don't we, George?
The sweetness of the English countryside...
of... (STAMMERS) of wet hedgerows...
with birds singing inside them.
Of course I freely admit it's a weakness.
We should make our heaven on earth wherever we are.
However, I fear I've faltered and need some help from outside.
Yes, uh, well, uh...
in short, sir, what I seek is a country cottage...
a little home for me where George could come at weekends.
Well, I happen to know of just the place for you.
Not exactly a cottage.
More... a villa.
Oh, dear sir, I implore you...
If you'd like to give me your card.
A card? Yes. Well, I fear we have no card.
But George will write down the address.
Sir Harry Otway.
It is in Surrey.
A place called Summer Street.
Summer Street? I've dreamed of Summer Street!
It will teach that snob Sir Harry a lesson.
No, Lucy, the classes ought to mix.
There ought to be intermarriage, all sorts of things.
I believe in democracy.
No, you don't. You don't know what the word means.
It isn't fair, Cecil.
I probably met them before.
Perfectly fair if it punishes a snob.
Cecil, I blame you. I blame you very much indeed.
You had no business to undo my work about the Miss Alans and make me look ridiculous.
You call it scoring off Sir Harry, but do you realize it was at my expense?
I consider it most disloyal of you.
Temper, Lucy, temper.
Please.
(GATE HINGE SQUEAKS)
- Hello? - Hello.
- Hello. I've brought someone to see you. - I'll be down in a minute.
Byron. Exactly.
"A Shropshire Lad."
Never heard of it.
"The Way of All Flesh."
Never heard of it.
Hello. George reads German.
Shh.
(BEEBE LAUGHS)
I'm certain that's old Emerson.
What on earth are those people doing up there?
- Hello! - Wait on, Mr. Beebe.
- This is a neighbor, Mr. Honeychurch. - How do you do?
How do you do?
Come in.
Uh, come and have a bathe.
Well, I... I'd like that.
(LAUGHING)
That's the best conversational opening I've ever heard.
"How do you do? Come and have a bathe." (LAUGHS)
Emerson, this is Honeychurch.
You'll remember his sister from Florence.
Oh, yes. And how do you do? Very glad to see you.
Uh, very glad to hear your sister is... i-is marrying.
I'm sure she'll be, uh... I'm sure she'll be happy.
Uh, we... we know Mr. Vyse too.
He's been very, um... uh, uh, very ki...
George, g-go and bathe. The change'll do you good.
Then you can all come back and have some tea.
- Do you really want this bathe? - Yes. I've said so.
Good-bye, Emerson.
Uh... Oh, uh, bring some milk and honey.
And, uh, uh, cakes. Cakes!
Yours is glorious country, Honeychurch.
As a matter of fact, coincidence is much rarer than we suppose.
For example...
it's not coincidental that you're here now...
when one comes to reflect on it.
I have reflected. It's fate.
Everything is fate.
You have not reflected at all.
Let me cross-examine you.
Where did you meet Mr. Vyse, who will marry Miss Honeychurch?
The National Gallery.
Looking at Italian art.
You see? And you talk of coincidence and fate.
You're naturally drawn to things Italian, as are we and all our friends.
Aren't we, Freddy?
That narrows the field immeasurably.
It is fate.
But call it Italy, if it pleases you, Vicar.
dd (BEEBE HUMMING)
Whoo!
Are you bathing, Mr. Beebe?
FREDDY: Don't be shy!
Why not?
Oh, it is wonderful!
Simply ripping.
Hurry up, Emerson!
Come along, Mr. Beebe!
I may as well wash too.
Well, here goes.
- Ah! - Whoo-hoo!
(ALL LAUGHING)
(LAUGHING CONTINUES)
Race you round it!
(LAUGHING, GRUNTING)
FREDDY: "In Xanadu did Kubla Khan...
a stately pleasure dome decree"...
(LAUGHING)
Bravo!
(MUTTERING, LAUGHING)
(LAUGHING CONTINUES)
You've gone too far! Really, I...
I have a boot!
(CHATTERING, LAUGHING)
- Oww! - And some trousers!
- Aah! - Come on then!
- (BEEBE SHOUTING, MUFFLED) - There are people!
- Graces alive! - Oh!
Whoo!
Come this way immediately. This way, Mrs. Honeychurch.
Whoever were those unfortunate people?
This way, Mrs. Honeychurch. Follow me.
MRS. HONEYCHURCH: Oh, dears. Look away!
(WHEEZING LAUGHTER)
Oh! Mr. Beebe too!
- Oh! - (STAMMERING) You're treading on me!
- So it is you. - (CHUCKLING)
Why not have a comfortable bath at home, dear...
with hot and cold laid on?
- Mother! - You are in no position to argue, Freddy.
Come, Lucy.
(GASPS) Oh, look...
- Uh, no, don't look! - (LAUGHING)
Oh, poor Mr. Beebe!
dd (PIANO: "CHOPSTICKS")
- Poor Charlotte. - (CLEARS THROAT)
(GASPS) Poor, poor Charlotte!
This is the standard reaction to any letter from our cousin Charlotte.
- Oh, poor Charlotte. - (BOTH MUTTERING) Poor, poor Charlotte.
No, but this is serious.
Her boiler is to be had out...
and the bathroom cistern cleaned...
and all kinds of to-doing.
I think it would be very nice if we asked her to stay.
Give her a holiday while the plumbers at Tunbridge Wells finish.
No!
We're squeezed to death as it is with Freddy's friend coming, and Minnie Beebe.
- dd ("CHOPSTICKS" CONTINUES) - Freddy, must you?
The truth is, dear, you don't like Charlotte.
- Well, she gets on my nerves. - (CLEARS THROAT)
The one time she met Cecil in Rome, she drove him quite frantic.
So, please, don't worry us this last summer...
but spoil us by not asking her to come.
Hear! Hear! We vote no Miss Bartlett.
(SIGHS)
This isn't very kind of you two.
You have each other, and poor Charlotte...
Again, "poor Charlotte."
- Has the water turned off, and plumbers. - dd (ENDS)
dd (FLOURISH)
d Strike the concertina's melancholy string d
d Blow the spirit-stirring harp like anything d
d Let the piano's martial blast d
d Rouse the echoes of the past d
(DOOR SLAMS)
d They played their next sonata Let me see d
d Medulla oblongata, key of G d
However, we're in E flat.
- What's the matter? Wasn't it any good? - Oh, it's lovely, dear.
d Then they began to sing d
d That extremely lovely thing d
d Scherzando ma non troppo P-P-P d
d Scherzando ma non troppo P-P-P dd
dd (ENDS)
dd (PIANO REPEATS ENDING BARS)
Is anything the matter with Cecil?
Because otherwise, I cannot account for him.
Whenever I speak, he winces.
I see him, Lucy. It's useless to contradict me.
No doubt I am not artistic...
nor literary, nor intellectual.
Your father bought the drawing room furniture...
and we must put up with it, Lucy, so kindly remember.
Cecil doesn't mean to be uncivil.
He once explained...
it's ugly things that upset him.
He's not uncivil to people.
Is it a thing or a person when Freddy sings?
You can't expect a really musical person to appreciate comic songs as we do.
Must he sneer and spoil everyone's pleasure?
Go and dress, dear.
All right, Mother.
(FOOTSTEPS ASCENDING STAIRS)
Say, Lucy, is there anything on Sunday week?
Because if not, I want to ask George Emerson up for some tennis.
- Oh, no, Freddy. I really wouldn't... - Oh, he's topping!
He's spiffing!
George Emerson is simply ripping!
dd (VOCALIZING)
dd (CONTINUES)
(CHUCKLING)
dd (VOCALIZING CONTINUES)
What a noise you're making.
Freddy, let Lucy go.
You hook me behind, old lady?
Need we have Charlotte?
We needn't.
- And now Freddy wants to ask the Emersons. - Well, he needn't.
And you're not pleased with Cecil.
Kiss me.
Well, of course, if you want Charlotte to come...
with her boiler and everything... (SIGHS)
She's been so kind to me.
(CHUCKLES) Kiss me again.
- Would you like it closed? - Oh, thank you.
- Thank you so very much. - Pleasure, ma'am.
Oh, porter! Could you...
- (TRAIN WHISTLE TOOTS) - Oh.
- This ticket says Dorking. - Mmm? Well, isn't this Dorking?
- No, that was the last station. - Oh, how very vexing!
Well, I shall have to get a cab.
Mr. Emerson. What on earth are you doing here?
My father lives here. I've come for the weekend.
- Are you all right? - Oh, yes. Thank you.
Oh, Lucy, I met him at the station.
I had no idea. Oh, my poor Lucia.
(SIGHS)
My dear Marian.
Oh, what a stupid blunder. You'll never forgive me.
- Oh! - Freddy, pay the cab.
Oh, no, I must. I absolutely insist.
- Oh, how do you do, Mr. Vyse? - Miss Bartlett.
- And this is Mr. Floyd, a friend of Freddy's. - How do you do, Mr. Floyd?
No, I insist I pay for my cab.
- And this is Minnie. Minnie, get up, please. - How do you do?
- Mr. Beebe's niece. - Grant me that, at all events.
- Here you are. - Thank you very much, sir.
Walk on. (CLICKS TONGUE)
No, I insist, absolutely.
Well, if you'd really rather...
five shillings, and I gave a bob to the driver.
We all have our foibles, and mine is the prompt settling of accounts.
Oh. Does anyone have any change?
- How much is... - (COIN CLANKS)
Well, who do I give the sovereign to?
- Toss you for it, Honeychurch. - All right.
- CHARLOTTE: No, please. - Tails.
CHARLOTTE: I know I'm a sad spoilsport, but it would make me wretched.
- I swear it was tails. - It'd be practically robbing the one who lost.
Freddy owes me 15 shillings...
so it will work out all right if you give the pound to me.
Fifteen shillings to you?
How so, Mr. Vyse?
FREDDY, LUCY: Because 15 shillings and five shillings make a pound.
Why is Mr. Vyse taking the quid?
Mmm, no, thank you. I'm done!
- Sit, Charlotte, and have a cup of tea. - But what about Mr. Floyd's...
Oww!
And I shall never see why Miss What's-her-name...
shouldn't pay the bob for the driver.
A shilling for the driver.
Of course. Yes.
How kind of you to remind me.
Oh, dear. Does anyone have change for half a crown?
Cecil, give me that sovereign.
No, give it to me.
I'll get Mary to change it, and we shall start from the beginning.
Oh, dear. I am sorry.
What a nuisance I am.
Wait...
(LAUGHING) Poor Charlotte!
(CLOCK CHIMING)
Mary, have you got any change?
For a sovereign.
Have you told him about him?
No, I haven't told Cecil, or anyone.
I promised you I shouldn't.
Here's your money. It's all shillings except two half crowns.
Would you count it?
You can settle your debt nicely now.
How dreadful.
How more than dreadful if Mr. Vyse should hear about it from some other source.
There is no other source.
- George would tell Mr. Emerson. - (LAUGHING)
He would not. He wouldn't have told anyone.
- How do you know? - Because I know.
Shall we go out? They'll strangle Minnie if we don't.
Dear, one moment. We may not have this chance for a chat again.
Now, have you spoken to him yet?
- I have seen him. - (LAUGHING, GRUNTING)
You simply must stop thinking that he admires me or any nonsense of that sort.
He doesn't. Not one straw.
Freddy! Stop it!
- No, poor Minnie. - (WHIMPERING)
No! Not me! Get off! No! No! Come on!
Lucy! Lucy! What's that book?
Who's been taking books and leaving them out to spoil?
It's only a library book Cecil's been reading.
Well, pick it up. Don't stand there idling.
It's a special collection. I forget what for.
But I do beg...
no vulgar clinking of ha'pennies in the plate.
Make sure Minnie has a nice, ripe sixpence. Where is the child?
Oh, dearest Marian, I'm so very sorry.
I don't seem to have any small change. Could you...
Yes, easily. Just sit down.
Gracious me, how smart you look! What a lovely frock.
MRS. HONEYCHURCH: Go on, Powell.
Good-bye. Be good.
CECIL: "No place on earth as glorious as this...
where love is spoken face to face.
So he cried, 'Utter rapture!
The silvered twilight, the wheeling, wraith-like swallows...
the perfume of the cooling earth...
they all fill my heart with inutterable and inestimable bliss."'
(CLEARS THROAT) "And so, locked in mortal combat...
they brought to life the etern..."
(CLEARS THROAT)
"They brought to life the eternal battle...
where men stand face to face to slowly gird,
- to bravely fight, to stoutly dare"... - 30-all.
CECIL: Listen, Lucy.
Three split infinitives.
- "And then the cry was heard... - 40-30.
'Once more into the breach, my friends."'
GEORGE: Victory, Mr. Floyd!
"The scene is set in Florence.
The sunset.
The sunset of Italy."
Did you mind losing?
LUCY: Of course I do.
I don't think you're such a splendid player though.
The light was behind you and it was in my eyes.
Never said I was.
"Under Orcagna's loggia...
the Loggia de Lanzi, as we sometimes call it now"...
What's the title?
Under a Loggia by Eleanor Lavish.
Eleanor Lavish?
My goodness!
Do you remember Miss Lavish, Mr. Emerson?
- Yes, of course I do. - No wonder the novel's so bad.
Still, one ought to read it, I suppose, if one's met her.
(GRUMBLES) There's an absurd account of a view which I will spare you.
Oh, no, do read it.
What do you think of our view, Mr. Emerson?
My father says there's only one perfect view...
and that's the view of the sky over our heads.
I expect your father has been reading Dante.
(CHUCKLES)
Cecil, do read the description of the view.
- Not while Mr. Emerson is here to entertain us. - No, no. Read away.
Nothing's funnier than having silly things read aloud.
And if Mr. Emerson finds us frivolous, he can go and look for tennis balls.
Go and look for tennis balls, Mr. Emerson.
- Do I have to? - No, of course not.
CECIL: It's in chapter two. Just find me chapter two.
CECIL: Give it here.
- No, really, honestly. It's the silliest thing. - Come on.
- C-Cecil! - Thank you.
Aha.
"Afar off, the towers of Florence.
And she wandered as though in a dream...
through the wavering, golden sea of barley...
touched with crimson stains of poppies.
All unobserved, he came to her."
Isn't it immortal?
"There came from his lips no wordy protestations such as formal lovers use.
No eloquence was his, nor did he suffer from the lack of it.
He simply enfolded her in his manly arms."
No, this isn't the bit. There's another much funnier further on.
- Should we go in to tea? - By all means, tea rather than Eleanor Lavish.
(CHUCKLING)
Excuse me.
LUCY: Charlotte, a minute.
Cecil, ask Mary for sandwiches.
I'll be with you in a moment.
Do you know anything about Miss Lavish's novel?
There's a scene in it... the hero and heroine make love.
Do you know about that?
Do you know about it?
They're on a hillside, and Florence is in the distance.
There are poppies and a barley field.
(SIGHS) I can't believe it's a coincidence.
Charlotte, how could you have told her?
Oh, Lucy.
Oh, dearest girl.
She hasn't put that in her novel.
Then never...
never, never more shall Eleanor Lavish be a friend of mine.
So you did tell. Why, when you wouldn't even let me tell Mother?
(EXHALES)
Cecil read it to me.
And that man took the opportunity...
to insult me again behind Cecil's back.
Why did you tell her?
What made you?
Even if you forgive me, I shall never forgive myself...
till my dying day.
Go and call him.
Call Mr. Vyse?
No. The other one.
This time I'll deal with him myself.
You missed a good match, Miss Bartlett.
(NO AUDIBLE DIALOGUE)
LUCY: Charlotte, please stay.
Mr. Emerson, go out of this house...
and don't come back into it again as long as I live here.
- I can't. - No discussion.
Go, please. I don't want to call in Mr. Vyse.
You don't mean you're going to marry that man?
You're being ridiculous.
Oh, I would have held back if your Cecil had been a different person.
But he's the sort who can't know anyone intimately, least of all a woman.
He doesn't know what a woman is.
He wants you for a possession, something to look at...
like a painting or an ivory box.
Something to own and to display.
He doesn't want you to be real...
to think and to live.
He doesn't love you. But I love you.
I want you to have your own thoughts and ideas and feelings...
even when I hold you in my arms.
Miss Bartlett, you wouldn't stop us this time, not if you understood.
It's our last chance.
(CUP, SAUCER RATTLING)
Do you understand how lucky people are when they find what's right for them?
It's such a blessing. Don't you see?
And the fact that I love Cecil and shall be his wife shortly...
I suppose that's a detail of no importance.
This tremendous thing has happened between us...
and what it means... let me explain...
it means that nothing must hinder us ever again.
That's what it means. You have to understand that.
I've no idea what you're talking about.
Everyone has to understand.
And you must leave.
It was wrong of me... very wrong... to sit here listening to you.
But you haven't been listening. If you had, you would know.
Leave at once. Now.
- Lucy... - No! No!
I will not listen to one more word.
- CHARLOTTE: My dears, do stop. - Haven't you done enough?
LUCY: Don't interfere again.
It's useless.
Let me go, Miss Bartlett.
Let Mr. Emerson go, Charlotte.
CHARLOTTE: I shall never forgive myself.
You always say that, Charlotte, but you always do forgive yourself.
(SNIFFLES)
What is it about Italy...
that makes lady novelists reach such summits of absurdity?
Lucy, it's still light enough for another set if you two'll hurry.
- Mr. Emerson has had to go. - Oh. What a nuisance.
- I say, Cecil. - Mm-hmm?
Do play. There's a good chap. Just this once.
It's Floyd's last day.
Freddy, as you well remarked this morning...
there are some chaps who are no good for anything but books.
I plead guilty to being such a chap.
Because I wouldn't play tennis with Freddy?
I never do play tennis.
I never could.
Forget the tennis. It was just the last straw.
I'm sorry, Cecil. I can't marry you.
One day you'll thank me for saying so.
- We're too different. - But I...
I love you.
And...
I did think you loved me.
I did not.
I thought I did at first.
I'm sorry.
As for your loving me, no, you don't, Cecil. Not really.
You don't. It's only as something else.
As something you own.
A painting.
A Leonardo.
I don't want to be a Leonardo. I want to be myself.
Oh, let's not go on now.
I'll only say things that will make me unhappy afterwards.
You don't love me, evidently.
(COUGHS) I daresay you're right not to...
but, uh... (CLEARS THROAT)
it would help a little, hurt a little less, if I knew why.
Because...
you're the sort who can't know anyone intimately, least of all a woman.
Well, I don't mean exactly that...
but you will go on asking questions.
You wrap yourself up in art and books and music, and you want to wrap me up.
That's why I'm breaking off my engagement.
Well, it's true.
True, on the whole.
You're so different tonight...
like a different person speaking with a new voice.
What do you mean by "a new voice"?
If you think I'm in love with someone else, you're very much mistaken.
No, of course I don't. I only meant that...
there was a...
a force in you that I hadn't known of up to now.
If a girl breaks off her engagement, everyone thinks, "Oh, she has someone else.
She hopes to get someone else."
It's disgusting, brutal!
You must forgive me if I say stupid things.
My brain has gone to pieces.
I think I'd better go to bed, if you don't mind.
Let me do that for you.
I must actually thank you for what you've done...
for showing me what I really am.
I admire your courage.
Will you shake hands?
Of course I will, Cecil.
Good night.
I'm sorry about it.
Thank you for taking it so well.
MISS CATHARINE'S VOICE: Since the days are getting chillier now...
and we are not, alas, settled in a home of our own...
my sister feels we might benefit by travel to a warmer clime.
The doctor has ordered her special digestive bread...
but, after all, we can take that with us.
And it is only getting first into a steamer and then into a train.
Hello.
- So you're off for a minute, Mr. Vyse? - Yes.
I've come over to show Miss Honeychurch...
the most delightful letter I got from some friends of ours, the Miss Alans.
Let me read you a little bit of it.
"Since Florence did my sister so much good...
we do not see why we should not try Athens this winter.
Of course Athens is a plunge."
Isn't it wonderful? Isn't it romantic?
The Parthenon, no less. The frieze of Phidias.
- Have you ever met these Miss Alans? - Never.
Ah, well, then you're in no position to appreciate the romance of this Greek visit.
I've never been to Greece myself, nor do I have any plans to do so.
Altogether too big for our little lot. Don't you agree?
Got any matches?
Thank you.
You're quite right.
Greece is not for our little lot.
- Good-bye. - Good-bye.
- (TAPS HANDLEBARS) - (CLICKS TONGUE)
Mr. Beebe! Matches!
Matches.
Cecil's hard hit. Lucy won't marry him.
- When? - Late last night. I must go.
- Will they want me to go down? - Yes. Go on.
Good-bye.
- All right, Powell. - (POWELL CLICKS TONGUE)
No, Charlotte. Not the scissors, thank you. Not when both my hands are full.
- Good afternoon. - How do you do, Mr. Beebe?
Good gracious! What a mess things are!
Yes.
Everyone's so horrid today, Uncle Arthur.
Let's go out to tea.
Good idea.
You get your hat and coat and I'll take you.
I think I'll take Minnie to the Beehive Tavern.
- Care to join us, Miss Bartlett? - Oh, yes, Charlotte!
- I don't want you to... - Oh, no, thank you.
- You have no one to help. - Yes, do. Really, do.
My poor services are better than nothing.
- Ohh! - Ohh!
- Oh, dear Marian. I'm so sorry. - Did you hurt yourself?
(METRONOME CLICKING, RAPID TEMPO)
dd (PIANO: CLASSICAL)
dd (CONTINUES, THEN STOPS)
Here's the most delightful letter from the Miss Alans.
They're planning a thrilling trip to Greece.
I must read you some of it.
(CLICKING STOPS)
Now... "Dear Mr. Beebe...
I do not expect we shall go any further than Athens...
but if you know of a really good pensione in Constantinople...
we should be so grateful."
Constantinople. Isn't it delightful?
I really believe they shall end by going round the world.
Delightful.
dd (CONTINUES)
Miss Honeychurch, your brother has told me.
dd (STOPS)
- dd (CHORD) - Did he?
I needn't say it will go no further.
- Mother. Charlotte. - dd (CHORDS)
Cecil. Freddy.
- You. - dd (CHORD)
If you'll let me say so, I'm certain you've done the right thing.
But do tell me more about the Miss Alans.
How perfectly splendid of them to go abroad.
I-I-I want them to start from Venice...
and then go by cargo steamer down the Illyrian coast.
Did Freddy say that he was driving straight back?
- No. No, he didn't. - Oh.
Because I hope he won't go gossiping.
How perfectly splendid of them to go abroad. I wish they'd take me.
Would your mother spare you again so soon?
Well, she must spare me. I simply must go away.
I have to. Don't you see I have to go away?
Charlotte! Isn't it too romantic?
The Miss Alans are going to Constantinople.
Uh, no, no. So far only to Athens.
I've always longed to go to Constantinople... Athens, I mean.
In lieu of Constantinople, could not Minnie and I lure you to tea at the Beehive?
No, thank you.
Oh, well, Minnie, you and I must eat alone.
- Good afternoon. - Good afternoon, Mr. Beebe.
- You must help me persuade Mother. - What?
Well, don't you see?
I must go somewhere.
Anywhere!
I must get away, ever so far, before it's known.
- What? - That I've broken off my engagement.
He mustn't get any ideas.
You mean Mr. Emerson might think it's on his account?
- Charlotte, how slow you are. - Oh, of course.
No, there must be no gossip at Summer Street. But to go as far as Greece?
Charlotte, I thought you'd want to help me...
that you'd be the first to go to Mother and say, "Lucy must go to Greece at once."
Oh, Lucy, are you absolutely sure?
I only want to do what is right for you. But go to Greece?
I'm telling you what's right for me, so please don't argue.
- Do as I ask. - Oh, all right.
Thank you, Freddy.
- Why does she look like that? - Like what?
Like Charlotte Bartlett.
Because...
she is Charlotte Bartlett.
d Stop thine ear d
d Against the singer d
d From the red gold d
d Keep thy finger d
Tune's right enough, but the words are rotten.
Marian?
- Oh, Charlotte! - Lucy has a plan.
Isn't this a tragedy?
No sooner do I get one thing tied up, then another thing falls over.
The Misses Alan are going abroad. They're going to Greece.
Well, good luck to them.
Lucy would like to join them as far as Athens.
She'd what?
And then on to Delphi, if the roads are safe.
d Vacant heart and hand and eye d
d Easy live and quiet die d
d Vacant heart and hand and eye d
d Easy live and quiet die dd
You can take all those.
But leave me Thoreau till I go. I need him by me now.
It's an ugly house.
We never liked it.
Well, I mustn't miss the train.
The removers can do the rest.
- Oh, I... - No.
I don't want you straining your back.
I won't be down at the weekend. There's no point.
I'll come to take you back to town the week after.
And paper soap is a great help...
towards freshening up one's face on a train.
But you know all about these matters.
And you have Mr. Vyse to help you.
A gentleman is such a standby.
We think it's so good of Mr. Vyse to spare you.
But perhaps he will come out and join you later.
Or does his work keep him in London?
We shall meet him when he sees you off.
No one will see Lucy off. She doesn't like it.
Really?
(CHUCKLES)
- I should have thought in this case... - Mrs. Honeychurch, you aren't going?
Yes, I'm afraid we must. We have a train to catch.
Oh. It's been such a pleasure to have met you.
We will write you often a-and send pretty cards from every place.
- We know how anxious you would be to hear. - Thank you for taking her.
- (CHATTERING CONTINUES) - Bye-bye.
Well, we just got through that time.
Yes, and were seen through, which is most unpleasant.
I shall never understand this hole and corner business.
You got rid of Cecil. Well and good.
- I'm thankful. Why not announce it? - (HORN SQUAWKING)
I promised not to till I left England. It's only for a few days.
Victoria Station.
I couldn't help thinking that our dear Lucy did not...
No.
I wish you'd learn to finish your sentences, Catharine.
- You're getting worse and worse. - Mmm.
Did not look like a bride-to-be.
Oh? Pray, how should a bride-to-be look?
According to your great wisdom and experience in these matters.
Well, I can't say exactly how.
Only that... she lacked something.
And if you want to know, Teresa, she lacked...
radiance.
- Miss Bartlett. - Mr. Beebe.
What is happening to your neighbors?
Oh, alas, they're... they're moving out.
Old Mr. Emerson's rheumatism has come on...
and George just thinks it's too far.
In fact, Mr. Emerson is taking refuge from the removers inside.
Might I impose on your kindness and wait here for Mrs. Honeychurch?
By all means. I'm afraid you must excuse me.
- (CHURCH BELL RINGING) As you can hear, they're getting on.
Mr. Emerson, Miss Bartlett, excuse me.
Oh, please.
I am sorry, Mr. Emerson, to hear the house has brought on your rheumatism.
Oh, it's not the rheumatism.
It's my boy.
George is so sorry.
Oh, I cannot blame him...
but I wish he'd told me about it first.
He never told you what happened in Italy?
Not one word.
No.
Lucy said he wouldn't.
I was only told last Sunday.
What were you told?
That he loves her.
Won't you... Won't you sit down?
I-I... I think I hear the carriage.
It would be most discourteous to keep my cousin waiting.
There isn't any carriage.
Sit down, my dear.
Everyone's been lying...
except George.
And now here's Miss Honeychurch marrying Mr. Vyse in January.
Miss Honeychurch has broken off her engagement.
It was all done with great tact and discretion, naturally.
And for the time being, we would all like to keep it quiet.
Oh, there's a time for keeping quiet, Miss Bartlett...
and there's a time for speaking out.
Now, you don't hear any carriage.
But why don't you sit back, make yourself more comfortable?
Here. Take this.
There. Oh, you look much better.
Oh, so, she, uh...
she's not marrying Mr. Vyse.
(CHUCKLES)
Why?
Why Greece?
Why go rushing off to the ends of the earth?
You're tired of your home.
You're tired of Windy Corner.
And you're tired of Freddy and me.
Of course I'm not tired of Windy Corner.
But as we're talking about it...
I may as well say that in the future I shall want to come up to London more.
I might even share a flat for a little with some other girl.
You see, I come into my money next year.
To mess about with typewriters and latchkeys and call it work.
Perhaps I spoke hastily.
Oh, goodness, how you do remind me of Charlotte Bartlett!
- Charlotte? - Charlotte.
To a "T."
I don't know what you mean. Charlotte and I are not in the least alike.
You never used to be.
Can't we have the hood down?
Can we have the hood down, Powell?
Powell, is that house to be let again?
Sir Harry's looking for new tenants, I hear, miss.
What a pity about the Emersons.
Freddy'll be so sorry.
And, indeed, so am I.
All right, Powell, stop at the stores.
Yes, ma'am. Walk on.
They were such an agreeable family.
What a pity.
No Charlotte.
Lucy, go and see if she's at Mr. Beebe's.
And do hurry, both of you...
because Mary has her fish pie in.
Did you hear what I said, Lucy?
Lucy!
Mr. Emerson says it's all his fault.
Because I told him to trust to love.
I told him, "George, love and do what you will."
It's what I taught him.
So you see, it is all my fault.
Where are you going?
Your dear mother most kindly offered to fetch me in her carriage...
and I have not been brought up to keep anyone waiting...
least of all a kind hostess.
And now where's Lucy?
You get in, Charlotte.
If Mary's fish pie spoils, she'll mope from now till next Friday.
- I will sit here. - Nonsense.
No, this will do me very well. I mustn't inconvenience you.
Oh, Charlotte! You know you prefer facing.
I've no wish to discuss your son or even to hear his name mentioned.
He has misbehaved from the first.
Well, in fact, he's behaved abominably.
Not abominably.
He only tried when he should not have tried.
No, of course.
"Abominable" is too strong a word.
I'm sorry. It's no good discussing this affair.
George is coming to take me up to London.
He can't bear to be here, and I must be where he is.
He says the thought of...
seeing you or hearing about you...
Oh, Mr. Emerson, please don't go. At least not on my account.
I'm going to Greece.
Don't leave your comfortable house. You mustn't.
Why are you going to Greece?
Forgive me, my dear, but it seems to me that you're in a muddle.
Seems to me that the reason you're going to Greece...
the reason you've broken off your engagement...
Yes, Miss Bartlett told me...
is that...
you love George.
(SIGHS, SOBBING)
All the light's gone out of your pretty face.
Just like it's gone out of George.
I can't bear it, and now I've made you cry.
Dear girl, forgive me.
But I've got to go to Greece now.
The ticket's bought and everything. (SOBBING CONTINUES)
Oh, it's impossible.
There's only one thing impossible.
That's to love... and to part.
MRS. HONEYCHURCH: Lucy!
You love George.
You love the boy body and soul, as he loves you.
But of course I do.
What did you all think? (SOBBING CONTINUES)
- Then... - No.
Mother's calling. I've got to go.
They trust me.
Why should they...
when you've deceived everyone...
including yourself?
Charlotte, come and sit here.
- Go on, Powell. - POWELL: Walk on.
One week Italy. The next week Greece.
CHARLOTTE: The plan for Greece may be canceled.
- What? - CHARLOTTE: Oh, stop. Do stop!
I think Lucy has something to tell us.
- Stop the horse! - Lucy?
LUCY'S VOICE: "Dear Cousin Charlotte...
After an appalling journey during which our luggage went missing not once, but twice...
we reached Florence.
You'll be glad to hear that the Pensione Bertolini is entirely its own dear self.
The Cockney signora still marches up and down, terrorizing the staff.
Even her guests appear to be just another set...
of Miss Alans, Miss Lavish, Mr. Beebe...
and, indeed, Charlotte and Lucy."
We were promised rooms with a view.
Hush, dear. We mustn't.
First thing tomorrow, I shall have a bone to pick with the signora.
But not now.
It's so unfair.
Don't you agree that on one's first visit to Florence...
one must have a room with a view?
We have a view.
Kiss me again.
- And again. - I'm reading.
- (BELL TOLLING) - What are you reading?
It's from Freddy.
What does he say?
Silly boy.
He thinks he's being dignified.
I mean, everybody knew...
we were going away in the spring.
(TOLLING CONTINUES)