[Illustration] A Room With A View By E. M. Forster CONTENTS Part One. Chapter I. The Bertolini Chapter II. In Santa Croce with No Baedeker Chapter III. Music, Violets, and the Letter “S” Chapter IV. Fourth Chapter Chapter V. Possibilities of a Pleasant Outing Chapter VI. The Reverend Arthur Beebe, the Reverend Cuthbert Eager, Mr. Emerson, Mr. George Emerson, Miss Eleanor Lavish, Miss Charlotte Bartlett, and Miss Lucy Honeychurch Drive Out in Carriages to See a View; Italians Drive Them Chapter VII. They Return Part Two. Chapter VIII. Medieval Chapter IX. Lucy As a Work of Art Chapter X. Cecil as a Humourist Chapter XI. In Mrs. Vyse’s Well-Appointed Flat Chapter XII. Twelfth Chapter Chapter XIII. How Miss Bartlett’s Boiler Was So Tiresome Chapter XIV. How Lucy Faced the External Situation Bravely Chapter XV. The Disaster Within Chapter XVI. Lying to George Chapter XVII. Lying to Cecil Chapter XVIII. Lying to Mr. Beebe, Mrs. Honeychurch, Freddy, and The Servants Chapter XIX. Lying to Mr. Emerson Chapter XX. The End of the Middle Ages 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, don’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 shouldn’t have a view.” Lucy felt that she had been selfish. “Charlotte, you mustn’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_.”