A Room with a View | Gradually Hardening Portuguese B1

A Room with a View | Gradually Hardening Portuguese B1

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ChapterITheBertolini
“TheSignorahadnobusinesstodoit,”saidMissBartlett,“nobusinessatall.
Shepromisedussouthroomswitha
vista
view
closetogether,insteadofwhichherearenorthrooms,lookingintoacourtyard,andalongwayapart.
Oh,Lucy!”
“AndaCockney,besides!”
saidLucy,whohadbeenfurthersaddenedbytheSignora’sunexpectedaccent.
“ItmightbeLondon.”
ShelookedatthetworowsofEnglishpeoplewhoweresittingatthetable;
attherowofwhitebottlesofwaterandredbottlesofwinethatranbetweentheEnglishpeople;
attheportraitsofthelateQueenandthelatePoetLaureatethathungbehindtheEnglishpeople,heavilyframed;
atthenoticeoftheEnglishchurch(Rev.
CuthbertEager,M.A.
Oxon.),thatwastheonlyotherdecorationofthewall.
“Charlotte,don’tyoufeel,too,thatwemightbeinLondon?
Ican
dificilmente
hardly
believethatallkindsofotherthingsarejustoutside.
Isupposeitisone’sbeingsotired.”
“Thismeathas
certamente
surely
beenusedforsoup,”saidMissBartlett,layingdownherfork.
“IwantsotoseetheArno.
TheroomstheSignorapromisedusinherletterwouldhavelookedovertheArno.
TheSignorahadnobusinesstodoitatall.
Oh,itisashame!”
“Anynookdoesforme,”MissBartlettcontinued;
“butitdoesseemhardthatyoushouldn’thaveaview.”
Lucyfeltthatshehadbeen
egoísta
selfish
.
“Charlotte,youmustn’tspoilme:
ofcourse,youmustlookovertheArno,too.
Imeantthat.
Thefirstvacantroominthefront—”
“Youmusthaveit,”saidMissBartlett,partofwhosetravellingexpenseswerepaidbyLucy’smother—apieceofgenerositytowhichshemademanyatactfulallusion.
“No,no.Youmusthaveit.”
“Iinsistonit.
Yourmotherwouldneverforgiveme,Lucy.”
“Shewouldneverforgiveme.”
Theladies’voicesgrewanimated,and—ifthesadtruthbeowned—alittlepeevish.
Theyweretired,andundertheguiseofunselfishnesstheywrangled.
Someoftheirneighboursinterchangedglances,andoneofthem—oneoftheill-bredpeoplewhomonedoesmeetabroad—leantforwardoverthetableandactuallyintrudedintotheirargument.
Hesaid:.
“Ihavea
vista
view
,Ihaveaview.”
MissBartlettwasstartled.
Generallyatapensionpeoplelookedthemoverforadayortwobeforespeaking,andoftendidnotfindoutthattheywould“do”tilltheyhadgone.
Sheknewthattheintruderwasill-bred,evenbeforesheglancedathim.
Hewasanoldman,ofheavybuild,withafair,shavenfaceandlargeeyes.
Therewassomethingchildishinthoseeyes,thoughitwasnotthechildishnessofsenility.
WhatexactlyitwasMissBartlettdidnotstopto
considerar
consider
,forherglancepassedontohisclothes.
Thesedidnotattracther.
Hewasprobablytryingtobecomeacquaintedwiththembeforetheygotintotheswim.
Soshe
assumiu
assumed
adazedexpressionwhenhespoketoher,andthensaid:
“A
vista
view
?
Oh,aview!
Howdelightfula
vista
view
is!”
“Thisismyson,”saidtheoldman;
“hisname’sGeorge.
Hehasa
vista
view
too.”
“Ah,”saidMissBartlett,repressingLucy,whowasabouttospeak.
“WhatImean,”hecontinued,“isthatyoucanhaveourrooms,andwe’llhaveyours.
We’llchange.”
Thebetterclassoftouristwasshockedatthis,andsympathizedwiththenew-comers.
MissBartlett,inreply,openedhermouthaslittleaspossible,andsaid“Thankyouverymuchindeed;
thatisoutofthequestion.”
“Why?”
saidtheoldman,withbothfistsonthetable.
“Becauseitisquiteoutofthequestion,thankyou.”
“Yousee,wedon’tliketotake—”
beganLucy.
Hercousinagainrepressedher.
“Butwhy?”
hepersisted.
“Womenlikelookingata
vista
view
;
mendon’t.”
Andhethumpedwithhisfistslikeanaughtychild,andturnedtohisson,saying,“George,persuadethem!”
“It’sso
óbvio
obvious
theyshouldhavetherooms,”saidtheson.
“There’snothingelsetosay.”
Hedidnotlookattheladiesashespoke,buthisvoicewasperplexedandsorrowful.
Lucy,too,wasperplexed;
butshesawthattheywereinforwhatisknownas“quiteascene,”andshehadanoddfeelingthatwhenevertheseill-bredtouristsspokethe
competição
contest
widenedanddeepenedtillitdealt,notwithroomsandviews,butwith—well,withsomethingquitedifferent,whoseexistenceshehadnotrealizedbefore.
NowtheoldmanattackedMissBartlettalmostviolently:
Whyshouldshenotchange?
Whatpossibleobjectionhadshe?
Theywouldclearoutinhalfanhour.
MissBartlett,thoughskilledinthedelicaciesof
conversa
conversation
,waspowerlessinthe
presença
presence
ofbrutality.
Itwasimpossibletosnubanyonesogross.
Herfacereddenedwithdispleasure.
Shelookedaroundasmuchastosay,“Areyoualllikethis?”
Andtwolittleoldladies,whoweresittingfurtherupthetable,withshawlshangingoverthebacksofthechairs,lookedback,
claramente
clearly
indicating“Wearenot;
wearegenteel.”
“Eatyourdinner,dear,”shesaidtoLucy,andbegantotoyagainwiththemeatthatshehadoncecensured.
Lucymumbledthatthoseseemedveryoddpeople
em frente
opposite
.
“Eatyourdinner,dear.
Thispensionisa
fracasso
failure
.
To-morrowwewillmakeachange.”
Mal
Hardly
hadsheannouncedthisfelldecisionwhenshereversedit.
Thecurtainsattheendoftheroomparted,andrevealedaclergyman,stoutbut
atraente
attractive
,whohurriedforwardtotakehisplaceatthetable,cheerfully
desculpando
apologizing
forhislateness.
Lucy,whohadnotyetacquireddecency,atoncerosetoherfeet,exclaiming:
“Oh,oh!
Why,it’sMr.Beebe!
Oh,how
perfeitamente
perfectly
lovely!
Oh,Charlotte,wemuststopnow,howeverbadtheroomsare.
Oh!”
MissBartlettsaid,withmorerestraint:.
“Howdoyoudo,Mr.Beebe?
Iexpectthatyouhaveforgottenus:
MissBartlettandMissHoneychurch,whowereatTunbridgeWellswhenyouhelpedtheVicarofSt.Peter’sthatverycoldEaster.”
Theclergyman,whohadtheairofoneona
férias
holiday
,didnotremembertheladiesquiteas
claramente
clearly
astheyrememberedhim.
Buthecameforwardpleasantlyenoughandacceptedthe
cadeira
chair
intowhichhewasbeckonedbyLucy.
“Iamsogladtoseeyou,”saidthegirl,whowasinastateofspiritualstarvation,andwouldhavebeengladtoseethewaiterifhercousinhadpermittedit.
“Justfancyhowsmalltheworldis.
SummerStreet,too,makesitsospeciallyfunny.”
“MissHoneychurchlivesintheparishofSummerStreet,”saidMissBartlett,
preenchendo
filling
upthegap,“andshehappenedtotellmeinthecourseof
conversa
conversation
thatyouhavejustacceptedtheliving—”.
“Yes,Iheardfrommothersolastweek.
Shedidn’tknowthatIknewyouatTunbridgeWells;
butIwrotebackatonce,andIsaid:
‘Mr.
Beebeis—’”.
“Quiteright,”saidtheclergyman.
“ImoveintotheRectoryatSummerStreetnext
Junho
June
.
Iamluckytobeappointedtosucha
encantador
charming
neighbourhood.”
“Oh,howgladIam!
ThenameofourhouseisWindyCorner.”
Mr.Beebebowed.
“Thereismotherandmegenerally,andmybrother,thoughit’snotoftenwegethimtoch——
Thechurchisratherfaroff,Imean.”
“Lucy,dearest,letMr.Beebeeathisdinner.”
“Iameatingit,thankyou,andenjoyingit.”
He
preferiu
preferred
totalktoLucy,whoseplayingheremembered,ratherthantoMissBartlett,whoprobablyrememberedhissermons.
HeaskedthegirlwhethersheknewFlorencewell,andwas
informado
informed
atsomelengththatshehadneverbeentherebefore.
Itisdelightfultoadviseanewcomer,andhewasfirstinthefield.
“Don’tneglectthecountryround,”his
conselho
advice
concluded.
“ThefirstfineafternoondriveuptoFiesole,androundbySettignano,orsomethingofthatsort.”
“No!”
criedavoicefromthetopofthetable.
“Mr.
Beebe,youarewrong.
ThefirstfineafternoonyourladiesmustgotoPrato.”
“Thatladylookssoclever,”whisperedMissBartletttohercousin.
“Weareinluck.”
And,
fato
indeed
,aperfecttorrentofinformationburstonthem.
Peopletoldthemwhattosee,whentoseeit,howtostoptheelectrictrams,howtogetridofthebeggars,howmuchtogiveforavellumblotter,howmuchtheplacewouldgrowuponthem.
ThePensionBertolinihaddecided,almostenthusiastically,thattheywoulddo.
Whicheverwaytheylooked,kindladiessmiledand
gritavam
shouted
atthem.
Andaboveallrosethevoiceofthe
inteligente
clever
lady,crying:
“Prato!
TheymustgotoPrato.
Thatplaceistoosweetlysqualidforwords.
Iloveit;
Irevelinshakingoffthetrammelsofrespectability,asyouknow.”
TheyoungmannamedGeorgeglancedatthe
inteligente
clever
lady,andthenreturnedmoodilytohis
prato
plate
.
Obviouslyheandhisfatherdidnotdo.
Lucy,inthemidstofher
sucesso
success
,foundtimetowishtheydid.
Itgaveherno
extra
extra
pleasurethatanyoneshouldbeleftinthecold;
andwhensherosetogo,sheturnedbackandgavethetwooutsidersanervouslittlebow.
Thefatherdidnotseeit;
thesonacknowledgedit,notbyanotherbow,butbyraisinghiseyebrowsandsmiling;
heseemedtobesmilingacrosssomething.
Shehastenedafterhercousin,whohadalreadydisappearedthroughthecurtains—curtainswhichsmoteoneintheface,andseemedheavywithmorethancloth.
Além
Beyond
themstoodtheunreliableSignora,bowinggood-eveningtoherguests,andsupportedby’Enery,herlittleboy,andVictorier,herdaughter.
Itmadeacuriouslittlescene,this
tentativa
attempt
oftheCockneytoconveythe
graça
grace
andgenialityoftheSouth.
Andevenmore
curioso
curious
wasthedrawing-room,which
tentou
attempted
torivalthesolidcomfortofaBloomsburyboarding-house.
WasthisreallyItaly?
MissBartlettwasalreadyseatedonatightlystuffedarm-chair,whichhadthecolourandthecontoursofatomato.
ShewastalkingtoMr.Beebe,andasshespoke,herlongnarrowheaddrovebackwardsandforwards,
devagar
slowly
,regularly,asthoughsheweredemolishingsomeinvisibleobstacle.
“Wearemostgratefultoyou,”shewassaying.
“Thefirsteveningmeanssomuch.
Whenyou
chegou
arrived
wewereinforapeculiarlymauvaisquartd’heure.”
He
expressou
expressed
hisregret.
“Doyou,byanychance,knowthenameofanoldmanwhosat
em frente
opposite
usatdinner?”
“Emerson.”
“Isheafriendofyours?”
“Wearefriendly—asoneisinpensions.”
“ThenIwillsaynomore.”
Hepressedherveryslightly,andshesaidmore.
“Iam,asitwere,”sheconcluded,“thechaperonofmyyoungcousin,Lucy,anditwouldbeaseriousthingifIputherunderanobligationtopeopleofwhomweknownothing.
Hismannerwassomewhatunfortunate.
IhopeIactedforthebest.”
“Youactedverynaturally,”saidhe.
Heseemedthoughtful,andafterafewmoments
acrescentou
added
:
“Allthesame,Idon’tthinkmuchharmwouldhavecomeofaccepting.”
“Noharm,ofcourse.
Butwecouldnotbeunderanobligation.”
“Heisratherapeculiarman.”
Againhehesitated,andthensaidgently:
“Ithinkhewouldnottakeadvantageofyouracceptance,norexpectyoutoshowgratitude.
Hehasthemerit—ifitisone—ofsayingexactlywhathemeans.
Hehasroomshedoesnotvalue,andhethinksyouwouldvaluethem.
Henomorethoughtofputtingyouunderanobligationthanhethoughtofbeingpolite.
Itissodifficult—atleast,Ifinditdifficult—tounderstandpeoplewhospeakthetruth.”
Lucywaspleased,andsaid:
“Iwashopingthathewasnice;
Idosoalwayshopethatpeoplewillbenice.”
“Ithinkheis;
niceandtiresome.
Idifferfromhimonalmosteverypointofanyimportance,andso,Iexpect—ImaysayIhope—youwilldiffer.
Buthisisatypeonedisagreeswithratherthandeplores.
Whenhefirstcameherehenotunnaturallyputpeople’sbacksup.
Hehasnotactandnomanners—Idon’tmeanbythatthathehasbadmanners—andhewillnotkeephisopinionstohimself.
We
quase
nearly
complainedabouthimtoourdepressingSignora,butIamgladtosaywethoughtbetterofit.”
“AmItoconclude,”saidMissBartlett,“thatheisaSocialist?”
Mr.
Beebeacceptedtheconvenientword,notwithoutaslighttwitchingofthelips.
“AndpresumablyhehasbroughtuphissontobeaSocialist,too?”
“I
mal
hardly
knowGeorge,forhehasn’tlearnttotalkyet.