Where Angels Fear to Tread by E. M. Forster (best free ereader TXT) 📕
Description
Soon after the widowed Lilia Herriton arrives at the dusty Tuscan town of Monteriano with her friend Caroline Abbott, she falls in love with Gino Carella, a handsome—and younger—man. When her overbearing in-laws hear of the engagement, they panic, believing a marriage like that would dishonor their family and the memory of Lilia’s late husband and their child.
Lilia’s brother-in-law, Philip Herriton, rushes to Italy to stop the marriage and “rescue” Lilia from Gino. He soon discovers that he’s too late, and that they’ve already married. Their impulsive decision will have major consequences—not just for the couple itself, but also for Caroline, Philip, and everyone else in their orbit.
Forster was just twenty-six in 1905 when Where Angels Fear to Tread, his first novel, was published. In a contemporary review, The Manchester Guardian called it “almost startlingly original” in its setting and the treatment of its motive, but also wondered if Forster could “could be a little more charitable” in future works. In 1991 it was made into a movie starring Helen Mirren, Helena Bonham Carter, Judy Davis, and Rubert Graves.
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- Author: E. M. Forster
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Santa Deodata was better company than Harriet, and she kept Philip in a pleasant dream until the legno drew up at the hotel. Everyone there was asleep, for it was still the hour when only idiots were moving. There were not even any beggars about. The cabman put their bags down in the passage—they had left heavy luggage at the station—and strolled about till he came on the landlady’s room and woke her, and sent her to them.
Then Harriet pronounced the monosyllable “Go!”
“Go where?” asked Philip, bowing to the landlady, who was swimming down the stairs.
“To the Italian. Go.”
“Buona sera, signora padrona. Si ritorna volontieri a Monteriano!” (Don’t be a goose. I’m not going now. You’re in the way, too.) “Vorrei due camere—”
“Go. This instant. Now. I’ll stand it no longer. Go!”
“I’m damned if I’ll go. I want my tea.”
“Swear if you like!” she cried. “Blaspheme! Abuse me! But understand, I’m in earnest.”
“Harriet, don’t act. Or act better.”
“We’ve come here to get the baby back, and for nothing else. I’ll not have this levity and slackness, and talk about pictures and churches. Think of mother; did she send you out for them?”
“Think of mother and don’t straddle across the stairs. Let the cabman and the landlady come down, and let me go up and choose rooms.”
“I shan’t.”
“Harriet, are you mad?”
“If you like. But you will not come up till you have seen the Italian.”
“La signorina si sente male,” said Philip, “C’ e il sole.”
“Poveretta!” cried the landlady and the cabman.
“Leave me alone!” said Harriet, snarling round at them. “I don’t care for the lot of you. I’m English, and neither you’ll come down nor he up till he goes for the baby.”
“La prego-piano-piano-c e un’ altra signorina che dorme—”
“We shall probably be arrested for brawling, Harriet. Have you the very slightest sense of the ludicrous?”
Harriet had not; that was why she could be so powerful. She had concocted this scene in the carriage, and nothing should baulk her of it. To the abuse in front and the coaxing behind she was equally indifferent. How long she would have stood like a glorified Horatius, keeping the staircase at both ends, was never to be known. For the young lady, whose sleep they were disturbing, awoke and opened her bedroom door, and came out onto the landing. She was Miss Abbott.
Philip’s first coherent feeling was one of indignation. To be run by his mother and hectored by his sister was as much as he could stand. The intervention of a third female drove him suddenly beyond politeness. He was about to say exactly what he thought about the thing from beginning to end. But before he could do so Harriet also had seen Miss Abbott. She uttered a shrill cry of joy.
“You, Caroline, here of all people!” And in spite of the heat she darted up the stairs and imprinted an affectionate kiss upon her friend.
Philip had an inspiration. “You will have a lot to tell Miss Abbott, Harriet, and she may have as much to tell you. So I’ll pay my call on Signor Carella, as you suggested, and see how things stand.”
Miss Abbott uttered some noise of greeting or alarm. He did not reply to it or approach nearer to her. Without even paying the cabman, he escaped into the street.
“Tear each other’s eyes out!” he cried, gesticulating at the façade of the hotel. “Give it to her, Harriet! Teach her to leave us alone. Give it to her, Caroline! Teach her to be grateful to you. Go it, ladies; go it!”
Such people as observed him were interested, but did not conclude that he was mad. This aftermath of conversation is not unknown in Italy.
He tried to think how amusing it was; but it would not do—Miss Abbott’s presence affected him too personally. Either she suspected him of dishonesty, or else she was being dishonest herself. He preferred to suppose the latter. Perhaps she had seen Gino, and they had prepared some elaborate mortification for the Herritons. Perhaps Gino had sold the baby cheap to her for a joke: it was just the kind of joke that would appeal to him. Philip still remembered the laughter that had greeted his fruitless journey, and the uncouth push that had toppled him onto the bed. And whatever it might mean, Miss Abbott’s presence spoilt the comedy: she would do nothing funny.
During this short meditation he had walked through the city, and was out on the other side. “Where does Signor Carella live?” he asked the men at the Dogana.
“I’ll show you,” said
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