You may lead the world in romance, Count, but you don't
put any of it in your railway refreshments."
As we passed out into the smooth-toned talkative darkness, Count
Filgiatti said in my ear, "Mistra and Madame Wick have kindly consented
to receive my visit at the hotel to-morrow. Is it agreeable to you also
that I come?"
And I said, "Why, certainly!"
CHAPTER XI.
We descended next morning to realise how original we were in being in
the plains of Italy in July. The Fulda people and the Miss Binghams and
Mrs. Portheris had prevented our noticing it before, but in the Hotel
Mascigni, Via del Tritone, we seemed to have arrived at a point of arid
solitude, which gave poppa a new and convincing sense of all he was
going through in pursuit of Continental culture. We sat in one corner of
the "Sala di mangiari" at a small square table, and in all the length
and breadth and sumptuousness of that magnificent apartment--Italian
hotel dining-rooms are always florid and palatial--there was only one
other little square table with a cloth on it and an appearance of
expectancy.
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