Above the doorway I read "Osteria Centrale";
on the bare end of the house was the prouder inscription, "Albergo
Nazionale"--the National Hotel. I am sorry to say that at the time
this touch of humour made no appeal to me; my position was no
laughing matter. Faint with hunger, I saw at once that I should have
to browse on fearsome food. I saw, too, that there was scarce a
possibility of passing the night in this place; I must drive down to
the sea-shore, and take my chance of a train which would bring me at
some time to Reggio. While I thus reflected--the water rushing
over my boots--a very ill-looking man came forth and began to
stare curiously at me. I met his eye, but he offered no greeting. A
woman joined him, and the two, quite passive, waited to discover my
intentions.
Eat I must, so I stepped forward and asked if I could have a meal.
Without stirring, the man gave a sullen assent. Could I have food at
once? Yes, in a few minutes. Would they show me--the dining room?
Man and woman turned upon their heels, and I followed. The entrance
led into a filthy kitchen; out of this I turned to the right, went
along a passage upon which opened certain chamber doors, and was
conducted into a room at the end--for the nonce, a dining-room,
but at ordinary times a bedroom.
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