By this time you are accustomed to it—in fact you rather enjoy it. If you have a doubt of it, step out on the balcony at the front of the hotel and look up!
Hanging in the sky—in an air of pure ether, set in films of silver grays in which shimmer millions of tones, delicate as the shadings of a pearl, towers the Acropolis, its crest fringed by the ruins of the greatest temples the world possesses.
I rang a bell.
“Get me a carriage and send me up a guide—anybody who can speak English and who is big enough to carry a sketch trap.”
He must have been outside, so quickly did he answer the call. He was two-thirds the size of William, one-half the length of Luigi, and one-third the age of Bob.
“What is your name?”
“Vlassopoulos.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes—Panis.”
“Then we'll drop the last half. Put those traps in the carriage—and take me to the Parthenon.”