"I want a room. I'm a student, a Sardinian," he said looking at the woman from head to foot.
She was about thirty-seven, pallid and thin; her nose sharp, almost transparent. Her thick black hair, still dressed in Sardinian fashion, that is in narrow plaits coiled on the nape of the neck, made her seem almost pretty.
"A Sardinian? That's nice!" she answered frankly and with a pleasant smile. "I have no room just now, but if you can wait a fortnight there's an English lady going away."
He asked to look at the room. It was in a state of indescribable confusion. The bed was pulled out from the wall, and stood between piles of antique books and other curiosities. There was a folding india-rubber basin which the "Miss" used as a bath, and in it a fragrant branch of cassia. On the window-sill a book lay open. It was poetry, Giovanni Cena's Madre (mother) and Anania was struck by seeing it. He decided to take the room.
In the vestibule there was a large ottoman. He said: "Can't I sleep here till the lady leaves? I want to get out of the place I'm in at once. I go to bed late and I get up early——"
"But this ante-room is a passage," said the woman.
"I know. But I don't mind if you don't," urged Anania.
"'Miss' goes to bed early, but the other two, her father and Signor Ciri never come in till late."
"I really don't mind for a few nights."
They returned to the parlour and Anania stood looking at the stuffed head of the deer.