“Yes, a German,” said the stranger, impatiently.
“I thought so,” sighed the host.
“Will you show me my rooms or not? Decide quickly, for I know there are other handsome hotels on the Canale Grande where I would be willingly received.”
The host bowed with an aggrieved expression. “Signor, I will show you rooms. Will you have the kindness to follow me?”
Like one who had come to a desperate decision, he advanced and pushed open a door which led to a long passage, with rooms on each side; he passed them all hastily, and entered a small, dark, side-passage, which was little in keeping with the general elegance of the building; the walls were not covered with tapestry, as those of the large halls, but with dirty whitewash; the floor had no carpet, and the doors of the rooms were low and small.
The host opened one of them and led the stranger into a small, simply-furnished room, with a little dark closet containing a bed. “Signor,” he said, with a profound bow, “these are, unfortunately, the only two rooms I can offer you.”
“They are small and mean,” said the stranger, angrily.
“They are quiet and remote, and you will have the advantage of not being disturbed by the ball which the club of the Prussiani are to hold in my grand saloon to-night.”
As he finished, he looked at the stranger hastily and searchingly, to see what impression his words had upon him. He was decidedly astonished and confused.
“The Prussian Club?” he said. “Are there so many Prussians here, and are they to celebrate a gay feast when it appears to me they have every reason to mourn for their king’s misfortune?”