It was the hour of early evening when the train pulled into the station. Giorgio was first to jump out. He hurried through the groups of waiting people, impatient to find Signor Ramalli. Searching faces, hoping to see one he dared ask directions, he threaded the network of narrow streets. The people seemed different to him, like figures in a painting. He wondered if they might even speak a different language!
Slight-built as he was, he kept clumsily bumping into the passers-by. Each time he tried to work up his courage to ask, but no one took notice of him. It was like walking in sleep until a deep-timbered voice broke into it.
"Young lad! Come here!" The voice belonged to the Chief-of-the-Town-Guards. He was an enormous man, handsome in a dark blue uniform with gold epaulets. "Young lad, you will find better the walking if you move with, not against, the promenaders. Now," he asked solicitously, "can I help you?"
Giorgio felt a surge of relief. They spoke the same language! "Signor Ramalli," he burst out, "his house I must find. If you please!"
The Chief-of-the-Guards looked down from his great height. "To find Signor Ramalli's house," he said, "you have only to follow your nose."
"My nose?"