THE CICERONE
on to Rome, where he lived with his parents, at midnight. Already
he had invited them to join him for a drink in Milan in the famous
Galleria; the worst they could expect was a dinner
a
trois.
Therefore,
he acted, temporarily, on the young lady's persuasion that their
visitor was an ordinary member of the upper middle classes 1n vaguely
comfortable circumstances, in other words, that he was an abstraction;
in the same way, certain other abstract beliefs of hers concerning
true love and happiness had conveyed him, somewhat more critical
and cautious, into this compartment with her on a romantic journey
into Italy.
But, just as it had come as a surprise to
him
that love should go
on from step to step, that it should move from city to country and
cross an ocean and part of a continent, so in Milan it was with a
vague astonishment that he beheld Mr. Sciarappa remove his baggage
from the taxi in front of their hotel and hurry inside ahead of him
to inquire for a room. For the next three days, the trio could be seen
any evening promenading, arm in arm, down the long arcade of the
Galleria, past the crowded little tables with the pink, and the peach,
and the lime, and the orange colored tablecloths, walking with the air
of distinguished inseparables, the two tall men and the tallish young
lady with a large black hat. Or at noon they could be found there,
perspiring and not so distinguished, sipping Americanos, Mr. Scia–
rappa's favorite drink, at the cafe with the orange tablecloths, which
Mr. Sciarappa considered the cheapest. At night, they appeared at
Giannino's or Crispi's (not so expensive as Biffi's but better food, said
Mr. Sciarappa), restaurants where Mr. Sciarappa made himself at
home, sending back the wine which the Americans had ordered and
getting in its place some thinner and sourer vintage of which he had
special knowledge. The one solid trait the two friends could discover
in Mr. Sciarappa's character was a rooted abhorrence of the adver–
tised first-rate, of best hotels, top restaurants, principal shopping
streets, famous vineyards; and, since for the first time in many years
they saw themselves in a position to command these advantages, they
found this trait of Mr. Sciarappa's rather a cross. In American money,
the difference between the best and the mediocre was trifling; indeed
even in Italian money, it was often nonexistent. They tried to con–
vmce Mr. Sciarappa of this, but their computations he took as an
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