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Meaningless at first, it gradually
became menacing, obnoxious, portentous with evil. She was seized
with an impulse to destroy it, but fortunately remembered that
she had no right to do so, since it must be the property of young
Mr. Emerson. So she unpinned it carefully, and put it between two
pieces of blotting-paper to keep it clean for him. Then she
completed her inspection of the room, sighed heavily according to
her habit, and went to bed.

Chapter II: In Santa Croce with No Baedeker
It was pleasant to wake up in Florence, to open the eyes upon a
bright bare room, with a floor of red tiles which look clean
though they are not; with a painted ceiling whereon pink griffins
and blue amorini sport in a forest of yellow violins and
bassoons. It was pleasant, too, to fling wide the windows,
pinching the fingers in unfamiliar fastenings, to lean out into
sunshine with beautiful hills and trees and marble churches
opposite, and close below, the Arno, gurgling against the
embankment of the road.


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