Eh! Buon giorno, come state?¹ It is Ernesto Lombardi, who shakes my hand and bangs two hatboxes I was holding against each other like a drum. Then he shouts to the attendant standing near the door: "Let Madame de Romanoff in at once! Quickly, help these poor women, take these boxes!" In an instant all our luggage is placed and we have passed through with the dog and everything. After a few small tribulations we departed in a coupe, opposite Ernesto's, and through the windows we saw him eating and waving to us with head and hand. This man eats well, yet at his own home he serves almost nothing for dinner, and cuts in such small pieces that it is ridiculous. He put on white gloves and sat down to sleep; we closed our blinds, lowered the light, and did likewise, except for the white gloves. I slept rather badly despite the endless care and thoughtful attentions and kindness of my aunt, who, to give me more room to stretch out at full length, lay on the floor and was tormented all night by the carriage doors that the bothersome conductors opened at every five-minute stop.