Готель з привидами

Chapter XVIII

           Hisemployerinstantlyaskedhimifhesmeltanything.

           ’Ismellyourcigar.Delicious!Givemeonedirectly!’

           ’Waitaminute.Besidesmycigar,doyousmellanythingelse—vile,abominable,overpowering,indescribable,never-never-never-smeltbefore?’

           Thescene-painterappearedtobepuzzledbythevehementenergyofthelanguageaddressedtohim.’Theroomisasfreshandsweetasaroomcanbe,’heanswered.Ashespoke,helookedbackwithastonishmentatFrancisWestwick,standingoutsideinthecorridor,andeyeingtheinteriorofthebedchamberwithanexpressionofundisguiseddisgust.

           TheParisiandirectorapproachedhisEnglishcolleague,andlookedathimwithgraveandanxiousscrutiny.

           ’Yousee,myfriend,herearetwoofus,withasgoodnosesasyours,whosmellnothing.Ifyouwantevidencefrommorenoses,lookthere!’HepointedtotwolittleEnglishgirls,atplayinthecorridor.’Thedoorofmyroomiswideopen—andyouknowhowfastasmellcantravel.Nowlisten,whileIappealtotheseinnocentnoses,inthelanguageoftheirowndismalisland.Mylittleloves,doyousniffanastysmellhere—ha?’Thechildrenburstoutlaughing,andansweredemphatically,’No.’’MygoodWestwick,’theFrenchmanresumed,inhisownlanguage,’theconclusionissurelyplain?Thereissomethingwrong,verywrong,withyourownnose.Irecommendyoutoseeamedicalman.’

           Havinggiventhatadvice,hereturnedtohisroom,andshutoutthehorridfreshairwithaloudexclamationofrelief.Francisleftthehotel,bythelanesthatledtotheSquareofSt.Mark

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Roboto Lora
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