I smiled at her coaxingly; so she gave a small, kindly smile
in reply.
'_Ja, dies ist reizend_,' said Emil, _sotto voce_, exulting. He was very
shy. But we were curiously happy, in that railway restaurant.
Then we sat very still, on the platform, and waited for the train. It
was like Italy, pleasant and social to wait in the railway station, all
the world easy and warm in its activity, with the sun shining.
I decided to take a franc's worth of train-journey. So I chose my
station. It was one franc twenty, third class. Then my train came, and
Emil and I parted, he waving to me till I was out of sight. I was sorry
he had to go back, he did so want to venture forth.
So I slid for a dozen miles or more, sleepily, down the Ticino valley,
sitting opposite two fat priests in their feminine black.
When I got out at my station I felt for the first time ill at ease. Why
was I getting out at this wayside place, on to the great, raw high-road?
I did not know. But I set off walking. It was nearly tea-time.
Nothing in the world is more ghastly than these Italian roads, new,
mechanical, belonging to a machine life.
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