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When they suddenly said "Buon 'appetito," withdrew their heads and shoulders, slammed the door, and departed. Then the train set off also and shortly after six arrived in Florence. It was debated what should Aaron do in Florence. The young men had engaged a room at Bertolini's hotel, on the Lungarno. Bertolini's was not expensive but Aaron knew that his friends would not long endure hotel life.
A merry poet he was and without conceit and his good humor merited the extra silver pieces I gave him, which caused him, to wish me "Buon appetito e un sorriso della Madonna!" Yet some of the quaint conceits strung together by such a fellow as this improvisatore might furnish material for many of the so called "poets" whose names are mysteriously honored in Britain.
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