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I know a Palermitan barber with whom I should be proud to be seen walking in the Via Macqueda any day that is, any day when his Sunday clothes were not in pawn and there used to be a conduttore at my hotel who took me round to many of the sights in the town and who was a person of such distinguished manners that when with him I felt as though walking with a Knight-Templar in disguise a disguise that had to be completed by my buying him a straw hat, otherwise he would have given us away by wearing his cap with "Albergo So-and-so" written all round it.
Frank, who had buried her face raptly in her armful of jonquils, looked up at him with gentle exasperation. "We are English," she said blankly. "English! We can't understand!" And she returned to her flowers and her husband once more. The two uniformed intruders conferred for a moment, while the conduttore, on the platform outside, naturally enough expostulated over the delay of the train.
I regret that the French gentleman left Calatafimi so early next morning that I had no opportunity of ascertaining whether he slept well after determining that processions do not proceed. The next time I was in Palermo, Turiddu, the conduttore, who used to take me about the town, had returned after being for a year in Naples.
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