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Updated: June 15, 2025
Bowen's carriage. I sent it round from the Pitti entrance to the Porta Romana. It's waiting there now, I suppose." "I thought you had been corrupted, somehow. Your zeal is carriage-bought. It is a delightful vehicle. Do you think you could give me a lift home in it?" "Yes, indeed. I've always a seat for you in my carriage. To Hotel d'Atene?" "No, to Palazzo Pinti."
"I have been wanting to tell you for a whole week," returned Mrs. Bowen, seating the rest and taking a chair for herself. "Where have you been?" "Oh, shut up in my cell at Hotel d'Atene, writing a short history of the Florentine people for Miss Effie." "Effie, take Mr. Colville's hat," said her mother. "We're going to make you stay to lunch," she explained to him.
The dinner at the Hotel d'Atene made an imposing show on the carte du jour; it looked like ten or twelve courses, but in fact it was five, and even when eked out with roast chestnuts and butter into six, it seemed somehow to stop very abruptly, though one seemed to have had enough. You could have coffee afterward if you ordered it.
"This letter must go at once to the Hotel d'Atene," said Mrs. Bowen peremptorily. "You shall be served," said the porter, with fortitude. As Mrs. Bowen turned, Imogene ran toward her with clasped hands. "Oh, how merciful how good " Mrs. Bowen shrank back. "Don't touch me, Imogene, please!"
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