amongst the long English, the lank Americans, the rotund
Germans, and the obese Russian Jewesses, I should stand there,
tapping a cigarette on the outside of my case, surveying for a
moment the world in the sunlight. But a day was to come when I
was never to do it again alone. You can imagine, therefore, what
the coming of the Ashburnhams meant to me. I have forgotten the
aspect of many things, but I shall never forget the aspect of the
dining-room of the Hotel Excelsior on that evening--and on so
many other evenings. Whole castles have vanished from my
memory, whole cities that I have never visited again, but that
white room, festooned with papier-maché fruits and flowers; the
tall windows; the many tables; the black screen round the door
with three golden cranes flying upward on each panel; the
palm-tree in the centre of the room; the swish of the waiter's feet;
the cold expensive elegance; the mien of the diners as they came
in every evening--their air of earnestness as if they must go
through a meal prescribed by the Kur authorities and their air of
sobriety as if they must seek not by any means to enjoy their
meals--those things I shall not easily forget. And then, one
evening, in the twilight, I saw Edward Ashburnham lounge round
the screen into the room. The head waiter, a man with a face all
grey--in what subterranean nooks or corners do people cultivate
those absolutely grey complexions?--went with the timorous
patronage of these creatures towards him and held out a grey ear
to be whispered into. It was generally a disagreeable ordeal for
newcomers but Edward Ashburnham bore it like an Englishman
and a gentleman. I could see his lips form a word of three
syllables--remember I had nothing in the world to do but to notice
these niceties--and immediately I knew that he must be Edward
Ashburnham, Captain, Fourteenth Hussars, of Branshaw House,