The Fatigue Of The Day's Journey Passed Away During This Ascent,
Which Lasted Nearly An Hour; When, After A Drive Through Dark But
Wide Streets, I Was Set Down Before The Hotel, I Felt That I Had
Shaken Off The Last Traces Of My Illness.
A keen appetite sent me as
soon as possible in search of the dining-room, where I ate with
extreme gusto; everything seemed excellent after the sorry table of
the Concordia.
I poured my wine with a free hand, rejoicing to
find it was wine once more, and not (at all events to my palate) a
concoction of drugs. The albergo was decent and well found; a
cheerful prosperity declared itself in all I had yet seen. After
dinner I stepped out on to the balcony of my room to view the city's
main street; but there was very scant illumination, and the
moonlight only showed me high houses of modern build. Few people
passed, and never a vehicle; the shops were all closed. I needed no
invitation to sleep, but this shadowed stillness, and the fresh
mountain air, happily lulled my thoughts. Even the subject of
earthquakes proved soporific.
Impossible to find oneself at Catanzaro without thinking of
earthquakes; I wonder that the good people of Coltrone did not
include this among deterrents whereby they sought to prejudice me
against the mountain town. Over and over again Catanzaro has been
shaken to its foundations. The worst calamity recorded was towards
the end of the eighteenth century, when scarce a house remained
standing, and many thousands of the people perished.
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