And so, after many many hours in grubby carriages, we reached Rimini late at night, which is the right thing to do, and in that dazed state that follows sudden entry in the dark into a strange town, after a fatiguing and noisy train, we were driven through narrow streets to the hotel: having chosen, for fun, the ancient posting-house of the centre rather than the new and splendid hostel of the _plage_. In spite of certain disabilities I think we were wise, for it made just the difference between being in Rimini and being anywhere--Ostend, say, or Dieppe--for all _plage_ hotels are the same and all ancient posting-houses have their own character. The Golden Eagle and Three Kings was our magnificent sign and we completely captured it. We had vast rooms in which gilt beds with canopies over them (like royal couches in a fairy tale) occurred as incidents, isolated as palm trees in the desert; while the gaily-painted ceilings were high above as the vault of heaven. Such a thing as a small room was unknown. The hostess was shrewd and masterful, with all the machinery of geniality. The host was not only landlord but housemaid, parlour-maid, cellar-man, and everything else. Heavy, pallid, puffy, and unbuttoned, with a kind face and a heavy moustache, he was to be met with on the stairs at all hours, carrying either a broom or a pail or both. We called him (Heaven forgive us!) the Golden Eagle; but his consort was liker that commanding and predatory fowl. In addition there was an odd man or two in an apron, also busy with brooms and pails, and also the natural objective of the eagless's criticism; a head waiter (from Florence, for the season); a piccolo, who smiled ever and longed to be up to mischief but dared not; a kitchen staff; and two or three prim and superior daughters, or eaglets, glimpses of whom were occasionally to be caught in the hotel, avoiding their father, and whom, with their efficient mother, all in black, we met more than once returning from Mass. Such was the personnel of the Golden Eagle and Three Kings. But at lunch and dinner sparkling young commercial travellers appeared from obscure regions of the building inaccessible to us, where no doubt the rooms approximated to the English size, and these would surround a long table and eat and drink and incessantly talk; but always first executing some courteous preliminaries from which emerged the senior, to take the head of the table. Rimini has but this one hotel of any class at all, and one café, and this café, I observed, has but one habitué who wears evening dress; but he is so proud of it that his unceasing promenade before the little tables outside conveys the illusion of a Smart Set.