Weidemann, just opposite the landing place. Being tongue-tied I could only nod approval, meaning “Yes, it suits me exactly.” In the meanwhile our boat approached and took us to Bellaggio, where we had dinner at the Hôtel Grande Bretagne. It was a depressing meal, during which I maintained an absolute silence. After a stroll in the splendid park, which surrounded the hotel, the boat took us to Lecco, where we arrived too late to catch the evening train for Milan, and had to put up for the night at the modest little hotel bearing the name of “Zwei Thore.” The hostess ushered us into a room with a pointed ceiling and an enormously high bedstead. How pleasant it was to get rid of my vow of silence, which was becoming unbearable; for a whole day I had kept my lips sealed, although my anger had sensibly evaporated. When the hostess left us we became reconciled upon the spot, and all was right again. Next morning we were back at Milan, and went to visit the “Campo Santo.” This vast cemetery is a veritable museum. We wandered about, looking at the tombstones, reading names and epitaphs. I noticed a great many beautiful monuments, including those of some fearless people who gave themselves monuments and erected shrines during their lifetime. We admired the mausoleum of Mario, the celebrated tenor, which is surmounted by his bust, with his favourite “cavatina” incrusted on a metal plate. The poor folk are buried in a remote corner of the cemetery; their tombs are all level, with black crosses and the number of the tomb painted on white labels. After the lapse of ten years all the bones are gathered together in heaps, in large boxes, and placed in the charnel-house. When we approached the Crematory Temple, we saw smoke coming out from the chimneys, and were told that the corpse of an Austrian engineer was being consumed at that moment. This dismal procedure generally takes about an hour-and-a-half, and costs fifty francs. When we entered the Crematory I felt somewhat frightened, and the odour was so sickening that I thought I must faint, and felt sorely in want of smelling-salts, but the guardian’s pretty daughter seemed to feel quite at her ease in that ghastly kitchen, and ate her luncheon with great appetite. I hadn’t the courage to peep into the Crematory furnace, but Sergy perceived the corner of the huge frying-pan upon which broiled the corpse of the Austrian engineer. His wife and children, who were present at this awful ceremony, didn’t appear much impressed by it, and chattered on gaily all the time. It had been too much for my nerves, and when we were back at the hotel I went straight to bed and had a good cry. CHAPTER XXX VILLA D’ESTE