e first floor of
the hotel, Henry's attention was attracted by an angry voice
protesting, in a strong New England accent, against one of the greatest
hardships that can be inflicted on a citizen of the United States--the
hardship of sending him to bed without gas in his room.

The Americans are not only the most hospitable people to be found on
the face of the earth--they are (under certain conditions) the most
patient and good-tempered people as well. But they are human; and the
limit of American endurance is found in the obsolete institution of a
bedroom candle. The American traveller, in the present case, declined
to believe that his bedroom was in a complete finished state without a
gas-burner. The manager pointed to the fine antique decorations
(renewed and regilt) on the walls and the ceiling, and explained that
the emanations of burning gas-light would certainly spoil them in the
course of a few months. To this the traveller replied that it was
possible, but that he did not understand decorations. A bedroom with
gas in it was what he was used to, was what he wanted, and was what he
was determined to have. The compliant manager volunteered to ask some
other gentleman, housed on the inferior upper storey (which was lit
throughout with gas), to change rooms. Hearing this, and being quite
willing to exchange a small bedchamber for a large one, Henry
volunteered to be the other gentleman. The excellent American shook
hands with him on the spot. 'You are a cultured person, sir,' he said;
'and you will no doubt understand the decorations.'

Henry looked at the number of the room on the door as he opened it.
The number was Fourteen.

Tired and sleepy, he naturally anticipated a good night's rest. In the
thoroughly healthy state of his nervous system, he slept as well in a
bed abroad as in a bed at home. Without the slightest assignable
reason, however, his just expectations were disappointed. The
luxurious bed, the well-ventilated room, the delicious tranquillity of
Venice by night, all were in favour of his sleeping well. He never
slept at all. An indescribable sense of depression and discomfort kept
him waking through darkness and daylight alike. He went down to the
coffee-room as soon as the hotel was astir, and ordered some breakfast.
Another unaccountable change in himself appeared with the appearance of
the meal. He was absolutely without appetite. An excellent omelette,
and cutlets cooked to perfection, he sent