Evidently the kitchen served for native guests; as a foreigner I was treated with more ceremony.

Left alone till my meal should be ready, I examined the surroundings.

The floor was of worn stone, which looked to me like the natural foundation of the house; the walls were rudely plastered, cracked, grimed, and with many a deep chink; as for the window, it admitted light, but, owing to the aged dirt which had gathered upon it, refused any view of things without save in two or three places where the glass was broken; by these apertures, and at every point of the framework, entered a sharp wind.
In one corner stood an iron bedstead, with mattress and bedding in a great roll upon it; a shaky deal table and primitive chair completed the furniture.

Ornament did not wholly lack; round the walls hung a number of those coloured political caricatures (several indecent) which are published by some Italian newspapers, and a large advertisement of a line of emigrant ships between Naples and New York.

Moreover, there was suspended in a corner a large wooden crucifix, very quaint, very hideous, and black with grime.
Spite of all this, I still debated with myself whether to engage the room for the night.