In the middle of the night (as it seemed to me) I was aroused by a knocking, and the waiter's voice called to me that, if I wished to leave early for Metaponto, I had better get up at once, as the departure of the train had been changed to 4.15--it was now half-past three.

There ensued an argument, sustained, on my side, rather by the desire to stay in bed this cold morning than by any faith in the reasonableness of the railway company.

There must be a mistake! The _orario_ for the month gave 4.56, and how could the time of a train be changed without public notice?
Changed it was, insisted the waiter; it had happened a few days ago, and they had only heard of it at the hotel this very morning.

Angry and uncomfortable, I got my clothes on, and drove to the station, where I found that a sudden change in the time-table, without any regard for persons relying upon the official guide, was taken as a matter of course.

In chilly darkness I bade farewell to Taranto.
At a little after six, when palest dawn was shimmering on the sea, I found myself at Metaponto, with no possibility of doing anything for a couple of hours.