The entrance to this hotel at Chiavenna is through a covered court-yard;
steps lead up to the roof of the court-yard, which is a terrace where one
dines in fine weather. A great tree grows in the court-yard below, its
trunk pierces the floor of the terrace, and its branches shade the
open-air dining-room. The walls of the house are painted in fresco, with
a check pattern like the late Lord Brougham’s trousers, and there are
also pictures. One represents Mendelssohn. He is not called
Mendelssohn, but I knew him by his legs. He is in the costume of a dandy
of some five-and-forty years ago, is smoking a cigar and appears to be
making an offer of marriage to his cook. {261} Down below is a fresco of
a man sitting on a barrel with a glass in his hand. A more absolutely
worldly minded, uncultured individual it would be impossible to conceive.
When I saw these frescoes I knew I should get along all right and not be
over-charged.