CHAPTER XVII.
The Palace Hotel, appealing for encouragement mainly to English and American travellers, celebrated the opening of its doors, as a matter of course, by the giving of a grand banquet, and the delivery of a long succession of speeches.
Delayed on his journey, Henry Westwick only reached Venice in time to join the guests over their coffee and cigars.

Observing the splendour of the reception rooms, and taking note especially of the artful mixture of comfort and luxury in the bedchambers, he began to share the old nurse's view of the future, and to contemplate seriously the coming dividend of ten per cent.

The hotel was beginning well, at all events.
So much interest in the enterprise had been aroused, at home and abroad, by profuse advertising, that the whole accommodation of the building had been secured by travellers of all nations for the opening night.

Henry only obtained one of the small rooms on the upper floor, by a lucky accident--the absence of the gentleman who had written to engage it.

He was quite satisfied, and was on his way to bed, when another accident altered his prospects for the night, and moved him into another and a better room.
Ascending on his way to the higher regions as far as the 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.