There was only a poor restaurant on the island, in those days; but his appetite was now ready for anything; he ate whatever was offered to him, like a famished man.

He could hardly believe, when he reflected on it, that he had sent away untasted his excellent breakfast at the hotel.
Returning to Venice, he spent the rest of the day in the picture-galleries and the churches.

Towards six o'clock his gondola took him back, with another fine appetite, to meet some travelling acquaintances with whom he had engaged to dine at the table d'hote.
The dinner was deservedly rewarded with the highest approval by every guest in the hotel but one.

To Henry's astonishment, the appetite with which he had entered the house mysteriously and completely left him when he sat down to table.

He could drink some wine, but he could literally eat nothing.