You might as well look for a needle in a haystack as try to find anyone who goes to the Italian mountains.

The baron offered no further advice, and sat calmly smoking and looking at me.

I felt uneasy, opposite him.

He was a mysterious person, and I thought him disguised.
It was really not possible that, with his youthful manner, his hair should be naturally so white, or that he should be so old as he seemed.

I asked him the question we always find it interesting to ask foreigners, hoping to lead him into conversation.
"How do you like our Rome, Baron Benoni ?" "Rome?
I loathe and detest it," he said, with a smile.