THE OPEN DOOR. 11 



Waldorf or the templed lobby of the St. Francis ; 

 or it may present the severe and Elizabethan 

 simplicity of the stone-paved veranda of the 

 Norfolk at Nairobi the matter is quite inessen- 

 tial to the spectator. His appreciation is only 

 slightly and indirectly influenced by these things. 

 Sunk in his arm-chair of velvet or of canvas 

 he puffs hard and silently at his cigar, watching 

 and listening as the pageant and the conversation 

 eddy by. 



Of such hotels I number that gaudy and poly- 

 syllabic hostelry the Grand Hotel du Louvre et de 

 la Paix at Marseilles. I am indifferent to the 

 facts that it is situated on that fine thoroughfare, 

 the Rue de Cannebiere, which the proud and un- 

 travelled native devoutly believes to be the finest 

 street in the world ; that it possesses a dining- 

 room of gilded and painted repouss6 work so 

 elaborate and wonderful that it surely must be 

 intended to represent a tinsmith's dream of 

 heaven ; that its concierge is the most impressive 

 human being on earth except Ludwig von Kampf 

 (whom I have never seen) ; that its head waiter 

 is sadder and more elderly and forgiving than any 

 other head waiter ; and that its hushed and 

 cathedral atmosphere has been undisturbed 

 through immemorial years. That is to be ex- 



