It was a long time before the elderly gentleman with the long white beard and astonishing eyebrows came out of the Costanzi Hotel. I had been waiting across the street since early morning; my fingers and toes were numb. The bearded man and another gentleman—just as old, but clean-shaven—emerged into the pale winter sunlight, then turned and began climbing up the Spanish Steps. I followed behind. When they stopped and seemed to consider whether to enter the Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica, I...

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