That year, 1908, Toklas and Levy joined the Steins for their regular summer sojourn in Fiesole—Toklas spontaneously tossed her corset out of the train window as they approached—where they rented two villas near I Tatti, the sumptuous Renaissance-style home of Bernard and Mary Berenson. (Gertrude, meanwhile, scandalized Mary by swimming in the lake “clad in nothing but her Fat.”) Ever the elder brother, Michael inquired into Toklas’s financial affairs, and—on learning she had a letter of credit, drawing on an inheritance from her grandfather, which was intended to last her ten months—set to stretching her budget to last a full year. Together, Stein and Toklas explored Florence’s galleries (Stein fell asleep stretched out on the Uffizi’s benches, claiming she liked to wake up surrounded by art); they traveled to Assisi and Arezzo to see paintings by Fra Angelico and Piero della Francesca, and climbed a mountain to the fabled meeting place of Saint Francis and Saint Dominic, where they munched sandwiches in the swirling clouds. During this trip, Stein showed Toklas some pages from her work in progress. Toklas responded positively, and Stein saw her chance. Would Toklas, she asked, take over the typing of her handwritten manuscripts? Toklas, who had been seeking a purpose in Paris, agreed instantly.
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