His pleasure was quite ingratiating, or would have been if he had been a
little taller. As it was, it was amusing, and I recognised an
opportunity for the study of Italian character. I don't mean that I made
up my mind to avail myself of it, but I saw that the opportunity was
there.
"So you've been reading the _New York World_," I said kindly.
"I have read, yes, two _avertissimi_. Not more, I fear. But they are
also amusing, the _avertissimi_." His voice was certainly agreeably
deferential, with a note of gratitude.
"Now, if you wouldn't mind taking the corner opposite my daughter,
Count Filgiatti," put in poppa, "you and she could talk more
comfortably, and Mrs. Wick could put her feet up and get a little nap."
"I am too happy if I shall not be a trouble to Mees," the Count
responded, beaming. And I said, "Dear me, no; how could he?" at which he
very obligingly changed his seat.
I hardly know how we drifted into abstract topics. The Count's English
was so bad that my sense of humour should have confined him to the
weather and the scenery; but it is nevertheless true that about an hour
later, while the landscape turned itself into a soft, warm chromo in the
fading sunset, and both my parents soundly slept, we were discussing the
barrier of religion to marriage between Protestants and Roman Catholics.
Pages:
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171