There was also a _chalet_ in
the garden, where we saw at once that we could buy cuckoo clocks and
edelweiss and German lace if we wanted to. There was a big hotel full of
people speaking strange languages--by this time we all sympathised with
Mr. Mafferton in his resentment of foreigners in Continental hotels; as
he said, one expected them to do their travelling in England. There were
the "Laufen" foaming down the valley under the dining room windows,
there were the Swiss waitresses in short petticoats and velvet bodices
and white chemisettes, and at the dinner table, sitting precisely
opposite, there were the Malts. Mr. Malt, Mrs. Malt, Emmeline Malt, and
Miss Callis, not one of them missing. The Malts whom we had left at
Rome, left in the same hotel with Count Filgiatti, and to some purpose
apparently, for seated attentively next to Mrs. Malt there also was
that diminutive nobleman.
As a family we saw at a glance that America was not likely to be the
poorer by one Count in spite of the way we had behaved to him. Miss
Callis, with four thousand dollars a year of her own, was going to offer
them up to sustain the traditions of her country.
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