GERTRUDE. You should gratify it. Our quarters are rather humble; we are in the Campo San Bartolomeo.
ST. OLPHERTS. But how delightful!
GERTRUDE. Why not come and see our rooms?
ST. OLPHERTS. [Bowing.] My dear young lady! [Producing a pencil and writing upon his shirt-cuff.] Campo San Bartolomeo—
GERTRUDE. Five—four—nought—two
ST. OLPHERTS. [Writing.] Five—four—nought—two. Tomorrow afternoon? [She inclines her head.] Four o'clock?
GERTRUDE. Yes; that would give the people ample time to tidy and clear up after us.
ST. OLPHERTS. After you—?
GERTRUDE. After our departure. My brother and I leave early tomorrow morning.
ST. OLPHERTS. [After a brief pause, imperturbably.] A thousand thanks. May I impose myself so far upon you as to ask you to tell your landlord to expect me? [Taking up his hat and stick.] We are allowing this soup to get cold. [Joining LUCAS.] Dear Lucas, you have something to say to me—?