This introduction was in Italian but the girls assumed its intent, and smiled pleasantly at both men, though at a loss how to continue the conversation.
“We can talk through Carlo,” said Patty, with a sudden inspiration. “What’s the use of his eight languages if he can’t help us out in a case like this? Carlo, these are two friends of ours, but they can’t speak English, nor we Italian, so you must act as interpreter. See?”
“Yes, lady,” said Carlo, a little hesitatingly. “They are your before acquaintances?”
“Oh, yes,” said Patty, laughing at his air of caution; “we met them on the train coming from Rome. At least we met Mr. Grimaldi, and were properly introduced. Ask him why he hasn’t been to see us.”
Reassured, Carlo talked to the young men, and translated back and forth for the benefit of both sides. It seemed that the Italians had mistaken the name of the hotel where the Fairfields were, and had not been able to find them, they themselves being at a different one.
“But I spik a very small Angleesh,” volunteered Signor Balotti, timidly, and the girls turned to him in delight.
“Oh, do you?” said Flo. “Then you can help us all out.”
So they chatted away, and as each only understood about a quarter of what the other said, the conversation was mostly laughter and gestures.
At last with the help of Carlo the young men conveyed to the girls an invitation to visit some certain of the Royal apartments in the Pitti Palace, which are not usually shown to visitors.