“Champagne, Caleb.”
“Yes, ma’am. Certainly, ma’am.”
“No,” Caleb shouted.
The waiter inclined his head in sarcastic acknowledgment.
“And light the lamp,” Caleb told him.
Above the circular stone hung a great green globe painted over with fish, which when lighted up shed a kind of subaqueous sheen upon the alcove.
“And the champagne, sir?” the waiter asked.
“Bring a bottle quickly,” Letizia commanded with a laugh of mockery.
“Bring nothing at all,” cried Caleb, swinging round on his heels in a rage.
“Oh gemini, Caleb,” Letizia cried. “Your handkerchief’s falling out of your pocket.”