There came a great burst of laughter from Louis.
“It is good, it is good!” he cried. “Oh Madame! Viale, it is Italian for the little way, the alley. That is too rich.”
Max went off into a high and ribald laugh.
“L’allée italienne!” he said, and shouted with laughter.
“Alley or avenue, what does it matter,” cried Madame in French, “so long as it is a good journey.”
Here Geoffrey at last saw the joke. With a strange determined flourish he filled his glass, cocking up his elbow.
“A toi, Cic’—et bon voyage!” he said, and then he tilted up his chin and swallowed in great throatfuls.
“Certainly! Certainly!” cried Madame. “To thy good journey, my Ciccio, for thou art not a great traveller—”
“Na, pour ça, y’a plus d’une voie,” said Geoffrey.
During this passage in French Alvina sat with very bright eyes looking from one to another, and not understanding. But she knew it was something improper, on her account. Her eyes had a bright, slightly-bewildered look as she turned from one face to another. Ciccio had let go her hand, and was wiping his lips with his fingers. He too was a little self-conscious.