"They still talk Italian for seven miles," she said, comforting herself like a child.
"German is the coming language," answered Colonel Leyland. "All the important books on any subject are written in it."
"But all the books on any important subject are written in Italian. Elizabeth—tell me an important subject."
"Human Nature, ma'am," said the maid, half shy, half impertinent.
"Elizabeth is a novelist, like her mistress," said Colonel Leyland. He turned away to look at the scenery, for he did not like being entangled in a mixed conversation. He noted that the farms were more prosperous, that begging had stopped, that the women were uglier and the men more rotund, that more nourishing food was being eaten outside the wayside inns.
"Colonel Leyland, shall we go to the Grand Hôtel des Alpes, to the Hôtel de Londres, to the Pension Liebig, to the Pension Atherley-Simon, to the Pension Belle Vue, to the Pension Old-England, or to the Albergo Biscione?"
"I suppose you would prefer the Biscione."
"I really shouldn't mind the Grand Hôtel des Alpes. The Biscione people own both, I hear. They have become quite rich."
"You should have a splendid reception—if such people know what gratitude is."
For Miss Raby's novel, "The Eternal Moment," which had made her reputation, had also made the reputation of Vorta.