Gino dabbed at the sugar and said after a silence, “Sufficiently so.”
“It is a most important thing.”
“She is rich, she is generous, she is affable, she addresses her inferiors without haughtiness.”
There was another silence. “It is not sufficient,” said the other. “One does not define it thus.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Last month a German was smuggling cigars. The custom-house was dark. Yet I refused because I did not like him. The gifts of such men do not bring happiness. NON ERA SIMPATICO. He paid for every one, and the fine for deception besides.”
“Do you gain much beyond your pay?” asked Gino, diverted for an instant.
“I do not accept small sums now. It is not worth the risk. But the German was another matter. But listen, my Gino, for I am older than you and more full of experience. The person who understands us at first sight, who never irritates us, who never bores, to whom we can pour forth every thought and wish, not only in speech but in silence—that is what I mean by SIMPATICO.”
“There are such men, I know,” said Gino. “And I have heard it said of children. But where will you find such a woman?”
“That is true. Here you are wiser than I. SONO POCO SIMPATICHE LE DONNE. And the time we waste over them is much.” He sighed dolefully, as if he found the nobility of his sex a burden.
“One I have seen who may be so. She spoke very little, but she was a young lady—different to most. She, too, was English, the companion of my wife here. But Fra Filippo, the brother-in-law, took her back with him. I saw them start. He was very angry.”
Then he spoke of his exciting and secret marriage, and they made fun of the unfortunate Philip, who had travelled over Europe to stop it.