“Dear me,” said I; “I should like to see him.”
“That you can easily do,” said the girl; “I daresay he will be glad enough to come in if you invite him.”
“Pray take my compliments to him,” said I, “and tell him that I shall be glad of his company.”
The girl went out and presently returned with the Italian. He was a short, thick, strongly-built fellow of about thirty-seven, with a swarthy face, raven-black hair, high forehead, and dark deep eyes, full of intelligence and great determination. He was dressed in a velveteen coat, with broad lappets, red waistcoat, velveteen breeches, buttoning a little way below the knee; white stockings apparently of lamb’s-wool and high-lows.
“Buona sera?” said I.
“Buona sera, signore!” said the Italian.
“Will you have a glass of brandy and water?” said I in English.
“I never refuse a good offer,” said the Italian.
He sat down, and I ordered a glass of brandy and water for him and another for myself.
“Pray speak a little Italian to him,” said the good landlady to me. “I have heard a great deal about the beauty of that language, and should like to hear it spoken.”