“I do not, signore. The Welsh care not for weather-glasses; my principal customers for weather-glasses are the farmers of England.”
“I am told that you can speak Welsh,” said I; “is that true?”
“I have picked up a little of it, signore.”
“He can speak it very well,” said the landlady; “and glad should I be, sir, to hear you and him speak Welsh together.”
“So should I,” said the daughter who was seated nigh us, “nothing would give me greater pleasure than to hear two who are not Welshmen speaking Welsh together.”
“I would rather speak English,” said the Italian; “I speak a little Welsh, when my business leads me amongst people who speak no other language, but I see no necessity for speaking Welsh here.”
“It is a pity,” said I, “that so beautiful a country as Italy should not be better governed.”
“It is, signore,” said the Italian; “but let us hope that a time will speedily come when she will be so.”
“I don’t see any chance of it,” said I. “How will you proceed in order to bring about so desirable a result as the good government of Italy?”
“Why, signore, in the first place we must get rid of the Austrians.”