"Do you know, she is really charming. Just look at her eyes; and I never saw anything like her hair."
"Don't excite yourself," I replied, "or else tackle her, if you have any intentions that way. She does not look impregnable, I fancy, although she appears to be a little bit grumpy."
"Why don't you speak to her?" he said.
"I don't know what to say, for I am always terribly stupid at first; I can never make advances to a woman in the street. I follow them, go round and round them, and quite closely to them, but I never know what to say at first. I only once tried to enter into conversation with a woman in that way. As I clearly saw that she was waiting for me to make overtures, and as I felt bound to say something, I stammered out, 'I hope you are quite well, madam?' She laughed in my face, and I made my escape."
I promised Paul to do all I could to bring about a conversation, and when we had taken our places again, I politely asked our neighbor:
"Have you any objection to the smell of tobacco, madam?"
She merely replied, "Non capisco."[6]
So she was Italian! I felt an absurd inclination to laugh. As Paul did not understand a word of that language, I was obliged to act as his interpreter, so I said in Italian:
"I asked you, madam, whether you had any objection to tobacco smoke?"
With an angry look she replied, "Che mi fa."[7]