"That's possible. We are such an impulsive race," ironically. "Yes, no doubt we'd have lynched him; and these foreigners would have added another ounce of fact to their belief that we are still barbarians."
"I hadn't thought of that," Merrihew admitted. Till now he had never cared particularly whether a foreigner's opinion was favorable or not.
"No, but when you start for home you will always think of it. Our reporters demand of the foreigner, barely he has stepped ashore, what he thinks of the United States; and then nearly every one he meets helps to form the opinion that we are insufferably underbred. Ours is not studied incivility; it is worse than that; it is downright carelessness."
"I am beginning to see things differently. When the concierge tips his hat, I tip mine. Since Giovanni is gone, suppose we pack up? There's little to do, as the trunks are as we left them. But I say, how is it that all these carabinieri we see are so tall? The Neapolitan is invariably short and thick-set."
"They come from the north as far as Domo d'Ossola; mountaineers. Italy has a good policy regarding her military police. The Neapolitan is sent north and the Venetian and Tuscan south, out of reach of family ties and feuds. Thus, there is never any tug between duty and friendship. The truth is, the Italian is less inclined toward duty than toward friendship. This isolation makes the carabinieri the right hand of the army, and no other soldier in Europe is half so proud of his uniform, not even the German. The people smile as they pass, you will notice always in pairs; but when they are in trouble, these weather-vane people, they fly straight to the carabinieri. Imagine the cocksureness and insolence we'd have suffered from two New York policemen, had we found them in our homes! Oh, I have a soft spot for the carabinieri. You will find no brigands in Italy now; that is because the carabinieri are everywhere, silent, watchful, on highways, in the mountains, in all villages and in all stations. I have never seen one of them ogle a woman. And never ask them where your hotel is, or the station, or such and such a street. They will always tell you, but they secretly resent it."
"I'll remember; but so far as I'm concerned, they'd have an easy time of it. Why, I couldn't ask a question in billboard Italian. Now, out with it; where and how did you learn that Kitty is in Venice?"
Hillard told him briefly.
"And so they are all in Venice, broke? By George, here's our chance; everlasting gratitude and all that. We'll bail 'em out and ship 'em home! How is that for a bright idea?" Merrihew had regained his usual enthusiasm.
"Let me see," said Hillard practically. "There are five of them: five hundred for tickets and doubtless five hundred more for unpaid hotel bills. It would never do, Dan, unless we wish to go home with them."
"But I haven't touched my letter of credit yet. I could get along on two thousand."