The porter's bell rang loudly.
"Tourists!" whispered O'Mally, sliding off the bench and buttoning up his coat. "Remember I am the guide; you get the lire."
Surely Pietro understood, but he was nervous, doubting the ability of this novice to demand the right sum for his labor.
O'Mally settled his cap on straight and went to the gates and opened them. A party of five Americans stood outside—two men, two women, and a girl of twelve or fourteen. The whole party wore that eager look, now familiar to O'Mally, of persons who intended to see everything if they eventually died for it.
"This is the Villa Ariadne?" asked one of the women. She wore eyeglasses and had a bitter expression.
"It is," said O'Mally, touching his cap.
"He speaks English!" cried the woman, turning joyfully to the others. "We wish to see the villa and the park."
"The villa is now occupied, signora," replied O'Mally; "but you are permitted to see the park and gardens."
"How much?" asked one of the men.
"Cinquanty," said O'Mally; then correcting himself, "for each person."