"We are not out to listen to history lectures. We simply wish to see things," said Aunt Caroline.
"But this palace is in such bad taste. I am trying to divert your minds from its hideous furnishings."
Though in her secret heart Irma admired the throne room, with its gold embroidered, crimson velvet furniture, enormous Sèvres and Dresden vases, and its more artistic bronze busts, later, perhaps, what she remembered best of this visit was the magnificent terrace view of the harbor and the Arsenal.
"Do the Neapolitans get their love of noise from all those ancestors you were talking about, Uncle Jim?" she asked, as they drove along the broad Toledo, where the crack of whips, the braying of donkeys, and the shouts of hawkers prevented conversation. Uncle Jim raised his hand deprecatingly, as if an adequate reply were then impossible.
"There," cried Aunt Caroline. "I understand why the people of Naples use gestures so largely. You know they can carry on long conversations without a word. By use of their hands they can make themselves understood above the din of the streets."
"A good theory, if gesture were not as common in the country districts as in Naples."
Here Marion interrupted. "We might stop at the Catacombs to-day, if you wish."
"I don't wish," cried Irma decidedly.
Marion looked at her with surprise.