Myself: Yes, I know, Buffo, by four Turkish emperors and they have two hundred thousand men. I should think it must be rather a serious situation. But I want to hear about Ettorina.
Aless: It is a very serious situation, but do not be alarmed because—
Papa:—it is therefore unlikely that Gildo will ever reach the age of one hundred and seventy-four. Do I explain myself?
Caro: Signor Enrico, Come sta? what does it mean?
Myself: It means How do you do?
Caro (trying her hand): How do you do?
Myself: Brava. Very good.
(Nina did not ask to be taught English. She was following the conversation with sympathetic illustrative gestures not caring two straws whether anyone observed her, just as she did not care whether anyone observed that she was breathing; and, just as she could not stop breathing, so she appeared unable to stop her gestures. She was as incessant and as resourceful as the orchestra in Hänsel and Gretel.)
Carm: Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, Io t’amo.
Myself: Oh! but this is so sudden.