“Yes,” he said, “if I am to be an English gentleman I shall have to wear it in Catania.”
“But won’t it do if you carry it over your arm?” I inquired.
“No,” he said, “because then they would see my other coat, and that is so dilapidated they would suspect the truth.”
“Your clothes are quite good enough for any English gentleman anywhere,” I pointed out.
“They are not so good as yours,” he replied; “the teatrino is dirty and they soon wear out. My great-coat appears to be fresh because I seldom put it on. I shall use it in Catania to conceal the shabbiness of my other clothes.”
“You need not be so particular. My father when he travelled in Italy did not pay so much attention to his personal appearance.”
“You have never told me about your father. Did he travel for some English firm? Was it tiles? or perhaps sewing-machines? They pay better, I believe.”
“He did not travel for any firm. He was a barrister, an avvocato, and travelled for recreation during the Long Vacation. I can tell you how he used to dress, because just before I left London I copied part of a letter he wrote to my mother, and I have it in my pocket.”
This is the extract from my father’s letter which I read to the buffo; it is dated Hôtel des Bergues, Geneva, 1 October, 1861:
Reading the Times of Friday this morning I saw a letter signed G.U. which I have no doubt is a mistake for J.U. and means John Unthank and which signifies he and his family are in Paris. It is a letter complaining of the shabby costume of Englishmen and is a foolish letter but it will have the effect of making me furnish myself with a new wideawake or something of that sort at Paris for my present wideawake has got another hole in it and is really very bad though I don’t know why it should wear so fast as I take great care of it and am rather disappointed that it should fall to pieces. Mr. Unthank pointed out to me on the Lake of Como that my dressing-gown which I always wear travelling is out at elbows which indeed I find it is but that fact seemed to grieve Mr. Unthank less than the shabbiness of my hat and he offered to give me a new one that is a wideawake of his own which had been newly lined and not worn as he said since it was lined if I would throw my old wideawake away. I consented but I left Milan before he had an opportunity of performing his promise.