It was a little town, and was quickly traversed. To Margaret's telegram he added that they were all well and happy, smiling to himself as he thought how his father would shake his head at the needless extravagance of sending these two words. But Philip felt there was something special in his sense of well-being which demanded explicit acknowledgment. The young woman who copied his telegram looked at him with an air of curiosity and interest.
"The signore is English?" she inquired.
"Yes, signora," he replied.
"The first English of the year," she continued, "and I must send word to the padre. He was here yesterday, and at all the hotels, to say he must speak with the first of the English who come to Cortina. Perhaps the signore has heard so already?"
"No," answered Philip; "but I have not seen my landlord yet; he was out of the way when we arrived."
He had learned Italian sufficiently to carry on a simple conversation; but he was not very fluent, and he was obliged to pause and think over his sentences.
"We are going to stay here some days," he resumed, "or possibly some weeks. Is it necessary for me to call upon the priest? or will you tell him where I am staying?"
"I will call him; it is urgent, I believe," she said, hastening to the door, and running across a small, open space to a house near the church. In a few minutes she returned, accompanied by a young priest in a shabby cassock and worn-out broad-brimmed hat.
"I have the honor to speak to an English signore," said the priest, bowing profoundly.
"I shall be most happy to serve the padre," answered Philip.