"Certainly," said the Commandant, dolefully. He was afraid that the thing would take a ridiculous turn, and nothing is so terrible as that to an Austrian official.
"Will you allow me to look at the paper?" asked the Senator. "I will not injure it at all."
The Interpreter politely carried it to him as the Commandant nodded. The Senator beckoned to the Consul. They then walked up to the Commandant. All four looked at the paper.
"You see, gentlemen," said the Senator, drawing a lead pencil from his pocket, "the Florence correspondent has been too sharp. I can explain all this at once. I was with the Countess, and we got talking of poetry. Now, I don't know any more about poetry than a horse."
"Well?"
"Well, she insisted on my making a quotation. I had to give in. The only one I could think of was a line or two from Watts."
"_Watts_? Ah! I don't know him," said the Interpreter.
"He was a minister--a parson."
"Ah!"
"So I said it to her, and she repeated it. These friends of yours, General, have taken it down, but their spellin' is a little unusual," said the Senator, with a tremendous grin that threatened a new outburst.