She laughed and to his relief changed the subject.
“Those English ladies who are staying here—what do they look like? Are they young?”
Gustavo delivered himself of an inimitable gesture which suggested that the English ladies had entered the bounds of that indefinite period when the subject of age must be politely waived.
“They are tall, signorina, and of a thinness—you would not believe it possible.”
“I see! And so the poor young man was bored?”
Gustavo bowed vaguely. He saw no connection.
“He was awfully good-looking,” she added with a sigh. “I’m afraid I made a mistake. It would be rather fun, don’t you think, Dad, to have an entertaining young American gentleman about?”
“Ump!” he grunted. “I thought you were so immensely satisfied with the officers.”
“Oh, I am,” she agreed with a shrug which dismissed forever the young American gentleman.
“Well, Gustavo,” she added in a business-like tone, “I will tell you why we called. The doctor says the Signor Papa is getting too fat—I don’t think he’s too fat, do you? He seems to me just comfortably chubby; but anyway, the doctor says he needs exercise, so we’re going to begin climbing mountains with nails in our shoes like the Germans. And we’re going to begin to-morrow because we’ve got two English people at the villa who adore mountains. Do you think you can find us a guide and some donkeys? We want a nice, gentle, lady-like donkey for my aunt, and another for the English lady and a third to carry the things—and maybe me, if I get tired. Then we want a man who will twist their tails and make them go; and I am very particular about the man. I want him to be picturesque—there’s no use being in Italy if you can’t have things picturesque, is there, Gustavo?”