Tony removed his hand from the bridle and ground ‘Yankee Doodle’ from an imaginary instrument.
‘I make musica, signorina, wif—wif—how do you say, monk, monka? His name Vittorio Emanuele. Ver’ nice monk—simpatica affezionata.’
‘You’ve never been an actor?’
‘An actor? No, signorina.’
‘You should try it; I fancy you might have some talent in that direction.’
‘Si, signorina. Sank you.’
She let the conversation drop, and Tony, after an interval of silence, fell to humming Santa Lucia in a very presentable baritone. The tune, Constance noted, was true enough, but the words were far astray.
‘That’s a very pretty song, Tony, but you don’t appear to know it.’
‘I no understand Italian, signorina. I just learn ze tune because Costantina like it.’
‘You do everything that Costantina wishes?’