Gustavo rolled his eyes to heaven in silent thanksgiving. She had not, it was evident, run across the American, and the cat was still safely in the bag; but how much longer it could be kept there the saints alone knew. He was feeling—very properly—guilty in regard to this latest escapade; but what can a defenceless waiter do in the hands of an impetuous young American whose pockets are stuffed with silver lire and five-franc notes?
‘Two dozen? Certainly, signorina. Subitissimo!’ He took the basket and hurried to the kitchen.
Constance occupied the interval with the polyglot parrot of the courtyard. The parrot, since she had last conversed with him, had acquired several new expressions in the English tongue. As Gustavo reappeared with the eggs, she confronted him sternly.
‘Have you been teaching this bird English? I am surprised!’
‘No, signorina. It was—it was——’ Gustavo mopped his brow. ‘He jus’ pick it up.’
‘I’m sorry that the Hotel du Lac has guests that use such language; it’s very shocking.’
‘Si, signorina.’
‘By the way, Gustavo, how does it happen that that young American man who left last week is still here?’
Gustavo nearly dropped the eggs.
‘I just saw him in the garden with a book—I am sure it was the same young man. What is he doing all this time in Valedolmo?’