'Mama, give me the cream.'
Quite pleased, Cesare ran from one side to the other, leading the waiters, as every tray came up, towards the Marchioness, who was always the first to take some. Signora Parascandolo was the next; but she hardly took a spoonful, when she put down her plate and cast down her eyes again distractedly, as if she neither saw nor heard what was going on around her. The Marchioness, on the other hand, without hurrying, ate slowly of everything with her fallen-in mouth and toothless gums, her jaw going continually and her hooked nose trembling over her upper lip.
'My lady, try this pistachio. Would you like mandarin better, my lady?'
She nodded 'Yes,' like an old Chinese idol. Her withered hands had let go the bag, after taking a big white handkerchief out of it to put under her plate.
Very happy, Luisella tossed her head, laughing at all that cheerful noise. Every now and then her husband stopped before her.
'Won't you take something?'
'No, no! Help the other ladies.'
'Take something, Luisella.'
'No; I like looking on better.'