"Oh, my daughter has been too well brought up to make any objection!
Just fancy a girl choosing for herself; it would be preposterous!"
"Yes, of course it would; still, she might have moped and threatened to have gone into a decline. Oh, I know the ways of your model girls!"
In the meanwhile, Milenko explained to the young girl how the mistake had originated, and how her father had, from the first, believed him to be Uros.
Dinner was soon served in a private room of the hotel; and Uros, who, to keep up the buoyancy of his spirits, and act the part he had undertaken to play brilliantly, had swallowed several glasses of slivovitz, and had induced Captain Panajotti to follow his example, was now indulging freely with the strong Dalmatian wine. Still, he only took enough to be talkative and merry; but, as he exaggerated the effects of the wine, everybody at table believed him to be quite tipsy.
No sooner had the dish of macaroni been taken away than he began to insist upon Captain Panajotti telling them a story.
"Oh, to-morrow you'll be master on board again; but now, you know, you must do what I like, just as if you were my wife!"
"What! Your wife——"
But Uros did not let Mrs. Giulianic finish her question, for he insisted upon doing all the talking himself.
"My wife," said he, sententiously, "my wife'll have to dance to the tune I play; for I intend to wear the breeches and the skirts, too, in my house; so I hope you've brought up your daughter to jump through paper hoops, like a well-trained horse—no, I mean a girl!"
"My daughter——"