The Padrone approached aristocratically.
“The Marchese Isidoro Panacci is here dining with friends, the Duca di—”
“Yes, yes. But I am only here for a moment, so it is not worth while to tell the Marchese.”
“You are not going to dine, Signora! The food of Frisio does not please you!”
He cast up his eyes in deep distress.
“Indeed it does. But I have dined. What I want is a cup of coffee, and—and a liqueur—une fine. And may I look over your wonderful visitors’ book? To tell the truth, that is what I have come for, to see the marvellous book. I hadn’t enough time the other night. May I?”
The Padrone was appeased. He smiled graciously and turned upon his heels.
“At once, Signora.”
“And—not a word to the Marchese! He is with friends. I would rather not disturb him.”
The Padrone threw up his chin and clicked his tongue against his teeth. A shrewd, though not at all impudent, expression had come into his face. A Signora alone, at night, in a restaurant! He was a man of the great world. He understood. What a mercy it was to be “educato”!