The Marchesino showed his teeth in a smile which also shone in his round and boyish eyes.
“I have just come out of the sea. Papa and I have been bathing at the Eldorado. We swam round the Castello until we were opposite your windows, and sang ‘Funiculi, funicula!’ in the water, to serenade you. Why didn’t you hear us? Papa has a splendid voice, almost like Tamagno’s in the gramophone, when he sings the ‘Addio’ from ‘Otello.’ Of course we kept a little out at sea. Papa is so easily recognized by his red mustaches. But still you might have heard us.”
“I did.”
“Then why didn’t you come unto the balcony, amico mio?”
“Because I thought you were street singers.”
“Davvero? Papa would be angry. And he is in a bad temper to-day anyhow.”
“Why?”
“Well, I believe Gilda Mai is going to bring a causa against Viviano. Of course he won’t marry her, and she never expected he could. Why, she used to be a milliner in the Toledo. I remember it perfectly, and now Sigismondo—But it’s really Gilda that has made papa angry. You see, he has paid twice for me, once four thousand lire, and the other time three thousand five hundred. And then he has lost a lot at Lotto lately. He has no luck. And then he, too, was in a row yesterday evening.”
“The Marchese?”
“Yes, in the Chiaia. He slapped Signora Merani’s face twice before every one.”