Gustavo held his ground.

“Si, signorina, zat yong American gentleman say it—dam slow, no divertimento.”

 “He’s just about right, Gustavo,” Mr. Wilder broke in. “The next time a young American gentleman blunders into the Hotel du Lac you send him around to me.”

“Si, signore.”

Gustavo rolled his eyes toward the signorina; she continued to sip her lemonade.

“I have told him yesterday an American family live at Villa Rosa; he say ‘All right, I go call,’ but—but I sink maybe you were not at home.”

“Oh!” The signorina raised her head in apparent enlightenment. “So that was the young man? Yes, to be sure, he came, but he said he was looking for Prince Sartorio’s villa. I am sorry you were away, Father, you would have enjoyed him; his English was excellent.—Did he tell you he saw me, Gustavo?”

“Si, signorina, he tell me.”

“What did he say? Did he think I was nice?”

Gustavo looked embarrassed.

“I—I no remember, signorina.”

 She laughed and to his relief changed the subject.

“Those English ladies who are staying here—what do they look like? Are they young?”

Gustavo delivered himself of an inimitable gesture which suggested that the English ladies had entered the bounds of that indefinite period when the subject of age must be politely waived.

“They are tall, signorina, and of a thinness—you would not believe it possible.”

“I see! And so the poor young man was bored?”

Gustavo bowed vaguely. He saw no connection.

“He was awfully good-looking,” she added with a sigh. “I’m afraid I made a mistake. It would be rather fun, don’t you think, Dad, to have an entertaining young American gentleman about?”

“Ump!” he grunted. “I thought you were so immensely satisfied with the officers.”

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