Lucia understood that: so did Mrs Weston, and Lucia pulled herself together.
"In Rome," she said. "Che bella citta![1] Adoro Roma, e il mio marito. Non e vere,[2] Peppino?"
Peppino cordially assented: the familiar ring of this fine intelligible Italian restored his confidence, and he asked Cortese whether he was not very fond of music.…
Dinner seemed interminable to Lucia. She kept a watchful eye on Cortese, and if she saw he was about to speak to her, she turned hastily to Colonel Boucher, who sat on her other side, and asked him something about his cari cani, which she translated to him. While he answered she made up another sentence in Italian about the blue sky or Venice, or very meanly said her husband had been there, hoping to direct the torrent of Italian eloquence to him. But she knew that, as an Italian conversationalist, neither she nor Peppino had a rag of reputation left them, and she dismally regretted that they had not chosen French, of which they both knew about as much, instead of Italian, for the vehicle of their linguistic distinction.
Olga meantime continued to understand all that Cortese said, and to reply to it with odious fluency, and at the last, Cortese having said something to her which made her laugh, he turned to Lucia.
"I 'ave said to Meesis Shottlewort" … and he proceeded to explain his joke in English.
"Molto bene," said Lucia with a dying flicker. "Molto divertente. Non e[3] vero, Peppino."
"Si, si,"[4] said Pepino[5] miserably.
And then the final disgrace came, and it was
