brought vinegar and salt, and rolls and water.
"The peutates is notta-cooks," said he in deprecation, and we were
distressed to postpone the Count for those peutates. But what else was
possible?

The dismaying part was that after luncheon had enabled us to regard a
little thing like that with equanimity, my parents abandoned it to me.
Momma said she knew she was missing a great deal, but she really didn't
feel equal to entertaining the Count; her back had given out completely.
The Senator wished to attend to his mail. With the assistance of his
letters and telegrams he was beginning to bear up wonderfully, and, as
it was just in, I hadn't the heart to interfere. "You can apologise for
us, daughter," said poppa, "and say something polite about our seeing
him later. Don't let him suppose we've gone back on him in any way. It's
a thing no young fellow in America would think of, but with these
foreigners you never can tell."

I saw at once that the Count was annoyed. He was standing in the middle
of the salon, fingering his sword-hilt in a manner which expressed the
most absurd irritation. So I said immediately that I was awfully sorry,
but it seemed so difficult to get anything to eat in Rome at that time
of year, that the head-waiter was really responsible, and wouldn't he
sit down?

"I don't know what you will think of us," I went on as we shook hands.
"How long have you been kind enough to wait, anyway?"

"Since a quarter of an hour--only," replied the Count, with a difficult
smile, "but now that I see you it is forgotten all."

"That's very nice of you," I said. "I assure you momma was quite worked
up about keeping you waiting. It's rather trying to the American
temperament to be obliged to order a hurried luncheon from the
market-gardener."

"So! In America you have him not--the market garden? You are each his
own vegetable. Yes? Ah, how much better than the poor Italian! But
Mistra and Madame Wick, they have not, I hope, the indisposition?"

"Well, I'm afraid they have, Count--something like that. They said I was
to ask you to excuse them. You see they've been sight-seeing the whole
morning, and that's something that can't be done by halves in your city.
The stranger has to put his whole soul into it, hasn't he?"

"Ah, the whole soul! It is too fatiguing," Count Filgiatti assented. He
glanced at me uncertainly, and rose. "Kindly may I ask that you give my
deepest afflictions to Mistra and Madame Wick for the