m table where he has continued to
work]. The people outside will not go while they think there is once
more a chance to see the North American who pull the automobile with
those donkeys.

MARIANO. He have confuse' me; he have confuse' everybody. He will not be
content with the dejeuner till he have the ham and the eggs. And he will
have the eggs cooked only on one side, and how in the name of heaven can
we tell which side?

RIBIERE [appearing in the hotel doorway, speaks sharply but not loudly].
Garcon!

[MICHELE and MARIANO instantly step back from table and stand at
attention, facing front, like soldiers. RIBIERE exits quickly again into
hotel.]

HAWCASTLE [looking up from paper]. Upon my soul, who's all this?

MARIANO [not turning his head, replies in an awed undertone]. It is Herr
von Groellerhagen, a German gentleman, Milor'.

HAWCASTLE [amused, to HORACE]. Man that owned the automobile. Probably
made a fortune in sausages.

VASILI [heard within the hotel, approaching]. Nein, nein, Ribiere! 'S
macht nichts!

[He enters from the hotel. He is a portly man of forty-five, but rather
soldierly than fat. His hair, pompadour, is reddish blond, beginning to
turn gray, like his mustache and large full beard; the latter somewhat
"Henry IV." and slightly forked at bottom. His dress produces the effect
rather of carelessness than of extreme fashion. He wears a
travelling-suit of gray, neat enough but not freshly pressed, the
trousers showing no crease, the coat cut in "walking-coat style," with
big, slanting pockets, in which he carries his gloves, handkerchief,
matches, and a silver cigarette-case full of Russian cigarettes. On his
head is a tan-colored automobile cap with buttoned flaps. He is followed
by RIBIERE, who, anxious and perturbed, wishes to call his attention to
the item in the Neapolitan morning paper.]

VASILI [waving both RIBIERE and the paper aside, in high good-humor].
Las' mich, las' mich! Geh'n sie weg!

[RIBIERE bows submissively, though with a gesture of protest, and exit
into the hotel. The group about the tea-table watch VASILI with
hostility.]

LADY CREECH. What a dreadful person!

[VASILI crosses to his seat at the breakfast-table in front of MARIANO
and MICHELE, who bows profoundly as he passes.]

VASILI [lifting his hand in curt, semi-military salute, to acknowledge
the waiters' bows]. See to my American friend.

[MICHELE immediately hastens into the hotel. VASILI sits, and MARIAN