[Lays papers on one of the tea-tables.]

ALMERIC. I'll take the _Pink 'Un_, Governor. I'm off.

[Starts to go, the _Pink 'Un_ under his arm.]

ETHEL [rather shyly]. For a stroll, Almeric? Would you like me to go with you?

ALMERIC [somewhat embarra.s.sed]. Well, I rather thought I'd have a quiet bit of readin', you know.

ETHEL [coldly]. Oh!

[Exit ALMERIC rapidly up left.]

LADY CREECH [in a deep and gloomy voice]. The _Church Register_!

[HAWCASTLE gives her a paper. HORACE takes the London _Mail_. HAWCASTLE takes the _Times_.]

[ETHEL and MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY walk back to the terrace railing, chatting. The others seat themselves about the tea-tables to read.]

HORACE [unfolding his paper, speaks crossly to MARIANO]. Mariano, how long is this noise to continue?

MARIANO [distractedly]. How can I know? We can do nothing.

MICHELE [smilingly, looking up from 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 Grollerhagen, 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 b.u.t.toned 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 pa.s.ses.]

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 MARIANO serves him.]

HAWCASTLE [to LADY CREECH, in her ear]. Quite right; but take care, he speaks English.

LADY CREECH [glaring at VASILI]. Many thoroughly objectionable persons do!

VASILI [apparently oblivious to her remark, to MARIANO]. My American friend wishes his own national dish.

MARIANO [deferentially, and serving VASILI to caviar]. Yes, Herr von Grollerhagen, he will have the eggs on but one of both sides and the hams fried. So he go to cook it himself.

[Loud shouts and wild laughter from the street. HORACE, ALMERIC, and LADY CREECH set their papers down in their laps and turn toward the door.]

MARIANO. Ha! He return from the kitchen with those national dish.

ETHEL [glancing in the doorway]. How horrid!

[MICHELE backs out on the stoop from the doorway laughing, carrying a platter of ham and eggs.]

MICHELE. He have gone to wash himself at the street fountain.

[Tumult outside reaches its height, the shouts of "Yanka Dooda!"

predominating.]

VASILI [laughing, clapping his hands]. Bravo! Bravo!

ETHEL. Horrible!

[PIKE enters from the hotel. He is a youthful-looking American of about thirty-five, good-natured, shrewd, humorous, and kindly. His voice has the homely quality of the Central States, clear, quiet, and strong, with a very slight drawl at times when the situation strikes him as humorous, often exhibiting an apologetic character. He does not speak a dialect.

His English is the United States language as spoken by the average citizen to be met on a daycoach anywhere in the Central States. He is clean-shaven, and his hair, which shows a slight tendency to gray, is neatly parted on the left side. His light straw hat is edged with a strip of ribbon. The hat, like the rest of his apparel, is neither new nor old. His shirt, "lay-down" collar, and cuffs are of white, well-laundered linen. He wears a loosely knotted tie. A linen motor-duster extends to his knees. His waistcoat is of a gray mixture, neither dark nor light. His trousers are of the same material and not fashionably cut, yet they fit him well and are neither baggy at the knees nor "high-water." His shoes are plain black Congress gaiters and show a "good shine." In brief, he is just the average well-to-do but untravelled citizen that you might meet on an accommodation train between Logansport and Kokomo, Indiana. As he enters he is wiping his face, after his ablutions, with a large towel, his hat pushed far back on his head. The sleeves of his duster are turned back, and his detachable cuffs are in his pocket. He comes through the doors rubbing his face with the towel, but, pausing for a moment on the stoop, drops the towel from his face to dry his hands. All except VASILI and the waiters stare at him with frowns of annoyance.]

PIKE [beamingly unconscious of this, surprised, and in a tone of cheerful apology, believing all the world to be as good-natured and sensible as Kokomo would be under the circ.u.mstances]. Law! I didn't know there was folks here. I reckon you'll have to excuse me.

[As he speaks he dries his hands quickly.]

Here, son!

[He hands the towel to MICHELE. PIKE rapidly descends the steps, goes to the breakfast-table, joining VASILI and taking the seat opposite him.]

VASILI [gayly]. You're a true patriot, my friend. You allow no profane hand to cook your national dish. I trust you will be as successful with that wicked motor of mine.

PIKE [chuckling]. Lord bless your soul, I've put a self-binder together after a pony-engine had b.u.t.ted it half-way through a brick deepoe!

[Tucks his napkin in collar of his waistcoat and applies himself to the meal.]

[HORACE and HAWCASTLE read their papers, now and then casting glances of great annoyance at PIKE.]