“Certainly,” I said. “Mussolini has abolished the brothels. This is a restaurant.” The girl wore a one-piece dress. She leaned forward against the table and put her hands on her breasts and smiled. She smiled better on one side than on the other and turned the good side toward us. The charm of the good side had been enhanced by some event which had smoothed the other side of her nose in, as warm wax can be smoothed. Her nose, however, did not look like warm wax. It was very cold and firmed, only smoothed in. “You like me?” she asked Guy. “He adores you,” I said. “But he doesn’t speak Italian.” “Ich spreche Deutsch,” she said, and stroked Guy’s hair. “Speak to the lady in your native tongue, Guy.” “Where do you come from?” asked the lady. “Potsdam.” “And you will stay here now for a little while?” “In this so dear Spezia?” I asked. “Tell her we have to go,” said Guy. “Tell her we are very ill, and have no money.” “My friend is a misogynist,” I said, “an old German misogynist.” “Tell him I love him.” I told him. “Will you shut your mouth and get us out of here?” Guy said. The lady had placed another arm around his neck. “Tell him he is mine,” she said. I told him. “Will you get us out of here?” “You are quarrelling,” the lady said. “You do not love one another.” “We are Germans,” I said proudly, “old South Germans.” “Tell him he is a beautiful boy,” the lady said. Guy is thirty-eight and takes some pride in the fact that he is taken for a travelling salesman in France. “You are a beautiful boy,” I said. “Who says so?” Guy asked, “you or her?” “She does. I’m just your interpreter. Isn’t that what you got me in on this trip for?” “I’m glad it’s her,” said Guy. “I didn’t want to have to leave you here too.” “I don’t know. Spezia’s a lovely place.” “Spezia,” the lady said. “You are talking about Spezia.” “Lovely place,” I said. “It is my country,” she said. “Spezia is my home and Italy is my country.” “She says that Italy is her country.” “Tell her it looks like her country,” Guy said. “What have you for dessert?” I asked. “Fruit,” she said. “We have bananas.” “Bananas are all right,” Guy said. “They’ve got skins on.” “Oh, he takes bananas,” the lady said. She embraced Guy. “What does she say?” he asked, keeping his face out of the way. “She is pleased because you take bananas.” “Tell her I don’t take bananas.” “The Signor does not take bananas.” “Ah,” said the lady, crestfallen, “he doesn’t take bananas.” “Tell her I take a cold bath every morning,” Guy said. “The Signor takes a cold bath every morning.” “No understand,” the lady said. Across from us, the property sailor had not moved. No one in the place paid any attention to him. “We want the bill,” I said. “Oh, no. You must stay.” “Listen,” the clean-cut young man said from the table where he was writing, “let them go. These two are worth nothing.” The lady took my hand. “You won’t stay? You won’t ask him to stay?”