The clown, having recovered his breath, cut a caper. Instantly "Yankee Doodle" came to an end, and the children all stopped to watch him. "Tell them to play a waltz," said Miss Senter to Carmela, who was in waiting at the door. The deputy must have flown up the little stairway leading to the gallery, for the waltz began in less than a minute. Then Ercole, selecting a pretty American child from among the group, began to dance with her in the most charming way, followed by all the little ones, two and two. Those who could waltz, did so; those who could not, held each other's hands and hopped about. Supper followed. The hot things were smoking and delicious, and the supplies constantly renewed; old Giorgio was evidently on his mettle. It was the gondolier, still in his clown's dress, who brought in these supplies and handed them to the waiters from Florian's. "You need not do that, Ercole," said Miss Senter, in an undertone; "these men can go to the kitchen for them." Ercole bowed; it would not have been respectful to reply with his grinning linen lips. But he continued to fill the same office. "Perhaps Giorgio won't have Florian's people in the kitchen!" the Consuless reflected. As soon as supper was over, the children clamored for their clown, and he came bounding in a second time, and, after several astonishing capers, selected a beautiful English child with long golden curls and led a galop, followed again by all the others, two and two. Peter, his mind still occupied with his project of taking the young Italian to America as a star performer, moved from point to point, in order to get different views of him. One of these stations was in the doorway, and here Carmela spoke to him in a low tone, and asked him to come to the outer hall. He did not understand her words; but he comprehended her gesture and followed her. She was talking angrily, almost spluttering, as she led the way. But her talk was lost on her master, who, however, opened his eyes when he saw four policemen standing at his outer door. "What do you want here?" he said. "This is a private residence, and you are disturbing a Christmas party." The chief officer told his tale. But Peter did not comprehend him. "You should have gone to the Consulate," he went on. "The Consulate, you know--Riva Skevony. The vice-consul won't be there so late as this; but you'll find him early to-morrow morning, sure." The policemen, however, remained where they were. "There's no making them understand a word," said Peter to himself, in irritation. "Here, you go and call my sister," he said to Carmela, who, in her wrath over this intrusion, stood at a distance swallowing nothing in a series of gulps that made her throat twitch. "Let's see; sister, that's sorelly. Sorelly!" he repeated to Carmela. "Sorelly!"