Several Times We Stopped And Had A Bottle Of Wine At One Place Or
Another, Till At Last We Came To A Beautiful Shady Place Looking
Down Towards The Lake Of Lugano Where We Were To Rest For Half-An-
Hour Or So.
There was a cantina here, so of course we had more
wine.
In that air, and with the walk and incessant state of
laughter in which we were being kept, we might drink ad libitum,
and the lady did not refuse a second small bicchiere. On this our
deaf friend assumed an anxious, fatherly air. He said nothing, but
put his eyeglass in his eye, and looked first at the lady's glass
and then at the lady with an expression at once kind, pitying, and
pained; he looked backwards and forwards from the glass to the lady
more than once, and then made as though he were going to quit a
scene in which it was plain he could be of no further use, throwing
up his hands and eyes like the old steward in Hogarth's "Marriage a
la mode." They never seemed to tire, and every fresh incident at
once suggested its appropriate treatment. Jones asked them whether
they thought they could mimic me. "Oh dear, yes," was the answer;
"we have mimicked him hundreds of times," and they at once began.
At last we reached Professor Vela's own cantina, and here we were
to have our final bottle. There were several other cantine hard
by, and other parties that had come like ourselves to take a walk
and get some wine.
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