'What do you say?' the small one asked in reply.
The others stood and watched, slightly at bay, like suspicious animals.
'If I might come and look,' I said in German; then, feeling very
uncomfortable, in Italian: 'You are doing a drama, the landlady
told me.'
The big empty room was behind me, dark, the little company of Italians
stood above me in the light of the lamp which was on the table. They all
watched with unseeing, unwilling looks: I was merely an intrusion.
'We are only learning it,' said the small youth.
They wanted me to go away. But I wanted to stay.
'May I listen?' I said. 'I don't want to stay in there.' And I
indicated, with a movement of the head, the inn-room beyond.
'Yes,' said the young intelligent man. 'But we are only reading our
parts.'
They had all become more friendly to me, they accepted me.
'You are a German?' asked one youth.
'No--English.'
'English? But do you live in Switzerland?'
'No--I am walking to Italy.'
'On foot?'
They looked with wakened eyes.
'Yes.'
So I told them about my journey. They were puzzled. They did not quite
understand why I wanted to walk.
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