V + 

That evening Mario acquitted himself better; Rosa had managed to cheer him up, and when he came back he was looking almost playful. + 

“Ah, Gian-Luca,” he said very brightly, as they washed their hands together at the sink, “and what do you think of the Capo di Monte? Is it not rather fine?” + 

Gian-Luca was silent for a moment, then he said: “I think that one must begin.” + 

“Jawohl,” agreed Schmidt, “one must begin. I am nur here to learn English.” + 

The evening clients appeared more aristocratic, some of them had dressed for dinner. The Capo was occasionally patronized by people who were going on to the theatre. This amused Gian-Luca; he liked the women’s clothes and the neat dress suits of the men. + 

“Some day I will have waistcoat buttons like his,” he decided, examining a smart young man out of the corner of his eye. + 

Once or twice Gian-Luca was actually able to get near to these elegant people. + 

“A match?” said Gian-Luca, striking one with a flourish and holding it to a fair lady’s cigarette. + 

“Thank you,” said the fair lady with a small, fleeting smile. + 

“Niente, signora,” bowed Gian-Luca. + 

“That was very well done,” whispered generous Mario; “that was done with distinction and grace.” + 

But the next time Gian-Luca offered a match his hand was pushed away with a curt refusal. + 

“If I want one I’ll ask,” said a lonely male diner, beginning to study the menu. + 

The Padrone was very busy recommending wines to those who had dressed for dinner. A handful of bank clerks and suchlike people he ignored completely, as did the Padrona, though some of them lifted their hats to her in passing and one youth openly admired her. Gian-Luca, of course, had no time to admire her, though he felt very conscious of her presence; when passing the bar he would look the other way because he so much wished to look at her. He hoped that she observed him with an armful of plates, quite as many as Schmidt could manage. When he felt her eyes on him, he assumed the grand air, he whisked out his napkin or made a remark with a shrug of the shoulders to Mario. If he had to approach her he became very stiff. + 

“A packet of Gold-Flakes, if you please, signora.” + 

“Ecco! How many packets?” + 

“Only one, please, signora.” + 

“Very well, there you are then, Gian-Luca.” + 

And off he would go without even a glance, convinced that the Padrona was smiling. He could feel that smile on the back of his head; it seemed to be singeing his hair. + 

They had had to abandon serving suppers at the Capo after a fortnight’s trial. The Padrone was too experienced a slave-driver not to be able to gauge with some niceness the limits of endurance of his slaves. At half-past ten or a little after, the waiters found themselves free, and Mario, Gian-Luca, and the still cheerful Schmidt were jostled together in a last frantic effort to get out of and into their clothes. Mario appeared to have wilted again, his round face looked weary and drawn; from time to time he would glance through the door as though expecting something to happen. And it happened quite soon; downstairs came the Padrone, they could hear him talking to himself⁠—he was muttering fiercely under his breath. + 

“He works himself up,” thought Gian-Luca. + 

The Padrone stood still in the doorway for a moment with his soft brown eyes fixed on Mario; then he opened his mouth and began to shout. All the while he was shouting his eyes remained gentle⁠—dove’s eyes in the face of a tiger. One by one he checked off the mistakes of the day, beginning with the horror of the salad: + 

“Scemo! Imbecille! Sporcaccione!” he shouted. “How long am I going to endure you! You limp round my place like an old lame mule; no one else would engage you; very well you know that! If you did not come cheap, I myself would dismiss you; you bring shame on my Capo di Monte.” + 

And then, as though Heaven itself cast off Mario, Schmidt happened to move his foot⁠—the toe of his boot struck full on that joint that had ached so intolerably all day. With a sharp yell of anguish Mario collapsed like a rag doll against the wall; his face grew red and, to Gian-Luca’s horror, he suddenly burst into tears. + 