V + 

Gian-Luca worked better than ever in the autumn, determined to slay this thing that possessed him, this spirit of indifference and depression. People were hurrying back from the country, and the Doric was full to overflowing once more; then one morning the telephone rang loud and long, it was someone demanding the headwaiter. + 

Gian-Luca put the receiver to his ear: “Yes, I am the headwaiter⁠—the restaurant, yes⁠—” + 

“I want a table for two,” came a voice, “it must be a small little table and quiet⁠—for two, yes, next Thursday for lunch, half-past one⁠—I want a quiet little table for two. Are you an Italian? Then for God’s sake talk Italian!” And the voice proceeded to order a luncheon that spoke well for its owner’s palate. + 

“What name, signore?” inquired Gian-Luca when at last the order was completed. + 

“Doria⁠—have you got it?” came the voice less distinctly. “A table for Ugo Doria.” + 

Then Gian-Luca suddenly ceased to be a waiter. “Ugo Doria, the poet?” he babbled. + 

“Ma si, I am the poet⁠—never mind about that, have you got it all down about the luncheon?” + 

Gian-Luca walked straight into Millo’s office. “Ugo Doria is lunching here next Thursday, signore; I have come to ask if I may serve him myself⁠—” + 

Millo looked up from a bundle of papers. “Doria the poet?” he inquired. + 

“Si, signore, Ugo Doria, and coming to the Doric⁠—I have just written down his order.” + 

Gian-Luca’s voice sounded young with excitement. Millo glanced at him in surprise. “You are fond of poetry then, Gian-Luca? Doria is certainly a great writer, but I did not know that you were a great reader. Have you read his new epic, ‘The Sowing of Peace’? It is very lovely, I think.” + 

“Yes, but have I your permission to serve him myself, signore?” + 

“Certainly, Gian-Luca, why not? Let Daniele take your place in the restaurant during luncheon, I would wish you to serve Ugo Doria.” + 

“Thank you,” said Gian-Luca, “you have made me very happy.” And his eyes were actually shining. + 

“How curious; he reads Ugo Doria’s poems,” thought Millo as his headwaiter left him. “How little one knows about other men’s minds, and as for their hearts⁠—well, nothing.” + 

That afternoon Gian-Luca went back to Maddalena. “Maddalena! Where are you?” he shouted. + 

“I am here,” she answered, coming quickly towards him. “I am waiting for you, piccino.” + 

Then he hugged her, and laughed, and told her the great news⁠—Ugo Doria was coming to the Doric. “And I shall serve him myself, Maddalena; my hands only shall serve him!” Presently he said: “When I was very young⁠—before I left the Capo, Maddalena⁠—I used to long for this thing to happen, I used to long to serve Doria. I used to see myself pouring out his wine and passing his food with a flourish; I used to wish to impress him, I remember⁠—I distinctly remember that I wished to impress him⁠—but he never came to the Capo.” + 

“And now you can do it all!” she said gladly; “you, who are a headwaiter! I hope he will know who it is who serves him, but of course he will see by your necktie.” + 

Gian-Luca teased her: “He will know by my appearance; he will know by my splendid appearance! He will say: ‘Why here comes the great Gian-Luca!’ And then no doubt he will write me a poem, inspired by my exquisite waiting.” + 

She scarcely dared to believe her own eyes, Gian-Luca was laughing with pleasure. He was young and gay and affectionate again, and all because Doria was coming to the Doric! But what did that matter, so long as he was happy, happy and kind to Maddalena? + 

She said: “I will bless this man Ugo Doria, because he has made you smile.” + 

Then Gian-Luca kissed her: “It is foolish perhaps, but yes, I feel as excited as a schoolboy.” After which he must needs get out Doria’s poems, and read her the “Gioia della Luce.” + 