II
Gian-Luca was taking late service at the Doric when the news came that England had joined in the war; like lightning it spread from table to table, and people suddenly stopped eating. Millo, rather pale but perfectly composed, whispered a word to his band; there was silence for a moment, and then through the restaurant sounded the National Anthem. A strange, new meaning the hymn had that night. So simple and yet so poignant a meaning, that something leapt into Gian-Luca’s heart, a feeling of bitter resentment. The clients at his tables had forgotten their suppers, of one accord they stood up and sang.
“They are singing because they have a country!” thought Gian-Luca. And presently when the singing had ceased, he turned away from those people.
But in the large restaurant he ran into Riccardo, whose eyes were unusually bright. Riccardo’s perfect manner had completely left him, he appeared to forget that he was a headwaiter, and seizing Gian-Luca’s unwilling arm, he dragged him behind a screen.
“Dio! It is here?” exclaimed Riccardo. “If only our Italy comes in! Surely our country will fight against Austria? Think of it, amico, we have waited so long, and now at last we get our chance!”
Gian-Luca was silent, and this angered Riccardo. “Do you not feel for our country?” he demanded.
“It is not my country,” said Gian-Luca sullenly. “I am told that it is not my country.”