"Nothing of the kind," said Mrs. Kenton. "I am not going out at all to-day. It's too cold; and if we are to push on to Trieste to-morrow, I shall need the whole day to get a little rested. Besides, I have some jobs of mending to do that can't be put off any longer."
The colonel listened with an air of joyous admiration. "Bessie," said he, "this is inspiration. _I_ don't want to see their old town; and I shall ask nothing better than to spend the day with you here at our own fireside. You can sew, and I--I'll _read_ to you, Bessie!" This was a little too gross; even Mrs. Kenton laughed at this, the act of reading being so abhorrent to Colonel Kenton's active temperament that he was notorious for his avoidance of all literature except newspapers. In about ten minutes, passed in an agreeable idealization of his purpose, which came in that time to include the perusal of all the books on Italy he had picked up on their journey, the colonel said he would go down and ask the portier if they had the New York papers.
When he returned, somewhat disconsolate, to say they had not, and had apparently never heard of the Herald or Tribune, his wife smiled subtly: "Then I suppose you'll have to go to the consul's for them."
"Why, Bessie, it isn't a thing I should have suggested; I can't bear the thoughts of leaving you here alone; but as you _say_! No, I'll tell you: I'll not go for the New York papers, but I will just step round and call upon the representative of the country--pay my respects to him, you know--if you _wish_ it. But I'd far rather spend the time here with you, Bessie, in our cosy little boudoir; I would, indeed."
Mrs. Kenton now laughed outright, and--it was a tremendous sarcasm for her--asked him if he were not afraid the example of the Black Forest was becoming infectious.
"Oh, come now, Bessie; no joking," pleaded the colonel, in mock distress. "I'll tell you what, my dear, the head waiter here speaks English like a--an Ollendorff; and if you get to feeling a little lonesome while I'm out, you can just ring and order something from him, you know. It will cheer you up to hear the sound of your native tongue in a foreign land. But, pshaw! _I_ sha'nt be gone a minute!"