Whereupon I lighted my cigar.

“Did she say anything more?”

“If you had counted her words you would have noticed that she used exactly six, two of which gave me to understand that she knew no French, so four remained, and much can be said in four words.”

Paul seemed quite unhappy, disappointed, and at sea, so to speak.

But suddenly the Italian asked me, in that tone of discontent which seemed habitual to her, “Do you know at what time we shall get to Genoa?”

“At eleven o’clock,” I replied.  Then after a moment I went on: 

“My friend and I are also going to Genoa, and if we can be of any service to you, we shall be very happy, as you are quite alone.”  But she interrupted with such a “Mica!” that I did not venture on another word.

“What did she say?” Paul asked.

“She said she thought you were charming.”

But he was in no humor for joking, and begged me dryly not to make fun of him; so I translated her question and my polite offer, which had been so rudely rejected.

Then he really became as restless as a caged squirrel.

“If we only knew,” he said, “what hotel she was going to, we would go to the same.  Try to find out so as to have another opportunity to make her talk.”

It was not particularly easy, and I did not know what pretext to invent, desirous as I was to make the acquaintance of this unapproachable person.

We passed Nice, Monaco, Mentone, and the train stopped at the frontier for the examination of luggage.

Although I hate those ill-bred people who breakfast and dine in railway-carriages, I went and bought a quantity of good things to make one last attack on her by their means.  I felt sure that this girl must, ordinarily, be by no means inaccessible.  Something had put her out and made her irritable, but very little would suffice, a mere word or some agreeable offer, to decide her and vanquish her.

We started again, and we three were still alone.  I spread my eatables on the seat.  I cut up the fowl, put the slices of ham neatly on a piece of paper, and then carefully laid out our dessert, strawberries, plums, cherries and cakes, close to the girl.

When she saw that we were about to eat she took a piece of chocolate and two little crisp cakes out of her pocket and began to munch them.

“Ask her to have some of ours,” Paul said in a whisper.

“That is exactly what I wish to do, but it is rather a difficult matter.”

As she, however, glanced from time to time at our provisions, I felt sure that she would still be hungry when she had finished what she had with her; so, as soon as her frugal meal was over, I said to her: 

“It would be very kind of you if you would take some of this fruit.”

Again she said “Mica!” but less crossly than before.

“Well, then,” I said, “may I offer you a little wine?  I see you have not drunk anything.  It is Italian wine, and as we are now in your own country, we should be very pleased to see such a pretty Italian mouth accept the offer of its French neighbors.”