that there is always room for improvement. It does not do to be flattered into thinking that everything one does is perfect. I am very imperfect—’
‘The proprietor thinks you are beautiful,’ said James.
‘There, you see, he is the kind of flatterer who will make me think I am,’ said Sophie.
The proprietor re-emerged, bringing the coffee on a tray, the earthenware pot full, the cups rattling. He bowed the tray on to the table. He beamed at Sophie.
‘Beautiful,’ he said again, at which Sophie laughed and shook her head and James smiled. The proprietor chuckled happily as he disappeared. Anne returned to her chair. Sophie busied herself pouring coffee. James turned and eyed the view again as he stirred his coffee. The range of mountain heights was sharp under the light of the clarifying sun.
‘If you want to sketch,’ said Sophie, ‘we don’t mind.’
‘He’s dying to, aren’t you, James?’ said Anne. ‘So please do.’
He opened up his sketchbook. With his pencil he began to put down soft, sweeping impressions. The sisters watched him, Anne with interest, Sophie with a sensitive awareness that images were changing for her. He was still sketching when they had finished the coffee.
Anne said, ‘Do you think the proprietor will give us lunch? If not, we can drive up to Jajce and have it there. James?’
James allowed himself to be interrupted. He rattled his cup in the saucer. It brought the proprietor out after a moment or so. He blinked sleepy but amiable eyes.
‘Lunch?’ said James. ‘In an hour, perhaps?’
The proprietor reached for the coffee pot.
‘Good, yes?’ he said.
‘No, not more coffee,’ said James in his now not quite so erratic German, ‘food.’
‘Ah, so. I do you good food.’
‘In an hour,’ said James.
‘Good,’ said the genial fat one. He looked at Sophie and Anne, his beam plumply happy for them. ‘Beautiful,’ he said yet again, then returned to his chair in the shady comfort of his café.
‘Anne,’ said Sophie, ‘we have made a hit. Which is rather nice these days when it’s only motor cars that make a hit with most men. Perhaps our good proprietor will treat us to an excellent lunch. We shall pay for it, you and I, because we would like to treat James for once, wouldn’t we?Isn’t it intriguing to notice how people of rather stout proportions are nearly always much more affable than everyone else? Do you remember the story about the fat man of Salzburg? His smile was wider than his front door, and he was always smiling, and when he laughed the church bells shook, and the only thing that worried him were his extraordinarily large feet. He grew fatter each year and when at last he was so fat that he could no longer see his feet he laughed so much that the church bells chimed.’
James, for all his concentration, said, ‘Oh, good God, Sophie.’
Anne said, ‘But, Sophie, if he was always smiling and his smile was wider than his front door, how did he get through it?’
‘Oh, he took a deep breath,’ said Sophie coolly, ‘and edged out sideways.’
James laughed.
‘It’s difficult for a fat man to hold a deep breath,’ said Anne.
‘Naturally,’ said Sophie, ‘there were times when he got stuck.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘He laughed,’ said Sophie.
‘And brought the house down,’ said James.
Inside the café the sleepy proprietor chuckled. It was good to hear people laughing. They were all laughing, those three. They were nice people.
‘I think we’re interrupting James,’ said Anne.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, James,’ said Sophie. ‘Anne, let us leave him to it for a while. We can walk up tothe top of the village and look around. There may be a shop. They sell braid and lace in some of these places.’
‘Watch out for the fleas,’ said James as the girls rose.
‘Fleas?’ said Anne a little uncertainly.
‘They don’t sell them, not in these places,’ said James, ‘they give them away.’
‘Well, whatever they
‘The proprietor thinks you are beautiful,’ said James.
‘There, you see, he is the kind of flatterer who will make me think I am,’ said Sophie.
The proprietor re-emerged, bringing the coffee on a tray, the earthenware pot full, the cups rattling. He bowed the tray on to the table. He beamed at Sophie.
‘Beautiful,’ he said again, at which Sophie laughed and shook her head and James smiled. The proprietor chuckled happily as he disappeared. Anne returned to her chair. Sophie busied herself pouring coffee. James turned and eyed the view again as he stirred his coffee. The range of mountain heights was sharp under the light of the clarifying sun.
‘If you want to sketch,’ said Sophie, ‘we don’t mind.’
‘He’s dying to, aren’t you, James?’ said Anne. ‘So please do.’
He opened up his sketchbook. With his pencil he began to put down soft, sweeping impressions. The sisters watched him, Anne with interest, Sophie with a sensitive awareness that images were changing for her. He was still sketching when they had finished the coffee.
Anne said, ‘Do you think the proprietor will give us lunch? If not, we can drive up to Jajce and have it there. James?’
James allowed himself to be interrupted. He rattled his cup in the saucer. It brought the proprietor out after a moment or so. He blinked sleepy but amiable eyes.
‘Lunch?’ said James. ‘In an hour, perhaps?’
The proprietor reached for the coffee pot.
‘Good, yes?’ he said.
‘No, not more coffee,’ said James in his now not quite so erratic German, ‘food.’
‘Ah, so. I do you good food.’
‘In an hour,’ said James.
‘Good,’ said the genial fat one. He looked at Sophie and Anne, his beam plumply happy for them. ‘Beautiful,’ he said yet again, then returned to his chair in the shady comfort of his café.
‘Anne,’ said Sophie, ‘we have made a hit. Which is rather nice these days when it’s only motor cars that make a hit with most men. Perhaps our good proprietor will treat us to an excellent lunch. We shall pay for it, you and I, because we would like to treat James for once, wouldn’t we?Isn’t it intriguing to notice how people of rather stout proportions are nearly always much more affable than everyone else? Do you remember the story about the fat man of Salzburg? His smile was wider than his front door, and he was always smiling, and when he laughed the church bells shook, and the only thing that worried him were his extraordinarily large feet. He grew fatter each year and when at last he was so fat that he could no longer see his feet he laughed so much that the church bells chimed.’
James, for all his concentration, said, ‘Oh, good God, Sophie.’
Anne said, ‘But, Sophie, if he was always smiling and his smile was wider than his front door, how did he get through it?’
‘Oh, he took a deep breath,’ said Sophie coolly, ‘and edged out sideways.’
James laughed.
‘It’s difficult for a fat man to hold a deep breath,’ said Anne.
‘Naturally,’ said Sophie, ‘there were times when he got stuck.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘He laughed,’ said Sophie.
‘And brought the house down,’ said James.
Inside the café the sleepy proprietor chuckled. It was good to hear people laughing. They were all laughing, those three. They were nice people.
‘I think we’re interrupting James,’ said Anne.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, James,’ said Sophie. ‘Anne, let us leave him to it for a while. We can walk up tothe top of the village and look around. There may be a shop. They sell braid and lace in some of these places.’
‘Watch out for the fleas,’ said James as the girls rose.
‘Fleas?’ said Anne a little uncertainly.
‘They don’t sell them, not in these places,’ said James, ‘they give them away.’
‘Well, whatever they
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