He was dining at our table, and by his gratified manner when we sat down, it was plain that he could speak English and would be very pleased to do so.

Poppa, knowing that his time was short, began at once.
"You belong to Bologna, sir ?" he inquired with his first spoonful of soup.

For some reason it seems impossible to address a stranger at a _table d'hote_, before the soup takes the baldness off the situation.
The gentleman smiled.

He had a broad, open, amiable, red face, with a short black beard and a round head covered with thick hair in curls, beautifully parted.

"I do not think I belong," he said; "my house of business, it is at Milan, and I am born at Finalmarina.