He showed an eager interest in me quite apart from his duty to me as waiter.

He was nearer sixty, than fifty, but it was not his age which made his hand tremble as he laid down a plate before me or served me with coffee and bread.

Whether this interest was malevolent or kindly I found it impossible to judge.

He had a stoic's face with but one eloquent feature--his eyes; and these he kept studiously lowered after that one quick glance.

Would it help matters for me to address him?
Possibly, but I decided not to risk it.