When the _portier_ addressed momma as "Signora" her cup of bliss ran over, and she made up her mind that she felt able, after all, to go down to dinner.
Remembering their sentiments, we bowed as slightly as possible when we saw the Miss Binghams across the table, and the Senator threw that into his voice, as he inquired how they liked _la belle Italie_ so far, and whether they had had any trouble with their trunks coming in, which might have given them to understand that his politeness was very perfunctory.

If they perceived it, they allowed it to influence them the other way, however.

They asked, almost as cordially as if we were middle-class English people, whether we had actually survived that trip to Versailles, and forbore to comment when we said we had enjoyed it, beyond saying that if there was one enviable thing it was the American capacity for pleasure.

Yet one could see quite plainly that the vacuum caused by the absence of the American capacity for pleasure was filled in their case by something very superior to it.
"This city new to you ?" asked the Senator as the meal progressed.
"In a _sense_, yes," replied Miss Nancy Bingham.
"We've never _studied_ it before," said Miss Cora.
"I suppose it has a fascination all its own," remarked momma.
"Oh, rather!" exclaimed Miss Nancy Bingham, and I reflected that when she was in England she must have seen a great deal of school-boy society.

I decided at once, noting its effect upon the lips of a middle-aged maiden lady, that momma must not be allowed to pick up the expression.
"It's simply full of associations of old families--the Dorias, the Pallavicinis, the Durazzos," remarked Miss Cora.