His supple back achieved another bow.
'Sank you,' he murmured.
'And you don't happen to have an aunt ?' 'An aunt, signore ?' There was vagueness in his tone.
'Yes, Gustavo, an aunt.

A female relative who reads you like an open book, who sees your faults and skips your virtues, who remembers how dear and good and obliging your father was at your age, who hoped great things of you when you were a baby, who had intended to make you her heir but has about decided to endow an orphan asylum--have you, Gustavo, by chance an aunt ?' '_Si_, signore.' 'I do not think you grasp my question.

An _aunt_--the sister of your father, or perhaps your mother.' A gleam of illumination swept over Gustavo's troubled features.
'_Ecco_! You would know if I haf a _zia_--a aunt--yes, zat is it.

A aunt.
_Sicuramente_, signore, I haf ten--leven aunt.' 'Eleven aunts! Before such a tragedy I am speechless; you need say no more, Gustavo, from this moment we are friends.' He held out his hand.

Gustavo regarded it dazedly; then, since it seemed to be expected, he gingerly presented his own.