dining-room, which was filled with tobacco-smoke, and with men seated at
little tables all about.

Then the gardener gave his message, to which the landlord replied, "It
is all right." The landlady came too, and both looked Rico over from
head to foot. When the guests at the neighboring tables espied the
fiddle under Rico's arm, several of them called out together, "There is
music!" And another one shouted, "Play something, boy, quickly;
something gay!" And they all began to shout for music so noisily that
the landlord could hardly make Rico hear him when he asked what language
he spoke, and whence he came. Rico replied in his own language that he
came down over the Maloja, that he could understand every thing that was
said to him, but could not reply in the same language. The landlord
understood him, and said that he had been up there in the mountains, and
they would have a little conversation later; but now the boy must really
play something, for the guests called for music incessantly.

Rico, obedient as ever, began to play, and also to sing his own song as
usual. But the company did not understand the words, and the tune seemed
very dull to them also. Some began to make jokes and noises, while
others called for something different,--a dance, or a pretty tune.

Rico sang every verse of his song to the very end; for when he had once
begun it, he would not stop until it was finished properly. When he had
finished, he bethought himself. He knew no dance music, so that was out
of the question. The hymn he had learned from the grandmother was very
slow, and they would not understand that either. Then he remembered, and
began the air,--

"Una Sera