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Chapter 19

           Ihadamartinialone,paidforit,pickeduptheboxofchocolateattheoutsidecounterandwalkedonhometowardthehospital.OutsidethelittlebarupthestreetfromtheScalathereweresomepeopleIknew,avice-consul,twofellowswhostudiedsinging,andEttoreMoretti,anItalianfromSanFranciscowhowasintheItalianarmy.Ihadadrinkwiththem.OneofthesingerswasnamedRalphSimmons,andhewassingingunderthenameofEnricoDelCredo.Ineverknewhowwellhecouldsingbuthewasalwaysonthepointofsomethingverybighappening.Hewasfatandlookedshopwornaroundthenoseandmouthasthoughhehadhayfever.HehadcomebackfromsinginginPiacenza.HehadsungToscaandithadbeenwonderful.

           "Ofcourseyou’veneverheardmesing,"hesaid.

           "Whenwillyousinghere?"

           "I’llbeattheScalainthefall."

           "I’llbettheythrowthebenchesatyou,"Ettoresaid."DidyouhearhowtheythrewthebenchesathiminModena?"

           "It’sadamnedlie."

           "Theythrewthebenchesathim,"Ettoresaid."Iwasthere.Ithrewsixbenchesmyself."

           "You’rejustawopfromFrisco."

           "Hecan’tpronounceItalian,"Ettoresaid."Everywherehegoestheythrowthebenchesathim."

           "Piacenza’sthetoughesthousetosinginthenorthofItaly,"theothertenorsaid."Believemethat’satoughlittlehousetosing."Thistenor’snamewasEdgarSaunders,andhesangunderthenameofEdouardoGiovanni.

           "I’dliketobetheretoseethemthrowthebenchesatyou."Ettoresaid.

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