"Those little phones are everywhere." "I know," said Sam, looking back. "Everybody wants to—what do you call it?—show off with a telefonino." He was trying to lead the way into a broad intersection, but it was almost impossible to squeeze through crowds of tourists buying carnival masks like suns and moons and funny hats with checkers and stripes. Homer shuffled after him, looking at the greedy smiling faces of his American compatriots, wondering if callow cheerfulness was a general American trait. If so, then he was ashamed for his fellow citizens and ashamed for himself. In the face of the troubles of the world, surely cheerfulness was an infantile attitude. But in the crowded interior of the Cantina do Spade cheerfulness prevailed. Sam and Homer settled down at a small table and Homer looked eagerly at the menu. Sam was not interested in food. He began talking quickly, leaning forward across the table, his face a mask of misery, and at once Homer was confronted with the enigmatically Italian part of Samuele Bell.
