“Of course you’ve never heard me sing,” he said.
“When will you sing here?”
“I’ll be at the Scala in the fall.”
“I’ll bet they throw the benches at you,” Ettore said. “Did you hear how they threw the benches at him in Modena?”
“It’s a damned lie.”
“They threw the benches at him,” Ettore said. “I was there. I threw six benches myself.”
“You’re just a wop from Frisco.”
“He can’t pronounce Italian,” Ettore said. “Everywhere he goes they throw the benches at him.”
“Piacenza’s the toughest house to sing in the north of Italy,” the other tenor said. “Believe me that’s a tough little house to sing.” This tenor’s name was Edgar Saunders, and he sang under the name of Edouardo Giovanni.
“I’d like to be there to see them throw the benches at you,” Ettore said. “You can’t sing Italian.”
“He’s a nut,” said Edgar Saunders. “All he knows how to say is throw benches.”
“That’s all they know how to do when you two sing,” Ettore said. “Then when you go to America you’ll tell about your triumphs at the Scala. They wouldn’t let you get by the first note at the Scala.”