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"Really? How kind... then, tell me about the Finca..." 

"I would like you to show me your portrait," the colonel said unexpectedly. 

"Portrait? What portrait?" 

"Don't tell me no portrait was made of you!" exclaimed the colonel and look annoyed.

"Sure they took pictures of me." I don't like him at all, I thought. But maybe he drank a few too many. But he's on vacation, poor colonel, why shouldn't he have a few martinis too many? I smiled at him. "Then tell me what's going on at the Finca."

"It will certainly be a beautiful portrait." the colonel decided. "She's not bad as a girl. It's after ten, now she's taking a martini" and I raised my arm to get the waiter's attention. 

"No thanks. No really." I said. 

"Always no and no. But this is not in the rules, is it, waiter, is it in the rules?"

"I don't understand that it is compulsory to drink martinis." he said of the waiter in a dry tone. 

"But we're at Harry's Bar in Venice!" laughed the colonel, banging his fist on the table. "Two martinis, waiter. Or rather, two Montgomery with garlic olives. Indeed, two super-Montgomery with garlic olives. And if the countess doesn't drink, it's all a scam."

I looked at the waiter and nodded yes. Then I looked at the colonel. His features seemed even coarser to me and his eyes more blurred. 

"So you said that mister Hemingway is writing..." I smiled at him.

"Yes... he's writing." 

"Who knows how many hours he sat writing at his table..." I smiled.