Venice. When I have received from
the bookseller the price of my labour, I will not forget that
you succoured me with a small coin in the time of my sharpest
trial."

The bookbinder, case-hardened as he was against beggars, who
on winter evenings drifted into his shop with the east wind,
nevertheless experienced a certain sympathy and respect for the
Marquis Tudesco. He slipped a franc-piece into his hand.

Thereupon the old Italian, like a man inspired, exclaimed:

"One Nation there is that is unhappy--Italy, one generous
People--France; and one bond that unites the twain--humanity.
Ah! chiefest of the virtues, humanity, humanity!"

Meantime the bookbinder was pondering his wife's last words: "I
wish my Jean to learn Latin." He hesitated, till seeing Monsieur
Tudesco bowing and smiling to go:

"Sir," he said, "if you are ready, two or three times a week,
to give the boy lessons in French and Latin, we might come to
terms."

The Marquis Tudesco expressed no surprise. He smiled and said:

"Certainly, sir, as you wish it, I shall find it a delightful
task to initiate your son in the mysteries of the Latin rudiments.

"We will make a man of him and a good citizen, and God knows
what heights my pupil will scale in this noble land of freedom
and generosity. He may one day be ambassador, my dear sir. I
say it: knowledge is power."

"You will know the shop again," said the bookbinder; "there is
my name on the signboard."

The Marquis Tudesco, after tweaking the son's ear amicably and
bowing to the father with a dignified familiarity, walked away
with a step that was still jaunty.

IV

The Marquis Tudesco returned in due course, smiled at Mademoiselle
Servien, who darted poisonous looks at him, greeted the bookbinder
with a discreet air of patronage, and had a supply of grammars
and dictionaries bought.

At first he gave his lessons with exemplary regularity. He had
taken a liking to these repetitions of nouns and verbs, which he
listened to with a dignified, condescending air, slowly unrolling
his screw of snuff the while; he only interrupted to interject
little playful remarks with a geniality just touched with a trace
of ferocity, that bespoke his real nature as an unctuous, cringing
bully. He was jocular and pompous at the same time, and always
made a pretence of being a long time in seeing the glass of wine
put on the table for his refreshment.

The bookbinder, regarding him as a clever man of i