iefly. "Then clean them and put them in good order. I
may require to use them."

The imperturbable Vincenzo bowed, and taking the weapons, prepared to
leave the room.

"Stay!"

He turned. I looked at him steadily.

"I believe you are a faithful fellow, Vincenzo," I said.

He met my glance frankly.

"The day may come," I went on, quietly, "when I shall perhaps put your
fidelity to the proof."

The dark Tuscan eyes, keen and clear the moment before, flashed
brightly and then grew humid.

"Eccellenza, you have only to command! I was a soldier once--I know
what duty means. But there is a better service--gratitude. I am your
poor servant, but you have won my heart. I would give my life for you
should you desire it!"

He paused, half ashamed of the emotion that threatened to break through
his mask of impassibility, bowed again and would have left me, but that
I called him back and held out my hand.

"Shake hands, amico" I said, simply.

He caught it with an astonished yet pleased look--and stooping, kissed
it before I could prevent him, and this time literally scrambled out of
my presence with an entire oblivion of his usual dignity. Left alone, I
considered this behavior of his with half-pained surprise. This poor
fellow loved me it was evident--why, I knew not. I had done no more for
him than any other master might have done for a good servant. I had
often spoken to him with impatience, even harshness; and yet I had "won
his heart"--so he said. Why should he care for me? why should my poor
old butler Giacoma cherish me so devotedly in his memory; why should my
very dog still love and obey me, when my nearest and dearest, my wife
and my friend, had so gladly forsaken me, and were so eager to forget
me! Perhaps fidelity was not the fashion now among educated persons?
Perhaps it was a worn-out virtue, left to the bas-peuple--to the
vulgar--and to animals? Progress might have attained this result--no
doubt it had.

I sighed wearily, and threw myself clown in an arm-chair near the
window, and watched the white-sailed boats skimming like flecks of
silver across the blue-green water. The tinkling of a tambourine by and
by attracted my wandering attention, and looking into the street just
below my balcony I saw a young girl dancing. She was lovely to look at,
and she danced with exquisite grace as well as modesty, but the beauty
of her face was not so much caused by perfection of feature or outline
as by a certain