to me as I
didn't understand no more than the babe unborn. Now, if I was swore
in," Hinge proceeded, with an air of argument, "and if I was swore in in
anything but a civil capacity, that can't be counted as being binding on
my heart and conscience. Now, can it, sir?"

"You silly fellow," I answered, "you couldn't have been sworn in without
being aware of it. A man cannot vow and promise that he will do anything
without his own knowledge and desire."

"Well, then, sir," said Hinge, apparently relieved a little, "if I was
swore in--and I might have been, you know, sir--I don't know but what
they might have thought they'd done it--but even if it was so, you
wouldn't think it binding?"

"Of course it couldn't be binding, but of course nothing of the sort was
done. You were engaged, as I understand, as a groom." Hinge assented.
"You happened to be engaged by a gentleman who was an officer in a
foreign army. You don't suppose that an officer makes it his business to
swear in all his civilian servants, do you?"

"Why, no, sir," Hinge admitted. "But it was a foreign country, and a lot
of things was said to me as I didn't understand no more than the babe
unborn."

"You may make your mind quite easy on that score, Hinge. You are not
in any way bound to the Austrian service. But what difference can that
possibly make to you now?"

"Why, sir," said Hinge, scratching his head again, "I've lived among
them Austrians, and I don't like 'em. I'm for Italy, I am. I used to
think, sir, as the Italians was a organ-grinding class of people as a
body, and I never had much respect for 'em. But I've seen a lot in six
months, sir, and I've learned a bit, if I may make so bold as to say so.
There's the count, now, sir; anybody can see as he's a gentleman. Why,
if you'll believe me, sir, I've never seen a gentleman as was more a
gentleman than the count. But, bless your heart, sir, you'd never have
thought so if you'd a known him all the years as I did, off and on,
a-living worse than a wild beast behind a muck-heap, and in a cellar
underneath the stables. Now you know, sir," proceeded Hinge, growing
warm and even angry with the theme, "that ain't civilized; it ain't
Christian; it ain't treating a man as if you was a man yourself. Because
a gentleman goes and fights for his country--that's a natural thing to
do, ain't it?--they keep him dirtier and darker and 'orribler than any
wild beast I ever see, for twenty years, and would have kept