him all his
miserable life, sir. I used to get that 'ot about it when I found it out
I used to feel as if I was ready to do murder. I did, indeed, sir. And
yet I can appeal to you, sir, and ask you fair and square, between an
officer and his servant, if I am not a civil spoken person, as a rule. I
believe I am, sir, and yet I used to feel as if it 'd do me good, every
now and then, to go out and shoot a Austrian."

"I suppose," I said, "that the upshot of all this is that when I go to
Italy you want to go with me."

"That's it, sir," Hinge returned, delightedly. "If I'm only free, sir,
if I was engaged in nothing but a civil capacity--"

"You are quite free to go," I told him; "and I had thoroughly made up my
mind to take you with me, supposing always that you were willing to be
taken."

"I'm more than willing, sir," Hinge responded. "I should like to hear
'Boot and saddle' again, sir; so would you, I am sure."

I had never heard Hinge break out like this before, and the good
fellow's enthusiasm and right-thinking pleased me, and as I went on
dressing I kept, him talking.

"I should think, sir," he said, and he was about me all the while in his
usual handy and unobtrusive fashion--"I should think, sir, as anybody as
knowed the count 'd be glad to fight on his side. It makes you want
to fight for a gentleman like that as has gone through so much. And if
you'll excuse me telling you, sir, what makes me so pertickler glad to
go--"

"Yes," I said, for he paused and looked a trifle confused. "Go on, what
is it?"

"Well, sir," he answered, "I know it isn't right in my place to be
talking, but there's Miss Rossano, sir--" I turned rather sharply round
on him at the mention of that name, and Hinge, standing at attention,
saluted. "No harm meant, sir," he said, "and I 'ope, sir, there's
no offence. But I took a letter from you to Miss Rossano, sir, last
Wednesday week. It was the second time as I was in the house, sir, and
when Miss Rossano came out to give me the answer, she saw as it was
me, and she asks me in; and there was the count, sir, a-sitting in the
parlor. And says Miss Rossano, 'Father,' she says, 'here's the faithful
man,' she says, 'as treated you so kind when you was in prison along
with them blooming Austrians,' she says; and the count he gets up in
his grand way, and he shakes me by the hand, with his other hand on my
shoulder. They'd have made me sit down between them, sir, if I'd a done
it, and the