ably have pictured villas,
maids in durance vile, and sword-thrusts under the moonlight. But the
waiter, who had served his time in one or another of the foreign armies,
knew that no foil or rapier could have made such a scar; more probably
the saber. For the Italian officer on horseback is the maddest of all
men, and in the spirit of play courts hazards that another man might
sensibly avoid in actual warfare.

His companion was less handsome but equally picturesque. His white head
and iron-grey beard placed him outside the active army. He wore in his
buttonhole a tiny bow of ribbon, the usual badge of the foreign service.

"I'm afraid, Enrico, that you have brought me to America on a useless
adventure," said the diplomat, lighting a thin, strong cigarette.

"She is here in New York, and I shall find her. I must have money, must!
I owe you the incredible amount of one hundred thousand lire. There are
millions under my hand, and I can not touch a penny."

"Do not let your debt to me worry you."

"You are so very good, Giuseppe!"

"Have we not grown up together? Sometimes I think I am partly to blame
for your extravagance. But a friend is a friend, or he is not."

"But he who borrows from his friend, loses him. Observe how I am placed!
It is maddening. I have had a dozen opportunities to marry riches. This
millstone is eternally round my neck. I have gone through my part of the
fortune which was left us independently. She has all of hers, and that
is why she is so strong. I am absolutely helpless."

"Poor friend! These American women! They all believe that a man must
have no peccadillos, once he has signed the marriage contract. Body of
Bacchus! the sacrament does not make a man less human than he was
before. But this one is clever. She might be Italian born."

"Her mother was Italian. It is the schooling in this country that has
made her so clever. The only thing Italian about her is her hatred. She
is my countrywoman there. Without her consent I can touch nothing; and
if I divorce her, pouff! all goes to the State. Sometimes I long to get
my two hands round her white throat. One mistake, one little mistake! I
am willing to swear that she loved me in the beginning. And I was a fool
not to profit by this sentiment. Give me patience, patience. If I say to
her, so much and you may have your freedom, there is always that cursed
will. The crown of Italy will never withdraw its hand; no. With his
wife's family on his