Zealand, or some far-away country,
and all I shall carry with me will be the memory of this dream--for
it is a dream--of our life here. I wonder shall I ever, as I have seen
other men, throw myself into my work, and efface the thought of myself,
and of my own poor weak nature, in the higher interests that will press
on me for action."

What should he do if men came to him for guidance, or counsel, or
consolation. Could he play the hypocrite, and pretend to give what he
had not got? or tell them to trust to what he bitterly knew was not
the sustaining principle of his own life? "This shall be so no longer,"
cried he; "if I cannot go heart and soul into my work, I 'll turn farmer
or fisherman. I 'll be what I can be without shame and self-reproach.
One week more of this happiness--one week--and I vow to tear myself from
it forever."

As he thus muttered, he found himself in the narrow street that led into
the centre of the little town, which, blocked up by fruit-stalls
and fish-baskets, required all his address to navigate. The whole
population, too, were screaming out their wares in the shrill cries of
the South, and invitations to buy were blended with droll sarcasms on
rival productions and jeering comments on the neighbors. Though full
of deference for the unmistakable signs of gentleman in his appearance,
they did not the less direct their appeals to him as he passed, and the
flatteries on his handsome face and graceful figure mingled with the
praises of whatever they had to sell.

Half amused, but not a little flurried by all the noise and tumult
around him, L'Estrange made his way through the crowd till he reached
the dingy entrance which led to the still dingier stair of the Podesta's
residence.

L'Estrange had scarcely prepared the speech in which he should announce
himself as charged with consular functions, when he found himself in
presence of a very dirty little man, with spectacles and a skull-cap,
whose profuse civilities and ceremonious courtesies actually overwhelmed
him. He assured L'Estrange that there were no words in Italian--nor even
in German, for he spoke in both--which could express a fractional part
of the affliction he experienced in enforcing measures that savored of
severity on a subject of that great nation which had so long been the
faithful friend and ally of the imperial house. On this happy political
union it was clear he had prepared himself historically, for he gave
a rapid sketch