ok to the boy: the pages left off
teasing him; the Signorina petted him in a manner sufficient to deprive
her numerous lovers of their reason; the servants waited on him for love
and not for reward; but the strangest thing of all was, that in
proportion as he was kindly treated--just as much as every one seemed to
love him and delight in him--just so much did the boy become miserable
and unhappy. The kinder these people were, the more he felt the abyss
which lay between his soul and theirs; earnestness and solemn faith in
his--sarcasm and lively farce, and, at the most, kindly toleration of
belief, in theirs.

Had they ill-treated or wronged him, he would not have felt it so much;
but kindness and security on their part, seemed to intensify the sense
of doubt and perplexity on his.

It is difficult to realise the effect which sarcasm and irony have upon
such natures as his. They look upon life with such a single eye. It is
so beautiful and solemn to them. Truth is so true; they are so much in
earnest that they cannot understand the complex feeling that finds
relief in sarcasm and allegory, that tolerates the frivolous and the
vain, as an ironic reading of the lesson of life.

The actors were particularly kind to him, though their grotesque
attempts to amuse him mostly added to his misery. They were extremely
anxious that he should appear upon the stage, and indeed the boy's
beauty and simplicity would have made an excellent foil.

"Herr Tutor," said old Carricchio the arlecchino to him one day, with
mock gravity, "we are about to perform a comedy--what is called a
masqued comedy, not because we wear masques, for we don't, but because
of our dresses. It consists of music, dancing, love-making, joking, and
buffoonery; you will see what a trifle it is all about. The scene is in
the garden of a country-house--during what in Italy we call the
Villeggiatura, that is the month we spend in the country during the
vintage. A lady's fan is found by an ill-natured person in a curious
place; all the rest agree not to see the fan, not to acknowledge that it
is a fan. It is all left to us at the moment, all except the songs and
the music, and you know how delightful those are. If you would take a
part, and keep your own character throughout, it would be magnificent;
but we will wait, if you once see it you will wish to act."

No one, indeed, was kinder to Mark, or seemed more to delight in his
society than the old arlecchino, and