O'D. to me, after
four days of close arrest--snow still falling and the thermometer going
daily down, down, lower and lower. Now I had made inquiries the day
before from the landlord, and learned that he knew of a most competent
person, not exactly a regular teacher who would insist upon our going
to work in school fashion, but a man of sense and a gentleman--indeed,
a person of rank and title, with whom the world had gone somewhat badly,
and who was at that very moment suffering for his political opinions,
far in advance, as they were, of those of his age.

"He's a friend of Gioberti," whispered the landlord in my ear, while his
features became animated with the most intense significance. Now, I
had never so much as heard of Gioberti, but I felt it would be a
deep disgrace to confess it, and so I only exclaimed, with an air of
half-incredulity, "Indeed!"

"As true as I'm here," replied he. "He usually drops in about noon to
read the 'Opinione,' and, if you permit, I'll send him up to you. His
name is Count Annibale Castrocaro."

I hastened forthwith to Mrs O'D., to apprise her of the honour that
awaited us; repeating, a little _in extenso_, all that the host had
said, and finishing with the stunning announcement, "and a friend of
Gio-berti." Mrs O'Dowd never flinched under the shock, and, too proud to
own her ignorance, she pertly remarked, "I don't think the more of him
for that."

I felt that she had beat me, and I sat down abashed and humiliated.
Meanwhile Mrs O'D. retired to make some change of dress; but,
reappearing after a while in her smartest morning toilette, and a very
coquettish little cap, with cherry-coloured ribbons, I saw what the word
Count had done at once.

Just as the clock struck twelve, the waiter flung wide the double doors
of our room, and announced, as pompously as though for royalty, "II
Signor Conte di Castrocaro," and there entered a tall man slightly
stooping in the shoulders, with a profusion of the very blackest hair
on his neck and shoulders, his age anything from thirty-five to
forty-eight, and his dress a shabby blue surtout, buttoned to the throat
and reaching below the knees. He bowed and slid, and bowed again, till
he came opposite where my wife sat, and then, with rather a dramatic
sort of grace, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. She
reddened a little, but I saw she wasn't displeased with the air of
homage that accompanied the ceremony, and she begged him to be s