lism of this
modern Italian author.

"Again I drew on the memoirs of Dr. Godfrey Vogeldam Guph, and this
time I explained that the learned doctor had all the talents but one.
He never told a lie--never but once, and that was on his death-bed.
Yes, it was a little late, but still it was in time to save his
reputation, and, possibly, even his soul. To a man of his parts the
truth had always been good enough, and lying unnecessary. If he had
told a lie it wouldn't have amounted to anything--everybody would have
believed it. He wouldn't have got any credit--poor man! He had no more
use for a lie than a fish has for a mackintosh--until he came to his
last touching words, which were delivered to a minister and his sister
Sophia, who had been reading to him from a book of D'Annunzio.

"'My chance has arrived at last,' he said to Sophia, 'and in order
that I may make the most of it, you will please send for a minister.'

"The latter came, and, seeing the book, asked the good man if he had
read it.

"'Alas! my friend, that it should be necessary for me to tell a lie on
my death-bed,' said the Doctor. 'But now, at last, I tell it proudly
and promptly. I have not read that book.'

"'And therein I do clearly see the truth,' said the wise old
minister.

"'Which is this,' the learned Doctor confessed. 'I have come to an
hour when a lie, and nothing but a lie, can show my sense of shame. I
solemnly swear that I have not read it!'

"'Well, at least you're a noble liar,' said the man of God. 'I absolve
you.'

"'I claim no credit--I am only doing my duty,' said the good Doctor,
with a sign of ineffable peace.

"As soon as I could get his attention, I called Harry aside and
whispered: 'In Heaven's name, boy, get hold of that book and hang on
to it.'

"'Why?' he asked.

"'You don't know the old man as I do--that's why,' I said. 'If he
should happen to read it, he'd go after you with his grandfather's
sword the next time you showed up here.'

"Marie stood near us, and I beckoned to her, and she came to my side.

"'The book,' said Harry--'would you let me take it?'

"'I took it to my grandfather, and he is reading it in his room,' she
answered. 'Shall I go and get it?'

"Harry hesitated.

"'He won't mind,' said Marie; 'I'll go and get it.'

"And away she went.

"She came back to us soon, a bit embarrassed.

"'He seems to be very much interested and--and a little cross,' said
she. 'I think he will bring it out to yo