ut
performed these duties with such an air of unbroken gravity that I was
inwardly amused while I admired the fellow's reticence. When I was
about to retire for the night, I tossed him a napoleon. He eyed it
musingly and inquiringly; then he asked:

"Your excellency desires to purchase something?"

"Your silence, my friend, that is all!" I replied, with a laugh.
"Understand me, Vincenzo, you will serve yourself and me best by
obeying implicitly, and asking no questions. Fortunate is the servant
who, accustomed to see his master drunk every night, swears to all
outsiders that he has never served so sober and discreet a gentleman!
That is your character, Vincenzo--keep to it, and we shall not
quarrel." He smiled gravely, and pocketed my piece of gold without a
word--like a true Tuscan as he was. The sentimental servant, whose fine
feelings will not allow him to accept an extra "tip," is, you may be
sure, a humbug. I never believed in such a one. Labor can always
command its price, and what so laborious in this age as to be honest?
What so difficult as to keep silence on other people's affairs? Such
herculean tasks deserve payment! A valet who is generously bribed, in
addition to his wages, can be relied on; if underpaid, all heaven and
earth will not persuade him to hold his tongue. Left alone at last in
my sleeping chamber, I remained for some time before actually going to
bed. I took off the black spectacles which served me so well, and
looked at myself in the mirror with some curiosity. I never permitted
Vincenzo to enter my bedroom at night, or before I was dressed in the
morning, lest he should surprise me without these appendages which were
my chief disguise, for in such a case I fancy even his studied
composure would have given way. For, disburdened of my smoke-colored
glasses, I appeared what I was, young and vigorous in spite of my white
beard and hair. My face, which had been worn and haggard at first, had
filled up and was healthily colored; while my eyes, the spokesmen of my
thoughts, were bright with the clearness and fire of constitutional
strength and physical well-being. I wondered, as I stared moodily at my
own reflection, how it was that I did not look ill. The mental
suffering I continually underwent, mingled though it was with a certain
gloomy satisfaction, should surely have left more indelible traces on
my countenance. Yet it has been proved that it is not always the
hollow-eyed, sallow and despair