already arranged the other articles of costume neatly on my bed ready
for wear. I unlocked a dressing-case and took from thence three studs,
each one formed of a single brilliant of rare clearness and lusters and
handed them to him to fix in my shirt-front. While he was polishing
these admiringly on his coat-sleeve I watched him earnestly--then I
suddenly addressed him.

"Vincenzo!" He started.

"Eccellenza?"

"To-night you will stand behind my chair and assist in serving the
wine."

"Yes, eccellenza."

"You will," I continued, "attend particularly to Sigor Ferrari, who
will sit at my right hand. Take care that his glass is never empty."

"Yes, eccellenza."

"Whatever may be said or done," I went on, quietly, "you will show no
sign of alarm or surprise. From the commencement of dinner till I tell
you to move, remember your place is fixed by me."

The honest fellow looked a little puzzled, but replied as before:

"Yes, eccellenza."

I smiled, and advancing, laid my hand on his arm.

"How about the pistols, Vincenzo?"

"They are cleaned and ready for use, eccellenza," he replied. "I have
placed them in your cabinet."

"That is well!" I said with a satisfied gesture. "You can leave me and
arrange the salon for the reception of my friends."

He disappeared, and I busied myself with my toilet, about which I was
for once unusually particular. The conventional dress-suit is not very
becoming, yet there are a few men here and there who look well in it,
and who, in spite of similarity in attire, will never be mistaken for
waiters. Others there are who, passable in appearance when clad in
their ordinary garments, reach the very acme of plebeianism when they
clothe themselves in the unaccommodating evening-dress. Fortunately, I
happened to be one of the former class--the sober black, the broad
white display of starched shirt-front and neat tie became me, almost
too well I thought. It would have been better for my purposes if I
could have feigned an aspect of greater age and weightier gravity. I
had scarcely finished my toilet when the rumbling of wheels in the
court-yard outside made the hot blood rush to my face, and my heart
beat with feverish excitement. I left my dressing-room, however, with a
composed countenance and calm step, and entered my private salon just
as its doors were flung open and "Signor Ferrari" was announced. He
entered smiling--his face was alight with good humor and glad
anticipation--he l