ance, and
kept his eyes studiously fixed on the pattern of the carpet. I
addressed him with an air of gayety.

"Ebbene, Vincenzo! Joy comes at last, you see, even to me! To-morrow I
shall wed the Countess Romani--the loveliest and perhaps the richest
woman in Naples!"

"I know it, eccellenza."

This with the same obstinately fixed countenance and downward look.

"You are not very pleased, I think, at the prospect of my happiness?" I
asked, banteringly.

He glanced up for an instant, then as quickly down again.

"If one could be sure that the illustrissimo eccellenza was indeed
happy, that would be a good thing," he answered, dubiously.

"And are you not sure?"

He paused, then replied firmly:

"No; the eccellenza does not look happy. No, no, davvero! He has the
air of being sorrowful and ill, both together."

I shrugged my shoulders indifferently.

"You mistake me, Vincenzo. I am well--very well--and happy! Gran Dio!
who could be happier? But what of my health or happiness?--they are
nothing to me, and should be less to you. Listen; I have something I
wish you to do for me."

He gave me a sidelong and half-expectant glance. I went on:

"To-morrow evening I want you to go to Avellino."

He was utterly astonished.

"To Avellino!" he murmured under his breath, "to Avellino!"

"Yes, to Avellino," I repeated, somewhat impatiently. "Is there
anything so surprising in that? You will take a letter from me to the
Signora Monti. Look you, Vincenzo, you have been faithful and obedient
so far, I expect implicit fidelity and obedience still. You will not be
needed here to-morrow after the marriage ball has once begun; you can
take the nine o'clock train to Avellino, and--understand me--you will
remain there till you receive further news from me. You will not have
to wait long, and in the mean time," here I smiled, "you can make love
to Lilla."

Vincenzo did not return the smile.

"But--but," he stammered, sorely perplexed--"if I go to Avellino I
cannot wait upon the eccellenza. There is the portmanteau to pack--and
who will see to the luggage when you leave on Friday morning for Rome?
And--and--I had thought to see you to the station--" He stopped, his
vexation was too great to allow him to proceed.

I laughed gently.

"How many more trifles can you think of, my friend, in opposition to my
wishes? As for the portmanteau, you can pack it this very day if you so
please--then it will be in readiness. The rest