eed would he listen to my verses, for he cared only for one poet,
Lord Byron, whose adventures he had set himself to emulate. Well, and
he was quite up to the task. He was as brave as a lion, with more
money than he knew what to do with, and as for the women, they ran
after him go where he would, for he was wonderfully stately in his
bearing and figure, and yet had so good-humoured an expression that
they all thought it would be easy to play the part of Omphale to this
Hercules. In Rome he seemed to have been pretty wild, at least so this
one and the other pretended to know; he himself never touched on his
love-affairs, and here in our village, he never appeared to care
whether there was any other race in the world than that of men. With
these he went about continually; would sit--if he were not prowling
along the ravines with his rifle--whole afternoons at the cafe, playing
billiards to perfection, and when he had won everybody's money, he
would order a barrel of the best wine, and insist upon everybody
partaking. So all began as with one mouth to sing his praises, and to
rejoice that such a travelled gentleman should have taken such a craze
for our little spot above all others, that he even talked of buying a
vineyard, and of yearly spending a couple of months among us.

"Domenico Serone was the only one who kept aloof from our captain,
would get up as soon as ever he saw him enter the cafe, and pass him by
in the street as a thief does the gallows. No one wondered though at
this, for to see himself eclipsed by a foreigner--he who was accustomed
to be cock of the walk--must naturally have mortified him. It never
even occurred to me that Erminia might have something to do with it. I
had been present when Signor Gustavo met the fair creature for the
first time. 'Now look here, _amico mio_,' I had said, 'never--if only
you will honestly admit it, never have you seen anything like her in
either of the Indies, Turkey, or Golconda.' But he after a mere glance,
without a look of surprise, merely said, 'Hum!' biting his blonde
moustache so hard, you heard the crunching of the hair. 'Not amiss, Sor
Angelo, not amiss indeed.' '_Possareddio_,' said I to myself, 'this is
the only man who can look without blinking at the sun.' It crossed me
that I would engage Erminia in conversation, that he might see more of
her, and be punished for his cold-blooded 'not amiss,' by falling over
head and ears into love. But she, usually so calm an