dish of good paste is better, with
cheese. I will bring a certain wine--two flasks. Then you will be
friends, for you will drink together. And if the English lord drinks too
much, I will go home with him to the hotel in the Piazza di Spagna. But
you will only have to go to bed. Once in a year, what is it to be a
little gay with good wine? At least you will be good friends. Then
things will end well."

Griggs looked at Stefanone curiously, while the old peasant was
speaking, for he knew the people well, and he suspected something though
he did not know what to think.

"Perhaps some day we may take your advice," he said coldly. "Good
morning, Stefanone; I have much to write."

"I remove the inconvenience," answered Stefanone, in the stock Italian
phrase for taking leave.

"No inconvenience," replied Griggs, civilly, as is the custom. "But I
have to work."

"Study, study!" grumbled Stefanone, going towards the door. "What does
it all conclude, this great study? Headache. For a flask of wine you
have the same thing, and the pleasure besides. It is enough. Signore,"
he added, reluctantly turning the handle, "I go. Think of what I have
said to you. Sometimes an old man says a wise word."

He went away very much discontented with the result of the conversation.
His mind was a medley of cunning and simplicity backed by an absolutely
unforgiving temper and great caution. His plan had seemed exceedingly
good. Lord Redin and Griggs would have supped together, and the former
would very naturally have gone home alone. Stefanone was oddly surprised
that Griggs should not have acceded to the proposition at once, though
in reality there was not the slightest of small reasons for his doing
so.

It was long since anything had happened to rouse Griggs into thinking
about any individual human being as anything more than a bit of the
world's furniture, to be worn out and thrown away in the course of time,
out of sight. But something in the absolutely gratuitous nature of
Stefanone's advice moved his suspicions. He saw, with his intimate
knowledge of the Roman peasant's character, the whole process of the old
wine-seller's mind, if only, in the first place, the fellow had the
desire to harass Dalrymple. That being granted, the rest was plain
enough. Dalrymple, if he really came to supper with Griggs, would stay
late into the night and finish all the wine there might be. On his way
home through the deserted streets, Stefanone could k