do, Eccellenza. Who doesn't? My own father was barcarole
there to a great Milordo, I can't say how many years back. Ah," added
he, laughing, "what stories he used to have of that same Milordo,
who was always dressing himself up to be as a gondolier or a
chamois-hunter."

"We have n't asked for your father's memoirs, my good fellow; we only
wanted you to show us where La Pace lies," said the Viscount, testily.

"There it is, then, Eccellenza," said the man, as they rounded a little
promontory of rock, and came in full view of a small cove, in the centre
of which stood the villa.

Untenanted and neglected as it was, there was yet about it that glorious
luxuriance of vegetation, that rare growth of vines and olive and
oleander and cactus which seems to more than compensate all the care
and supervision of men. The overloaded orange-trees dipped their weary
branches in the lake, where the golden balls rose and fell as the water
surged about them. The tangled vines sprawled over the ground, staining
the deep grass with their purple blood. Olive berries lay deep around,
and a thousand perfumes loaded the air as the faint breeze stirred it.

"Let me show you a true Italian villa," said the Viscount, as the boat
glided up to the steps cut in the marble rock. "I once passed a few
weeks here; a caprice seized me to know what kind of life it would be
to loiter amidst olive groves, and have no other company than the cicala
and the green lizard."

"Faith, my Lord," said O'Reilly, "if you could live upon figs and
lemons, you 'd have nothing to complain of; but I 'm thinking you found
it lonely."

"I scarcely remember, but my impression is, I liked it," said he, with a
slight hesitation. "I used to lie under the great cedar yonder, and read
Petrarch."

"Capital fun--excellent--live here for two hundred a year, or even
less--plenty of fish in the lake--keep the servants on watermelons,"
said Twining, slapping his legs, as he made this domestic calculation to
himself.

"With people one liked about one," said Miss O'Reilly, "I don't see why
this should n't be a delicious spot."

"There's not a hundred yards of background. You could n't give a
horse walking exercise here if your life was on it," said Spicer,
contemptuously.

"Splendid grapes, wonderful oranges, finest melons I ever saw,--all
going to waste too," said Twining, laughing, as if such utter neglect
was a very droll thing. "Get this place a bargain,--might have it f