erelli, having served Andrea's
father for many years, and his devotion for the son reached the pitch of
idolatry. No human being seemed to him so handsome, so noble, so worthy
of devotion. He belonged to that ideal race which furnished faithful
retainers to the romance writers of old, but differed from the servants
of romance in that he spoke little, never offered advice, and concerned
himself with no other business than that of carrying out his master's
orders.

'That will do very nicely,' said Andrea, trying to repress the
convulsive trembling of his limbs and crouching closer over the fire.

The presence of the old man in this hour of misery and distress moved
him singularly. It was an emotion somewhat similar to that which, in the
presence of some very kind and sympathetic person, affects a man
determined upon suicide. Never before had the old man brought back to
him so strongly the recollection of his father, the memory of the
beloved dead, his grief for the loss of a great and good friend. Never
so much as now had he felt the want of that comforting voice, that
paternal hand. What would his father say could he see his son thus
crushed under the weight of a nameless distress? How would he have
sought to relieve him--what would he have done?

His thoughts turned to the dead father with boundless yearning and
regret. And he had not the shadow of a suspicion that in the very
teachings of that father lay the primary cause of his wretchedness.

Terenzio brought the tea. He then proceeded slowly to arrange the bed
with a care and solicitude that were almost womanly, forgetting nothing,
as if he wished to ensure to his master refreshing and unbroken slumbers
till the morrow.

Andrea watched him with growing emotion. 'Go to bed now, Terenzio,' he
said. 'I shall not want anything more.'

The old man retired and left him alone before the fire--alone with his
heart, alone with his misery. Tortured by his inward agitation, he rose
and began to pace the room. He was haunted by a vision of Elena, and
each time he came as far as the window and turned, he fancied he saw her
and started violently. His nerves were in such an overstrung condition
that they only increased the disorder of his imagination. The
hallucination grew more distinct. He stood still and covered his face
with his hands for a moment to control his excitement, and then returned
to his seat by the fire.

This time another image rose before him--that of Elen