ruck
the door with his stick. Oh God, to what misery had a little folly
brought two human beings who had had every blessing that the world
could give within their reach!

In a few minutes he was conducted through the house, and found
Trevelyan seated in a chair under the verandah which looked down
upon the olive trees. He did not even get up from his seat, but put
out his left hand and welcomed his old friend. "Stanbury," he said,
"I am glad to see you,--for auld lang syne's sake. When I found
out this retreat, I did not mean to have friends round me here.
I wanted to try what solitude was;--and, by heaven, I've tried
it!" He was dressed in a bright Italian dressing-gown or woollen
paletot,--Italian, as having been bought in Italy, though, doubtless,
it had come from France,--and on his feet he had green worked
slippers, and on his head a brocaded cap. He had made but little
other preparation for his friend in the way of dressing. His long
dishevelled hair came down over his neck, and his beard covered his
face. Beneath his dressing-gown he had on a night-shirt and drawers,
and was as dirty in appearance as he was gaudy in colours. "Sit
down and let us two moralise," he said. "I spend my life here doing
nothing,--nothing,--nothing; while you cudgel your brain from day
to day to mislead the British public. Which of us two is taking the
nearest road to the devil?"

Stanbury seated himself in a second arm-chair, which there was there
in the verandah, and looked as carefully as he dared to do at his
friend. There could be no mistake as to the restless gleam of that
eye. And then the affected air of ease, and the would-be cynicism,
and the pretence of false motives, all told the same story. "They
used to tell us," said Stanbury, "that idleness is the root of all
evil."

"They have been telling us since the world began so many lies, that I
for one have determined never to believe anything again. Labour leads
to greed, and greed to selfishness, and selfishness to treachery,
and treachery straight to the devil,--straight to the devil. Ha, my
friend, all your leading articles won't lead you out of that. What's
the news? Who's alive? Who dead? Who in? Who out? What think you of
a man who has not seen a newspaper for two months; and who holds no
conversation with the world further than is needed for the cooking of
his polenta and the cooling of his modest wine-flask?"

"You see your wife sometimes," said Stanbury.

"My wif