, extremely surprised that a
chance passer-by should know him. He had not yet learned what it is to
be famous. But he was far from pleased at being addressed in his
present mood.

"The same, signore," he replied coldly. "How can I serve you?"

"You can serve the world you so well adorn better than by exposing
your noble voice to the midnight damps and chills of this infernal--I
would say, eternal--city," answered the other. "Forgive me. I am, not
unnaturally, concerned at the prospect of loosing even a small portion
of the pleasure you know how to give to me and to many others."

"I thank you for your flattery," said Nino, drawing his cloak about
him, "but it appears to me that my throat is my own, and whatever
voice there may be in it. Are you a physician, signore? And pray why
do you tell me that Rome is an infernal city?"

"I have had some experience of Rome, Signor Cardegna," returned the
foreigner, with a peculiar smile, "and I hate no place so bitterly in
all this world--save one. And as for my being a physician, I am an old
man, a very singularly old man in fact, and I know something of the
art of healing."

"When I need healing, as you call it," said Nino, rather scornfully,
"I will inquire for you. Do you desire to continue this interview amid
the 'damps and chills of our 'infernal city'? If not, I will wish you
good-evening."

"By no means," said the other, not in the least repulsed by Nino's
coldness. "I will accommpany you a little way, if you will allow me."
Nino stared hard at the stranger, wondering what could induce him to
take so much interest in a singer. Then he nodded gravely and turned
toward his home, inwardly hoping that his aggressive acquaintance
lived in the opposite direction. But he was mistaken. The tall man
blew a quantity of smoke through his nose and walked by his side. He
strode over the pavement with a long, elastic step.

"I live not far from here," he said, when they had gone a few steps,
"and if the Signor Cardegna will accept of a glass of old wine and a
good cigar I shall feel highly honoured." Somehow an invitation of
this kind was the last thing Nino had expected or desired, least of
all from a talkative stranger who seemed determined to make his
acquaintance.

"I thank you, signore," he answered, "but I have supped, and I do not
smoke."

"Ah--I forgot. You are a singer, and must of course be careful. That
is perhaps the reason why you wander about the streets when th