ced residence. Threats, tyranny, bribery, seductions of twenty
kinds, intimidation in as many shapes, had all failed in inducing its
owner to remove to another part of the town. Gigi every one in Florence
is known by his Christian name, and we never heard him called by any
other resisted oppressions as manfully as he was proof against
softer influences, and held his ground, hammering away at his old
"demi-piques," burnishing bits and scouring housings, in utter
indifference to the jarred nerves and chafed susceptibilities of his
fine neighbors. It was not that the man was indifferent to money. It was
not that the place was associated with any family reminiscences. It was
not from its being very favorable to the nature of his dealings, since
his chief customers were usually the frequenters of the less fashionable
localities. It was the simple fact that Gigi was a Florentine, and, like
a Florentine, he saw no reason why he should n't have the sun and
the Arno as well as the Guiciardoni, who lived at his right, or the
Rinuncini, who dwelt on his left hand.

Small and contracted as that miserable frontage was, the sun did shine
upon it just as pleasantly as on its proud neighbors, and the bright
Arno glided by with its laughing ripples; while, from the little window
above stairs, the eye ranged over the cypress-clad hill of San Miniato
and the fair gardens of the Boboli. On one side lay the quaint old
structure of the Ponte Vecchio, with its glittering stores of jewelry,
and on the other the graceful elliptic arches of St. Trinita spanned the
stream. The quay before the door was the chosen rallying-point of
all Florence; the promenade where lounged all its fashionables of an
evening, as they descended from their carriages after the accustomed
drive in the Cascini. The Guardie Nobili passed daily, in all their
scarlet bravery, to and from the Pitti Palace; the Grand Ducal equipage
never took any other road. A continual flow of travellers to the great
hotels on the quay contributed its share of bustle and animation to the
scene; so that here might be said to meet, as in a focus, all that made
up the life, the stir, and the movement of the capital.

Full of amusement and interest as that morning panorama often is,
our object is less to linger beside it, than, having squeezed our way
between the chaotic wares of Gigi's shop, to ascend the little, dark,
and creaking stairs which lead to the first story, and into which we now
be