men, whose only business is to wait for the 
unavoidable. Deaths and marriages have made a 
solitude round them, and one really cannot blame 
their endeavours to make the waiting as easy as 
possible. As he remarked to me, "At my time of 
life freedom from physical pain is a very 
important matter."

It must not be imagined that he was a wearisome 
hypochondriac. He was really much too well-bred to
 be a nuisance. He had an eye for the small 
weaknesses of humanity. But it was a good-natured 
eye. He made a restful, easy, pleasant companion 
for the hours between dinner and bedtime. We spent
 three evenings together, and then I had to leave 
Naples in a hurry to look after a friend who had 
fallen seriously ill in Taormina. Having nothing 
to do, Il Conde came to see me off at the station.
 I was somewhat upset, and his idleness was always
 ready to take a kindly form. He was by no means 
an indolent man.

He went along the train peering into the carriages
 for a good seat for me, and then remained talking
 cheerily from below. He declared he would miss me
 that evening very much and announced his 
intention of going after dinner to listen to the 
band in the public garden, the Villa Nazionale. He
 would amuse himself by hearing excellent music 
and looking at the best society. There would be a 
lot of people, as usual.

I seem to see him yet--his raised face with a 
friendly smile under the thick moustaches, and his
 kind, fatigued eyes. As the train began to move, 
he addressed me in two languages: first in French,
 saying, "Bon voyage"; then, in his very good, 
somewhat emphatic English, encouragingly, because 
he could see my concern: "All will--be--well--yet!
"

My friend's illness having taken a decidedly 
favourable turn, I returned to Naples on the tenth
 day. I cannot say I had given much thought to Il 
Conde during my absence, but entering the dining-
room I looked for him in his habitual place. I had
 an idea he might have gone back to Sorrento to 
his piano and his books and his fishing. He was 
great friends with all the boatmen, and fished a 
good deal with lines from a boat. But I made out 
his white head in the crowd of heads, and even 
from a distance noticed something unusual in his 
attitude. Instead of sitting erect, gazing all 
round with alert urbanity, he drooped over his 
plate. I stood opposite him for some time before 
he looked up, a little wildly, if such a strong 
word can be used in connection with his correct 
appearance.

"Ah, my dear sir! Is it you?" he greeted me. "I 
hope all is well."

He was very nice about my friend. Indeed, he was 
always nice, with the niceness of people whose 
hearts are genuinely humane. But this time it cost
 him an effort. His attempts at general 
conversation broke down into dullness. It occurred
 to me he might have been indisposed. But before I
 could frame the inquiry he muttered:

"You find me here very sad."

"I am sorry for that," I said. "You haven't had 
bad news, I hope?"

It was very kind of me to take an interest. No. It

てすとさん