Under these embarrassing circumstances--and not forgetting, at
the same time, that a servant's opinion of his master and his
master's friends may generally be trusted not to err on the
favorable side--I am tempted to call my valet as a witness to
character.

I slept badly on our first night at Rome; and I happened to be
awake while the man was talking of us confidentially in the
courtyard of the hotel--just under my bedroom window. Here, to
the best of my recollection, is a faithful report of what he said
to some friend among the servants who understood English:

"My master's well connected, you must know--though he's only
plain Mr. Lepel. His uncle's the great lawyer, Lord Lepel; and
his late father was a banker. Rich, did you say? I should think
he _was_ rich--and be hanged to him! No, not married, and not
likely to be. Owns he was forty last birthday; a regular old
bachelor. Not a bad sort, taking him altogether. The worst of him
is, he is one of the most indiscreet persons I ever met with.
Does the queerest things, when the whim takes him, and doesn't
care what other people think of it. They say the Lepels have all
got a slate loose in the upper story. Oh, no; not a very old
family--I mean, nothing compared to the family of his friend,
young Rothsay. _They_ count back, as I have heard, to the ancient
kings of Scotland. Between ourselves, the ancient kings haven't
left the Rothsays much money. They would be glad, I'll be bound,
to get my rich master for one of their daughters. Poor as Job, I
tell you. This young fellow, traveling with us, has never had a
spare five-pound note since he was born. Plenty of brains in his