think what he pleases, so long as it makes him happy. He was very kind
to me once, and I am not one that forgets a favour. So I receive him
every evening civilly, and ask after his health, and let him look at me
on this side and that! For that matter, I may say it without vanity, I
was worth looking at once! And he's not always amusing, poor man! He
sits sometimes for an hour without speaking a word, or else he talks
away, without stopping, on art and nature, and beauty and duty, and fifty
fine things that are all so much Latin to me. I beg you to understand
that he has never said a word to me that I mightn't decently listen to.
He may be a little cracked, but he's one of the blessed saints."

"Eh!" cried the man, "the blessed saints were all a little cracked!"

Serafina, I fancied, left part of her story untold; but she told enough
of it to make poor Theobald's own statement seem intensely pathetic in
its exalted simplicity. "It's a strange fortune, certainly," she went
on, "to have such a friend as this dear man--a friend who is less than a
lover and more than a friend." I glanced at her companion, who preserved
an impenetrable smile, twisted the end of his moustache, and disposed of
a copious mouthful. Was _he_ less than a lover? "But what will you
have?" Serafina pursued. "In this hard world one must not ask too many
questions; one must take what comes and keep what one gets. I have kept
my good friend for twenty years, and I do hope that, at this time of day,
signore, you have not come to turn him against me!"

I assured her that I had no such design, and that I should vastly regret
disturbing Mr. Theobald's habits or convictions. On the contrary, I was
alarmed about him, and I should immediately go in search of him. She
gave me his address, and a florid account of her sufferings at his non-
appearance. She had not been to him for various reasons; chiefly because