with his broom and his pipe; in the morning his wife went upstairs and
opened a few windows, merely as a formality, and late in the afternoon
she shut them again. Malipieri's man generally went out twice every
day, carrying a military dinner-pail, made in three sections, which he
brought back half an hour later. Malipieri sometimes was not seen for
several days, but frequently he went out in the morning and did not
come back till dark. Now and then, things were delivered for him at
the door,--a tin of oil for his lamps, a large box of candles,
packages of odd shapes, sometimes very heavy, and which the porter was
told to handle with care.

The old man tried to make acquaintance with Malipieri's man, but found
it less easy than he had expected. In the first place, Masin came from
some outlandish part of Italy where an abominable dialect was spoken,
and though he could speak school Italian when he pleased, he chose to
talk to the porter in his native jargon, when he talked at all. He
might just as well have spoken Greek. Secondly, he refused the
porter's repeated offers of a litre at the wine shop, always saying
something which sounded like a reference to his delicate health. As he
was evidently as strong as an ox, and as healthy as a savage or a
street dog, the excuse carried no conviction. He was a big, quiet
fellow, with china-blue eyes and a reddish moustache. The porter was
not used to such people, nor to servants who wore moustaches, and was
inclined to distrust the man. On the other hand, though Masin would
not drink, he often gave the porter a cigar, with a friendly smile.

One day, in the morning, Baron Volterra came to see Malipieri, and
stayed over an hour, a part of which time the two men spent in the
courtyard, walking up and down in the north-west corner, and then
taking some measurements with a long tape which Malipieri produced