San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-07-17

| with VincenZo He was melancholy and
| taCiturn--a mood which was the result
| of an announcement l had previously
| made TO him-namely, that his services
| would not be required during my we'd
| ding trip. He had hoped to accompany
| me, and to occupy the position of cour-
| Ter, valet, major domo, and generally
confidential attendant hope which
had partially soothed the veXation he
had evidently felt at the notion of my
marrying at all.
His plans were now frustrated, and il
| ever the good-natured fellow could be i'll
tempered, he was assuredly 50
on this occasion. He stood
before me with his usual re-
spectful air, but he avoided my glance,
and kept his eyes studiously fixed on the
pattern of the carpet l addressed Him
with an air of gaiety.
''Ebbene, Vincenzo! Joy comes at
last, you see, even to me! Tomorrow l
shall wed the Countess Romani-the
loveliest and perhaps the richest woman
in Naples"
81 know it, Eccellenza."
This with the same obstinately fixed
countenance and downward look.
the prospect of my happiness?" asked,
banteringly.
He glanced up for an instant, then as
quickly down again.
"If you could be sure that the Illus
trissimo Excellenza was indeed happy,
that would be good thing" he an
answered obviously.
"And are you not sure?"
He paused, then replied firmly
mo; the Eccellenza does not look
happy. No, no, davvero! He has the
air of being sorrowful and i'll, both to-
gether."
shrugged my shoulders indifferently
"You mistake me, Vincenzo. L am
wel-very well-and happy! Gran Dio!
who could be happier? But what of my
health or happiness?-they are nothing
to me, and should be less to you. Listen;
l have something wish you to do for
me-"
He gave me a sidelong and half-expect-
ant glance. | went on
Tomorrow evening l want you to go
to AvellinO."
He was utterly aStonished.
ITO Av"lIinor' he murmured under
his breath, ito Avellinow
YES, to Avelino," repeated, some
what impatiently. ''Is there anything
surprising in that? You will take a
letter from me to the Signora Mont.
Look you, VinCenzo, you have been
faithful and obedient so far, expect
implicit fidelity and obedience still. You
will not be needed here tomorrow after
the marriage ball has once begun; you
can take the nine o'clock train to
Avellino, northumberland me-you
will remain there till you receive
further news from me. You will not
have to wait long, and in the meantime"
here | smiled, you can make love to
Lila"
Vincenzo did not return the smile.
"But-but," he Stammered, sorely
perpIeXed-"if | go to Avellino, /
cannot wait upon the Eccelenza.
There is the pOrtmanteau to pack
and who will see to the luggage
when you leave on Friday morning for
Rome? And-and-I had thought to see
you to the station" He stopped, his
vexation was too great to allow him to
proceed.
laughed gently.
slow many more trifes can you think
of, my friend, in opposition to my
wishes? As for the portmanteau, you
can pack it this very day if you so please
then it will be in readiness. The rest
of your duties can for once be performed
by others 1t is not only important,
but imperative that you should go to
AvellinO on my errand. | want you
to take this with yOu," and l tapped a
small square iron box, heavily made and
strongly padloCked, which stood on the
table near me.
lie glanced at the box, but still hest
tated, and the gloom on his countenanCe
deCpened. grew little annoyed
"What is the matter with you?' | said
at last. with some sternness. "YOu
have something on your mind-Speak
out"
The fear of my wrath startled him.
He looked up with bewildered pain in
his eyes, and spoke, mis- mellow Tuscan
voice vibrating with his own eloquent
entrCaty.
"Ecccllenzan' he exclaimed eagerly,
''yOu must forgive me-yes, forgive
your poor servant who seems too bold,
and who yet is true to yOu,-yes, indeed,
so true!-and who would go with you to
death if there were need. | am not
blind, can see your sufferings, for you
do suffer, 1ustrissimo, though you hide
it well. Often have | watched you when
you have not known it. l feel that you
have what we call wound in the heart,
bleeding, bleeding, always. Such thing
means death often, as much as a Straight
shot in battle. Let me watch over you,
Eccellenza, let me stay with you!
have learned to love you! All,
milo signOre," and he drew nearer
| and caught my hand timid!y, 'you
do not know - how should
you?-the look that is in your face some
times, the look of the one who is stunned
by hard blow. ! have said to myself,