“Oh, certainly,” said Mr Greene. And he at once extracted another sovereign, and tendered it to me in the face of the assembled multitude.

This was too much! “Mr Greene,” said I, “I intended to be of service to you when I went to Milan, and you are very welcome to the benefit of my intentions. The expense of that journey, whatever may be its amount, is my own affair.” And I remained standing with my closed arms.

“We will be under no obligation to him,” said Mrs Greene; “and I shall insist on his taking the money.”

“The servant will put it on his dressing-table,” said Sophonisba. And she handed the sovereign to the Boots, giving him instructions.

“Keep it yourself, Antonio,” I said. Whereupon the man chucked it to the ceiling with his thumb, caught it as it fell, and with a well-satisfied air, dropped it into the recesses of his pocket. The air of the Greenes was also well satisfied, for they felt that they had paid me in full for all my services.

And now, with many obsequious bows and assurances of deep respect, the landlord and his family withdrew from the room. “Was there anything else they could do for Mrs Greene?” Mrs Greene was all affability. She had shown her jewels to the girls, and allowed them to express their admiration in pretty Italian superlatives. There was nothing else she wanted to-night. She was very happy and liked Bellaggio. She would stay yet a week, and would make herself quite happy. And, though none of them understood a word that the other said, each understood that things were now rose-coloured, and so with scrapings, bows, and grinning smiles, the landlord and all his myrmidons withdrew. Mr Greene was still counting his money, sovereign by sovereign, and I was still standing with my folded arms upon my bosom.

“I believe I may now go,” said I.

“Good night,” said Mrs Greene.

“Adieu,” said Sophonisba.

“I have the pleasure of wishing you good-bye,” said Mr Greene.

And then I walked out of the room. After all, what was the use of saying anything? And what could I say that would have done me any service? If they were capable of thinking me a thief,—which they certainly did,—nothing that I could say would remove the impression. Nor, as I thought, was it suitable that I should defend myself from such an imputation. What were the Greenes to me? So I walked slowly out of the room, and never again saw one of the family from that day to this.

As I stood upon the beach the next morning, while my portmanteau was being handed into the boat, I gave the Boots five Zwanzigers. I was determined to show him that I did not condescend to feel anger against him.

He took the money, looked into my face, and then whispered to me, “Why did you not give me a word of notice beforehand?” he said, and winked his eye. He was evidently a thief, and took me to be another;—but what did it matter?

I went thence to Milan, in which city I had no heart to look at anything; thence to Verona, and so over the pass of the Brenner to Innspruck. When I once found myself near to my dear friends the Walkers I was again a happy man; and I may safely declare that, though a portion of my journey was so troublesome and unfortunate, I look back upon that tour as the happiest and the luckiest epoch of my life.

From “Tales of All Countries”