Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 143: what you’re looking at

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ee ee — 150 JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. I made this remark with all the ingenuousness derived from its perfect truth, and without the slightest ulterior object: I was therefore both astonished and pained when I perceived how dark a shade suddenly came over Avellino’s handsome countenance, and then how abruptly he turned as if to hide some powerful emotion. All in an instant I recollected that strange look which I had fancied to have transiently passed over the Count of Tivoli’s features when I mentioned the name of Signor Avellino: I now perceived there- fore that there was something of an unpleasant nature in connexion with that nobleman and with this gentleman—and; that thenceforth I must be upon my guard how I mentioned the name of either in the presence of the other. Indeed, I now felt especially embarrassed and awkward, inasmuch as Francesco Avellino had turned away towards the window, and there re- mained looking forth (or at least appearing to do 0, though he might be gazing at vacancy for aught that I knew to the contrary) for two or three minutes. It seemed indeed as if he had for. gotten my presence altogether; and therefore I conceived that by my unfortunate though innocent mention of the Count de Tivoli’s name, I had stirred up some very strong and painful emotions in Francesco Avellino’s breast. I could say nothing—I scarcely knew what to apologize for ; and I felt that if I were to enter upon any such excuse, if would tend to aggravate the evil already accomplished. “Again, my dear Mr. Wilmot,” said Avellino, slowly turning away from the casement, “must I beseech your forgiveness for what may appear strange if not actually rude on my part.” His countenance was now very pale indeed: his eyes appeared as if tears had been trickling down them while he stood at the window: and it was evident that he was vainly struggling against a feeling of despondency that bordered even upon. the profoundest dejection. “JT beg that you will offer me no apologies,” IT said. “I am afraid that I have inadver- tently . . “One word, my dear Mr. Wilmot,” interrupted Avellino, laying his hand upon my arm, and look- ing with mournful intentness upon my counte- nance. “I know that the Count of Livorno was as intimate with the Count of Tivoli as he was with myself: indeed it was at the Tivoli palace that I first became acquainted with the Grand Duke of Tuscany’s nephew. But he knows not what has since occurred,” continued Avellino, in accents that were low and full of the deepest mourifulness,—“ or he would have forwarned you however, I can easily understand that you have bagn furnished with a letter of introduction to the Count of Tivoli:’—and again interrupting himself, he asked, “Did you happen to mention my name in his lordsnip’s presence 2” '“T did,’ wasi he response: and I felt both pained and embarrassed by the turn which the conversation had taken. Avellino reflected for upwards of a minute; and , then said, but hesitatingly, asif diffident in putting the question, “ And how looked his lordship when joy name was mentioned ?” “To confess the truth,” I answered, “it did strange—but only momentarily so—in the expres- sion of his countenance; and as it passed so ra- pidly away, I fancied that I might have been mistaken in respect to that look.” “Well, my dear Mr. Wilmot,” said Francesco Avellino, “one word more—and we will change the discourse. In future may I request——” **T understand you,” I interrupted him: “there shall be no inadvertence on my part either towards his lordship or in respect to yourself.” Avellino grasped my hand, and pressed it with a degree of fervour which seemed to ask my pardon for having so far inflicted personal matters upon me, and which likewise conveyed his gratitude for the assurance I had just given him. Then assuming a gayer look—though I thought and feared that it was to a certain degree forced—he said, “ And now what are you going to do with yourself for the remainder of the day? It is only three o'clock,” he continued, looking at his watch: “we shall have plenty of time to visit one or two of the publie buildings or galleries of art—and in the evening you must dine with me——unless indeed you have any other engagement mS “ No,” I answered,—“ not for to-day.” “TI comprehend,” rejoined Avellino quickly: **you must devote yourself alternately to those friends to whom you have been introduced, and each of whom will be anxious to make much of you not merely for the Count of Livorno’s sake, but likewise for your own.” He issued from the room to make some change in his toilet; and in a few minutes he rejoined me. We passed the remainder of that day together; and when I took leave of him in the evening, after being handsomely entertained at his residence, I returned to my hotel, exceedingly well pleased with my new friend Francesco Avellino. a CHAPTER CIV. THE VISCOUNT OF TIVOLI. On the following day, at a little before noon, the waiter brought me in a card on which I read the name of the Viscount of Tivoli; and I requested that this nobleman might be at once introduced. He entered ; and I must confess that I beheld in the Count of Tivoli’s son and heir a personage of a very different appearance from that which I had foreshadowed in my own mind. He was barely twenty years of ase—of a stature so short as to be almost diminutive—very thin, but not ill-made, nor with any ungainliness of figure or limbs. He had red hair—a complexion that was very much freckled—small gray eyes—but a superb set of teeth. He was dressed in a very elegant manner—yef not with that extreme of fashion which transcended the bounds of good taste. He advanced into the room with a well-bred air of politeness; and prof- fering me his hand, said, “I am happy to make the acquaintance of a friend of the Count of Livorno.” He spoke the Hnglish language well; and though in his look and manner there was a certain blending of patrician pride and boyish self-suificiency—a strange commingling of dignity and conceit—yet he strike me at the instant that there was something | was courteous enough, and appeared to have every ECORNICG OOOKS.EO