“I have had no introductions. I carry an English passport, and let people think that I am English.”
“Aren’t you afraid of getting into bad company?”
“I don’t give myself the chance. I don’t speak to anyone, and when people address me I reply in monosyllables. I always strike a bargain before I eat a meal or take a lodging. I only travel in public conveyances.”
“Very good. Here you will be able to economize; I will pay all your expenses, and give you an excellent cicerone, one who will cost you nothing.”
“I am much obliged, but I promised my mother not to accept anything from anybody.”
“I think you might make an exception in my case.”
“No. I have relations in Venice, and I would not take so much as a single dinner from them. When I promise, I perform.”
Knowing his obstinacy, I did not insist. He was now a young man of twenty-three, of a delicate order of prettiness, and might easily have been taken for a girl in disguise if he had not allowed his whiskers to grow.
Although his grand tour seemed an extravagant project, I could not help admiring his courage and desire to be well informed.
I asked him about his mother and daughter, and he replied to my questions without reserve.