"I thinka," he said, with, a gesture of final resolution, "if I could finda some gentleman lika you, Mr. Byrd, he would be precisamente what I look for. I know," he added hastily with an apologetic laugh, "man lika you, Signor, be hard to find!" And again he laughed heartily, though watching me between narrowed eyelids. His drift was now obvious. I was silent for a moment.
"Well, if it comes to that, Signor Visconti," I answered slowly, "I am doing nothing in particular just now. I may be utterly no good for you, but—but if—"
"Ah, you would try old Visconti, Signor!" And up flew his arms like windmills. "You no ashamed to work in vot you Americans call da Guinea colony!—no, no!" He noted the deprecating shadow on my face. "Ah, you understanda—you know the granda history of the Italiana people. You—but, Mr. Byrd—" and with an admirable histrionic transition he suddenly turned grave and sad—"Mr. Byrd, you are the very man I looka for," and he gripped both my hands. "But, Meester Byrd—I fear I cannot afford to pay what you would expect. Ah, sacra—if I could! You, the very man—Dio—" and he clapped a hand dramatically to his forehead—"the very man, but!—" and his full smile of sad and wistful regret seemed genuine for all its histrionic value.
"What do you propose to pay, Signor Visconti?" I inquired.
"I can only pay to start," he whispered hoarsely, with the round eyes of a man facing the inevitable, "thirty-fiva, maybe forty dollars week. Too leetla, I know," he added slowly, letting his hands fall on his knees with resignation.
"Very well, Signor Visconti," I said. "If you will try me, I shall be glad to come at forty dollars."
Visconti fairly leaped at my hand and the bargain was struck.
I am to begin earning a livelihood on Monday.
Who said that adversity is the best teacher? Possibly it is, but gladness is the ablest cocktail. There is no stimulant like a little success.
I am an august personage.