"Except through the necessity of earning a livelihood. Il Duca pays well—or rather the Duchessa does, for she is the head of this household. I am skillful, and worth my price, and they know it."
"You say the Duchessa is the head of the house?"
"Assuredly, signore. Il Duca is her slave. She plans and directs everything, and her son but obeys her will."
"Did she send him to America?"
"I think so. But do not misunderstand me. The Duke is clever on his own account, and almost as wicked as his old mother. And between them they are training the child to be as bad as they are. It is dreadful."
"Have you been here long?"
"For seven years, signore."
"But you can resign whenever you please?"
"Why not? But the doubt makes me uneasy, sometimes. In another year I would like to go to Venice, and retire from professional life. I am a Venetian, you observe; no dastardly brigand of a Sicilian. And in another year I shall have sufficient means to retire and end my days in peace. Here I save every centessimo I make, for I can spend nothing."
Uncle John sat down upon the bank beside the confiding Venetian.