I copied his manners as closely as possible; I kept my mouth shut with the same precise air of not-to-be-enlightened obstinacy--I walked with the same upright drill demeanor--and I surveyed the scenery with the same superior contempt.

I knew I had succeeded at last, for I overheard a waiter speaking of me to his companion as "the white bear!" One other thing I did.

I wrote a courteous note to the editor of the principal newspaper published in Naples--a newspaper that I knew always found its way to the Villa Romani--and inclosing fifty francs, I requested him to insert a paragraph for me in his next issue, This paragraph was worded somewhat as follows: "The Signor Conte Cesare Oliva, a nobleman who has been for many years absent from his native country, has, we understand, just returned, possessed of almost fabulous wealth, and is about to arrive in Naples, where he purposes making his home for the future.

The leaders of society here will no doubt welcome with enthusiasm so distinguished an addition to the brilliant circles commanded by their influence." The editor obeyed my wishes, and inserted what I sent him, word for word as it was written.

He sent me the paper containing it "with a million compliments," but was discreetly silent concerning the fifty francs, though I am certain he pocketed them with unaffected joy.