I casually mentioned to the landlord that I desired to purchase a carriage and horses--that I needed a first-class valet, and a few other trifles of the like sort, and added that I relied on his good advice and recommendation as to the places where I should best obtain all that I sought.

Needless to say, he became my slave--never was monarch better served than I--the very waiters hustled each other in a race to attend upon me, and reports of my princely fortune, generosity, and lavish expenditure, began to flit from mouth to month--which was the result I desired to obtain.
And now the evening of my first day in Naples came, and I, the supposed Conte Cesare Oliva, the envied and flattered noble, took the first step toward my vengeance.

It was one of the loveliest evenings possible, even in that lovely land--a soft breeze blew in from the sea--the sky was pearl-like and pure as an opal, yet bright with delicate shifting clouds of crimson and pale mauve--small, fleecy flecks of Radiance, that looked like a shower of blossoms fallen from some far invisible flower-land.

The waters of the bay were slightly ruffled by the wind, and curled into tender little dark-blue waves tipped with light forges of foam.

After my dinner I went out and took my way to a well-known and popular cafe which used to be a favorite haunt of mine in the days when I was known as Fabio Romani, Guido Ferrari was a constant habitue of the place, and I felt that I should find him there.