"Why! if it must be said," replied the old man, closing the shutter and returning; "I have a lodger here, in my apartment. But he is still without; nor will he yet return." "A lodger!" exclaimed the other, in an angry tone--"and at such a moment! How could you be so incautious, Bandini? This is one of your miserly tricks: you would expose your best friends for a few miserable kreutzers more or less." "Live and let live, is my maxim," answered Bandini with a growl. The stranger shrugged his shoulders with vexation. "And who is this lodger, man?" he cried. "Only a poor Hungarian country noble," replied Bandini in a more cajoling tone. "A youth! a very youth! a poor unsuspecting youth! He has come, like all the other nobles of the land, great and small, to obey the call of her they call their _King_, to attend this Diet summoned at Presburg; and he occupies my other rooms with his servant--a rustic!--a mere rustic!--a rude untutored rustic!" "It was ill done, Bandini," continued the stranger, with still evident marks of discontent. "A lodger in the house, when you must know that I need privacy! It was ill done, I tell you." The old man only muttered something between his teeth by way of a reply. "Have a care, man," resumed his visitor, "how you juggle with me in this matter. You are richly paid by my employers for the support you give me, and the concealment your house affords; but should evil befall us--be it through your treachery or your imprudence, it matters not--_per Jovem_, the evil shall fall a hundred-fold upon your own head. I swear it to you; and you know I am a man to keep my word." "Jehovah! here's a turmoil about the mere miserable lodging of a poor youth!" growled the old man doggedly, although the rapid passing of a long skeleton finger over the tip of his huge nose betrayed a certain degree of nervous agitation. "Master Bandini," interrupted the stranger, unheeding him, "I have a word to speak with you--and one that nearly concerns yourself, Master Bandini--before we proceed further in business." "Look ye!" he pursued, in a more indifferent tone, throwing himself down on to a chair, and crossing his legs composedly, but fixing the man called Bandini at the same time with his keen eye. "Look ye, friend druggist, physician, usurer, miser, secret agent, spy--or whatever other name you bear in designation, avocation, character, or _creed_"--and he laid a slight emphasis on the word--"there are no friends so sure as those who are convinced we know then thoroughly--a right understanding is sympathy, _amico mio_, and sympathy is bond and union." The old man looked through his beetling brows at his visitor without any evidence of trouble; but he ceased irritating the tip of his nose only to twitch more nervously at the sleeves of his coat, as if to give himself an air of composure and dignity by adjusting them, as a modern fop might do by pulling up his shirt-collar.