At a certain time previous to this conversation, the old man Tucca emerged from his dwelling and made toward the town. On the outskirts thereof was a wine tavern—a small, unpretending house, standing in a very narrow lane. It was the tavern of Paula. He went in and inquired of the widow herself for Alexander. She was a native of the island, like himself, and, of course, known to him, as long as she had lived, some five‐and‐forty years. A quiet smile rested on her yet comely face when, after a few commonplace remarks, Tucca made his inquiry. She brought him upstairs into a cell‐like room, just large enough to hold a pallet‐bed, whereon Zeno lay asleep. ‘Well, friend Tucca!’ said the steward, starting up and stretching himself; ‘what news? I am revenging myself, as you see, for my early business this morning.’ ‘She has sent me to get tablets, wax, and thread,’ said the old man. ‘Oh, indeed!’ answered Zeno, nodding and yawning; ‘this looks as if she intended to write a letter. If she does, it may tell us a secret, perhaps. Wait here, and I will be back directly.’ He left the room, and very soon returned with what the husbandman required. ‘There you have them, Tucca; go and say you got them anywhere but here.’ ‘I am well pleased enough,’ returned Tucca, ‘for it saves me a walk.’ ‘And only right, Tucca; you grow old. Fail not to call here on your way with the missive, or if you are not to carry it, I must know how and when it flies.’ Tucca departed, and, in due course, once more emerged from his dwelling townward—this time with a stout stick, as if bound on a longer journey. He was barely out of sight of his own house, when he was startled by the steward stepping in front of him, from behind a corner of a wall. ‘Well, Tucca,’ said that individual, ‘have you anything to show me?’ ‘Yes, truly, noble Zeno. Faith, you startled me coming out on me in that fashion,’ answered the old man, bringing out the tablets, which were securely fastened with some of the thread and wax which Zeno had supplied. ‘Thanks!’ said the steward, thrusting them in his tunic. ‘Now loiter on for some hundred yards past the tavern, and I will join you and return this.’ He disappeared, and by and by rejoined Tucca at the place appointed, and gave him the tablets, to all appearance untouched. In the meantime, it had been an easy matter for his nimble and expert fingers to open the missive, note its contents, and fasten it up as before, with thread and wax from the same stock. The wine‐grower perceived, to his inward satisfaction, that the epistle bore no sign of being meddled with, and went on his way to deliver it. He left the town on his left hand, and walked on until he arrived at the outer gate of the villa of Jove, just as Afer and his patron and their servants were turning their steps thither, as described. The quick eye of the knight caught sight of the old man as soon as he appeared on the inside of the enclosure trudging toward the barrack‐ houses.