"I understand almost everything," I heard him say. "The trees, hills, stars, water, I can see all. But isn't it odd! I can't make out men a bit. Do you know what I mean?" "Ho capito," said Gennaro gravely, and took his arm off Eustace's shoulder. But I made the new note crackle in my pocket; and he heard it. He stuck his hand out with a jerk; and the unsuspecting Eustace gripped it in his own. "It is odd!" Eustace went on--they were quite close now--"It almost seems as if--as if----" I darted out and caught hold of his arm, and Leyland got hold of the other arm, and Mr. Sandbach hung on to his feet. He gave shrill heart-piercing screams; and the white roses, which were falling early that year, descended in showers on him as we dragged him into the house. As soon as we entered the house he stopped shrieking; but floods of tears silently burst forth, and spread over his upturned face. "Not to my room," he pleaded. "It is so small." His infinitely dolorous look filled me with strange pity, but what could I do? Besides, his window was the only one that had bars to it. "Never mind, dear boy," said kind Mr. Sandbach. "I will bear you company till the morning." At this his convulsive struggles began again. "Oh, please, not that. Anything but that. I will promise to lie still and not to cry more than I can help, if I am left alone." So we laid him on the bed, and drew the sheets over him, and left him sobbing bitterly, and saying: "I nearly saw everything, and now I can see nothing at all." We informed the Miss Robinsons of all that had happened, and returned to the dining-room, where we found Signora Scafetti and Gennaro whispering together. Mr. Sandbach got pen and paper, and began writing to the English doctor at Naples. I at once drew out the note, and flung it down on the table to Gennaro. "Here is your pay," I said sternly, for I was thinking of the Thirty Pieces of Silver. "Thank you very much, sir," said Gennaro, and grabbed it. He was going off, when Leyland, whose interest and indifference were always equally misplaced, asked him what Eustace had meant by saying 'he could not make out men a bit.' "I cannot say. Signor Eustazio--" (I was glad to observe a little deference at last) "has a subtle brain. He understands many things." "But I heard you say you understood," Leyland persisted. "I understand, but I cannot explain. I am a poor Italian fisher-lad. Yet, listen: I will try." I saw to my alarm that his manner was changing, and tried to stop him. But he sat down on the edge of the table and started off, with some absolutely incoherent remarks. "It is sad," he observed at last. "What has happened is very sad. But what can I do? I am poor. It is not I." I turned away in contempt. Leyland went on asking questions. He wanted to know who it was that Eustace had in his mind when he spoke.