Fantasy fiction; Poetry; Science fiction; Short stories
I declared that the music had only pleased, and that I would welcome
its repetition. Where upon she left me with a little bow and an
invitation to join them that day at dinner, while I departed into the
town on my own errands. I returned before midday, and was seated at an
arbour in the garden, busy with letters, when there hove in sight the
gaunt figure of Oliphant. He hovered around me, if such a figure can
be said to hover, with the obvious intention of addressing me. The
fellow had caught my fancy, and I was willing to see more of him. His
face might have been hacked out of grey granite, his clothes hung
loosely on his spare bones, and his stockined shanks would have done no
discredit to Don Quixote. There was no dignity in his air, only a
steady and enduring sadness. Here, thought I, is the one of the
establishment who most commonly meets the shock of the world's buffets.
I called him by name and asked him his desires.
It appeared that he took me for a Jacobite, for he began a rigmarole
about loyalty and hard fortune. I hastened to correct him, and he took
the correction with the same patient despair with which he took all
things. 'Twas but another of the blows of Fate.
"At any rate," he said in a broad Scotch accent, "ye come of kin that
has helpit my maister afore this. I've many times heard tell o'
Herveys and Townshends in England, and a' folk said they were on the
richt side. Ye're maybe no a freend, but ye're a freend's freend, or I
wadna be speirin' at ye."
I was amused at the prologue, and waited on the tale. It soon came.
Oliphant, it appeared, was the purse-bearer of the household, and
woeful straits that poor purse-bearer must have been often put to. I
questioned him as to his master's revenues, but could get no clear
answer. There were payments due next month in Florence which would
solve the difficulties for the winter, but in the meantime expenditure
had beaten income. Travelling had cost much, and the Count must have
his small comforts. The result in plain words was that Oliphant had
not the wherewithal to frank the company to Florence; indeed, I doubted
if he could have paid the reckoning in Santa Chiara. A loan was
therefore sought from a friend's friend, meaning myself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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