Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v109.djvu/1007

935 "Oval," repeated the comandante, shaking his head.

"Oval," whispered the crowd, eyes straying uncertainly from head to foot. I was genuinely alarmed. Had my face grown fat, or was this uniformed idiot filled with the commendable desire of the villain to make as much of his part as possible? Would I catch the late boat back to Cività Vecchia—or would I spend the night in a dungeon? A voice reached us from the outskirts of the assembled multitude, the supers parted respect- fully, and the deaf man—the other passenger—the high official of the morning salute, made his way to the footlights.

"What is all this?" he asked, in Italian.

"II signore Inglese," began the cringing villain.

"No, no," I cried, desperately; "Americano."

The greater power snatched my passport and pointed out the seal of our blessed country to the self-important official.

"To be sure, Americano," he affirmed.

"Ah, Americano," faltered the little comandante.

"Oh, Americano," echoed the crowd, melting away.

"Thanks," shrieked I to the deaf gentleman, in his native tongue.

"Not at all," said the deaf official to me, in mine.

He was on the boat going back; he never stayed on his estate more than a day. He was a good fellow—not deaf at all—had to leave his bride in Albano, and was blue on the way over. After our late dinner in the saloon he unravelled the plot of the little farce that I've been mixed up in. The little comedy, I should rather say, with a touch of pathos running through it. It's all the fault of King Charles Albert, and proves that no monarch should have a keener sense of humor than his people. While visiting Terranova in 1836, Paul Bertoleoni was presented to him as a representative of Tavolara. The peasant bowed his knee as a subject and rose a king, for the ruler was so amused to hear of his living on this worthless island surrounded by his kinsmen that he laughingly gave him its sovereignty. Paul I. took the matter very seriously, but the citizens of the globe found it rather droll. As the tale was noised about, it became the custom for warships to salute the island, and the powder of foreign countries was expended to keep up the joke. But he was a simple king, and a contented one; he went on making lobster-pots as best he could,