Page:Lippincotts Monthly Magazine-40.djvu/633



T nine o'clock on a June morning Dr. Paul Weisener stepped forth on the balcony of his hotel in the town of Viareggio.

The Herr Doctor was a tall and portly man of middle age, with an auburn beard, a clear blue eye, and a fresh complexion. His vigorous presence suggested that Northern type, the ancient viking, who, clad in helmet and corselet of steel, braved the stormy Baltic Sea to range from shore to shore in past centuries.

A servant brought him a letter. The envelope was large, while the enclosed sheet was thin in substance, of satiny texture, and perfumed with jockey-club. The missive informed the recipient that the Duke di Nespoli would take pleasure in showing him a collection of Etruscan relics at his property the Villa Margherita, situated in the mountain-town of Spina. The communication, inscribed by the duke's secretary, with many pen-flourishes, concluded with the usual graceful formula,—"anticipating a favorable response," etc.

"He wishes to sell me the heirlooms of his ancestors," mused Dr. Weisener, folding and replacing the letter in the envelope. "Very good! Learn, Signor Duca, that I will not visit the Villa Margherita. No, no! I am going instead to Chiavenna, the ancient Clavenna. You may keep your Etruscan relics, my friend, or send them to some antiquarian at Rome."

Now, as Chiavenna is the key of the Rhætian Alps, this resolution was the key of the Herr Doctor's character. He was neither viking nor traveller, in the usual sense of the term: he was a learned man. Possibly the tribute to his fame conveyed by the perfumed epistle of the Duke di Nespoli soothed his self-love in a pleasant fashion, even while thrust aside with firm decision. 613