Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
Then he remarked that the eruption of Vesuvius was waning
and the trouble nearly over for this time.
"Are the Ferraltis a good family?" asked Uncle John, abruptly.
"That I cannot tell you, Signor Merrick."
"Oh. Perhaps you know little about the nobility of your country."
"I! I know little of the nobility!" answered Floriano, indignantly. "My
dear signor, there is no man better posted as to our nobility in all
Italy."
"Yet you say you don't know the Ferralti family."
The proprietor reached for a book that lay above his desk.
"Observe, signor. Here is our record of nobility. It is the same as the
'Blue Book' or the 'Peerage' of England. Either fortunately or
unfortunately--I cannot say--you have no need of such a book in
America."
He turned the pages and ran his finger down the line of "Fs."
"Find me, if you can, a Count Ferralti in the list."
Uncle John looked. He put on his glasses and looked again. The name of
Ferralti was no place in the record.
"Then there is no such count, Signor Floriano."
"And no such noble family, Signor Merrick."
Uncle John whistled softly and walked away to the window. The young man
greeted him with a smile and a bow.
"I misunderstood your name last evening," he said. "I thought you were
Count Ferralti."
"And that is right, sir," was the prompt reply. "Allow me to offer you
my card."
Uncle John took the card and read:
"CONTE LEONARDI FERRALTI,
Milano, Italia."
He carefully placed the card in his pocket-book.
"Thank you," said he. "It's a fine morning, Count."
"Charming, Mr. Merrick."
Uncle John walked away. He was glad that he had not suspected the young
man unjustly. When an imposture is unmasked it is no longer dangerous.
He joined his nieces, who were all busily engaged in writing letters
home, and remarked, casually:
"You've been deceived in your Italian friend, Louise. He is neither a
count nor of noble family, although I suppose when you met him in New
York he had an object in posing as a titled aristocrat.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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