Withdrawing with them into an inner room, he did his best, as he afterwards told me, to prevail upon them to return home, though not without serious doubts of the honesty of their interpreter.  It was while this private conference was going on that I got my first sight of Cooper,—­completing my morning’s experience by exchanging a few words with the man, of all others among my countrymen, whom I had most wished to know.  Meanwhile the table in the dining-room was spread with cakes and preserves, and before the company withdrew, they had a good opportunity of convincing themselves, that, if the American Indian had made but little progress in the other arts of civilization, he had attained to a full appreciation of the virtues of sweetmeats and pastry.

I cannot close this portion of my story without relating my second interview with my aboriginal countrymen, not quite so satisfactory as the first, but at least with its amusing, or rather its laughable side.  I was living in Siena, a quiet old Tuscan town, with barely fifteen thousand inhabitants to occupy a circuit of wall that had once held fifty,—­but with all the remains of its former greatness about it, noble palaces, a cathedral second in beauty to that of Milan alone, churches filled with fine pictures, an excellent public library, (God’s blessing be upon it, for it was in one of its dreamy alcoves that I first read Dante,) a good opera in the summer, and good society all the year round.  Month was gliding after month in happy succession.  I had dropped readily into the tranquil round of the daily life, had formed many acquaintances and two or three intimate ones, and, though reminded from time to time of the General by a paternal letter, had altogether forgotten the specimens of the children of the forest whom I had seen under his roof.  One evening—­I do not remember the month, though I think it was late in the autumn—­I had made up my mind to stay at home and study, and was just sitting down to my books, when a friend came in with the air of a man who had something very interesting to say.

“Quick, quick! shut your book, and come with me to the theatre.”

“Impossible!  I’m tired, and, moreover, have something to do which I must do to-night.”

“To-morrow night will do just as well for that, but not for the theatre.”

“Why?”

“Because there are some of your countrymen here who are going to be exhibited on the stage, and the Countess P——­ and all your friends want you to come and interpret for them.”

“Infinitely obliged.  And pray, what do you mean by saying that some of my countrymen are to be exhibited on the stage?  Do you take Americans for mountebanks?”

“No, I don’t mean that; but it is just as I tell you.  Some Americans will appear on the stage to-night and make a speech in American, and you must come and explain it to us.”