I saw tears in the Queen’s eyes, which she quickly wiped away; and, turning to the man, she asked, “Can he do any tricks?”

“Si, maesta, he can lie on his back and put his paws up in the air and hum.”

This did not seem much of a trick, probably being a bear’s customary attitude.

“Well,” said the Queen, “let us see what he can do.”

But, although the bear was addressed in terms of tenderest endearment and although we hoped that he would obey his master and do honor to the occasion, he did nothing of the kind.  On the contrary, instead of lying down and humming he stood up his full height on his hind legs and began to waltz, swaying his long, plump body and shaking his thick, brown fur.

He opened his mouth wide, showing his white teeth and his great red tongue, and looked as if he were laughing and as if it was the funniest thing in the world that he was doing.

“He does not seem to be very obedient,” smiled her Majesty.

“He is afraid,” said the man, trying to make excuses for his pet.

“You must come again,” said the Queen, “when your bear is better trained,” and, turning to Signor Borea (her chamberlain), told him to give the man some money and direct him to the forester’s lodge, where some food should be given to him.

The young Italian’s face beamed with joy when he beheld the vast sum (twenty lire) he had received, and led his disobedient companion away in disgrace; but the bear, quite unconscious of being in disgrace, turned his head for a last friendly glance, walked on his hind legs in his clumsy and swaggering manner, but with a certain dignity, down the avenue.

The King, who was with us on the terrace, had been a silent witness of the whole scene, and, not being able to resist the promptings of his kind heart, followed the couple.  We saw him put a gold piece in the brown palm of the poor fellow, whose “only friend” had failed him on this unique occasion.  He seemed quite overcome by this Danae-like shower of gold, and hesitated before taking the piece, thinking, perhaps, that on this occasion honesty might be the best policy, and said: 

“The Queen has already given me much.”

“That does not matter,” said the King.  “You must take what I give you.  Do you know who I am?”

“No, signor.  Are you Garibaldi?”

The King laughed.  “No, I am not Garibaldi; I am the King.”

This second surprise was too much for the little man, and he almost fell down in his emotion.

What his dreams were that night must have been like one of the Arabian
Nights.

REGGIO, October 17th.

Dear ——­,—­Count Spaletti has a very fine chateau (a large park and a beautiful forest), where he and his family live in patriarchal style.  It is the true Italian traditional home-life in every respect.