It was his turn to salute me now, and for him to say, “Servo suo.”

I found Belviso helping Filippa, the daughter of the house, to milk the goats, and when he had done, drew him apart and told him my news.  He received it gravely, without surprise.  “Don Francis,” he said, “what do you expect of me, except ‘Of course!’ It did not need much penetration on my part to see that you were a signorino.  The whole of our company knew it.  As far as I am concerned, it only makes your goodness to me the more inexplicable, while it perfectly explains my willingness to serve you; and since you have added condescension to charity I am the more sincerely grateful.  As you will now wish to be rid of me, I can assure you that I am strong enough to stand alone.  I believe that I shall make my way in the world by honest courses in the future; but I shall never cease to bless your name.”

“Belviso,” I said, “as to leaving me, that is your affair, for I tell you that the separation will never spring from me.  We have been brothers in misery, and may be no less so in good fortune.  At any rate, I shall not leave you to this life of a beast.  Come with me to Arezzo, and after that to Florence.  Then we will talk of all our businesses, and hear what Virginia has to say.”

He looked serious.  “Ah,” he said, “I know beforehand what your Virginia will say.  She will say as I do.  I will follow you to the gates of Heaven or Hell, Don Francis, but only in one capacity!”

I said, “There is only one possible capacity.”

“I know that very well,” replied the boy.  “We agree to that point, but differ beyond it.”

“What do you mean?” I asked him, puzzled.

He was very serious, and said, “Don Francis, if I go with you from this place, I go as your servant, and in no other fashion.”  To that I said, “Never,” and invoked the aid of Heaven.  Shrugging, he turned away, saying, “As you will.  Then it is farewell, padrone.”

“You will make me angry,” I said; and he answered, “It is your right.”

“My right, is it?” said I.  “If so, then, I command you.”

“What!” he exclaimed.  “You command me to be your brother?  Dear sir!”

At this I became angry in good earnest, and showed it very plainly.  He was extremely patient under it, but equally firm.  He said, “Don Francis, your generosity has gone near to be your ruin, because, though it would be good logic in Heaven, we are not there yet.  You say that you and I are equal.  I say that we are nothing of the sort; and the proof would be that if we started level from this door, and as we stand, in six months’ time you would remain a gentleman, and I the son of a shoemaker of Cadorre.  A gentleman you are, because you were born so.  If you took me up to your right hand, whether in this hovel or in the palace which is yours by reason, still you would be the gentleman and I the cobbler’s son.  And though I might prosper in business and become rich, and finding you in want,