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had not the least fear of being considered a bore； in a good humane
cause。 So he went on persistently trying； and trying； and trying；
to get Giovanni Carlavero out。 That prisoner had been rigorously
re…chained； after the tumour operation； and it was not likely that
his miserable life could last very long。
One day； when all the town knew about the Englishman and his
political prisoner； there came to the Englishman； a certain
sprightly Italian Advocate of whom he had some knowledge； and he
made this strange proposal。 'Give me a hundred pounds to obtain
Carlavero's release。 I think I can get him a pardon； with that
money。 But I cannot tell you what I am going to do with the money；
nor must you ever ask me the question if I succeed； nor must you
ever ask me for an account of the money if I fail。' The Englishman
decided to hazard the hundred pounds。 He did so； and heard not
another word of the matter。 For half a year and more； the Advocate
made no sign； and never once 'took on' in any way； to have the
subject on his mind。 The Englishman was then obliged to change his
residence to another and more famous town in the North of Italy。
He parted from the poor prisoner with a sorrowful heart； as from a
doomed man for whom there was no release but Death。
The Englishman lived in his new place of abode another half…year
and more； and had no tidings of the wretched prisoner。 At length；
one day； he received from the Advocate a cool； concise； mysterious
note； to this effect。 'If you still wish to bestow that benefit
upon the man in whom you were once interested； send me fifty pounds
more； and I think it can be ensured。' Now； the Englishman had long
settled in his mind that the Advocate was a heartless sharper； who
had preyed upon his credulity and his interest in an unfortunate
sufferer。 So； he sat down and wrote a dry answer； giving the
Advocate to understand that he was wiser now than he had been
formerly； and that no more money was extractable from his pocket。
He lived outside the city gates； some mile or two from the post…
office； and was accustomed to walk into the city with his letters
and post them himself。 On a lovely spring day； when the sky was
exquisitely blue； and the sea Divinely beautiful； he took his usual
walk； carrying this letter to the Advocate in his pocket。 As he
went along； his gentle heart was much moved by the loveliness of
the prospect； and by the thought of the slowly dying prisoner
chained to the bedstead； for whom the universe had no delights。 As
he drew nearer and nearer to the city where he was to post the
letter； he became very uneasy in his mind。 He debated with
himself； was it remotely possible； after all； that this sum of
fifty pounds could restore the fellow…creature whom he pitied so
much； and for whom he had striven so hard； to liberty？ He was not
a conventionally rich Englishman … very far from that … but； he had
a spare fifty pounds at the banker's。 He resolved to risk it。
Without doubt； GOD has recompensed him for the resolution。
He went to the banker's； and got a bill for the amount； and
enclosed it in a letter to the Advocate that I wish I could have
seen。 He simply told the Advocate that he was quite a poor man；
and that he was sensible it might be a great weakness in him to
part with so much money on the faith of so vague a communication；
but； that there it was； and that he prayed the Advocate to make a
good use of it。 If he did otherwise no good could ever come of it；
and it would lie heavy on his soul one day。
Within a week； the Englishman was sitting at his breakfast； when he
heard some suppressed sounds of agitation on the staircase； and
Giovanni Carlavero leaped into the room and fell upon his breast； a
free man！
Conscious of having wronged the Advocate in his own thoughts； the
Englishman wrote him an earnest and grateful letter； avowing the
fact； and entreating him to confide by what means and through what
agency he had succeeded so well。 The Advocate returned for answer
through the post； 'There are many things； as you know； in this
Italy of ours； that are safest and best not even spoken of … far
less written of。 We may meet some day； and then I may tell you
what you want to know； not here； and now。' But； the two never did
meet again。 The Advocate was dead when the Englishman gave me my
trust； and how the man had been set free； remained as great a
mystery to the Englishman； and to the man himself； as it was to me。
But； I knew this：… here was the man； this sultry night； on his
knees at my feet； because I was the Englishman's friend； here were
his tears upon my dress； here were his sobs choking his utterance；
here were his kisses on my hands； because they had touched the
hands that had worked out his release。 He had no need to tell me
it would be happiness to him to die for his benefactor； I doubt if
I ever saw real； sterling； fervent gratitude of soul； before or
since。
He was much watched and suspected； he said； and had had enough to
do to keep himself out of trouble。 This； and his not having
prospered in his worldly affairs； had led to his having failed in
his usual communications to the Englishman for … as I now remember
the period … some two or three years。 But； his prospects were
brighter； and his wife who had been very ill had recovered； and his
fever had left him； and he had bought a little vineyard； and would
I carry to his benefactor the first of its wine？ Ay； that I would
（I told him with enthusiasm）； and not a drop of it should be
spilled or lost！
He had cautiously closed the door before speaking of himself； and
had talked with such excess of emotion； and in a provincial Italian
so difficult to understand； that I had more than once been obliged
to stop him； and beg him to have compassion on me and be slower and
calmer。 By degrees he became so； and tranquilly walked back with
me to the hotel。 There； I sat down before I went to bed and wrote
a faithful account of him to the Englishman： which I concluded by
saying that I would bring the wine home； against any difficulties；
every drop。
Early next morning； when I came out at the hotel door to pursue my
journey； I found my friend waiting with one of those immense
bottles in which the Italian peasants store their wine … a bottle
holding some half…dozen gallons … bound round with basket…work for
greater safety on the journey。 I see him now； in the bright
sunshine； tears of gratitude in his eyes； proudly inviting my
attention to this corpulent bottle。 （At the street…comer hard by；
two high…flavoured； able…bodied monks … pretending to talk
together； but keeping their four evil eyes upon us。）
How the bottle had been got there； did not appear； but the
difficulty of getting it into the ramshackle vetturino carriage in
which I was departing； was so great； and it took up so much room
when it was got in； that I elected to sit outside。 The last I saw
of