Odo met the rebuff with a smile.  “Does that,” said he, “prevent my suggesting that you might continue your way more comfortably in my carriage?  The road is hot and dusty, and, as you see, I am in want of company.”

The pedestrian, who seemed unprepared for this affable rejoinder, had the sheepish air of a man whose rudeness has missed the mark.

“Why, sir,” said he, recovering himself, “comfort is all a matter of habit, and I daresay the jolting of your carriage might seem to me more unpleasant than the heat and dust of the road, to which necessity has long since accustomed me.”

“In that case,” returned Odo with increasing amusement, “you will have the additional merit of sacrificing your pleasure to add to mine.”

The hunchback stared.  “And what have you or yours ever done for me,” he retorted, “that I should sacrifice to your pleasure even the wretched privilege of being dusted by the wheels of your coach?”

“Why, that,” replied Odo, “is a question I can scarce answer till you give me the opportunity of naming myself.—­If you are indeed Carlo Gamba,” he continued, “I am your old friend and companion Odo Valsecca.”

The hunchback started.  “The Cavaliere Valsecca!” he cried.  “I had heard that you were expected.”  He stood gazing at Odo.  “Our next Duke!” he muttered.

Odo smiled.  “I had rather,” he said, “that my past commended me than my future.  It is more than doubtful if I am ever able to offer you a seat in the Duke’s carriage; but Odo Valsecca’s is very much at your service.”

Gamba bowed with a kind of awkward dignity.  “I am grateful for a friend’s kindness,” he said, “but I do not ride in a nobleman’s carriage.”

“There,” returned Odo with perfect good-humour, “you have had advantage of me; for I can no more escape doing so than you can escape spending your life in the company of an ill-tempered man.”  And courteously lifting his hat he called to the postillion to drive on.

The hunchback at this, flushing red, laid a hand on the carriage door.

“Sir,” said he, “I freely own myself in the wrong; but a smooth temper was not one of the blessings my unknown parents bequeathed to me; and I confess I had heard of you as one little concerned with your inferiors except as they might chance to serve your pleasure.”

It was Odo’s turn to colour.  “Look,” said he, “at the fallibility of rumour; for I had heard of you as something of a philosopher, and here I find you not only taking a man’s character on hearsay but denying him the chance to prove you mistaken!”

“I deny it no longer,” said Gamba stepping into the coach; “but as to philosophy, the only claim I can make to it is that of being by birth a peripatetic.”

His dignity appeased, the hunchback proved himself a most engaging companion, and as the carriage lumbered slowly toward Pianura he had time not only to recount his own history but to satisfy Odo as to many points of the life awaiting him.