I am your poor servant, but you have won my heart.

I would give my life for you should you desire it!" He paused, half ashamed of the emotion that threatened to break through his mask of impassibility, bowed again and would have left me, but that I called him back and held out my hand.
"Shake hands, amico" I said, simply.
He caught it with an astonished yet pleased look--and stooping, kissed it before I could prevent him, and this time literally scrambled out of my presence with an entire oblivion of his usual dignity.

Left alone, I considered this behavior of his with half-pained surprise.

This poor fellow loved me it was evident--why, I knew not.

I had done no more for him than any other master might have done for a good servant.