 CHAPTER XXI Do I indeed lack courage, inquired Mr. Archer of himself, courage that does not fail a weasel or a rat, that is a brutish faculty, R. L. Stevenson. I drank my black coffee and smoked a cigarette. Then a glance at my watch told me that it was time to keep the appointment at the Villa des Fleurs, five minutes' walk from the hotel. I expected the Contessa's party to be late, but somewhat to my surprise they had already arrived. And a quick glance showed me that outwardly, at least, the relations of all were still amicable. Senor Boy did not wish to come, said the Contessa to me, but I made him. He says that he does not like crowds. Look at him now. He has wandered far from us already, probably to find some dark corner where he can forget that there are too many people. But then it was sweet of him to come at all, since it was only to please me. It was true. The boy had slipped away from the seats we had taken near the music. He had gone to avoid me, perhaps, I said to myself bitterly. I need not have spoiled my dinner with anxiety for his welfare. He seemed to be taking very good care of himself. I was horribly worried at dinner, whispered Gata to me, the light of the fireworks playing rosely over her face. Those, too, you know of whom I speak, weren't a bit nice to each other. It was Paolo who began it, of course, saying little hateful things that sounded smooth, but had a second meaning, and Senor Boy is not stupid. He did not miss the bad intention. Oh, not he. And he said other little things back again, much sharper and wittier than Paolo, who was furious and gnawed his lip. It was most exciting. Did you try to pour oil on the troubled waters, I asked? I was very pleasant to them both, if that is what you mean, first to one, and then to the other. After dinner I gave Senor Boy a rose, and Paolo a gardenia. How charming of you, I commented dryly. If that didn't smooth matters, what could? The aeronaut was sitting on Gata's left, I on her right, with the baronesa next to me on the other side, and both were straining every nerve to hear our confidences, though pretending to be lost in admiration of the food d'artifice. When the Contessa laughed softly, her little dark head not far from my ear, the Italians sprang up and walked away, unable to endure five minutes of Gata's neglect. She and I continued our conversation, though our eyes wandered, mine in search of the boy, hers I fancy in quest of the same object. Soon I caught sight of the slim youthful figure in its rather fantastic evening dress, the becoming dinner jacket, the eaten collar, the loosely tied bow at throat, and the full black knickerbocker trousers, like those worn in the days of honoured Gata. As I watched it moving through the crowd, and finally subsiding in a seat under an isolated tree, I saw the boyish form, joined by a tall and manly one. Paolo Denevoly had followed his young rival, and presently came to a stand close to the boy's chair. He folded his arms and looked down into the eyes, which were upturned in answer to some word. We could not see the expression of the two faces. We saw only that the man and the boy were talking, spasmodically at first. Then continuously, I do hope they're not quarreling, said Gata, in the seventh heaven of delight. Of course not, I replied, annoyed at her frivolity. They are too sensible. Gata's make some excuse and go over to them, she pleaded. I am tired of sitting still. There was nothing for it but to obey her whim. I took her across the grassy space which divided us from the two under the tree, and she began to chatter about the fireworks. What did senior boy think of them? Was not ex a charming place? But abruptly, in the midst of her babble, Paolo Denevoly swept her away from the boy and me in his best whirlwind manner, which doubtless thrilled her with mingled terror and delight. Nice night, isn't it? I remarked brilliantly. Yes, said the boy. Did the Contessa give you a good dinner? No, yes, that is, I didn't notice. Perhaps that was natural. The boy did not answer, but I heard him swallow hard. He was on his feet now, having risen at Gata's coming, and he stood kicking the grass with the point of his small patent leather toe. Then suddenly he looked up straight into my face with big dilated eyes. What's the matter, I asked, when still he did not speak? Oh, man, I'm in the most awful scrape. What's up? I should be thankful to tell you about it, and get your advice if you were like you used to be. It's you who have changed, not I. No, it's you. Don't let's dispute about it. Tell me what's the trouble? Has that bounder been cheeking you? Worse than that, he said things that made me angry and then I cheeked him. Just now, under this tree? It began at dinner a little, but the particular thing I'm speaking of happened here. I couldn't stand it, you know. What did he say? He asked me how old I was at first. In such a tone, I answered that I was old enough to know my way about, I hoped. He said he should have fought not, as I traveled with my nurse. Then he wanted to know what was in Suri's pack, whether I carried condensed milk or my nursing-bottle. It was all I could do to keep from boxing his ears before everyone, but I kept still and laughed a little. Presently I answered in a drawing sort of way, saying I needn't tell him that what Suri carried was no affair of his, because when I came to think of it, after all it was quite natural that a great donkey should be interested in a small one. I drove you little fire-eater. Well, I had to show him that I was an American anyhow. I suppose he was annoyed? He was very much annoyed. Man, he's challenged me to fight a duel. Only think of it, a real duel. He said I'd have to fight, or he'd thrash me for a coward. It's a horrible scrape, but I don't see how I'm going to get out of it with honor. Will you, if I do have to, but look here, I won't have him running me through with a sword, or anything of that sort. I'm afraid I couldn't face that. I wouldn't mind a revolver quite as much. The big bully, I exclaimed, but of course it's all rot. There can be no question of your fighting him. I don't know. I'd rather do that, if we could have pistols, than have him think an American could be a coward. I'm not a coward, I hope. Only I never thought of anything like this. He's going to send a friend of his to call on you, as a friend of mine, he said. I suppose that means a what-do-you-call- him a second, doesn't it? If I must fight with him, man, you will be my second, won't you? And, and act for me, if that's the right word. Gazing up earnestly, his eyes very big, his face pale, he looked no more than fourteen, and the idea of a duel to the death between this child and Gata's whirlwind would have been comic in the extreme had I not been enraged with the whirlwind. I'll be your friend and get you out of the scrape, I said, but it will mean that you must give up the Contessa. Give up the Contessa, echoed the boy. What do I want with the Contessa? I'm sick of the sight of her. Since when? Since the first day we met. I don't think she's even pretty. What you can see in her, I don't know. The silly little giggling thing. There, it's out at last. What I see in her, I repeated. I like that. I always supposed you did, but I can't stand her. Well, of all the—look here. Why have you been hanging after her, if you— I didn't. I just wasn't going to let you make a fool of yourself over her and then regret it afterwards. So I—I did my best to take her attention away from you, and I succeeded fairly well. It vexed me to see you falling in love with her. She wasn't worth it. There was never of a remotest chance of my doing so. You said there was. I was chaffing, just to hear myself talk. I should have thought you would know that. How could I know? You were always saying how pretty and dainty she was and quoting poetry about her, while all the time I could read her shallow little mind and see how different she was from what you imagined. I think I have a fairly clear idea of her limitations. But you told me that you'd planned to go down to Monte Carlo, expressly to see the Contessa, and you said that it would perhaps be a wise thing for you to try and fall in love with her. If a man has to try and fall in love with a woman, he's pretty safe. You and I seemed to have been playing at cross-purposes youngster. You thought I was in danger of falling in love, and I thought you were already in. You couldn't have believed it, really. I did, and suppose you wanted me out of the way. I was thinking the same thing about you. You did seem jealous and sulky. I was both, but it was because our friendship had been interfered with, little pal. Oh, man, do you really mean that? Every word of it. I wouldn't give up a talk with you for a kiss from the Contessa, of which, by the way, I'm very unlikely to have the chance. But you—I've been miserable for the last few days. I—I missed you, man. And I you, boy. What an awful pity it is I've got to stand up and be shot, just as we're good friends again, and everything's all right. You've got to do nothing of the sort. Let's share Paolo will if he is really an earnest and not bluffing. Send his friend to me, and matters will be settled. Never fear. I don't fear. At least I hope I don't. Much. Only I wasn't brought up to expect challenges to duels. They're not in my line. But I won't apologize whatever happens. No, I won't. I won't. I won't. I daresay it doesn't hurt much being shot. And I suppose he wouldn't be so—so impolite as to shoot me in the face, would he? He is not going to shoot you anywhere, said I. I am glad I told you. I was feeling rather queer. What am I to do? Am I to go back to the villa as if nothing had happened, or what? What might mean coming to my hotel? But you seemed to find my society a bore. That's unkind. It was your own fault that I went to a different hotel at Châtelard. How do you make that out? I can't tell you. I don't suppose you'll ever know. But if you should guess by and by, remembering something you want said, you might understand. Something I want said? Never mind. Please don't talk of it. I'd rather be shot at. But I want you to believe that my reason wasn't the one you thought. Now tell me what you're going to do about seeing your denivoli. Have you made a plan? One has popped into my head, I replied. It may end answer. But will you give me carte blanche to try? If it doesn't work, I'll get you out of the mess in another way. But this would give us a chance of making Paolo eat humble pie. Do try it, then. I'd risk a lot for that. As for tonight on the whole, I think the best thing will be for you to go back to the villa. Of course we mustn't let the Contessa suspect. Little cat, I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Upon my word you're not very gallant. I don't care. I'm sick of the Contessa, a plague upon her and all her houses. Yet I wish her nothing worse than that she should marry Paolo, a man with his hair on bros. Probably he is saying, uh, a boy with curls on his collar. May one of his old balloons fly away with him before he shoots me. Anyhow he shall find that curls don't make a coward. Only there's just one thing before you treat with him. I won't, I can't be jabbed at with anything sharp. You shan't, said I. With this the Contessa beckoned from a distance, with news that she was going home. We followed the boy and I, allowing her to walk far ahead with her triumphant aeronaut, the Baron and Baronessa, radiant with satisfaction in the success of their plot, arm in arm between the two couples. Having seen my little Daniel to the Gate of the Lion's Den, I shook hands cordially with everybody. Paolo, last of all, he placed his fingers with haughty reluctance in my ostentatiously proffered palm, but I held the four chilly fish-like things. Chilly only for me, long enough to mutter, so to vote she. I want a word with you on a matter of importance. I'll walk up and down the road for twenty minutes. His impulse was to refuse. I could see by the sharp upward toss of his chin, but a certain quality in my look, clearly visible to him in the light of the gate-lamp. I was at some pains to produce the effect. Warned him that if his bloodthirsty plans were not to be nipped in the red bud, he must bend his will to mine in this one instance. He answered with a glance, and I knew that I should not be kept long on my beat. CHAPTER XXII. An American custom. Oh, have it your own way. I am too old a hand, to argue with young gentlemen. I have too much experience, thank you, R. L. Stevenson. Five minutes, ten minutes passed, after the farewells. Then as I sauntered by on the other side of the way, I heard the sound of a foot on gravel, and Paolo Deneboli appeared under the gate-light. There he paused, expecting me to cross to him, but I allotted him the part of Mohammed, and selected for myself that of a mountain. Shrugging his square shoulders, he came striding over the road to me, and I had scored one small victory. I hoped that I might take it for an omen. I do not understand the nature of this appointment, monsieur, began the Italian. I intend to send my friend, Captain De Sal, to you, too. Ah, yes, that is the continental way in these little affairs. I ventured to interrupt him coolly. On our side of the channel we are rather ignorant on such matters, I fear. But my young friend, Mr. Lawrence, is an American. Do you mean that he will refuse to fight, after insulting me? Asked Paolo, bristling? Not at all. He is very young, and this will be his first duel. He may have misunderstood your intentions. But I gathered from him that you had said he would have to fight, that you then requested him to name a friend to whom you could send a friend of yours. This is the fact. There was no misunderstanding. He named you. Yes, but as I said, he is an American. What of that, since he will fight? As a duelist yourself, no doubt a successful one, you must be aware that such matters are conducted differently in the States. I know nothing of that. I know only our own ways, which are good enough for me. But my friend, being the challenged party, has the right, I believe, to choose the manner of duel. That will be arranged between you and my friend, according to the choice of Mr. Lawrence. I must ask you to go slowly, just at this point. In the States it is against the dueling code, to have the details arranged by the friends of the principles. It is the principles themselves who do all that, and for the best of reasons. But as Mr. Lawrence is a boy, and you are a man, it is but right that I should speak with you for him. You needn't send Captain Dessal to me. We are man to man, and in ten minutes we can have everything settled with fairness to both parties. This is a new idea, monsieur, and I confess it does not commend itself to me, said Paolo. I suppose, however, you are anxious to fight. Sacré bleu, but yes, the little jack-o'-napes called me a donkey, and he had the impudence to allude to my invention, as a balloon, adding that there was little to choose between it and my head. Sielle, do I wish to fight? Then as you must grant him the privileges of the challenged party, I fear there is only one way of carrying this thing through. He is patriotic to a fault, and he will fight in the American fashion, or not at all. I must say that this is to the credit of his courage, as there is to me an Englishman something appalling about the method. I trust that I'm not a coward, yet it would take all my nerve to face such an ordeal. No doubt, however, with the fiery Latin races, it is different. I shall be glad of your explanation, monsieur. What is this method of which you speak? There are several small variations. There are the bits of paper. There are the matches. There are the beans of different size. I am more in the dark than ever. My friend proposes the bits of paper. Two are taken, exactly resembling each other, except in length. Both are placed inside a book, with an end, say an inch long, sticking out. You and Mr. Lawrence draw simultaneously, that there can be no question of cheating. The one who draws the long bit lives. The other stands up to be shot, without defending himself. Mon Dieu, how horrible! I would never submit to such a barbarous test. This is not a duel. It is murder. I shrugged my shoulders as gracefully I flatter myself, as Paolo himself could have done it. But for the moment Paolo was in no shoulder shrugging mood, his very crest, it seemed to me, was drooping. Nevertheless said I, that is the American idea of a duel, as practiced in the best society. My friend is a member of the 400, and should it become known that he had been killed in an old-fashioned butcherly duel, his memory would be disgraced. But what about my memory? Demanded Paolo would open palms. Mr. does not appear to think of that. It was not on my mind. I am acting for my friend. You have challenged a boy, a mere child, to fight you to the death. He very pluckily accepts your challenge. There are those who would think that you had done a brutal, even a cowardly thing, in putting a youth of 17 or 18 into such a position. Then surely your most lenient friends would say that the least you could do would be to give the child his right of choice in weapons. Very well, he chooses two bits of paper of different lengths. Paolo shuddered. I will not consent, he said, swallowing hard after a moment's reflection. Very well, you have had my friend's ultimatum. Am I to tell him that this is yours? It is not fair, he exclaimed. Mr. Lawrence has his friend to act for him. As yet I have no one. He is 18 at most. You are, perhaps, 30. Still if you insist I will see Captain de Salle tell him my principal's idea, and perhaps he will be more fortunate in inducing you to consent. No, no, cried the Italian quickly. I would not have him or anyone know of this monstrous proposal. I should never hear the end of it, and there would be a thousand versions of the story. I was not surprised at this decision on his part. Indeed I had expected it with confidence. He will not reconsider, I asked nonchalantly. Jamais de la vie. Then the duel is off. Paolo swore. I smiled, but he did not see the smile. I was careful that he should not. I consider that you and your principal have taken an unfair advantage. That is between you and me, if you care to raise the question. I have no quarrel with you. Then you and Mr. Lawrence must treat the misunderstanding of this evening, as if it had not been. This will not be difficult, as he will go with me on an excursion to-morrow, now that his, er, engagement with you is off. And the day after, he and I think of leaving Ex altogether by way of Mombrivar. This plan arranged itself spontaneously, but as the boy had un-galantly called Gaeta, a little cat, and I was slightly blasé of her dimples, I thought that I might count upon its being carried out. What, he will go away? exclaimed Paolo, all at once a different man. He will leave Ex altogether, you say? Yes, you see, we are on our way south. Mr. Lawrence merely wanted a glance at Ex en route, and the Contessa was kind enough to invite him to her house. It was really nice of her, as he is such a boy. You think so? Yes, perhaps. Well, I consent on these terms to forget. You may tell your principal what I have said. I will, I returned. He will be guided by me, and forget also, though I assure you, like most of his countrymen, he is a fire-eater, a fire-eater. This time it was Paolo who volunteered to shake hands. CHAPTER XXIII I went early in the morning to the villa with the intention of culling the boy like a wayside flower and carrying him off to the lake. The hour was unearthly for a morning call, and the windows were still asleep, but I was spared the necessity of raising the echoes with an untimely peel of the bell. Under the red umbrella lounged the boy, reading with the appearance, at least, of nonchalance. For all he could tell I might have failed in my mission, and have come to announce the hour fixed for deadly combat. Though he was not even pale, indeed I had never seen him rosier or brighter-eyed. I sat down on the rustic seat beside him, and with a glance at the veiled windows of the villa, I remarked in a low voice, It's all right. That goes without saying. Why? Because you promised. Thanks for the compliment. Have you had your cafe au lait? No, I got up early and thought of walking round to your hotel to see you, but decided I wouldn't. I half expected you. I didn't want to seem too importunate. I hoped you'd come here. Like a promising child I've justified your hopes. Let's walk down to the Grand Port, to a garden restaurant I remember, and over our coffee I'll tell you the story of my diplomatic coup. Meanwhile we'll discuss Shakespeare and the musical glasses. Anything but the Contessa said the boy, springing up and cramming his Panama over his curls. I shall breathe more freely on the other side of the gate, and I shan't consider myself out of the scrape until I'm out of her house for good. In the street he drew fuller breaths, and with each yard of distance that we put between ourselves and the villa, his eyes grew brighter and his steps more airy. I unfolded my plan for the morning, which was to take a trip up the lake to the Abbey of Otocombe and return in time for Dejeuner, since as a guest of the Contessa the boy could scarcely upset himself all day without conspicuous rudeness. You'll have to be tied to the lady's apron strings if she wants you knotted there for the afternoon, said I. But I'm going to have a telegram from my friends to meet them on the top of Montrevar to-morrow, so if you want an excuse, what, your friends the Winston's he broke in with one of the sudden flaming blushes that made him seem so young. Yes, why not? They are coming to join you? I told you they might turn up at any moment, and—and now the moment has arrived, then it has also arrived for us to say good-bye. Do you mean that? Oh, don't think me ungrateful or ungracious. I'm neither, but in any case we must sooner or later have reached the parting of the ways. You are bound to Monte Carlo. I have the vaguest plans. I thought you said that your sister might be going there with friends. But my sister and I are very different persons. Surely you would wish to meet her there. It's rather undecided at present anyhow, returned the boy, his eyes bent on the ground as we walked, or steps less sprightly now. There's only one thing settled which is that I can't go with you up Montrevar to meet people. There isn't the slightest chance of my meeting anyone there, friend Diogenes, I began. I was only waiting for you to give me time to explain, since you're inclined to be obtuse, the difference between sending a telegram to yourself, and—oh, I see, you aren't going to meet a soul on Montrevar. Not even an astral body, by appointment, and the plan was made for your deliverance, rather hard lines that you should kick at it. He looked up, laughing, and merry once more. I won't kick again. Man, you are—well, you're different from other men. Yes, from every other man I've ever met. Am I to take that as praise? He nodded, his big eyes sending blue rays into mine. Thanks! Best man you ever met. Another nod, and more color in his cheeks. Good enough to be introduced to your sister? Good enough, even for that. But if I should fall in love with her? The boy straightened his shoulders after a slight start of surprise, and seemed to pull himself together, for a moment he was silent, as we walked on under the close growing plain trees which lined the long straight road to the grand port. Then at last he said, You wouldn't. How can you tell that? Because she isn't your style. You don't know my style of girl. Oh, yes I do. Don't you remember a talk we had the first day we were friends? We told each other a lot of things. I can see that girl. A girl who—who—jilted me, I supplied. Don't hesitate to call a spade A lovely angelic-looking creature, typically English, golden hair, skin like cream and roses. The type has pawled upon me, said I. I know now that Molly Winston, my friend's wife, was right. I never really loved that girl. It was her popularity and my own vanity that I was in love with. Are you sure? As sure as that I'm starving for my breakfast, if the young lady—she's married now and I wish her all happiness—should appear before me at the end of this street and sob out a confession of repentance for the past, it wouldn't in the least affect my appetite. I should tell her not to mind and hurry on to join you at the corner. You would have forgotten by that time that there was a me. I can't think of any one or anything at the moment which would make me forget that, said I. The Contessa? Not she, nor any other pretty doll. An earthquake, then? Not an earthquake, for I should probably occupy myself in trying to save your life. To tell the honest truth, little pal, you've become a confirmed habit with me, and I confess that the thought of finishing this tramp without you gave me a distinct shock when you flung it at my head. If you were open to the idea of adoption, I think I should have to adopt you, you know, or now that I've got used seeing you about. It seems to me that, as certain advertisements say of the articles they recommend, no home would be complete without you. But there's your sister. She would object to annexation. The boy was busily kicking fallen leaves as he walked. You might ask her if you should ever see each other. Make her meet you at Monte Carlo and introduce us there. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you a dinner at the Hotel de Paris the night after we arrive. I shall be in your hands, and, of course, your sisters, who ought to know your pal. You must try hard to get her to come. Is it a bargain? I can't answer for her. But I only ask you to try your hardest. Come now. When I've told you about last night, you'll say I deserve a reward. Yes, I'll try. But by Jove I'd forgotten that your sister is an heiress I went on. I vowed not to fall in love with a girl who has a lot of money. I told you that you wouldn't fall in love with her. Is she like you? A good many people think so. That's why I'm so sure she wouldn't be the sort of girl you'd care for. You, a man who admires the English Rose type, or a Contessa. The Contessa was your affair. For me, a woman of her type could never be dangerous, whereas a girl like your sister, still harping on my sister. I often think of her as the princess. It's a pretty name. I fancy it suits her, once or twice, since we've been chums. You have had letters, I know. I hope you've better news of her. She's cured in body and mind. It is, rather, a queer coincidence, perhaps, for like you she has found out, so she tells me that she wasn't really in love with a man. She was only in love with love. I'm heartily glad if she says true and brave a little soul, as glorious a pal as you are, she will one day make some fellow the happiest man alive. The boy did not answer. Perhaps he was overwhelmed with the indirect praise suddenly heaped upon him. Perhaps he thought that I spoke too freely of the princess his sister. I was not sure myself that I had not gone beyond good taste. But calling up the picture of a girl resembling in character the little pal had stirred me to sudden enthusiasm. Fancy a girl looking at one with such eyes, a girl capable of being such a companion. It would not bear thinking of. There could be no such girl. I was glad that at this moment we arrived at the Grand Port and the Garden Restaurant, where my regrets for the light that never was on land or sea, or in a girl's eyes, were temporarily drowned in cafe au lait. The talk was no more of the unseen princess, but Apollo. At last I condescended to enter into a detailed account of the night's happenings, where the erinot was concerned, and the boy threw up his chin, showing his little white teeth and a burst of laughter at my maneuver. But that isn't an American duel, he objected, still rippling with mirth. You commit suicide, you know. The man who draws the short bit of paper agrees to go quietly off and kill himself decently somewhere, before the end of a stipulated time. I'm aware of that, but I gambled on Paolo's ignorance of the custom, said I. I flattered myself that I'd totted up his character, like a sum on a slate, and I acted on the estimate I formed. If I had kept entirely to facts, without giving the reign to my imagination, you might now be doomed to travel at this time next year to Budapest, and there drown yourself in the largest possible vat of beer. Had Paolo been unlucky in the matter of getting the short bit of paper, a little thing like that wouldn't have bothered him much. He would simply have gone off for a long trip in his newest airship, and conveniently forgotten such an obscure engagement. It was the thought of standing up defenseless to be artistically potted at by you that turned his heart to water. I believe you're right, and, anyway, you are very clever, said the boy. What does one do for a man who has saved one's life? If you were only a girl now, a princess, in a fairy story, you would bestow upon me your hand, I replied gaily. As it is, I can't at the moment think of a punishment to fit the crime. Though I can't be a princess, I might play the prince and give you a ring, he said, pulling at the queer seal-ring he always wore. But it wouldn't fit the crime, I mean the finger. Mere mortals never argue when the fairy prince makes them a present. Do take the ring. I should like you to have it, too. Remember me by. To remember you by, but such chums as we have got to be, don't give memory much pull, they arrange to see each other often. Fairy princes vanish sometimes, you know. If I take your ring, will you appear if I rub it? The boy was smiling, but his eyes looked grave, if when the fairy prince has vanished, that is, if he should, you want to see him really badly. Try rubbing the ring. It might work, but you'll probably lose the ring before that, and the memory. I answered by hooking the ring, which was far too small for the least of my fingers, into the spring-loop which held my watch on its chain. My watch and I are one, I said. Only burglary or death can separate me from the ring now, and if I'm smashed next time Jack Winston lets me drive his motor-car, there will probably be a romantic little paragraph in the papers, perhaps even a pathetic verse about the ring on the dead man's watch chain, which will give you every satisfaction. The boat's whistling said the boy, we'd better run if we want to see the abbey of Otakom before lunch. We did run, and caught the boat in that uncertain and exciting manner which brings into play a physical appurtenance unrecognized by science, i.e. the skin of the teeth. Under the awning which shaded the deck, we took the only two seats not occupied by an abnormally large German family, abnormally large individually as well as collectively, and settled ourselves for half an hour's enjoyment of a charming water panorama. What a heavenly place X is, exclaimed the boy fervently. I'm so glad I came. I thought yesterday that you were disappointed in the place. Oh, yesterday was yesterday. Today's today. How glorious everything is in the world. I do love living, and I like everybody so much. What nice good creatures one's fellow beings are. My heart warms to them. I don't believe anybody's really horrid, through and through. I should like to pat somebody on the shoulder. Queer thing, I feel exactly the same way this morning, said I. Shall we throw ourselves on one another's bosom, and kiss each other on both cheeks, German fashion? To show our good will towards all mankind? I'm sure our travelling companions would warmly sympathize with our Schwarzmerai. No, perhaps we'd better not risk setting them the example, for fear they should follow it. Then let's shake hands. He put out his little slim brown paw, and I seized it with such heartiness that he visibly winced, but not as squeaked the pain draw from him, and the large Germans, looking on gravely, no doubt thought that, according to some queer English right, we had registered an important vow. Really the world was a nice place that day, though I might not have noticed it so much if the boy and I had been still at loggerheads. Yesterday, as we entered X, I had said to myself that the mountains surrounding the town had descended to depths of dumpy ugliness, unworthy the name and dignity of mountains. I had formulated the idea that there should be world landscape gardeners appointed to work on a grand scale, and alter hills or mountains which nature had neglected or bungled. But today, as we steamed down the long narrow Lac du Beaujet, sitting shoulder to shoulder, the light breeze fluttering butterfly wings against our faces, I could not see that there was anything for the most fastidious taste to alter, anywhere. As the lake at Anisee had been incredibly blue, this lake was incredibly green. No weekly penny paper in England, even in its fattest holiday number, would have room enough to compute the vast number of emeralds, which must have been melted to give that vivid tint to the sparkling water. It was as easy to see the inhabitants of the lake having their luncheon at the bottom on tables exquisitely decorated with colored pebbles, as it is to look in through the plate glass window of a restaurant. As our course changed, the mountains girdling the lake and filling in the perspective grouped themselves in graceful attitudes, like professional beauties sitting for their photographs. There were chateaux dotted here and there on the hillside, and I no longer peopled them with myself and Helen Blantock. I realized that if one had a palace on the lake of Como or Beaujet, or any other romantic sheet of water, one could be happy as an elderly bachelor if one's days were occasionally enlivened by visits from congenial friends such as the Winston's and the boy. No wonder that Lamartine was happy at Châtillon, writing his meditations. I felt that a long residence on the shores of the Lac de Beaujet would inspire me to some modest meditations of my own, and I could even have taken down a few memoranda for them had I not feared that the boy would laugh to see my notebook come out. I remembered Otcom with its ancient abbey, deep cream-colored, like old ivory or the marbles of the Vatican, glimmering among dark trees and mirrored in the lake so clearly that, gazing long at the reflection, one felt as if standing on one's head. I pointed it out to the boy from a distance on its jutting promontory, with the pride of the well-informed guide, and talked of the place with the superficial appearance of erudition. But after all, when he came to pin me down with questions, my bubble reputation burst. Not a date could I pump up from the drained depths of my recollection, and in the end I had to accept ignominiously from the boy such crumbs as he had collected from a guide-book larder. What was it to us I contended that the monastery was said to have been built in 1125? What did it matter that it had originally been the home of Cistercians? I clog one's mind with such details, since it was enough for all purposes of romance to know that the old building had weathered many wars and many centuries, and that a special clause had protected the monks when Savoy was seated by Italy to France. The great charm of the place for me, apart from its natural beauty, lay in the thought that it was the last home of dead kings, the vanished princes of Savoy, I did not want to know the facts of its restoration at different dates, and would indeed shut my eyes upon all such traces if I could. Though the abbey and its double in the lake had remained a picture in my mind, through the years since I had seen them, I was struck anew with the peaceful loveliness of the place as we approached the little landing stage. The kings of Savoy had chosen well in choosing to sleep their last sleep at Othcom. The boy and I slowly ascended the deeply shadowed road which led up the hill to the abbey, but leisurely as we walked, we soon outpaced the Germans. For this we were not sorry, since it gave us the silent gray church to ourselves, and the sleeping kings. We bestowed money for his charities upon the white-robed monk who would have shown us the tombs and the chapels, conscientiously gaveling history the while, and then with compliments we freed him from the duty. His hard facts would have been like dogs yapping at our heels, and as the boy said, we would not have been able to hear ourselves think. We whispered as if fearing to wake the sleepers, as we wandered from one bed of marble in its dim niche to another, never perhaps did so many crowned heads lie under the same roof as at peaceful Othcom, sleeping longer, more soundly far, than the princess in her enchanted palace in the wood. For centuries the convent bells have rung, calling the monks to prayer, and sometimes the walls have trembled with the thunder of cannon, yet the sleepers have not stirred. There they have lain those stately royal figures, with hands folded placidly on placid bosoms, resting well after stress and storm. It was difficult to keep in mind that the real kings and queens had molded into dust under the stone, where reposed their counterfeit presentments. Again and again we had to send away the impression that we were looking at the actual bodies, transformed by the slow process of centuries into marble, together with their guardian lions, their favorite hounds, and their curly lambs. The endless slumber of these royal men and women of Sevoix seemed magical, mysterious. We felt that if we but had the secret of the talisman we could wake them, that they would slowly rise on elbow and gaze at us, stony-eyed, and reproachful for shattering their dreams. The murmurous silence of the church whispered broken snatches of their life-stories, not that part which we could read in history, or see graven in Latin on their tombs, but that part of which they might choose to dream, had those nightly men in carven armor, loved the marble ladies lying in stately rite of possession by their sides, or had their fancy wandered to others whose dust lay now in some far obscure corner of earth. If my homage could have compensated in any small degree or kingly unfaith, a drop of balm would have fallen upon the marble heart of each royal lady to whom such injustice had perchance been done, for I loved them all for their noble dignity and the sweet femininity which remained to them even under the mask of stone. Their name is alone warmed the blood with the wine of romance. The Princess Yolande, the Duchess Beatrix, the Lady Melucine, surely with such names and such profiles they had been worth a man's living or dying for, and if life had not been so vivid for me that day, I should have wished myself back in the far past in heavy, uncomfortable armor fighting their battles. There are all the dear, dead women, asked the boy, what's become of all the gold that used to hang and brush their shoulders? Maybe part of the answer to Browning's question lies in those tombs. They were princesses like your sister said I. I've been fancying them with her eyes. What do you know about her eyes? he asked quickly. I imagine them like yours. Let's get out into the sunshine again, said the boy. I'm afraid it's time to leave the princesses and go back to the Contessa. CHAPTER 24 THE REVENGE OF THE MOUNTAIN Contending with the fretful elements. Shakespeare. It is the early bird which gathers the worm, if the worm has thoughtlessly got up early too. But it is also the bird which comes flying from afar off, whatever his engagements elsewhere may be. The bird which, having come, remains on the spot favored by the worm, singing sweet songs to charm it into a mood ripe for the gathering. Such a bird was Paolo and such, but perhaps it would be more gallant not to carry the simile further, since even poetry could scarcely license it. It is enough to say, in proof of the proverb, that when the boy and I arrived at the villa in time for Dejeuner, to which I had been invited overnight, we found Paolo with Gaeta under the red umbrella, unencumbered by any irrelevant barons or baronesses. Gaeta was looking pale and a little frightened. Her dimples were in abeyance as if waiting to learn whether something had happened to twinkle about or something which would more likely extinguish them forever. But the aeronaut might have invented an airship to take the place of ordinary channel traffic. So great with pride was he. He appeared to have grown several inches in height and to have increased considerably in chest measurement as he sprang from his chair to welcome us, as if we had been long lost brothers. Congratulate me, said he. The Contessa has just consented to be my wife. Gaeta clutched the arm of her rustic seat with a tiny hand upon which a new ring glittered, like a new star in the firmament. Her warm dark eyes, eager, expectant, deliciously fearful, were on the boy. If the discarded favorite of yesterday had leaped to the throat of the accepted lover of today, her whirlwind, she would have screamed a silvery little scream and implored him, for her sake, to accept the inevitable calmly. She would have given him a reproachful flash of the eyes to say, Why didn't you take me, instead of letting him carry me away? What could I do when you left me alone at his mercy? I so frail, he so big and strong. Her glance would then have telegraphed to Paolo. You have won me and my love. You can afford to spare a defeated rival who is desperate, and perhaps she might even have thrown me a crumb for old flirtation's sake. But the boy did not, apparently, feel the least magnetic attraction towards Paolo's throat or any other vulnerable part of the erinot's person, nor did he stamp on the ground, crying upon earth to open and swallow the master of the air. I too kept an unmoved front, but then being English, that might have been pardoned to my national sang-fois. There was, however, no such excuse for the mercurial young American, and flat disappointment struck out the spark in Gaeta's eye. The second act of her little drama seemed doomed to failure. Mille congratulation, said the boy cordially, eye-basely echoing him. We shook hands with Gaeta. We shook hands with Paolo, and something was said about weddings and wedding-cake. Then the Baron and Baronessa appeared so opportunely as to give rise to the base suspicion that they had been eavesdropping. More polite things were mumbled, and we went to luncheon. Gaeta un Paolo's arm, with a disappointed droop of her pretty shoulders, we drank to the health and happiness of the newly affianced pair, a habit which seemed to be growing upon me of late, and might lead me down the fatal grade of bachelordom. The boy and I were unable to conceal, as we ought to have done out of politeness, the fact that our appetites had sustained the shock of our lady's engagement, and I saw in her eyes that she could never wholly forgive us. No, not even if we made love to her after marriage. Shall you take your wedding trip in a balloon, ask the boy demurely? And this was the last straw. Gaeta did not make the faintest protest when soon after it was announced that he and I thought of leaving X on the morrow. I am not sure that she even heard my vague apologies concerning a telegram from friends. We all went to the opera at one of the casinos that night. It was Rigoletto, and Gaeta and Paolo set side by side, looking into each other's eyes during the love scene in the first act. But the boy was adamant, and I did not turn a hair. He and I were much occupied in wondering at the strange infatuation of the stage hero, but especially the villain, quite a superior villain, for the heroine, who looked like an elderly papoose, therefore we had no time to be jealous of anything that went on under our noses. The party subbed with me en masse at my hotel, and afterwards I said good-bye to Gaeta. She did not know that I had planned my journey with a thought of seeing her at the end, and drowning my sorrow's infiltration. But the boy knew, and had not forgotten, the little wretch. I saw his thought twinkling in his eyes, as I said debonarily, that we might all meet on the Riviera. If I had not sternly removed my gaze I should probably have burst out laughing, and precipitated a second duel in which I, and not the boy, would have been a principal. When I had been in exclaban before, I had made an excursion to Mont-Rivar, as all the world makes it, by the funicular railway, and after half an hour in the little train I had arrived at the top, for lunch and the view, both being enjoyed in a conventional manner. Now all was to be changed. The boy and I did not regard ourselves as tourists, but as pilgrims. Among other things that self-respecting pilgrims cannot do, is to ascend a mountain by means of a funicular railway. Better stay at the bottom, and look up with reverence. Therefore, instead of strolling out to the little station about twelve o'clock, with the view of reaching the restaurant on the plateau in time for Dejeuner, we met on the balcony of the Bristol at seven in the morning. There we fortified ourselves for a long walk, with eggs and café au lait, while innocentina and Joseph grouped the animals at the foot of the steps. The day was divinely young, and most divinely fair when we set forth. Only the soft fall of an occasional leaf, weary of keeping up appearances on no visible means of support, told that autumn had come. The weather put me in mind of a beautiful woman of forty, who can still cheat the world into believing that she is in the full summer of her prime, and is making the most of the few good years left before the crash. As we struck up the steep hill that leads out of ex-laipan and civilization, passing with all our little procession into the oak copeses which fringe the lower slopes upon river, the boy and I agreed that nothing became the town so well as the leaving it behind. At last little ex unveiled her face to us as we looked down upon it from airy altitudes. We had space to see how pretty she was, how charmingly she was dressed, and how gracefully she sat in her mountain-backed chair, with her dainty white feet in the lake, which, as Joseph said, we could now follow with our eyes Don Tuts on Etondue. A beautiful Etondue it was, the water keeping its extraordinary brilliance of color, even in the far distance, vivid in changing blue-greens, flecked with gold, like the spread-tail of a peacock burnished by the sun. Montrevar is chiseled on the same pattern as all the other mountains, big and little, of this part of Savoie. First the long steep slope decently covered with a belt of wood, oak below and pine above, then a gray precipitous wall, scarred and furrowed by the frost and storm of a million years or more. This block-and-socket arrangement of nature is, generally speaking, one of the least interesting of mountain forms, and its crudity was the more noticeable as we were fresh from the soaring pinnacles and stupendous pyramids of Switzerland. But Montrevar is the perfection of its type, and as we plotted in single file up the thread-like path wound round the mountain, Joseph and Innocentina in front driving the animals. My respect for Revar increased with each steeply ascending step. Aromatic scented branches brushed our faces, and we had to part them before we could pass on, then they flew back into their accustomed places, resenting our intrusion by shaking over us a shower of fragrant dew. The path which was always narrow had fallen away a little here and there, for it is no one's business to repair it now, since the making of the railway has turned pilgrims into tourists. There was just room for man or beast to walk without danger, but so sheer were the descents below us, so great the drop that a woman might have been pardoned a few tremors. It's a good thing you're not a girl, said I to the little pal across my shoulder, holding back a particularly obstinate branch, which would have liked to push us over the precipice with its mean black arm. You would be screaming, and I shouldn't know what to do for you. Not if I were an American girl, he replied, bristling with patriotism. Is your sister plucky? As plucky as I am, but perhaps that's not saying much, so you're glad I'm not a girl. I wouldn't metamorphose you and lose my comrade, still if your sister were like you, and not an heiress, I should. You would what? Like to meet her, but she would probably detest me and wonder how her brother could have endured my society for weeks on end. I was looking back as I spoke at the boy, who was close behind, when suddenly his smile seemed to freeze, and springing forward he caught me by the coat sleeve. What's the matter, I asked, for he was pale under the brown tan. For an instant he did not answer. Then with his lips trembling slightly he smiled again. I thought you were going to be killed, that's all, said he. So I stopped you. You were looking back at me, but I saw that, that you were just going to tread on a stone which Fanny had loosened with her hoof as she passed. If you had stepped there, before you could regain your balance, you, but there's no use talking of it. Only do look where you're walking, won't you, when we're on a path like this. Now we can go on. Why you little duffer, you're as white as a ghost, I exclaimed. If the stone had slipped, I should have jumped back. The path isn't really so narrow. It only gives that effect because it's steep and hangs over the edge of a precipice. Still, many thanks for your solicitude. I believe after all I'll have to rest for a minute, the boy said apologetically. I feel a little queer. You needn't wait. I'm sorry you should see me like this. You'll think there's nothing to choose between me and a girl, but I'm not always a coward. I know that well enough, I assured him. You're not a coward now. But come on, you shall rest when the path widens, where the others are stopping. I caught his hand to pull him along, since we could not walk abreast, and it was icy cold. Yet it was not for himself that he had feared, and my heart was very warm for the little pal, as I steered him carefully past the loose flat stone on the edge of the narrow path. Joseph and Innocentina, who had been driving Finnois and Suri, allowed Fanny to follow at will, and called a halt with the three animals. In a green dell where the wave widened, the Militeer had a handful of exquisite pink cyclamen, fragrant as violets, which he had been gathering from hidden nooks among the rocks, and he was in the act of presenting the flowers to Innocentina when we arrived. But she waved them aside, exclaiming at her young master's pale face. The boy explained that there might have been an accident, owing to Fanny, and the donkey girl broke into violent abuse of the brown velvet creature, who was her favorite. Daughter of a thrice-accursed mother, and of a despicable race, she cried in her odd patois, which it was often better not to understand too well. Blighted and bloodthirsty beast, but look at her now eating with an enormous appetite, a branch as big as herself, Anaconda. She would eat if the world burned. If she had, with a stroke of her twenty times condemned hoof, hurled us all to death on the rocks below, she would still eat, not even looking over the cliff to see what had become of us. But you should not talk so, broken Joseph, lover of animals. It was not the fault of the little an that the stone was loosened. How could she know? It is you who are heart of heart to turn upon her thus. It is because you are Catholic, and believe that the beasts have no souls. It is better to have none than to be a heretic, and the soul burn, retorted Innocentina. I am not heart-hearted. I love my young monsieur, and would not see him injured, that is all, while you care for nothing in the world so much as your old finnois. I would I have the ensouciance of the an. It is after all that which keeps them young. At this we laughed, which annoyed Innocentina so much that she at once fed to the maligned fanny a bunch of charming yellow pink mushrooms, which my prophetic soul told me had been originally intended for her master's lunch. Fortunately for us, Joseph, sadly wearing in his buttonhole the despised cyclamen, discovered a few more of these agreeable little vegetables, which he tested for our benefit by drawing his sturdy thumbnail along the stem, showing how the fluted undersurface flushed red at the touch, while the blood flowed Carmen from the wound he made. A short rest brought the color back to the boy's lips, but we did not go on again until we had eaten some of the chicken sandwiches which had been put up for me at the hotel. Climbing had made us hungry, although we had not been three hours on the way, and we had left the summer behind on lower levels. We did not need to remind ourselves now that it was autumn. By noon we were enroute again, but the brilliance of the day had gone, as we looked back at the world we were leaving. Serrated mountains were dark against flying silver clouds, and when we neared the coal, a fierce north wind, which had been lying in wait for us above, swooped down like a great bird of prey. We had heard it shrieking from afar, but now we had penetrated into its very airy, and as we crept like flies upon a wall, along the tiny path which merely roughened the sheer rock precipice, the wind caught and clawed us with savage glee. For a wonder the much-traveled Joseph had never before made the ascent of Malravar, therefore a certain pioneer instinct on which I pride myself, and yesterday's research in an admirable map of the Ministry of the Interior alone gave us guidance. I did not see how we could have come wrong, yet each moment it appeared that our neglected path had reached its end, like an unwound tape measure. Could it be possible that this broken, ill-mended thread was the clue which would eventually lead us to the cold de petrissée, and the chalet hotel, far away upon the summit of the mountain? The boy and I were ahead now, I sheltering him slightly from the cold blast with my body, as I walked before him, presently the way turned abruptly, to zigzag of a gap in the rock face, and I shouted a warning to Joseph to look after innocentina and the animals, so steep and ruinous was the path, but I need not have been alarmed. A backward glance showed me that Joseph had anticipated my instructions, so far as innocentina was concerned. But a word of complaint came from the boy. Indeed, it would have been difficult for him to utter it, even if he would, with the wind rudely pressing its seal upon his lips. But I held out a hand to him, and though he rebelled at first, an instant silent tussle made me master of his, so that I could pull him up with little effort on his part. In the deep gullies and hollows of this chasm below the call, the wind had us at its mercy, and forced our breath down our throats. We were in deep shadow, though the sun should have been not far past the zenith, and looking up to learn the reason, we saw that a huge bank of woolly mist hung gray and heavy between us and the sky. Below, far, far below, we had a glimpse of the world we had left, still bathed in September sunshine, warm and beautiful, with cloud shadows flying over low grass mountains and distant lakes. Then we seemed to knock our heads against a dull gray ceiling, which noiselessly crumbled round us, and we were in the mist. No longer was it a ceiling, but a sea in which we swam, a sea so cold that a shiver crept through our bones into our marrow. We had escaped the clutches of the wind, to drown in fog, and in five minutes I had beside me a small, ghostly form with frosted hair and a white rhyme on his jacket. The boy was like a figure on a great iced cake, for the ground was whitened, too. Luckily the ascent was over, and we were on grassy undulating land, where stunted trees stood here and there like pointing wraiths in the misty gloom. Dimly I could see now and then a daub of paint, red as a splash of blood on a dark boulder, to guide travellers towards the Summit Hotel. Had it not been for these it would have been impossible to find the way, or keep it if found. We could walk side by side here, and looking down at the boy I could see that he was shivering. Can it be that a few hours ago the mere exertion of walking made us so hot that we had to mop our warheads, and fan ourselves with our hats, I asked. Let's talk about it, said the boy. It may warm us just to remember. Are you very cold? Not so very. Your teeth are chattering in your head. Stop, we'll have our overcoats out of the packs. I don't want mine. Nonsense, you must have it. To tell the truth I haven't got it with me. I gave it to the upstairs waiter at Chamonix. He told me a lot about himself, and he was in trouble, poor fellow. He'd been discharged for some fault or other, and was so poor that he was going to walk home in the farthest part of Switzerland. You see, I thought as I was on the way south I wouldn't need an overcoat. I'd hardly ever wanted it so far, and the waiter was a small, slim chap, not much bigger than I am. Anyhow, we shall soon be at the hotel now, and we can walk fast. He looked so white in spirit like in the mist, with his big bright eyes made brighter by the tired shadows underneath that I would not discourage him with the truth. If I had said that I feared we were lost in the mist, and perhaps might not reach the hotel for hours, he would have realized all his weariness and suffering. I made him wait, however, and when the ghostly procession of man, woman, and beasts had trailed up to us, I ordered to stop for finois to be unloaded, that my overcoat might be unearthed. In place of the workman-like pack which the mule might have borne, had I not insisted on fulfilling a rash vow, my luggage was contained in twin brown holdalls bought at Bartonny, and covered with a waterproof cloth which was the property of Joseph. Both these abominable rolls had to be taken off finois's back and laid upon the whitened grass, as I had forgotten in which one was stuffed the coat that I had not worn for many days. Now at this bitter moment, could my ballot but have known it, he had his full revenge. I longed for him as a thirsty traveller in the desert longs for a spring of water, yet I knew deep down in my desolate heart that locker would not have been able to cope with this crisis. In cities he was more efficient than most of his kind, but the unusual was a bugbear to him, and lost in a freezing mountain mist, he would have lain down to die with my horrible holdalls, still strapped and bulging. It is a strange thing that most servants would consider themselves deeply injured it asked to bear half the hardships which their masters cheerfully undergo what a sheer fun of the thing. Joseph came to my rescue, but with all the good will in the world he complicated matters. Finois, Fanny, and Saurie pressed nearer, hoping for something to eat, and the two donkeys, discouraged and disheartened by the unexpected cold, were piteous shivering objects, with their velvet hair bristling on end, their little legs knocking together, even their faces seemed to have shrunk, and Fanny was all eyes and gray spectacles. I opened the hateful object which, by its tuberculosis knobs, I recognized as the one least often unpacked. It was there that I expected to find the coat, wrapped democratically round goodness knew how many spare boots, stockings, collars, and other small articles, which locker would never have allowed to come within speaking distance of each other. But with the total depravity of inanimate things, the coat had escaped from the hold-all. In my certainty that I must come upon it sooner or later, at the bottom of everything, of course, I scattered the other contents recklessly about, and when at last I gave up the search in despair, the white ground was strewn with the most intimate accessories of my toilet. Seized with a berserker rage, I tore open the second hold-all, and before the boy could utter a cry of protest, more collars, handkerchiefs, brushes, and little horrors of every description peppered the earth, there were as many things there as the inestimable mother of the Swiss family Robinson contrived to stow in her wonderful bag, during the five minutes before the shipwreck, things which fulfilled all the wants of the young Robinsons for the period of seventeen years. But naturally, the one thing I needed was missing, and now that it was too late, I vaguely recalled seeing that overcoat hanging limply on a peg in the wardrobe of some hotel whose very name I had now forgotten. If I had been a woman, I should inevitably have burst into tears, and somebody would have comforted me, and everything would immediately have been all right. As it was, I used several of Innocentina's most lurid phrases under my breath, and announced my intention of abandoning my luggage on the mountain side, rather than attempt the impossible task of feeding it again to the monsters which had disgorged it. Poor man exclaimed the boy, why didn't you confide to me before that you were physically and mentally incapable of packing? I've often noticed that your hold-alls looked like overfed boa constrictors. But I didn't dream things were as bad as this. You had better let Innocentina and me do the work for you. Wear what you call nailers at it, I assure you. I made a snatch at a dressing-gown, which I rescued from the conglomerate heap before he could push me away. Then with the garment hung over my arm, I stood by helplessly with Joseph, while Innocentina and the boy, with incredible swiftness and skill, said about the business from which I had been dismissed, somewhat after this fashion must the work of creation have been done, when there was only chaos to begin upon. In five minutes all my scattered horrors had been sorted neatly, according to their species, like the animals forming in the procession for the ark, collars after their kind, boots after their kind, and so on, down to the humble shoestring and mean shirt stud. Never had those loathsome inventions of an evil mind, my hold-alls, so closely resembled self-respecting members of the luggage fraternity as they did when the boy and Innocentina had finished with them. With a sigh of relief the little pal jumped up from his grim task, leaving Joseph to fasten the straps, and as he got to his feet, his small hands purple with cold, I wrapped the dressing-gown round his shoulders. Then, seeing his slight vigor engulfed in it like a very small pea in a very big pod, I burst out laughing. "'Is that what you wanted?' cried the boy. "'I won't have it. I won't. I'd rather freeze than be a guy. Put it on yourself.' "'I don't need it. It was for you. Don't be ungrateful, after all my trouble.' "'All my trouble, you mean. Take off the horrid thing. I won't wear it. Let me alone.' Unmoved by his complaints, I still held him prisoner, using the dressing-gown as a straight-jacket, while he fought in my grasp. A sudden suppressed giggle from Innocentina at this juncture seemed to drive him to frenzy. "'If you don't let me go, I'll box your ears,' he stammered. "'Try it,' I advised sternly. He could not move his arms so closely I held him, but his eyes were blazing. "'You'll be sorry for this some day,' he panted. "'Will you keep on the dressing-gown if I let you go?' "'No.' "'Then will you wear my coat?' "'What, and have you in your shirt-sleeves? Rather not. Let me.' "'I'll give you the coat, and wear the dressing-gown myself. I'm not as vain as a girl. Whether the thought of what my appearance would be in the gown, or the taunt I flung at him, moved the boy, I cannot say, but suddenly his struggles ceased. "'I'll wear anything you like,' said he, with a sudden accession of meekness, so unexpected that I was alarmed for his health, and gazed at him closely to see if he were on the verge of a collapse. Instead of looking ill, however, he was no longer pinched and pallid, but radiant with color, rage had produced a beneficial effect upon his circulation. On his promise I released him, nor did I insist when he waved me aside and hurriedly girded up the dressing-gown himself. The garment reached almost to his feet, and the quaintness of the little figure shrouded in its dark folds, and had it with Panama straw, in the midst of a mountain snow-cloud, was a sight to make Fanny laugh, but I kept a grave face, and so did Joseph and Innocentina, though the donkey-girl's eyes were bright. We marched on again, when Finois had been reloaded, the party keeping well together lest we should lose each other in this mist which was snow, the snow which was mist. The boy and I walked ahead at first, I silent lest I should laugh, he silent, probably lest he should cry. The woolly cloud wrapped its folds round us thicker and closer, so that objects a dozen feet away were blotted out of sight, and for all practical purposes ceased to exist. The silvery rhyme, freezing as it fell, covered stones and boulders, so that it was no longer possible to see the red splashes which marked the way. Soon we were hopelessly lost, plunging down into grassy hollows, where our feet slipped between rough stones into muddy ruts, concealed under a treacherous film of white, or plodding up to the top of knolls which proved to have no connection with anything else, when we had toilsomely attained them. By and by I knew how a man feels in a treadmill, and I was anxious for the boy's sake, seeing the queer little figure in the Panama and dressing gown, gradually droop, despite the brave spirit with which it was animated. Losing confidence in my boasted ability as a pioneer, I called Joseph to the rescue, and bad him take the lead. Having intruded upon him suddenly, behind the screen of snow-cloud, I found him engaged in the Samaritan Act, no doubt carried out on purely humanitarian principles. Of warming one of Innocentina's hands in his, I simulated blindness with such histrionic skill that honest Joseph was deceived thereby, but not so Innocentina. She tossed her head and folded her arms in her cape, as if it had been the toga of a Roman senator unjustly accused of treason. She had been so she assured me, at that instant on the point of coming forward to entreat her young mistress to Mount Fanny, since he must be deadly tired. But the boy, joining us at the moment, denied excessive fatigue and said that he would freeze if he rode. Besides he added, it would be cruel to burden Fanny in her present state of depression. The most likely thing was that we should have to carry her, and if she continued to shrink at her present rate per minute, soon we could slip her into one of our pockets. Joseph, promoted to the post of honor, forged ahead, and either Fanny and Suri insisted upon following Finnois, or else Innocentina felt called upon to continue the process of conversion, even in adverse circumstances. At all events the boy and I almost immediately found ourselves in the background, all that we could see of our companions being a tassel-like gray tail quivering above a moving blur of little legs, scarcely thicker than toothpicks. The boy, who was still sulking in the dressing-gown, suddenly broke by a spasmodic chuckle, the silence which had blended chillingly with the weather. What's up? I inquired, thawing joyously in the brief gleam of moral sunshine. I was only thinking that if Innocentina wants to convert Joseph from heresy, she'd better not lecture him today about eternal fire. The idea is too inviting. I never envied anyone so much as my namesake, St. Lawrence, on his gridiron. It would be a luxury to grill. Perhaps the gridiron was to him what my dressing-gown is to you, said I. I'm getting resigned to it. That's the reason I'm talking to you. I hated you for five minutes, but you never liked people so much as when you've just finished hating them. Which means that I'm forgiven? That and something more. Good imp, the thermometer is rising, but I feel a beast to have got you into this scrape. If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't have known that a mule-path existed on Mal-Rivar. I'm not sorry we came. This will be something to remember always. It's a real adventure. Afterwards we shall get the point of view. I wish we could get one now, said I. But the prospect isn't cheerful. Molly Winston's prophecy is being fulfilled. She was certain that sooner or later I should be lost on a mountain, and her sketch of me curled up in sleeping-sack and tent, toasting my toes before a fire of twigs, and eating tinned soup, steaming hot, made me long to lose myself immediately. But alas, a peasant child near Pierre de Molera is basking at this moment in my woolly sack and battening on my instantaneous breakfast. Don't think of them, said the boy. That way madness lies. A chapter in my book shall be called How to be happy though freezing. What would be your definition of the State precisely? Being with somebody you like. My temperature bounded up several degrees, thanks to these amends. But our sole comfort was in each other, since Joseph had no hope to give. At this moment he parted the mist curtain to remark that he could find no traces of a path or landmark of any kind. Ours dragged on, and we were still wandering aimlessly, as one wanders in a troubled dream. We were chilled to the bone, and as it was by this time late in the afternoon, I began to fear that we should have to spend the night on the mountain side. Rovarr was wreaking vengeance upon us for taking his name in vain. We had made naught of him as a mountain. Now he was showing us that, were he sixteen thousand feet high, instead of four, he could scarcely put us to more serious inconvenience. I was growing gravely anxious about the boy, though the bitter cold and great fatigue had not quenched his spirit, when the smell of cattle and the muffled sound of human voices put life into the chill dead body of the mist. A house loomed before us, and I sprang to the comforting conclusion that we had stumbled upon one of the outlying offices of the hotel, but an instant showed me my mistake. The low building was a rough stone chalet, with two or three cowherds outside the door, and these men stared in surprise and curiosity at our ghostly party. Are we far from the hotel, I asked in French, but no gleam of understanding lightened their faces, and it was not until Joseph had addressed them in the most extraordinary patois I had ever heard that they showed signs of intelligence. Who along? Who along? Wala-ha! he remarked, or words to that effect. Squaladu, Su-alone, Bala-hang, returned one of the men, suddenly wound up to gesticulate with violence. He says that the hotel is about half an hour's walk from here, Joseph explained to me, being wistful, and my own feelings gave me the clue, to that looks significance. Thank goodness, I exclaimed heartily, but it would be tempting providence to pass this house, which is at least a human habitation, without resting and warming the blood in our veins. Perhaps we can get something to eat for ourselves and the donkeys, to say nothing of something to drink. Another exchange of words like brick-bats afforded us the information, when translated, that we could obtain black bread, cheese, and brandy, also that we were welcome to sit before the fire. I pushed the boy in ahead of me, but he fell back. The stench which struck us in the face as the door opened, was like an evil-smelling pillow, thrown with good aim by an unseen hand. Mankind, dogkind, cowkind, chickenkind, and cheesekind, together with many ingredients unknown to science, combined in the making of this composite odor, and its strength sent the boy reeling into my arms. No, I can't stand it, he gasped. I shall faint, better freeze than suffocate. But I forced him in, and in five minutes to our own self-loathing, we had become almost enured to the smell. Eat we could not, but we drank probably the worst brandy in all Europe or Asia, and slowly our blood began once more to take its normal course. A spurious animation soon enabled the boy to start on again. One of the cowherds pointed out the path, and for a time all went well with our little band, even Fanny and Suri having revived on black crusts of medieval bread. But the half hour in which we had been told we might cover the distance between chalet and hotel, lengthened into an hour. The mist grew grayer and thicker and darker, misleading us almost as cleverly as its sophisticated English cousin, a London fog. Again and again we lost our way, owing to the fatigue of the boy and innocentina and the utter dejection of the unfortunate little donkeys. We could not walk fast enough to keep our blood warm, and my tweeds, in which I was buttoned to the chin, seemed to afford no more protection than newspaper. When I remarked this to the boy he replied with a faint chuckle, that he felt like a newspaper himself, a newspaper he repeated shivering, with the smallest circulation in the world, and if it weren't for your dressing gown there wouldn't be any circulation left at all. The day which had begun in summer, and ended in winter, was darkening to night, when Joseph, who was in advance, cried out that he had flattened his nose against something solid, which was probably the wall of the hotel. No blur of yellow light penetrated the gloom, but a few minutes of anxious groping brought us to a door, rather an elaborate, pretentious door, which instantly dispelled all fear that we had come upon another chalet, or perchance a barn. As Santina remained outside of the animals, the boy and I entered a long, dark corridor, dimly lighted at the far end. Halfway downly came upon a porter, whose look of surprise would have told us, if we had not learned through bitter experience already, that Maurevard's season was over. He guided us to the door of a large salon, which he threw open with an air of wishing to justify the hotel, and despite the load of weariness under which the boy was almost fainting, he whipped the dressing-gown off in a flash, shook the snow from his Panama, squaring his little shoulders, and re-entered civilization with a jauntiness which denied exhaustion, and did credit to his pride. Nevertheless he availed himself of the first easy-chair, and dropped into it as a ripe apple, drops from its leafy home into the long grass. The porter scampered off to send us the landlord, and to cede to the comfort of Joseph and innocent Tina, until they and their charges could be definitely provided for. While we waited, the boy leaning back, pale and silent, in an exaggerated American rocking-chair, I standing on guard beside him, there was time to look about at our surroundings. The room was immense, and on a warm bright day of mid-summer might have been delightful, with its polished mosaic floor, its painted basket-chairs, and little tables, and its standard lamps with colored silk shades. But today a stuffy, red-curtained bar-parler would have been more cheerful. At first I thought we were alone in the waste of painted wicker work, for there had been dead silence on our entrance. But hardly had we settled ourselves to await the coming of the landlord, when a movement at the far end of the big dim room told me that it had other occupants. Two men in knicker-bockers were sitting on low chairs drawn close to a fireplace, and both were looking round at us with evident curiosity. As the boy's chair had its high back half turned in their direction, all they could see of him was a little hand dangling over the arm of the chair, and a small foot in a stout workman-like walking-boot placed far up the ankle. I stood facing them, and though the sole illumination came flickering from a newly kindled fire, or filtered through the red shades of three large lamps, not only could they see what manner of man I was, but I could study their personal characteristics. In these I was conscious of no lively interest. But as the men continued to gaze over their shoulders at me and the boy's chair, I decided that they were from the States. They were both young, clean-shaven, good-looking, with clear features, keen eyes, and prominent chins, reminiscent of the attractive Gibson-type of American youth. Well said one to the other, turning away from his brief but steady inspection of the newcomers. I thought we were the only two fools stranded here for the night in this weather, but it seems there are a couple more. Their voices had a carrying quality which brought the words distinctly to our ears. Suddenly the rocker was agitated, and the boy's feet came to the ground. Nervously he jerked the chair round so that its back was completely turned to the man at the other end of the room. His eyes looked so big and his face was so deeply stained, with a quick rush of color, that I feared he was ill. Anything wrong, I asked, bending towards him with my hand on his chair. Nothing. I was only a little surprised to hear people talking that's all. I thought we had the room to ourselves. His voice was a whisper, and I pitched mine to his in answering. So did I at first, but it seems two countrymen of yours are before us. I wonder if they have had adventures to equal ours. Probably we shall find out at dinner, for this looks the sort of hotel to herd its guests together at one long table. The boy's hand closed sharply on the arm of his chair. I'm too tired to dine in public, said he, still in the same muffled voice. I shall have something to eat in my room, if I ever get one. If that's your game, said I, I'll play it with you. We'll ask them to give us a sitting-room of sorts, and we'll dine there together like kings. No, no, you must go down. I shall have my dinner in bed. I'm worn out. What are those men at the other end of the room like? Like sketches from New York Life, I replied, one is dark, the other fair, with a deep cleft in his chin, and a nose so straight it might have been ruled. Better take a look at them. Perhaps you may have met at home. All the more reason for not looking, said the boy. Thank goodness, here comes the landlord. We could have had twenty rooms if we wished, or, said our host throwing a glance across the salon. He had only two other guests beside ourselves. They had come up by the funicular, meaning to walk next morning down to Chamberee. But whether they could do so or not depended on the weather. In any case, the hotel would close for the season in a few days now, and the funicular ceased to run. Fires should be laid in our rooms immediately, and we should be made comfortable. But as for our animals, unfortunately there were no stables attached to the hotel. No accommodation whatever for four-footed creatures. They would have to go back to the chalet, where they and their drivers could be put up for the night. That will not do for innocent Tina, exclaimed boy quickly. In his eagerness he raised his voice slightly, and the two young men at the other end of the salon seemed waked suddenly to renewed interest in us and our affairs. But the boy's tone fell again instantly. Innocent Tina must have a room at this hotel he went on. The chalet will be bad enough for Joseph. For her it would be impossible. Joseph won't mind taking the donkeys down and caring for them this one night, for innocent Tina's sake. If I know Joseph it will afford him infinite satisfaction, and the more intense his physical suffering the happier he'll be in the thought that he is bearing it, for her, I replied. I'll go out and break the news to the poor chap. The boy sprang up. No, no, don't leave me alone, he cried. Then as I looked surprised he added more quietly. I mean I'll go with you and talk to innocent Tina. Meanwhile our things can be sent up to our rooms. Though he had asked what the man at the other end of the room or like, he showed no desire to verify for himself the description I had given. He kept his back religiously turned towards his countrymen, and did not throw a single glance their way as we left the salon with the landlord, though I saw that the two young Americans were interested in him. We returned to the door at the end of the long corridor, where we had entered the hotel ten or fifteen minutes earlier, and found Joseph, innocent Tina, and the animals still sheltering against the house wall. The porter had already retailed the bad news, and the faithful mulitair had of his own accord volunteered to play the part which the boy and I had assigned him, though he was tired, cold and hungry, and had the prospect of a gloomy walk, with a night of discomfort to follow. He was far from being depressed, and I thought I knew what supported him in his hour of trial. We saw him off, followed by a piteous trail of ass-hood, and then, shivering once more, we re-entered to the dim corridor. Innocent Tina, much subdued, was with us now, carrying a famous bag in its snow-powdered rucksack, while a porter went before with the rest of the luggage, taken from the tired backs of our beasts. We had reached the foot of the stairs, when we came so suddenly face to face with the two Americans, that it almost seemed we had stumbled upon an ambush. They stared very hard at the boy, who did not give them a glance, though I was conscious of a stiffening of his muscles. He turned his head a little on one side, so that the shadow of the Panama eclipsed his face from their point of view, but I could see that he had grown first scarlet, then white. I drove, but it can't be possible, I heard one of the men say as we passed, and began to ascend the stairs. The answer I did not hear, but Innocent Tina, who was close behind me, glared with un-Christian malevolence at the young men, as if instinct whispered that they were concerning themselves, unnecessarily, about her master's business. The boy ran upstairs as lightly as if he had never known fatigue. The porter showed him his room, his luggage was taken in, and then he came out to me in the passage. You told Joseph that he'd needn't come up very early tomorrow, didn't you? He inquired. Yes, as we're pretty well fagged, and Chamberee isn't an all-days journey, I thought we might take our time in the morning. That suits you, doesn't it? It was really of him that I had been thinking, but I did not say so. Oh, yes, he answered absent-mindedly, as if already his brain were busy with something else. What time did you fix for starting? I didn't hear. I said to Joseph that it would do if he were on hand at half-past ten. You can rest till nine o'clock. Thank you, and now, good night. You've been very kind to-day. Maybe I didn't seem grateful, but I was all the same. Very, very grateful. Nonsense, said I. If you're too tired to go down, shan't I have my dinner with you? We could have a table drawn up before the fire, and it would be quite jolly. He shook his head, a great weariness in his eyes. I'm too done up for society, even yours. I'd rather you went down. You will, won't you? Certainly, if you won't have me, rest well. I shall see that they send you up something decent. It doesn't matter. I'm not as hungry as I was, somehow. Good night, man. Good night, boy. Shake hands, will you. He pressed mine with all his little force, and shook it again and again, looking up in my face. Then he bat me good night once more, abruptly, and retreated into his room. I went to my quarters at the other end of the passage, and was glad of the fire which had begun to roar fiercely in a small round stove like a gnome with a pipe growing out of his head. I had a sponge, changed, and descended to the salon, only to learn that the eating arrangements were carried on in another building, at some distance from the hotel, feeling like a belated insect of summer overtaken by winter cold. I darted down the path indicated to the restaurant, where I found the Americans already seated at just such a long table as I had pictured, and still in their knickerbockers. There was, in the big room, a sprinkling of little tables under the closed windows, but they were not laid for a meal, and a chair being pulled out for me by a waiter. Exactly opposite my two fellow guests, I took it and sat down. My first thought was to order something for the little pal, and to secure a promise that it should reach him hot and soon. I then devoted myself to my own dinner, which would have been more enjoyable, had I had the boy's companionship. I had worked slowly through soup and fish, and arrived at the inevitable veal, when I was addressed by one of the Americans, him of the cleft chin, and light curly hair, whose voice I had heard first in the salon. You came up by the mule path, didn't you? I answered civilly in the affirmative, aware that all my points were being noted by both men. Must have been a stiff journey in this weather. We came into the mist and snow just below the coal. Your friend is done up, isn't he? Oh, he's a very plucky young chap, I replied, careful for the boy's reputation as a pilgrim, but he's a bit fagged, and will be better off dining in his own room. I expect he'll be all right tomorrow. Are you going to try and get to Seanberry, or will you return to X by train? We shall push on unless we're snowed in, I said. That's our plan, too. I daresay we shall be starting about the same time, and if so, if you don't mind, we might join forces. Now, what is this chap's game, I asked myself. He isn't drawing me out for nothing, and as these two are together they have no need of companionship. There's some special reason why they want to join us. Taking this for granted, the one reason which occurred to me as probable was a previous acquaintance with the boy, which they wished to keep up, and he did not wish to acknowledge. I determined that he should not be thus entrapped, through me. That would be very pleasant, no doubt, I replied, but you had better not wait for us. Our time of starting is uncertain. Though I spoke with perfect civility, it must have been clear to them that I preferred not to have my party enlarged by strangers, and I rather regret it the necessity for this ungraciousness, as the men were gentlemen, and I usually got on excellently with Americans. Oh, very well. Returned the handsomer of the two, looking slightly offended. We shall meet on the way down, perhaps. By the by, if I'm not mistaken, your young friend is a compatriot of ours. He's American, isn't he? Yes. I believe I've met him in New York. Though it was so dark I couldn't be sure. Do you object to telling me his name? I'm afraid I do object, I answered, stiffly this time. You must satisfy your self-est his identity, if it interests you, when you see each other to-morrow. Of all that remained of dinner, I can only say the words which Hamlet spoke in dying, for indeed, the rest was silence. Directly the meal was over. I hurried back to the hotel, like a rabbit to its warren, smoked a pipe before a roaring fire in my bedroom, and wondered if the little pal were wandering down the uncompagnioned way of dreamland. As for me I never got as far as that land. I fell over a precipice without a bottom, before my head had found a nest in the soft pillow, and knew nothing more until suddenly I started awake with the impression that someone had called. What is it, boy? Do you want me? I heard myself asking sharply as my eyes opened. It seemed that I had not been asleep for ten minutes, but to my surprise an exquisite rosy light filled the room. Well nigh before I knew whether I was sleeping or waking, I was out of bed and at window. It was the light of sunrise, shining over a billowy white world, for the fog had been rent asunder, and through its torn woolly folds I caught an unforgettable glimpse of glory. The sky was a rippling lake of red-gold fire, whose reflection turned a hundred snow-clad mountain crests, to blazing helmets for titans. Above the majestic ranks rose their leader, towering head and shoulders over all. Mon blanc I had just time to say to myself, in odd admiration, when the snow fog was knit together again, only a jagged line of fading gold showing the stitches. Nobody had called me. I knew that now, yet I had an uneasy impression that someone wanted me somewhere, and that something was wrong. It was stupid to let this worry me, I told myself, however, and having lingered a few moments at the window, studying the lovely pattern of frostwork lace on the glass, and the fringes of priceless pearls on branch of bush, and stunted tree. I went back to bed, then I pulled my watch out from under my pillow and looked at it. Only six o'clock I yawned, three good hours more of sleep, I wonder if the boy. Then I tumbled over another pleasant precipice. When I waked again it was almost nine, and nerving myself to the inevitable, I rang for a cold bath. The morning was bitterly chill, but the tingling water soon sent the blood racing through my veins, and by ten o'clock I was knocking at the boy's door. No answer came, and thinking that he must already be down, I was on my way across the white frozen grass to the restaurant, when I met the militeer coming up with finnois. Hello, Joseph! I exclaimed in surprise. Where are Fanny and Suri? Innocentina has taken them, monsieur, he answered. What, they have started? But yes, monsieur, and very early. Tell me what happened, I prompted him. Why, monsieur, it was this way. There was not much sleep for me last night, if you will pardon my liberty in mentioning such matters, because of the little animal which bites and jumps away. I know not what you call him in your language, though I think he is known in all lands. Besides, the beasts were noisy in the stable underneath the room where I lay with the men. About half past four the others got up, but I lay still, as it was well with my animals, and there was no hurry. But a little more than an hour later they called me from below, laughing, and saying there was a lady to see me. I had not undressed, monsieur, for many reasons, and now I was glad, for I knew who it must be, though not why she should be there, and so early too. I could not bear that she should be alone with these rough fellows, and in two minutes I had tumbled down the ladder. I had not been mistaken, monsieur. It was innocentina. She said her master had sent her down to fetch the Anne, as he was obliged by certain circumstances to start on in advance of my master. I did not ask her any questions, but I helped her get ready the donkeys, and I would have walked up with her to the hotel had she permitted it. If I did so, she said, the cattleman would talk, so I stayed behind. Well, I suppose we shall overtake them, I replied, hiding surprise, as I did not care to let Joseph see that I had been left in the dark. Concerning this strange change of programme, my mind groped for an explanation of the mystery, and then suddenly seized upon one the boy who had evidently met his two compatriots in other days and another land. Disliked and wished to shun them, he had feared that they might be our companions down to Chambarie, and had taken drastic measures to avoid their society, rather than get me up early for his convenience, after a day of some hardship and fatigue. The plucky little chap had gone off without us. Possibly I should find that he had left a note for me, with some waiter or famed chum. If not, our route down to Chambarie, and the hotel at which we were to stay there, had already been decided upon, he would have said to himself that there could be no mistake, and that he might trust me to find him at our destination. The Americans were not at breakfast, but later, as Joseph, Finwa, and I were starting, I saw them standing at a distance in the corridor, the porter who had brought down the miserable hold-alls, and was waiting for his tip, murmured that, say, Monsieur, we're not going to make the walking expedition to Chambarie. The landlord had advised them that the weather was too bad, and they had decided to return by the noon train to Ex-Leban. I felt that I owed the young gentleman a grudge for the boy's defection, and as there had been no note or message from him, I was not in a forgiving mood, without a second glance towards the pair. I walked away with Joseph, alone with him, for the first time in many a day.