“Lucia had a sweet, innocent face, lighted up by a pair of large, soft, dark eyes, and was altogether very fair to look upon.  Her lithe, slender figure bounded from rock to rock with movements as graceful and almost as swift as those of a young gazelle.

“‘Sister,’ cried the lad half pantingly, ’how nimble and fleet of foot you are to-day!  I can scarce keep pace with you.’

“‘Ah, Henri, it is because my heart is so light and glad!’ she returned with a silvery laugh, pausing for an instant that he might overtake her.

“‘Yes,’ he said, as he gained her side, ’the good news from my father and Pierre, and Rudolph Goneto—­that they are well and yet unharmed by French sword or bullet—­has filled all our hearts with joy.  Is it not to carry these glad tidings to Rudolph’s mother we take this early walk?’

“‘Yes; a most pleasant errand, Henri;’ and the rose deepened on the maiden’s cheek, already glowing with health and exercise.

“They were now far above the valley, and another moment brought them to their destination—­a broad ledge of rock on which stood a cottage with its grove of chestnut-trees, and a little patch of carefully cultivated ground.

“Magdalen Goneto, the mother of Rudolph, a matron of placid countenance and sweet and gentle dignity of mien had seen their approach and come forth to meet them.

“She embraced Lucia with grave tenderness, bestowed a kind caress upon Henri, and leading the way to her neat dwelling, seated them and herself upon its porch, from which there was a magnificent view of the whole extent of the valley.

“To the left, and close at hand, lay San Giovanni, with its pretty villages, smiling vineyards, cornfields and verdant meadows sloping gently away to the waters of the Pelice.  On the opposite side of the river, situate upon a slight eminence was the Roman Catholic town of Luserna.  To the right, almost at their feet, embowered amid beautiful trees—­chestnut, walnut, and mulberry—­La Tour, the Waldensian capital and home of Lucia and Henri, nestled among its vineyards and orchards.

“Farther up the vale might be seen Bobbi Villar, and many smaller villages scattered amid the fields and vineyards, or hanging on the slopes of the hills, while hamlets and single cottages clung here and there to the rugged mountain-side, wherever a terrace, a little basin or hollow afforded a spot susceptible of cultivation.  Beyond all towered the Cottian Alps, that form the barrier between Piedmont and Dauphiny, their snowy pinnacles glittering in the rays of the newly risen sun.

“It was thither the able-bodied men of the valley had gone to defend the passes against the French.

“Toward those lofty mountains Lucia’s soft eyes turned with wistful, questioning gaze; for there were father, brother, lover, hourly exposed to all the dangers of war.

“Magdalen noted the look, and softly murmured, ’God, even the God of our fathers, cover their heads in the day of battle!’