“Innocentina seems very keen upon increasing that dot.  Has she anyone in view to share it with her?”

“She has not confided that to me, Monsieur.”

“I suppose he would have to be a good Catholic?”

“Of that I am not so sure.  I do not think she would object to a good Protestant, if he would allow the children to be brought up in her faith.”

“The lady is brave.  She takes time by the forelock.”

“It is the wise way, Monsieur.”

“Well, whoever he may be, I am sure you do not envy the future mari, dot or no dot.  Your opinion of Innocentina——­”

“Ah, it is changed, Monsieur, completely changed, I confess.”

“Then, after all, it is Innocentina who has converted you.”

Joseph bent his head to hide a flush.  “Perhaps, Monsieur, if you put it in that way.  Yet it was not of myself nor of Innocentina I came to talk, but of the plans of Monsieur.”

“Plans?  I’ve no plans,” I answered dejectedly.

“Will Monsieur wish to proceed to-morrow morning as usual?”

“Proceed where?” I gloomily capped his question with another.

“On the way south, towards the Riviera, is it not?  If we made an early start, it might be possible to go by the route of la Grande Chartreuse, and reach the monastery late in the afternoon.  If Monsieur wished to sleep there, travellers are accommodated at the Sister House, which has been turned into an hotellerie since the expulsion of the Order.”

I reflected a moment before replying.  On the face of it, it appeared like weakness to change my plans simply because I had been deserted by a comrade whose very existence had been unknown to me when first I made them.  Yet, on the other hand, I had grown so used to his companionship now, that the thought of continuing my journey without him was distasteful.  With the Little Pal, no day had ever seemed too long, no misadventure but had had its spice.  Lacking the Little Pal, the vista of day after day spent in covering the country at the rate of three miles an hour loomed before me monotonous as the treadmill.  My gorge rose against it.  I could not go on as I had begun.  Why punish myself by a diet of salt when the savour had gone?

“Joseph,” I said at last, “the disappearance of the young Monsieur has been a blow to me, I admit.  It has destroyed my appetite for sightseeing, for the moment, at all events.  I can’t rearrange my plans instantly; but this I have determined.  I’ll end my walking-tour here.  What to do afterwards I will make up my mind in good time, but meanwhile, I won’t keep you dancing attendance upon me.  You will be anxious to get back home——­”

“Monsieur, I have no home.”  There was despair in Joseph’s tone, and suddenly the keen point of truth pierced the armour of my selfishness.  Poor Joseph, facing exile—­from Innocentina—­and keeping his countenance politely, while I densely discoursed of “blows”!  Being a muleteer “farmed out” by a master, he was at the mercy of Fate, and temporarily I represented Fate.  He could not journey on southwards, whither his heart was wandering, unless I bade him go.  This fine fellow, this old soldier, was as much at my orders as if I had been a king.