Joseph had visited the Hospice many times, and knew the etiquette for strangers.  He bade me go in, and ring the bell at the grille, unless I should meet one of the monks before reaching it.  I mounted the steps, entered the wide doorway which had framed the dog’s head, and found myself in a vast, dusky corridor, resonant with strange echoings, and mysterious with flitting shadows, which might be ghosts of the past, or live beings of the present.  As my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, I saw that there were numerous persons in this great hall:  tall monks in flowing robes of black, beggars come to solicit alms or breakfast; and dogs, many dogs, who crowded round me, with a waving of huge tails, and a gleaming of brown jewelled eyes in the dusk.  I did not need to ring the bell of the iron gate beyond which, according to Joseph, no woman has ever passed.  One of the monks came to me—­a tall, spare young man with a grave face, soft in expression, yet hardened in outline by a rigorous life and exposure to extreme cold.  He gave me welcome in French, with here and there an interpellation of “Down, Turk,” “Be quiet, Jupiter!” Would I like breakfast, he asked; and then—­yes, certainly—­to see the chapel, the bibliotheque, the monastery museum, and the Alpine garden?  There would be plenty of time for this, and still to reach Aosta.  Another monk was called, and an introduction effected.  I was taken into a handsomely decorated refectory, where I opened my eyes in some astonishment at sight of the Imp, drinking coffee from a shallow bowl nearly as big as his childish head.  Innocentina was no doubt at this moment shocking Joseph by some new depravity, in the salle-a-manger where humbler folk were entertained with the same hospitality as their (so called) betters.

The Brat set down his bowl, and saw me, as I subsided into a chair on the opposite side of the long, narrow table.  His face flushed, and the brilliant blue eyes clouded, but he deigned to acknowledge our acquaintance with a slight bow.

[Illustration:  “DOWN, TURK!” “BE QUIET, JUPITER!”]

“I didn’t suppose you would have started yet,” said I.

“I thought the same thing about you,” he retorted.  “We got off very quietly from the Cantine——­”

“Ah, you wished to steal a march on me,” I broke in, “But really, my young friend, you need not have feared that I should impose myself upon you as a travelling companion.  My one object in making this excursion is, if not to enjoy my own society, at any rate to experiment with it, therefore——­”

“I have two objects in making mine,” the boy interrupted.  “One is to avoid men; the other is to find materials for writing a book, with no men in it—­only places.”

“It will not be owing to me, if you fail in the former,” said I.  “As for the latter, naturally it will depend upon yourself.  What shall you call it—­’A Chiel takkin’ Notes’ or ’In Search of the Grail’?”