such energy as remained to her, and she willingly allowed her hurried feelings to rest on the faces of rocks impending over long ravines, and of perched old castles and white villas and sub-Alpine herds.  She burst from the fascination as from a dream, but only to fall into it again, reproaching her weakness, and saying, ‘What a thing am I!’ When she did make her voice heard by Herr Johannes and the coachman, she was nervous and ashamed, and met the equivocating pacification of the reply with an assent half-way, though she was far from comprehending the consolation she supposed that it was meant to convey.  She put out her hand to communicate with Beppo.  Another ball of pencilled writing answered to it.  She read:  ’Keep watch on this Austrian.  Your maid is two hours in the rear.  Refuse to be separated from me.  My life is at your service.  —­Beppo.’

Vittoria made her final effort to get a resolve of some sort; ending it with a compassionate exclamation over poor Giacinta.  The girl could soon find her way back to Milan.  On the other hand, the farther from Milan, the less the danger to Carlo’s relative, in whom she now perceived a stronger likeness to her lover.  She sank back in the carriage and closed her eyes.  Though she smiled at the vanity of forcing sleep in this way, sleep came.  Her healthy frame seized its natural medicine to rebuild her after the fever of recent days.

She slept till the rocks were purple, and rose-purple mists were in the valleys.  The stopping of the carriage aroused her.  They were at the threshold of a large wayside hostelry, fronting a slope of forest and a plunging brook.  Whitecoats in all attitudes leaned about the door; she beheld the inner court full of them.  Herr Johannes was ready to hand her to the ground.  He said:  ’You have nothing to fear.  These fellows are on the march to Cremona.  Perhaps it will be better if you are served up in your chamber.  You will be called early in the morning.’

She thanked him, and felt grateful.  ‘Beppo, look to yourself,’ she said, and ran to her retirement.

’I fancy that ‘s about all that you are fit for,’ Herr Johannes remarked, with his eyes on the impersonator of Beppo, who bore the scrutiny carelessly, and after seeing that Vittoria had left nothing on the carriage-seats, directed his steps to the kitchen, as became his functions.  Herr Johannes beckoned to a Tyrolese maid-servant, of whom Beppo had asked his way.  She gave her name as Katchen.

‘Katchen, Katchen, my sweet chuck,’ said Herr Johannes, ’here are ten florins for you, in silver, if you will get me the handkerchief of that man:  you have just stretched your finger out for him.’