their broad-tailed sterns turned to us. The sun was shining on the white
diamond-shaped causeway stones which led across a marshy place. We came
again to the foot of the hill. It had indeed been no more than a
dividing ridge, which we had crossed over by Spellino.

We saw the riband of the road unwind before us. One turn swerved out of
sight, and one alone. But round this curve, out of the unseen, there
came toward us the trampling of horses. A carriage dashed forward, the
coachman's box empty, the reins flying wide among the horses' feet.
There was but little time for thought; yet as they passed I caught at
their heads, for I was used to horses. Then I hung well back, allowing
myself to be jerked forward in great leaps, yet never quite loosing my
hold. It was but a chance, yet a better one than it looked.

At the turn of the road towards Spellino I managed to set their heads to
the hill, and the steep ascent soon brought the stretching gallop of the
horses to a stand-still.

It seemed a necessary thing that there should be a lady inside. I should
have been content with any kind of lady, but this one was both fair and
young, though neither discomposed nor terrified, as in such cases is
the custom.

"I trust Madame is not disarranged," I said in my poor French, as I went
from the horses' heads to the carriage and assisted the lady to alight.

"It serves me right for bringing English horses here without a coachman
to match," she said in excellent English. "Such international
misalliances do not succeed. Italian horses would not have startled at
an old beggar in a red coat, and an English coachman would not have