mistake, sprang from no malapprehension of her own, she looked up
chapter and verse. Yes, there the assurance stood, circumstantial, in
all the convincingness of the sturdy, small black type:--

"From Roccadoro a charming excursion may be made, up the beautiful Val
Rampio, to the mediæval village of Sant' Alessina (7 miles), with its
magnificent castle, in fine grounds, formerly a seat of the Sforzas, now
belonging to the Prince of Zelt-Neuminster, and containing the
celebrated Zelt-Neuminster collection of paintings. Incorporated in the
castle buildings, a noticeable peculiarity, are the parish church and
presbytery. Accessible daily, except Monday, from 10 to 4; attendant 1
fr."

So then! To-day was Wednesday, the hour between two and three. So--! Her
amour-propre triumphed, but I fancy her vexation mounted....




IV


"I beg your pardon. It's disgraceful you should have been made to wait.
The porter is an idiot. You wish, of course, to see the house--?"

The English words, on a key of spontaneous apology, with a very zealous
inflection of concern--yet, at the same time, with a kind of entirely
respectful and amiable abruptness, as of one hailing a familiar
friend,--were pronounced in a breath by a brisk, cheerful, unmistakably
English voice.