would have had me keep them, at least until we knew what fate awaited
us at Domodossola. The moment I had irrevocably parted with my outfit,
bought in happier days, I should find a mule, and how annoyed would I
be, she prophesied. But I was adamant. Had I not made a vow? Besides,
if I were to find a mule or donkey the moment I had got rid of his
paraphernalia, that alone was an inducement to throw the cargo
overboard.

On our way to Domodossola, I saw a pretty dark-eyed young woman, with
a cherubic baby in her arms, standing in the doorway of a tumble-down
cottage. Evidently she was waiting to greet her husband when he should
come home, weary with his long day's work. Quickly I made a decision
and with the same abruptness I had used in urging Molly to draw before
the too attractive shop in Bern, I begged her now to stop. My white
elephants were stowed away in separate bundles in the tonneau, where,
ever since Lucerne, they had been the cause of cramps and "pins and
needles" to the feet of any member of the party who sat there. I
ruthlessly collected the lot, and, well-nigh swamped by the load, I
carried them to the cottage door, where I laid all at the feet of the
young mother. She suddenly became an incarnate point of admiration,
and could scarcely believe that I was sane, or that she was not
dreaming when I explained my wish to make her a present. If I had
stayed an hour, I could not have dissipated her bewilderment, so I
left the things to speak for themselves--if she did not take them for
infernal machines and throw them into the river.

It was evening when we arrived at Domodossola, and I felt nothing
save cold resignation when told emphatically by the concierge of our
chosen hotel that my quest was hopeless.