little heed to him. But, at length, being pressed for an answer, he
gave one in a harsh voice with great volubility, and much action, as
if drawing in the air a map of the whole country around. The muleteer
seemed satisfied, and they again moved on over a waste of low, rolling
hills, without a tree upon them. Unlike the heaths of the north of
Europe, it was covered with a false show of fertility, displaying a
variety of plants; among them several species of heath, one six feet
high, and entirely covered with large red flowers, another, smaller
indeed, but with flowers of a yet more lively red. Here, too, were the
yellow-flowered _cisti_, and many other plants with blossoms of many
hues, perfuming the air while they delighted the eye. But the stunted
juniper bushes, and the myrtles, not luxuriant and beautiful, like
those growing on the banks of the rivulets, but dwarfish to the humble
size of weeds, told of a land of starvation under this wilderness of
sweets.

Lady Mabel, much as she loved flowers, was sated here, and owned that
no profusion of them could make a landscape. "There is a dreary
monotony in a scene like this, that words cannot express. The sky of
brass over our heads, and this treeless, lifeless sea of sandy
hillocks around us, excite a feeling of desolation and solitude, which
forces me to look round on our party to convince myself that I am not
alone in the world."

The muleteer, who was some way ahead, now stopped short. Riding up,
they saw that the path here divided into two, and heard him heaping
curses on the huge head of the simpleton, who had forgotten to tell
him which to follow. But, on L'Isle's asking what they should do now,
he dismounted, and stepped up to consult his wisest mule, which he did
by slipping the bridle from his head. At once, sure instinct came to