"Uno--piu--piccolo," was her next remark, implying "Has the
cigar been given to you by Mr. Beebe, the smaller of the two good
men?"

She was correct as usual. He tied the horse to a tree, kicked it
to make it stay quiet, dusted the carriage, arranged his hair,
remoulded his hat, encouraged his moustache, and in rather less
than a quarter of a minute was ready to conduct her. Italians are
born knowing the way. It would seem that the whole earth lay
before them, not as a map, but as a chess-board, whereon they
continually behold the changing pieces as well as the squares.
Any one can find places, but the finding of people is a gift from
God.

He only stopped once, to pick her some great blue violets. She
thanked him with real pleasure. In the company of this common man
the world was beautiful and direct. For the first time she felt
the influence of Spring. His arm swept the horizon gracefully;
violets, like other things, existed in great profusion there;
would she like to see them?"

"Ma buoni uomini."

He bowed. Certainly. Good men first, violets afterwards. They
proceeded briskly through the undergrowth, which became thicker
and thicker. They were nearing the edge of the promontory, and
the view was stealing round them, but the brown network of the
bushes shattered it into countless pieces. He was occupied in his
cigar, and in holding back the pliant boughs. She was rejoicing