should return to a state of nature, great ladies suckle their young like
animals, and the peasantry own their land like nobles. Luckily you'll
hear little of this infectious talk in Turin: the King stamps out the
philosophers like vermin or packs them off to splutter their heresies in
Milan or Venice. But to a nobleman mindful of the privileges of his
condition there is no more agreeable sojourn in Europe. The wines are
delicious, the women--er--accomplished--and though the sbirri may hug
one a trifle close now and then, why, with money and discretion, a
friend or two in the right quarters, and the wit to stand well with the
Church, there's no city in Europe where a man may have pleasanter sins
to confess."

The carriage, by this, was descending the last curves above the valley,
and before them, in a hollow of the hills, blinked the warm shimmer of
maize and vine, like some bright vintage brimming its cup. The soprano
waved a convivial hand.

"Look," he cried, "what Nature has done for this happy region! Where
herself has spread the table so bountifully, should her children hang
back from the feast? I vow, cavaliere, if the mountains were built for
hermits and ascetics, then the plain was made level for dancing,
banqueting and the pleasures of the villeggiatura. If God had meant us
to break our teeth on nuts and roots, why did He hang the vine with
fruit and draw three crops of wheat from this indulgent soil? I protest
when I look on such a scene as this, it is sufficient incentive to
lowliness to remember that the meek shall inherit the earth!"

This mood held Cantapresto till his after-dinner sleep overtook him; and
when he woke again the chariot was clattering across the bridge of
Chivasso. The Po rolled its sunset crimson between flats that seemed