leaves and flowers, and the escutcheon engraved on the lid.
But what if he could have guessed the part he had passively
played in obtaining it for its possessor--or the part that it
was still to play in his own epopee? Mark again the
predestination!

"The storm is passing," said the priest.

"Worse luck!" thought Peter.

For indeed the rain and the wind were moderating, the thunder
had rolled farther away, the sky was becoming lighter.

"But there's a mighty problem before us still," said the
Duchessa. "How are we to get to Ventirose? The roads will, be
ankle-deep with mud."

"If you wish to do me a very great kindness--" Peter began.

"Yes--?" she encouraged him.

"You will allow me to go before you, and tell them to come for
you with a carriage."

"I shall certainly allow you to do nothing of the sort," she
replied severely. "I suppose there is no one whom you could
send?"

"I should hardly like to send Marietta. I 'm afraid there is
no one else. But upon my word, I should enjoy going myself."