somewhat frightened by this grand lady. The toes of her bare
feet worked nervously in the dust. She hung her head shyly,
and eyed her brother.

But the brother, removing his hat, with the bow of an Italian
peasant--and that is to say, the bow of a courtier--spoke up
bravely.

"To Turin, Nobility."

He said it in a perfectly matter-of-fact way, quite as he might
have said, "To the next farm-house."

The Duchessa, however, had not bargained for an answer of this
measure. Startled, doubting her ears perhaps, "To--Turin--!"
she exclaimed.

"Yes, Excellency," said the boy.

"But--but Turin--Turin is hundreds of kilometres from here,"
she said, in a kind of gasp.

"Yes, Excellency," said the boy.

"You are going to Turin--you two children--walking--like that!"
she persisted.

"Yes, Excellency."

"But--but it will take you a month."