es, and browsed by Alpine herds; and again the green dome
was distant. They came to the highest chalet, where a hearty wiry young
fellow, busily employed in making cheese, invited them to the enjoyment
of shade and fresh milk. "For the sake of these adolescents, who lose
much and require much, let it be so," said Agostino gravely, and not
without some belief that he consented to rest on behalf of his
companions. They allowed the young mountaineer to close the door, and sat
about his fire like sagacious men. When cooled and refreshed, Agostino
gave the signal for departure, and returned thanks for hospitality. Money
was not offered and not expected. As they were going forth the
mountaineer accompanied them to the step on the threshold, and with a
mysterious eagerness in his eyes, addressed Agostino.

"Signore, is it true?--the king marches?"

"Who is the king, my friend?" returned Agostino. "If he marches out of
his dominions, the king confers a blessing on his people perchance."

"Our king, signore!" The mountaineer waved his finger as from Novara
toward Milan.

Agostino seemed to awaken swiftly from his disguise of an absolute
gravity. A red light stood in his eyeballs, as if upon a fiery answer.
The intemperate fit subsided. Smoothing dawn his mottled grey beard with
quieting hands, he took refuge in his habitual sententious irony.

"My friend, I am not a hare in front of the king, nor am I a ram in the
rear of him: I fly him not, neither do I propel him. So, therefore, I
cannot predict the movements of the king. Will the wind blow from the
north to-morrow, think you?"

The mountaineer sent a quick gaze up the air, as to descry signs.

"Who knows?" Agostino continued, though not playing into the smiles of
his companions; "the wind will blow straight thither where there is a
vacuum; and all that we can state of the king is, that there is a
positive vacuum here. It would be difficult to predict the king's
movements save by such weighty indications."

He laid two fingers hard against the rib which shields the heart. It had
become apparently necessary for the speaker to relieve a mind surcharged
with bile at the mention of the king; for, having done, he rebuked with
an amazed frown the indiscretion of Carlo, who had shouted, "The
Carbonaro king!"

"Carlo, my son, I will lean on your arm. On your mouth were better,"
Agostino added, under his voice, as they moved on.

"Oh, but," Carlo remonstrated, "let us trust