e prospect of presenting that sort of husband to his little Rosetta. At
this juncture Jacopo threw himself between them.

'It shall be a real fight,' he said; 'my daughter can't make up her mind,
and she shall have the best man. Leave me to arrange it all fairly; and
you come here in a couple of hours, my children,' he addressed the
soldiers, who unwillingly quitted the scene where there was a certainty
of fun, on the assurance of there being a livelier scene to come.

When they had turned their heels on the shop, Jacopo made a face at
Johann; Johann swung round upon Angelo, and met a smile. Then followed
explanations.

'What's that you say? She's true--she's true?' exclaimed the astounded
lover.

'True enough, but a girl at an inn wants hotter courting,' said Jacopo.
'His Excellency here is after his own sweetheart.'

Johann huzzaed, hugged at Angelo's hands, and gave a lusty filial tap to
Jacopo on the shoulder. Bread and grapes and Tyrolese wine were placed
for them, and Johann's mother soon produced a salad, eggs, and fowl; and
then and there declared her willingness to receive Rosetta into the
household, 'if she would swear at the outset never to have 'heimweh'
(home-longing); as people--men and women, both--always did when they took
a new home across a mountain.'

'She won't--will she?' Johann inquired with a dubious sparkle.

'Not she,' said Jacopo.

After the meal he drew Johann aside. They returned to Angelo, and Johann
beckoned him to leave the house by a back way, leading up a slope of
garden into high vine-poles. He said that he had seen a party pass out of
Cles from the inn early, in a light car, on for Meran. The gendarmerie
were busy on the road: a mounted officer had dashed up to the inn an hour
later, and had followed them: it was the talk of the village.

'Padrone, you dismiss me now,' said Jacopo.

'I pay you, but don't dismiss you,' said Angelo, and handed him a
bank-note.

'I stick to you, padrone, till you do dismiss me,' Jacopo sighed.

Johann offered to conduct them as far as the Monte Pallade pass, and they
started, avoiding the high road, which was enviably broad and solid.
Within view of a village under climbing woods, they discerned an open
car, flanked by bayonets, returning to Cles. Angelo rushed ahead of them
down the declivity, and stood full in the road to meet the procession. A
girl sat in the car, who hung her head, weeping; Lorenzo was beside her;
an Englishman on foot g