of the head.

Lady Blanchemain's black eyebrows shot upwards, marking her surprise;
then drew together, marking her determination.

"But of course one can--it's in the guide-book," she insisted, and held
up the red-bound volume.

The sceptic gave a shrug, as one who disclaimed responsibility and
declined discussion.

"Me, I do not think so. But patience! I will go and ask," he said; and,
turning his back, faded from sight in the depths of the dark tunnel-like
porte-cochere.

Vexed, perplexed, Lady Blanchemain fidgeted a little. To have taken this
long drive for nothing!--sweet though the weather was, fair though the
valley: but she was not a person who could let the means excuse the end.
She neither liked nor was accustomed to see her enterprises balked,--to
see doors remain closed in her face. Doors indeed had a habit of flying
open at her approach. Besides, the fellow's manner,--his initial stare
and silence, his tone when he spoke, his shrug, his exhortation to
patience, and something too in the conduct of his back as he
departed,--hadn't it lacked I don't know what of becoming deference? to
satisfy her amour-propre, at any rate, that the mistake, if there was a
mistake, sprang from no malapprehension of her own, she looked up
chapter and verse. Yes, there the assurance stood, circumstantial, in
all the convincingness of the sturdy, small black type:--

"From Roccadoro a charming excursion may be made, up the beautiful Val
Rampio, to the mediaeval village of Sant' Alessina (7 miles), with its
magnificent castle, in fine grounds, formerly a seat of the Sforzas, now
belonging to the Prince of Zelt-Neuminster, and containing the
celebrated Zelt-Neuminster collection of paintings. Incorporated in the
castle buildings, a noticeable peculiarity, are the parish church and
presbytery. Accessible daily, except Monday, from 10 to 4; attendant 1
fr."

So then! To-day was Wednesday, the hour between two and three. So--! Her
amour-propre triumphed, but I fancy her vexation mounted....

IV

"I beg your pardon. It's disgraceful you should have been made to wait.
The porter is an idiot. You wish, of course, to see the house--?"

The English words, on a key of spontaneous apology, with a very zealous
inflection of concern--yet, at the same time, with a kind of entirely
respectful and amiable abruptness, as of one hailing a familiar
friend,--were pronounced in a breath by a brisk, cheerful, unmistakably
English vo