t?"

"I never approve of acting contrary to the wishes of parents, or of
those who represent the parents. But I, dear Signor Giacomo, am an
old-fashioned man like yourself, a man of the time of Carlo Umberto, as
they say hereabouts. Now, the world wags differently, and we must let it
wag. Therefore, having expressed my opinions on this point, I said to my
relatives: 'Now do as you like. But when you have decided one way or
another, let me know what is to be done, and I shall be ready!'"

"And what does Signora Teresina say?"

"My sister? My sister, poor creature, says: 'If I can see them settled
in life, I shall no longer dread death.'"

Signor Giacomo breathed hard, as was his habit whenever he heard that
last, unpleasant word pronounced.

"But it is surely not so bad as that?" said he.

"Who can tell?" the engineer replied, very seriously. "We must trust in
the Almighty."

They had reached a sharp bend where the narrow path, passing the last of
the small fields belonging to the territory of Albogasio, turns towards
the first of those belonging to Castello, and winds on, on the left,
along the top of a jutting crag, suddenly coming in sight of a deep
cleft in the mountain's bosom, of the lake far below, of the villages of
Casarico and San Mamette, crouching on the shore as if in the act of
drinking. Castello is perched a little higher up, and not far distant,
facing the bare and forbidding peak of Cressogno, the whole of which is
visible, from the gorges of Loggio to the sky. It is a beautiful spot
even at night in the moonlight, but if Signor Giacomo paused there,
striking a contemplative attitude and forgetting to puff, it was not
because he considered the scene worthy of any one's attention, to say
nothing of that of a political deputy, but because, having a weighty
argument to expound, he felt the necessity of concentrating all his
strength in his brain, and of suspending all other effort, even that of
the legs.

"That is a fine maxim," said he. "Let us trust in the Almighty. Yes, my
dear sir. But permit me to observe that in our time we were always
hearing of prayers being answered, of conversions and miracles. Am I not
correct? But now the world is not the same, and it appears to me the
Almighty is sick of it all. The world is in much the same condition as
our parish church at Albogasio, which the Almighty used to visit once a
month. Now He comes only once a year."

"Listen, my good Signor Giacomo," sa