osed, he was gratifying them. He was proud of his horse, and it
could go very fast. He rose in his seat, the whip cracked, the horse
rushed forward, the rocks leaped towards them, the little fly swayed,
the suit-cases heaved, Mrs. Arbuthnot and Mrs. Wilkins clung. In this
way they continued, swaying, heaving, clattering, clinging, till at a
point near Castagneto there was a rise in the road, and on reaching the
foot of the rise the horse, who knew every inch of the way, stopped
suddenly, throwing everything in the fly into a heap, and then
proceeded up at the slowest of walks.

Beppo twisted himself round to receive their admiration, laughing
with pride in his horse.

There was no answering laugh from the beautiful ladies. Their
eyes, fixed on him, seemed bigger than ever, and their faces against
the black of the night showed milky.

But here at least, once they were up the slope, were houses. The
rocks left off, and there were houses; the low wall left off, and there
were houses; the sea shrunk away, and the sound of it ceased, and the
loneliness of the road was finished. No lights anywhere, of course,
nobody to see them pass; and yet Beppo, when the houses began, after
looking over his shoulder and shouting "Castagneto" at the ladies, once
more stood up and cracked his whip and once more made his horse dash
forward.

"We shall be there in a minute," Mrs. Arbuthnot said to herself,
holding on.

"We shall soon stop now," Mrs. Wilkins said to herself, holding
on. They said nothing aloud, because nothing would have been heard
above the whip-cracking and the wheel-clattering and the boisterous
inciting noises Beppo was making at his horse.

Anxiously they strained their eyes for any sight of the beginning
of San Salvatore.

They had supposed and hoped that after a reasonable amount of
village a mediaeval archway would loom upon them, and through it they
would drive into a garden and draw up at an open, welcoming door, with
light streaming from it and those servants standing in it who,
according to the advertisement, remained.

Instead the fly suddenly stopped.

Peering out they could see they were still in the village street,
with small dark houses each side; and Beppo, throwing the reins over
the horse's back as if completely confident this time that he would not
go any farther, got down off his box. At the same moment, springing as
it seemed out of nothing, a man and several half-grown boys appeared o