the debatable
land round Paris are so many points of sunshine in the far distance.
The train is going at full speed. The fields of green or gold are being
unrolled like ribbons before my eyes. Now and again a metallic sound and
a glimpse of columns and advertisements show that we are rushing through
a station in a whirlwind of dust. A flash of light across our path is
a tributary of the river. I am off, well on my way, and no one can stop
me--not Lampron, nor Counsellor Boule, nor yet Plum et. The dream of
years is about to be realized. I am going to see Italy--merely a corner
of it; but what a pleasure even that is, and what unlooked-for luck!

A few days ago, Counsellor Boule called me into his office.

"Monsieur Mouillard, you speak Italian fluently, don't you?"

"Yes, sir." "Would you like a trip at a client's expense?"

"With pleasure, wherever you like."

"To Italy?"

"With very great pleasure."

"I thought so, and gave your name to the court without asking your
consent. It's a commission to examine documents at Milan, to prove some
copies of deeds and other papers, put in by a supposititious Italian
heir to establish his rights to a rather large property. You remember
the case of Zampini against Veldon and others?"

"Quite well."

"It is Zampini's copies of the deeds on which he bases his claim which
you will have to compare with the originals, with the help of a clerk
from the Record Office and a sworn translator. You can go by Switzerland
or by the Corniche route, as you please. You will be allowed six hundred
francs and a fortnight's holiday. Does that suit you?"

"I should think so!"

"Then pack up and be off. You must be at Milan by the morning of the
eighteenth."

I ran to tell the news to Lampron, who was filled with surprise and not
a little emotion at the mention of Italy. And here I am flying along
in the Lyons express, without a regret for Paris. All my heart leaps
forward toward Switzerland, where I shall be to-morrow. I have chosen
this green route to take me to the land of blue skies. Up to the last
moment I feared that some obstacle would arise, that the ill-luck which
dogs my footsteps would keep me back, and I am quite surprised that it
has let me off. True, I nearly lost the train, and the horse of cab
No. 7382 must have been a retired racer to make up for the loss of time
caused by M. Plumet.

Counsellor Boule sent me on a business errand an hour before I started.
On my way ba