ing with wild grapes, raspberries, and
figs, promised them grateful refreshment. Soon after, they turned
from the road into a grove, whose thick foliage entirely excluded the
sun-beams, and where a spring, gushing from the rock, gave coolness to
the air; and, having alighted and turned the horses to graze, Annette
and Ludovico ran to gather fruit from the surrounding thickets, of which
they soon returned with an abundance. The travellers, seated under the
shade of a pine and cypress grove and on turf, enriched with such a
profusion of fragrant flowers, as Emily had scarcely ever seen, even
among the Pyrenees, took their simple repast, and viewed, with new
delight, beneath the dark umbrage of gigantic pines, the glowing
landscape stretching to the sea.

Emily and Du Pont gradually became thoughtful and silent; but Annette
was all joy and loquacity, and Ludovico was gay, without forgetting the
respectful distance, which was due to his companions. The repast being
over, Du Pont recommended Emily to endeavour to sleep, during these
sultry hours, and, desiring the servants would do the same, said he
would watch the while; but Ludovico wished to spare him this trouble;
and Emily and Annette, wearied with travelling, tried to repose, while
he stood guard with his trombone.

When Emily, refreshed by slumber, awoke, she found the sentinel asleep
on his post and Du Pont awake, but lost in melancholy thought. As the
sun was yet too high to allow them to continue their journey, and as
it was necessary, that Ludovico, after the toils and trouble he had
suffered, should finish his sleep, Emily took this opportunity of
enquiring by what accident Du Pont became Montoni's prisoner, and he,
pleased with the interest this enquiry expressed and with the excuse
it gave him for talking to her of himself, immediately answered her
curiosity.

'I came into Italy, madam,' said Du Pont, 'in the service of my country.
In an adventure among the mountains our party, engaging with the bands
of Montoni, was routed, and I, with a few of my comrades, was taken
prisoner. When they told me, whose captive I was, the name of Montoni
struck me, for I remembered, that Madame Cheron, your aunt, had married
an Italian of that name, and that you had accompanied them into Italy.
It was not, however, till some time after, that I became convinced this
was the same Montoni, or learned that you, madam, was under the same
roof with myself. I will not pain you by de