rofessor, who really wished to stop,
gallantly yielded. Miss Graves, alone in the opposition, was obliged to
yield also; but she was deeply disappointed. The cathedral, formerly
dedicated to Jupiter, "'possesses a white marble pulpit incrusted with
mosaics, and an octagon font, very ancient,'" she read, mournfully,
aloud, from her manuscript note-book. "'The Church of St. Michael, also,
guards Roman antiquities of surpassing interest.'" This word "guards"
had a fine effect.

But, "we can come here at any time, you know," carried the day; and we
drove on. I may as well mention that, as usual in such cases, we never
did "come here at any time," save on the one occasion of our departure
for Florence--an occasion which no railway traveller going to Italy by
this route is likely soon to forget, the Ventimiglia custom-house being
modelled patriotically upon the circles of Dante's "Inferno."

When we were at a safe distance--"I suppose you know, Miss Trescott,
that Ventimiglia was the principal home of your Lascaris?" said Verney.
"First of all, they were Counts of Ventimiglia: that Italian port stands
on the site of their old castle. I have been looking into their
genealogy a little on your account; and I find that the first count of
whom we have authentic record was a son of the King of Italy, A.D. 950.
His son married the Princess Eudoxie, daughter of Theodore Lascaris,
Emperor of Greece, and assumed the arms and name of his wife's family.
Their descendants, besides being Counts of Ventimiglia, became Seigniors
of Mentone, Castellare, Gorbio, Peille, Tende, and Briga, Roccabruna,
and what is now L'Annunziata. They also had a chateau at Nice."

"Let us go back!" said Janet.

"To Nice?" I asked, smiling.

But Verney appeased her with an offering--nothing less than a sketch he
had made. "The Lascaris," he said, as if introducing them. And there
they were, indeed, a group of knights on horseback, dressed in velvet
doublets and lace ruffles, with long white plumes, followed by a train
of pages and squires with armor and led-horses. All had Greek profiles:
in truth, they were but various views of the Apollo Belvedere. This
splendid party was crossing the drawbridge of a castle, and, from a
latticed casement above, two beautiful and equally Greek ladies, attired
in ermine, with long veils and golden crowns, waved their scarfs in
token of adieu.

"Charming!" said Janet, much pleased. (And in truth it was, if fanciful,
a very