p the broad stairway, we were ushered into an unexpected and
remarkable apartment.

"We came to see an infant school, and we find a row of noblemen," said
Baker. "They must be all the Dorias upon their native heath!"

The "heath" was the wall, upon which, in black frames, were ranged
forty-two portraits in a long procession going around three sides of the
great room, which must have been fifty feet in length. At the head of
the apartment was a picture seven feet square, representing a
full-blooming lady in a long-bodied white satin dress, with an
extraordinary structure of plumes and pearls on her head, accompanied by
a stately little heir in a pink satin court suit, and several younger
children. One grim, dark old man in red, farther down the hall, was
"Roberto: Seigneur Dolce Acqua. Anno 1270." A dame in yellow brocade,
with hoop, ruff, and jewels, and a little curly dog under her arm, was
"Brigida: Domina Dolce Acqua. 1290."

"So they carried dogs in that way then as well as now," observed Janet.

The Mother Superior now came in. She informed us that this was the
chateau of the Dorias, built after their castle was destroyed, and
occupied by descendants of the family until a comparatively recent
period. Its plain exterior, extending across one end of the little
square, we had not especially distinguished from the other buildings
which joined it, forming the usual continuous wall of the Riviera towns.
The chateau was now a convent and school. There were benches across one
side of the large apartment where the village children were already
assembled under the black-framed portraits, but there was not much
studying that day, I think, save a study of strangers.

"Here is the real treasure," said Verney.

It was a chimney-piece of stone, extending across one end of the room,
richly carved with various devices in relief, figures, and ornaments,
and a row of heads on shields across the front, now the profile of an
old bearded man looking out, and now that of a youth in armor. It was
fifteen feet high, and a remarkably fine piece of work.

"Quite thrown away here," said Miss Graves.

"Oh, I don't know; the portraits can see it," replied Janet.

The Mother Superior conducted us all over the chateau, reserving only
the corridor where were her own and the Sisters' apartments. The
dignified stone stairway with its broad stone steps extended unchanged
to the top of the house.

"In the matter of stairways," I said, "I mu