fly: "Come along,
sir!"

Harz flung his knapsack in, and followed.

His companion's figure swayed, the whiplash slid softly along the flank
of the off horse, and, as the carriage rattled forward, Mr. Treffry
called out, as if by afterthought: "Hallo, Dominique!" Dominque's voice,
shaken and ironical, answered from behind: "M'v'la, M'sieu!"

In the long street of silent houses, men sitting in the lighted cafes
turned with glasses at their lips to stare after the carriage. The
narrow river of the sky spread suddenly to a vast, limpid ocean
tremulous with stars. They had turned into the road for Italy.

Mr. Treffry took a pull at his horses. "Whoa, mare! Dogged does it!" and
the near horse, throwing up her head, whinnied; a fleck of foam drifted
into Harz's face.

The painter had come on impulse; because Christian had told him to, not
of his own free will. He was angry with himself, wounded in self-esteem,
for having allowed any one to render him this service. The smooth swift
movement through velvet blackness splashed on either hand with the
flying lamp-light; the strong sweet air blowing in his face-air that
had kissed the tops of mountains and stolen their spirit; the snort and
snuffle of the horses, and crisp rattling of their hoofs--all this soon
roused in him another feeling. He looked at Mr. Treffry's profile, with
its tufted chin; at the grey road adventuring in darkness; at the purple
mass of mountains piled above it. All seemed utterly unreal.

As if suddenly aware that he had a neighbour, Mr. Treffry turned his
head. "We shall do better than this presently," he said, "bit of a slope
coming. Haven't had 'em out for three days. Whoa-mare! Steady!"

"Why are you taking this trouble for me?" asked Harz.

"I'm an old chap, Mr. Harz, and an old chap may do a stupid thing once
in a while!"

"You are very good," said Harz, "but I want no favours."

Mr. Treffry stared at him.

"Just so," he said drily, "but you see there's my niece to be thought
of. Look here! We're not at the frontier yet, Mr. Harz, by forty miles;
it's long odds we don't get there--so, don't spoil sport!" He pointed to
the left.

Harz caught the glint of steel. They were already crossing the railway.
The sigh of the telegraph wires fluttered above them.

"Hear 'em," said Mr. Treffry, "but if we get away up the mountains,
we'll do yet!" They had begun to rise, the speed slackened. Mr. Treffry
rummaged out a flask.

"Not bad stuff, Mr.