in start, Jeanne?"

"At ten minutes to eight."

"Confusion! we are stranded in Desio! The mere thought of passing the
night in that inn gives me the creeps. I see no way out of it unless
Monsieur Mouillard can get us one of the Count's state coaches. There
isn't a carriage to be got in this infernal village!"

"There is mine, Monsieur, which luckily holds four, and is quite at your
service."

"Upon my word, I am very much obliged to you. The drive by moonlight will
be quite romantic."

He drew near to Jeanne and whispered in her ear:

"Are you sure you've wraps enough? a shawl, or a cape, or some kind of
pelisse?"

She gave a merry nod of assent.

"Don't worry yourself, father; I am prepared for all emergencies."

At half-past eight we left Desio together, and I silently blessed the
host of the Albergo dell' Agnello, who had assured me that the carriage
road was "so much more picturesque." I found it so, indeed.

M. Charnot and Jeanne faced the horses. I sat opposite to M. Charnot, who
was in the best of spirits after all the medals he had seen. Comfortably
settled in the cushions, careless of the accidents of the road, with
graphic and untiring forefinger, he undertook to describe his travels in
Greece, whither he had been sent on some learned enterprise by the
Minister of Education, and had carried an imagination already
prepossessed and dazzled with Homeric visions. He told his story well and
with detail, combining the recollections of the scholar with the
impressions of an artist. The pediment of the Parthenon, the oleanders of
the Ilissus, the stream "that runs in rain-time," the naked peak of
Parnassus, the green slopes of Helicon, the blue gulf of Argus, the pine
forest beside Alpheus, where the ancients worshipped "Death the
Gentle"--all of them passed in recount upon his learned lips.

I must acknowledge, to my shame, that I did not listen to all he said,
but, in a favorite way I have, reserved some of my own freedom of
thought, while I gave him complete freedom of speech. And I am bound to
say he did not abuse it, but consented to pause at the frontiers of
Thessaly. Then followed silence. I gave him room to stretch. Soon, lulled
by the motion of the carriage, the stream of reminiscence ran more
slowly--then ran dry. M. Charnot slept.

We bowled at a good pace, without jolting, over the white road. A warm
mist rose around us laden with the smell of vegetation, ripe corn, and
clover from the overh