of the girl, who had at once fallen
into a deep sleep.

"Poor thing," muttered he, "it is well she _can_ sleep! She has eaten
nothing to-day!"

"But, surely," said I, "there is some village, or some wayside inn near
this--"

"Yes, there is the 'Eckstein,' a little public about two miles further;
but we did n't care to reach it before nightfall. It is so painful
to pass many hours in a place and never call for anything; one is
ill-looked on, and uncomfortable from it; and as we have only what would
pay for our supper and lodging, we thought we 'd wear away the noon in
the forest here, and arrive at the inn by close of day."

"Let me be your travelling-companion for to-day," said I, "and let us
push forward and have our dinner together. Tes, yes, there is far less
of condescension in the offer than you suspect. I am neither great nor
milor, I am one of a class like your own, Vaterchen, and what I do for
you today some one else will as probably do for me to-morrow."

Say what I could, the old man would persist in believing that this was
only another of those eccentricities for which Englishmen are famed;
and though, with the tact of a native good breeding, he showed no
persistence in opposition, I saw plainly enough that he was unconvinced
by all my arguments.

While the girl slept, I asked him how he chanced upon the choice of
his present mode of life, since there were many things in his tone and
manner that struck me as strangely unlike what I should have ascribed to
his order.

"It is a very short story," said he; "five minutes will tell it,
otherwise I might scruple to impose on your patience. It was thus I
became what you see me."

Short as the narrative was, I must keep it for another page.

CHAPTER XXX. VATERCHEN'S NARRATIVE.

I give the old man's story, as nearly as I can, the way he told it

"There is a little village on the Lago di Guarda, called Caprini. My
family had lived there for some generations. We had a little wine-shop,
and though not a very pretentious one, it was the best in the place, and
much frequented by the inhabitants. My father was in considerable repute
while he lived; he was twice named Syndic of Caprini, and I myself once
held that dignity. You may not know, perhaps, that the office is
one filled at the choice of the townsfolk, and not nominated by the
Government. Still the crown has its influence in the selection, and
likes well to see one of its own partisans in power,