y a rigorous life and exposure to extreme
cold. He gave me welcome in French, with here and there an
interpellation of "Down, Turk," "Be quiet, Jupiter!" Would I like
breakfast, he asked; and then--yes, certainly--to see the chapel, the
_bibliotheque_, the monastery museum, and the Alpine garden? There
would be plenty of time for this, and still to reach Aosta. Another
monk was called, and an introduction effected. I was taken into a
handsomely decorated refectory, where I opened my eyes in some
astonishment at sight of the Imp, drinking coffee from a shallow bowl
nearly as big as his childish head. Innocentina was no doubt at this
moment shocking Joseph by some new depravity, in the _salle-a-manger_
where humbler folk were entertained with the same hospitality as their
(so called) betters.

The Brat set down his bowl, and saw me, as I subsided into a chair on
the opposite side of the long, narrow table. His face flushed, and the
brilliant blue eyes clouded, but he deigned to acknowledge our
acquaintance with a slight bow.

[Illustration: "DOWN, TURK!" "BE QUIET, JUPITER!"]

"I didn't suppose you would have started yet," said I.

"I thought the same thing about you," he retorted. "We got off very
quietly from the Cantine----"

"Ah, you wished to steal a march on me," I broke in, "But really, my
young friend, you need not have feared that I should impose myself
upon you as a travelling companion. My one object in making this
excursion is, if not to enjoy my own society, at any rate to
experiment with it, therefore----"

"I have _two_ objects in making mine," the boy interrupted. "One is to
avoid men; the other is to find materials for writing a book, with no
men in it--only places."

"It will not be owing to me, if you fail in the former," said I. "As
for the latter, naturally it will depend upon yourself. What shall you
call it--'A Chiel takkin' Notes' or 'In Search of the Grail'?"

He blushed vividly. "I haven't decided on the name yet, but it can't
matter to you, as I do not expect you to buy the book when it comes
out; nor need you be afraid that you will figure in the pages. If I
were to call my book 'In Search of--anything,' it would be, 'In Search
of Peace.'"

With this, the strange child rose from the table, and bowing,
departed, leaving me lost in wonder at him. He was but an infant, and
an impertinent infant at that; yet suddenly I had had a glimpse
through the great sea-blue eyes, of a soul, weary