n in contrast with the
dazzling snow.

We did not leave St. Rhemy till long past one, and as we descended
upon lower levels the sun grew hot. More than once I called a halt,
and we had a delicious rest under a tree in some exquisite glade a
little removed from the roadside. It was during one of these, while
Finois cropped an indigestible branch, that Joseph opened his heart,
and told me his life's history. It had been more or less adventurous,
and it had held a tragedy, for Joseph had loved, and the fair had
jilted him on the eve of their marriage, for a prosperous baker. This
fellow-feeling (for had we not both been thrown over for tradesmen?)
made me wondrous kind towards Joseph; and when I had drawn from him
the fact that his great ambition was to own three donkeys, and start
in business for himself, I secretly determined to see what could be
done towards forwarding this end.

We did not hurry, and while we were still far above Aosta, the shadows
lengthened and thinned, like children who have grown too fast. We
exchanged chestnuts for pines, and the pure ethereal blue of Italy
burned in the sky. Everywhere was rich abundance of colour. The green
of trees and grass was luscious; even the shadows were of a
translucent purple. Below us the valley of Aosta lay, so dreamily
lovely, so peaceful, that one could imagine there only happiness and
prosperity.

I remarked this to Joseph, and he smiled his melancholy smile. "It is
beautiful," he said, "and when you are down at the bottom, you will
not be disappointed in the country. But for happiness? it is no better
than elsewhere. Wait till you see the _cretins_; there is a _cretin_
in almost every family. And not long ago there was a dreadful murder
in the neighbourhood of Aosta. The criminal has not yet been caught.
He is supposed to be hiding somewhere in the mountains, and the police
cannot find him. There is a printed notice out, warning people to
beware of the murderer--so I read in a newspaper not long ago and I
have heard that the inhabitants of all these little hamlets we see
here and there, dare not go from village to village after dark, for
fear of being attacked."

"Then, if we should happen to be belated, we might have an adventure?"
I said.

"Indeed, it is not at all unlikely, Monsieur. No doubt the man is
desperate, and if he saw a chance to get a change of clothing, a mule,
and some money, he might risk attacking even two travellers, from
behind. But we