nocentina. She tossed her head, and
folded her arms in her cape as if it had been the toga of a Roman
senator unjustly accused of treason. She had been, so she assured me,
at that instant on the point of coming forward to entreat her young
monsieur to mount Fanny, since he must be deadly tired; but the Boy,
joining us at the moment, denied excessive fatigue and said that he
would freeze if he rode. Besides, he added, it would be cruel to
burden Fanny, in her present state of depression. The most likely
thing was that we should have to carry her; and if she continued to
shrink at her present rate per minute, soon we could slip her into one
of our pockets.

Joseph, promoted to the post of honour, forged ahead; and either Fanny
and Souris insisted upon following Finois, or else Innocentina felt
called upon to continue the process of conversion even in adverse
circumstances; at all events, the Boy and I almost immediately found
ourselves in the background, all that we could see of our companions
being a tassel-like grey tail quivering above a moving blur of little
legs, scarcely thicker than toothpicks.

The Boy, who was still sulking in the dressing-gown, suddenly broke by
a spasmodic chuckle the silence which had blended chillingly with the
weather.

"What's up?" I enquired, thawing joyously in the brief gleam of moral
sunshine.

"I was only thinking that if Innocentina wants to convert Joseph from
heresy she'd better not lecture him to-day about eternal fire. The
idea is too inviting. I never envied anyone so much as my namesake,
St. Laurence, on his gridiron. It would be a luxury to grill."

"Perhaps the gridiron was to him what my dressing-gown is to you,"
said I.

"I'm getting resigned to it. That's the reason I'm talking to you. I
hated you for five minutes; but--you never like people so much as
when you've just finished hating them."

"Which means that I'm forgiven?"

"That, and something more."

"Good imp! The thermometer is rising. But I feel a beast to have got
you into this scrape. If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't have
known that a mule-path existed on Mont Revard."

"I'm not sorry we came. This will be something to remember always.
It's a real adventure. Afterwards we shall get the point of view."

"I wish we could get one now," said I. "But the prospect isn't
cheerful. Molly Winston's prophecy is being fulfilled. She was certain
that sooner or later I should be lost on a mountain; and her