here, travellers are accommodated at the Sister
House, which has been turned into an hotellerie since the expulsion of
the Order."

I reflected a moment before replying. On the face of it, it appeared
like weakness to change my plans simply because I had been deserted by
a comrade whose very existence had been unknown to me when first I
made them. Yet, on the other hand, I had grown so used to his
companionship now, that the thought of continuing my journey without
him was distasteful. With the Little Pal, no day had ever seemed too
long, no misadventure but had had its spice. Lacking the Little Pal,
the vista of day after day spent in covering the country at the rate
of three miles an hour loomed before me monotonous as the treadmill.
My gorge rose against it. I could not go on as I had begun. Why punish
myself by a diet of salt when the savour had gone?

"Joseph," I said at last, "the disappearance of the young Monsieur has
been a blow to me, I admit. It has destroyed my appetite for
sightseeing, for the moment, at all events. I can't rearrange my plans
instantly; but this I have determined. I'll end my walking-tour here.
What to do afterwards I will make up my mind in good time, but
meanwhile, I won't keep you dancing attendance upon me. You will be
anxious to get back home----"

"Monsieur, I have no home." There was despair in Joseph's tone, and
suddenly the keen point of truth pierced the armour of my selfishness.
Poor Joseph, facing exile--from Innocentina--and keeping his
countenance politely, while I densely discoursed of "blows"! Being a
muleteer "farmed out" by a master, he was at the mercy of Fate, and
temporarily I represented Fate. He could not journey on southwards,
whither his heart was wandering, unless I bade him go. This fine
fellow, this old soldier, was as much at my orders as if I had been a
king.

"If you aren't in a hurry to get back to Martigny, Joseph," said I,
changing my tone, "I'll tell you what you can do for me. You may take
some of my luggage down to the Riviera. I'm expecting a portmanteau to
arrive here by rail to-night or to-morrow morning, with plenty of
clothing in it. But there are those hold-alls which Finois has carried
for so long. I can't travel about with them in railway carriages; at
that I draw the line; yet if I sent them by _grande vitesse_, their
contents would be injured or stolen. Take them down to Monte Carlo for
me. I shall go there sooner or later, to meet some fr