think to see thee
again so quickly, and less still to lay eyes on this holy convent; for
though the traveller might have returned in thy person nothing short of a
miracle--" Here the bailiff winked, for he was one of those Protestants
whose faith was most manifested in these side-hits at the opinions and
practices of Rome,--"Nothing but a miracle, I say, and that too a miracle
of some saint whose bones have been drying these ten thousand years, until
every morsel of our weak flesh has fairly disappeared, could bring down
old St. Bernard's abode upon the shores of the Leman. I have known many
who have left Vaud to cross the Alps come back and winter in Vevey; but
never did I know the stone that was placed upon another, in a workman-like
manner, quits its bed without help from the hand of man. They say stones
are particularly hard-hearted, and yet your saint and miracle-monger hath
a way to move them!"

Peterchen chuckled at his own pleasantry, as men in authority are apt to
enjoy that which comes exclusively of their own cleverness, and he winked
round among his followers, as if he would invite them to bear witness to
the rap he had given the Papists, even on their own exclusive ground. When
the platform of the Col was attained, he checked the mule and continued
his address, for want of wind had nipped his wit, as it might be, in the
bud.

"A bad business this, Herr Sigismund; a thoroughly bad affair. It has
drawn me far from home, at a ticklish season, and it has unexpectedly
stopped the Herr von Willading (he spoke in German) in his journey over
the mountains, and that, too, at a moment when all had need be diligent
among the Alps. How does the keen air of the Col agree with the fair
Adelheid?"

"God be thanked, Herr Bailiff, in bodily health that excellent young lady
was never better."

"God be thanked, right truly! She is a tender flower, and one that might
be suddenly cut off by the frosts of St Bernard. And the noble Genoese,
who travels with so much modest simplicity, in a way to reprove the vain
and idle--I hope he does not miss the sun among our rocks?"

"He is an Italian, and must think of us and our climate according to his
habits; though in the way of health he seems at his ease."

"Well, this is consolatory! Herr Sigismund, were the truth known,"
rejoined Peterchen, bending as far forward on his mule as a certain
protuberance of his body would permit, and then suddenly drawing himself
up again in rese