sted chestnuts into my
pocket, and she said she would pray for me. The fact is, she thought,
foolish old creature, as she is, that I was old and in poor health,
and she had often teased me to go into the country for a few days, so
that she was not ill pleased that I should seem to take her advice.
She stood looking after me as I trudged along the street, with my
bundle and my good stick in my right hand, and a lighted cigar in my
left.

I had made up my mind that I ought first to try the direction hinted
at by the baron, since I had absolutely no other clue to the
whereabouts of the Count von Lira and his daughter. I therefore got
into the old stage that still runs to Palestrina and the neighbouring
towns, for it is almost as quick as going by rail, and much cheaper;
and half-an-hour later we rumbled out of the Porta San Lorenzo, and I
had entered upon the strange journey to find Hedwig von Lira,
concerning which frivolous people have laughed so unkindly. And you
may call me a foolish old man if you like. I did it for my boy.

CHAPTER XIII

I went to Palestrina because all foreigners go there, and are to be
heard of from other parts of the mountains in that place. It was a
long and tiresome journey; the jolting stage-coach shook me very much.
There was a stout woman inside, with a baby that squealed; there
was a very dirty old country curate, who looked as though he had not
shaved for a week, or changed his collar for a month. But he talked
intelligently, though he talked too much, and he helped to pass the
time until I was weary of him. We jolted along over the dusty roads,
and were at least thankful that it was not yet hot.

In the evening we reached Palestrina, and stopped before the inn in
the market-place, as tired and dusty as might be. The woman went one
way, and the priest the other, and I was left alone. I soon found the
fat old host, and engaged a room for the night. He was talkative and
curious, and sat by my side when he had prepared my supper in the
dingy dining-room downstairs. I felt quite sure that he would be able
to tell me what I wanted, or at least to give me a hint from hearsay.
But he at once began to talk of last year, and how much better his
business had been then than it was now, as country landlords
invariably do.

It was to no purpose that I questioned him about the people that had
passed during the fortnight, the month, the two months back; it was
clear that no one of the impor