surprise was wearing off, she beheld the woodman's little girl at her
feet holding up one end of her cloak, and peeping underneath, overcome
by amazement at the flashing richness of the dress of the heroine
Camilla. Entering into the state of her mind spontaneously, Vittoria
sought to induce the child to kiss her; but quite vainly. The child's
reverence for the dress allowed her only to be within reach of the hem
of it, so as to delight her curiosity. Vittoria smiled when, as she sat
up, the child fell back against the wall; and as she rose to her feet,
the child scampered from the room. 'My poor Camilla! you can charm
somebody, yet,' she said, limping; her visage like a broken water with
the pain of her feet. 'If the bell rings for Camilla now, what sort
of an entry will she make?' Vittoria treated her physical weakness and
ailments with this spirit of humour. 'They may say that Michiella has
bewitched you, my Camilla. I think your voice would sound as if it were
dragging its feet after it just as a stork flies. O my Camilla! don't
I wish I could do the same, and be ungraceful and at ease! A moan is
married to every note of your treble, my Camilla, like December and May.
Keep me from shrieking!'

The pangs shooting from her feet were scarce bearable, but the
repression of them helped her to meet Angelo with a freer mind than,
after the interval of separation, she would have had. The old woodman
was cooking a queer composition of flour and milk sprinkled with salt
for them. Angelo cut a stout cloth to encase each of her feet, and bound
them in it. He was more cheerful than she had ever seen him, and now
first spoke of their destination. His design was to conduct her near
to Bormio, there to engage a couple of men in her service who would
accompany her to Meran, by the Val di Sole, while he crossed the Stelvio
alone, and turning leftward in the Tyrolese valley, tried the passage
into Switzerland.

Bormio, if, when they quitted the forest, a conveyance could be
obtained, was no more than a short day's distance, according to the old
woodman's directions. Vittoria induced the little girl to sit upon her
knee, and sang to her, but greatly unspirited the charm of her dress.
The sun was rising as they bade adieu to the hut.

About mid-day they quitted the shelter of forest trees and stood on
broken ground, without a path to guide them. Vittoria did her best to
laugh at her mishaps in walking, and compared herself to a Capu