d a window thrown up; Mr. Sedley's head came out, and peered at
the sky. Wilfrid said to Vittoria: "I can do nothing beyond what I have
done, I fear."

She thought it was a petition for thanks, but Laura knew better; she
said: "I see Count Lenkenstein on his way to the barracks."

Wilfrid bowed: "I may be able to serve you in that quarter."

He retired: whereupon Laura inquired how her friend could reasonably
suppose that a man would ever endure being thanked in public.

"I shall never understand and never care to understand them," said
Vittoria.

"It is a knowledge that is forced on us, my dear. May heaven make the
minds of our enemies stupid for the next five hours!--Apropos of what
I was saying, women and men are in two hostile camps. We have a sort
of general armistice and everlasting strife of individuals--Ah!" she
clapped hands on her knees, "here comes your doctor; I could fancy I see
a pointed light on his head. Men of science, my Sandra, are always the
humanest."

The chill air of wind preceding thunder was driving round the head of
the vale, and Mr. Sedley, wrapped in furs, and feebly remonstrating with
his medical adviser, stepped into his carriage. The doctor followed him,
giving a grave recognition of Vittoria's gaze. Both gentlemen raised
their hats to the ladies, who alighted as soon as they had gone in the
direction of the Vintschgau road.

"One has only to furnish you with money, my Beppo," said Vittoria,
complimenting his quick apprehensiveness. "Buy bread and cakes at one of
the shops, and buy wine. You will find me where you can, when you
have seen him safe. I have no idea of where my home will be. Perhaps
England."

"Italy, Italy! faint heart," said Laura.

Furnished with money, Beppo rolled away gaily.

The doubt was in Laura whether an Englishman's wits were to be relied on
in such an emergency; but she admitted that the doctor had looked full
enough of serious meaning, and that the Englishman named Merthyr Powys
was keen and ready. They sat a long half-hour, that thumped itself
out like an alarm-bell, under the poplars, by the clamouring Passeyr,
watching the roll and spring of the waters, and the radiant foam, while
band-music played to a great company of visitors, and sounds of thunder
drew near. Over the mountains above the Adige, the leaden fingers of
an advance of the thunder-cloud pushed slowly, and on a sudden a mighty
gale sat heaped blank on the mountain-top and blew. Down we