etter of your conduct!"

"Of my conduct, mademoiselle!" Pericles retained this sentence in his
head till the conclusion of her animated speech,--"of my conduct I judge
better zan to accept of such a privilege as you graciously offer to me;"
and he retired with a sour grin, very much subdued by her unexpected
capacity for expression. The bugles of the Austrians were soon ringing.
There was a trifle of a romantic flavour in the notes which Vittoria
tried not to feel; the smart iteration of them all about her rubbed it
off, but she was reduced to repeat them, and take them in various keys.
This was her theme for the day.

They were in the midst of mulberries, out of sight of the army; green
mulberries, and the green and the bronze young vine-leaf. It was a
delicious day, but she began to fear that she was approaching Verona,
and that Pericles was acting seriously. The bronze young vine-leaf
seemed to her like some warrior's face, as it would look when beaten by
weather, burned by the sun. They came now to inns which had been visited
by both armies. Luigi established communication with the innkeepers
before the latter had stated the names of villages to Pericles, who
stood map in hand, believing himself at last to be no more conscious of
his position than an atom in a whirl of dust. Vittoria still refused to
give him any promise, and finally, on a solitary stretch of the road, he
appealed to her mercy. She was the mistress of the carriage, he said;
he had never meant to imprison her in Verona; his behaviour was simply
dictated by his adoration--alas! This was true or not true, but it was
certain that the ways were confounded to them. Luigi, despatched
to reconnoitre from a neighbouring eminence, reported a Piedmontese
encampment far ahead, and a walking tent that was coming on their route.
The walking tent was an enormous white umbrella. Pericles advanced to
meet it; after an interchange of opening formalities, he turned about
and clapped hands. The umbrella was folded. Vittoria recognized the last
man she would then have thought of meeting; he seemed to have jumped out
of an ambush from Meran in Tyrol:--it was Wilfrid. Their greeting was
disturbed by the rushing up of half-a-dozen troopers. The men claimed
him as an Austrian spy. With difficulty Vittoria obtained leave to drive
him on to their commanding officer. It appeared that the white umbrella
was notorious for having been seen on previous occasions threading the
Pie