placed it upon her companion's
lap.

The beautiful stranger seized a fig and quickly disposed of it with
evident relish; then she suddenly paused and asked:

"But do you not need this yourself? I must not rob you."

The girl shrugged her shoulders, and shook her head.

"Eat, signorina, eat," she said, mixing her French and Italian; and the
other, without waiting to be urged further, and apparently ravenously
hungry, quickly disposed of everything save the cheese.

"You are very good," she said, gratefully, when the last fig was eaten.
"I thank you very much." Then with sudden curiosity, she inquired: "But
how do you also happen to be abroad alone at this hour of the night?"

Again the peasant girl shrugged her shoulders, and a dark look of
passion swept over her face.

"I, too, am running away," she said. "I do not like my home; I have a
step-father; he is cruel, harsh, and wants to marry me to a man I do not
love."

"How strange," murmured her companion, a look of wonder coming into her
beautiful eyes, while an expression of sympathy crept over her lovely
face.

"My father owes him for a fine pair of mules, just bought," the girl
resumed, a look of scorn gleaming in here eyes, "and Beppo will call the
debt square if I marry him. I will not be exchanged for brutes--I will
not be sold like a slave, and to one I hate and loathe, and I fly from
him," she concluded, indignantly, the rich blood mounting to her
forehead.

"Where are you going?" questioned the other, eagerly.

"To Monaco, to find service in some family, as maid or nurse, until I
can earn money to go to some school to learn to study," was the earnest
reply.

"You are not an Italian?" the fair stranger said, inquiringly.

The girl shook her head, a sneer curling her red lips.

Evidently to be an Italian was not very desirable in her estimation.

"My mother is Swiss, my own father was French," she briefly answered.

"Ah! that is how you happen to be so light and to speak the French
language. Will you tell me your name?"

"You will not betray me? You will not set them on my track, if I tell
you?" said the peasant girl, apparently longing to confide in the
beautiful maiden, but secretly questioning the wisdom of so doing.

"Surely not. Am I not flying from trouble also? Besides, I am going to
another country," was the reassuring reply.

"I am Lisette Vermilet," the girl then said. "I am eighteen years old. I
have worked from sunrise till sun