morning, I was sent off. By making me harmonica in its case. I took it out. I had start so early they had reckoned that I could never seen anything of the kind before, nor, reach Bovino on the morrow before night- of course, did I know its name. I examfall. According to my father's directions, ined it narrowly, and perceiving the holes, I was to apply to Girome, a poor old neigh-instinctively put it to my lips. Oh! Monbour of ours, for help and advice. Giromè sieur, I can't tell you how transported I was had always been friendly to us, and had a with the sound I produced; it seemed to son employed at the mill. I had also a let- me as if somebody was speaking to me words ter from my sister to one of the best hands of soothing and encouragement. I tried it there, the one who was to be my brother-in-again and again, and made it sound better law, who had spoken to her for two years and better. I no longer felt alone. I forpast. We say in our parts when a young got my fatigue, though I had to remember man courts a girl that he speaks to her. it again when, after a long halt, I got up "It was in the month of July that I set and strove to set forward once more. Howout on my solitary journey - the moon was ever, I found that walking was out of the nearly full, the night as clear as day. My question. Stand up I could, but not make mother went with me a little way, then one step forward; my knees wouldn't bend. kissed me in a hurry (I guessed that she I lay down again, and considered what I had was afraid of my father), bade me be of best do. Consideration was of little_use; good heart, put into my hand a little paper if I could not move I must stay where I was parcel, and was gone. There were in the till I could. So I rolled up my jacket, laid packet three mutte, coins of the value of my head upon it, and fell asleep. eight sous each-all her savings, I am sure. I never felt so miserable and lonely in my life as when she left me. I cried as though my heart would break. I was also stung by a feeling of shame, that I could not earn my bread as well as my brother and sister; but, in spite of my tears and my mortification, I kept on at a good pace. It might have been still a quicker one but for my old tattered shoes, one or other of which I was always losing; so, at last I took them off, and walked barefooted. At first it was quite a comfort, but here and there the road was so rough, so covered with stones, that after a while my feet got sore, and I had to put the shoes on again. It was a weary journey in every way. I stopped several times to rest and eat a bit of the maize bread I had in my pocket. I longed to sleep, but I dared not give way for fear of not getting to Bovino before night, so I did my best to resist the temptation. But when the sun rose high in the sky, and the midday heat was great, I suspect I must have taken a doze now and then, but only short ones. "I was roused by a voice calling to me. A gentleman on horseback had stopped in front of me. I must have slept long, for I felt quite refreshed, but my legs in my bewilderment I had jumped up my legs were as stiff and weak as ever. My head was so full of my newly-found treasure, that my first thought was that this gentleman must be the owner of it, and that he had come to ask for it. So I took it out of my pocket, and, showing it, said Is this thing yours?' "No, how did you come by it ?' "I found it lying here,' said I, pointing to the spot. May I keep it ?' "Of course you may, if the rightful owner does not claim it. You must have come some distance, to judge from your feet.' I told him from whence I came, and where I was going, which led to further questions and answers, at the end of which the gentleman on horseback must have known as much about my affairs and those of my family as I did myself. 'I'm going to give you a lift to Bovino,' said the gentleman; can you manage to jump up to "My anxiety to arrive before dark stood me?' I tried, but utterly failed; my knees me in lieu of an alarm watch, and so on I were still too stiff. Seeing which he distrudged as well as I could, until my knees mounted, lifted me on to the front of the became so stiff that it was a serious affair to saddle, then got up again himself, passed bend them; and I began to dread that I his arm round my waist, and away we should not reach Bovino at all. My feet started at a good canter. I was not a bit also were swollen, and blistered, and burn-afraid, having ridden my father's mules ing, and ached to such a degree that at last I could not bear it, and threw myself down under a tree by the roadside, and took off what remained of my shoes to cool my feet in the grass. As I did this, my right foot struck against something, which I saw was not a stone. I sat up and looked to see what this obstacle might be, and I found this many a time. We reached Bovino after dusk. I slipped off the horse in front of Giromè's cottage and thanked my benefactor to the best of my powers. He told me to stop a minute, wrote something in his pocket-book, tore out the leaf, and gave it to me, saying, Take that to the foreman of the cloth-mill, but I advise you to wash yourself well before you go to him, because | have given to be in Marco's place, to make you are very dirty, my poor boy.' And the good Signor as comfortable as I could, upon this he galloped away. I was indeed and show him my gratitude for all he had very dirty, and very much ashamed I was at done for me! This became my one wish, his remark." and grew with my growth. 66 He was indeed, but I did not find out who he was until a week later, when he came to the factory. He stood by me some time watching me work - I was preparing spindles, the A B C of the craft he praised my diligence, and desired me to go to his house at Biella the following Sunday. Of course I did not fail to do so. He seemed to like to hear me chatter in my childish way; he questioned me a good deal, among other things he inquired if I could read, and on my answering in the negative, said I ought to learn, and must do so. Meanwhile, I was living at Girome's, taking my meals there and sleeping in the hayloft, and I made great friends with Girome's son, a lad of fourteen, who knew how to read and write, and he volunteered to teach me. I was very proud on my next Sunday's visit to Signor Colletta, to show him that I knew my letters; he was much pleased at this, made me repeat them over and over again, and, in fact, became in some measure my teacher. At the end of a year I could read and write tolerably. I had also made some proficiency in my trade, and earned as much as fifteen sous a day. With that I could not only pay for my meals and washing at Girome's, which I had been able to do for the last three-quarters of a year, but also put by something. I had nothing to pay for lodging, as I continued to sleep in the hayloft, and as for clothes and linen, my kind protector had given me plenty of both, which Girome's wife cut down to my size. 66 "At last it was realized. Marco fell seriously ill, and Signor Colletta took me into the house. I nursed Marco, and did his work for more than a month. At last Marco recovered to a certain degree, but was too broken down to resume his service. Then it was that Signor Colletta, having handsomely provided for the old man, proposed to me to take Marco's place, and I need not tell Monsieur how happy I was to do so. I was just seventeen. At about the same time my master made over the management of the mill to his younger brother, the one who sent me to Paris. In 1847, the year of the Statuto, Signor Colletta was elected a Deputy, and I went with him when he went to Turin, to take his seat in the chamber of Deputies. Two years later he was made Prefect at Chambery, and . . . . Monsieur knows the rest." "And what became of the rest of your family?" asked the Baron. "After a little more than a year's absence, my brother and sister went back to Bovino, and both resumed work at the mill. Some short time later my sister married the young workman who had courted her. My brother was taken by the conscription and became a soldier. My father settled at Aosta, opened a wine-shop, which proved a failure in the end, took to the mason's trade again, fell from a scaffolding, and was killed on the spot. My mother returned to Bovino, and lived with her daughter and son-in-law till 1849, when she went to Novara to nurse my poor brother, who had been badly wounded in the battle of that name and was lying in the hospital. She came back to Bovino after his death, took to her bed, and in a very few days died. My sister and I are the only ones left of the family." CHAPTER VII. As I grew older and cleverer, Signor Colletta seemed to take to me more and more. He would often speak confidentially to me, say, for instance, that he was weary to death of the cloth-mill and the cares it entailed upon him. In fact, he had not THIS day marked the beginning of a new been bred up to be a man of business - the era in the Baron's household. He never factory had devolved upon him quite un- swerved for a moment from the programme expectedly through the sudden death of an which he had laid down for himself. His elder brother. He was a man of studious meekness and his serenity, even under and retired habits a downright well of acute suffering, never belied themselves. learning always reading and talking about Let us hasten to add that God, in his mercy, politics (all the liberals of the province was pleased to temper the wind to the shorn looked up to him as their chief), and then lamb; his fits of pain now occurred but so good and considerate. His patience seldom, and were as nothing in comparison with Marco, his deaf gruff servant, was truly to that dreadful attack at Divonne, the mere angelic; and I was very often quite angry remembrance of which made Carlino's hair at Marco's want of attention and rough stand on end. The Baron, Carlino, and ways to his master. What would I not Victorine lived more like friends, or better still, more like members of the same family, than as master and servants, and a more united family it would not be easy to meet. Little by little, the result of a gentle and continued pressure from Monsieur, it had become an established habit that Victorine, whenever unoccupied, should go and join her master in the study, his favourite room, and that, whether spoken to or not, there she should remain, an integrant part of the family circle, to which indeed she brought a precious accession of practical good sense and of keen observation. The long winter evenings, from six to nine, the Baron's hour for retiring, they as a rule spent together. Carlino or Victorine read aloud the evening newspapers and discussed the news; the Baron, if disposed, took a share in the conversation, and if not so inclined, bade them talk as if he were not present, contenting himself with listening. Then Carlino and Victorine occasionally played a game at cards or draughts, the various phases of which the invalid would follow with interest. At rare intervals, for continued talking fatigued him, he would relate to them some passages of his soldier's life in Africa. As nine struck, Carlino would take up his harmonica and sound the retreat, when Victorine disappeared, and Carlino wheeled his master into the bedroom. Thus the first half of the winter wore on, monotonous, indeed, nay, often dull-how could it be otherwise?- but exempt from storms. About this time there arose a difficulty touching a certain payment which fell due to the Baron, and for which a receipt was demanded, that the poor gentleman was incapable of giving. Whereupon he sent for a notary and directed him to draw up a power of attorney, authorizing Carlino to receive and give receipts for all rents, dividends, and moneys whatever appertaining| to the Baron. This transaction brought to light the fact that the name Carlino, which every one who knew him, his master included, supposed to be a surname, was merely the diminutive of his Christian name Carlo, that of his family being Benvenuti. From this day Carlino received and made payments, kept the money and all the keys, and such was the Baron's implicit confidence in his servant's fidelity, that he was with difficulty persuaded to cast a cursory glance over the accounts which every week Carlino submitted to his inspection. On the morning of the day following that in which the power of attorney had been drawn up, the Baron said, while being dressed, "I think I ought to make my will; what do you say?" It is the sight of the notary which has 66 put that Carlino; doing so. all rational into Monsieur's head," returned why, there is no reason against My late master used to say that beings, with property to dispose of, ought to make their wills at five-andtwenty; but of course, only if Monsieur has a wish to do so, for, thank God, there is no occasion for any hurry." Carlino was prompted to add this reservation by a shade of vexation whieh he had noticed, or fancied pass over his master's countenance. A long and close observation had given Carlino a keen perception of all the varieties of his master's feelings. "You are mistaken," said the Baron, "if you suppose that the idea of making my will has anything unpleasant for me. If I could only believe, with many superstitious people, that doing so brings ill luck, as they say, I should seize on this chance of hastening my deliverance, and send for the notary at once. No; what perplexes me is that I have not yet settled in my mind how I shall dispose of my property." "That is quite another matter," remarked Carlino, "and Monsieur can think, for nothing presses." The Baron looked thoughtful throughout the whole day. He said suddenly that evening, when Carlino was putting him to bed, "You had a sister, had you not?" "Yes, thank God, and still have her," answered Carlino. "As good as gold excellent." You have never quarrelled with each other!" "Never; we never had any reason for quarrelling. I cannot imagine any cause she could have given me, or I her." 66 She is married, is she?" "Yes, and has five children - three girls and two boys," said Carlino. "Suppose she had married against your will?"" "It could not have happened, because, if she had persisted, I should have given way." Even if she had married a scamp?" "My sister is not the sort of woman to marry a scamp, Monsieur." "But supposing she had, what would you have done?" "Well," said Carlino, after a little thought, "supposing she had I would have put up with it all the same, because I should have said to myself, as she has got After this the subject was never mooted again between them, but the sequel will soon show that the Baron argued the point with himself in the silence of his thoughts. The beginning of spring coincided with an event which, much as it interested the public in general, was fraught with a still greater interest for our invalid. The section of railroad between Culoz and Chambery was opened, and thus the line of railway was uninterrupted between Chambery and Paris. The Baron's castle was therefore no longer inaccessible to him, for the few miles intervening between Chambery and the castle could be easily managed in a carriage. This enlargement of horizon, this unique chance of change was grasped at by the Baron with an eagerness, of which only a prisoner in a dungeon can form a somewhat adequate idea. The castle and everything connected with it, the mountains, the woods, the vines, his morbidly excited fancy invested with a poetic halo, which cast some of its rays even upon the remembrance of the old Vidame's anything but poetic figure. The mere thought of the gathering of the grapes, at which he had been present only two years ago, and had viewed with the most perfect indifference, save as to the quantity and quality of wine the vintage might produce, now brought tears to his eyes. 66 66 see the end, and one of the least inconveniences of which was the exasperating awful noise created by the carting of building materials at every hour of the day and of the night. To this cause, though certainly not the only one, the Baron attributed the broken sleep from which he had suffered of late. It was accordingly settled that he should leave Paris as soon as the hot weather set in, earlier if possible, certainly not later than the first week of June. Carlino in the meantime was to see to the packing of the furniture and movables, it being the Baron's intention to give up his apartments, and quit Paris for good and all. All these arrangements were decided on seance tenante, that is, in the half-hour following the first mention of the change contemplated by the Baron. Victorine therefore knew nothing and could know nothing of the new projects. The Baron and Carlino had both of them taken it for granted that she would, as a matter of course, go with them. They had, however, reckoned without their host. No sooner did Carlino break the news to her than he perceived by her change of colour how unwelcome it was. How could she possibly forsake her old and infirm mother? It was out of the question. Carlino had not thought of this, and admitted the force of the objection. Here was a sad complication which, if known to the Baron, would throw a damp on all his pleasure. What was to be done? At all events they must keep the truth from him for the present. Therefore it was agreed between them that Victorine should speak and act as though her being one of the party were an understood thing-then, when the moment of starting arrived, she must allege a sudden illness of her mother's, which forced her to remain behind for a few days. Thus time would be gained until Carlino should find a favourable opportunity for informing his master of the real state of the case. With what a heavy heart poor Carlino contrived this pious fraud, those who have observed his brotherly affection for Victorine, and the great assistance she had been to him in the care of his master, can easily guess. Carlino, to whom he immediately appealed, entered heart and soul into his master's wishes and anticipations, too happy that his thoughts should have a bright spot to alight April and May went by quick as lightand settle upon. Down there," observed ning to Victorine's sad fore-knowledge, Carlino, we shall have none of those slow as a snail's pace to the Baron's impathumps and shocks, which make the house tience. The bulk of the furniture had been tremble, and startle one out of one's sleep." sent off a week ago; the weather was bright To understand the force of this remark of and warm as could be desired; in fact nothCarlino's, it is necessary to bear in mind, ing more remained to do but to, name the that at the time he was speaking, the spring day of departure, and to bespeak a bedof 1856, there was already in full operation carriage, and at last this also was done. that systematic turning of Paris upside Early on the second of June- they were down, of which none to this day can fore-to start at eight in the evening - Victorine 66 was summoned to her mother's bed-side, | made. God grant me time for that, or I such at least was the explanation given by shall die in despair." Carlino to the Baron-an explanation confirmed in the course of the day by a letter from Victorine. She wrote that there was nothing serious in her mother's illness, but that such as it was it rendered it impossible for her to start just now. She begged Carlino to excuse her to her master, and to say that she hoped to join them in a few days at the castle. This assurance went far to lessen the Baron's disappointment. Monsieur's orders shall be obeyed; but Monsieur must not talk of dying," said Carlino, in the gentle tone of a mother chiding a wayward child. "A strong man like Monsieur does not die for so little. Monsieur wants rest, and must and shall have it, and then Monsieur will be himself again in no time. It is Carlino who says it, and knows it ;" and as he thus spoke he wiped oh, so tenderly - his master's forehead and face, all moist with drops of agony. 66 Faithful heart!" murmured the sufferer. "Lay your hand on my head: it does me good." As Carlino did so, the Baron closed his eyes, and gradually the muscles of his countenace relaxed. He no longer complained At a little before six all the preparations were completed, and the herculean labour began. We have not the heart to dwell on the increase of infirmity and helplessness, which rendered the handling of the unfortunate gentleman a far more arduous task than on the previous occasion. He was besides much agitated at leaving Paris, and nay, had, to all appearance, some snatches his home of many years, leaving them for of sleep. Had the hand on his head anyever, and the staring of all his neighbours thing to do with this interval of calm? was little calculated to allay that agitation. Does such a thing as magnetic power, a At last it was over, and he lay stretched on mysterious physical influence of man over his travelling couch, panting, worn out al- man, really exist? Many of those who ready before starting. The wind created by have watched long by the sick-bed of one the rush of the train revived him a little; dearly loved, will answer in the affirmative. but it soon became too much for him, and Carlino, be it remembered, at the time of his he complained of cold. The motion of the second journey to Paris, had found the carriage harassed and made him restless; Baron in a sharp fit of pain, and his preshe had continually to beg that his posture ence had sufficed to cut it short. Be this might be changed. From Dijon to Macon as it may, Chambery was reached without the engine tore on at a furious, maddening pace, probably to make up for lost timethe train jerked from side to side as though striving to escape from the rails, and each jerk wrenched a groan of pain from the invalid. It was as if all his bones were being broken. Poor Carlino, half-wild with terror, but not the less self-possessed and indefatigable, never ceased administering cordials to his master, together with all the gentle words of cheering and consolation, that his long experience and his deep attachment could suggest, bitterly reproaching himself all the while for not having insisted on a physician being consulted before this journey had been undertaken. 66 By the time they reached Culoz the Baron was reduced to such a state of weakness as almost took away his power of speech, and it required a great effort for him to say to Carlino, during a few minutes' halt, If we reach Chambery in safety, send for a notary directly my uncle's notary, M. Giblat, to make my will. Do you promise? .... Carlino said he would send for M. Giblat as soon as the Baron had had some rest, and was fit for business. "No, no," insisted the Baron, "the notary first. I can have no rest till my will is much further discomfort. 66 The notary, remember!" whispered the Baron, as he opened his eyes. Madame Ferrolliet, informed beforehand of the day and hour of their arrival, was waiting at the terminus with a carriage full of pillows and warm coverings, and with the whole of her household in attendance. Carlino went to her and explained, in as few words as possible, the state of the case, and the urgent necessity for a notary and a physician. Madame Ferrolliet sent off one of her servants in search of M. Giblat, and of the first medical man of the town; then, approaching the carriage where the Baron lay, welcomed him to Chambery and her house, begging him at the same time not to tire himself by answering her. Carlino and the servants of Madame Ferrolliet carefully raised the Baron in their arms and gently transferred him to the carriage; but such was his exhaustion that, in spite of all their care and gentleness, he fainted away. Bent double and unconscious, an object of pity to all lookers on, Baron Gaston de Kerdiat was carried through the gate of the Hôtel de l'Europe, that gate which of yore he had so often passed, full of life and strength, stiff, haughty, almost threatening. No one who had known him at that |