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frantic resistance, of mortal combat. They pocket-book swollen with newspaper clipopened their eyes. The conductor and pings. Also, he named a singing-teacher the carbineer had passed on to the next much better than Valentino Mughetto, compartment. With a glittering jack- who, to be perfectly frank, was a charknife the desperado was cutting an item latan! Florence, in fact, swarmed with from his newspaper.

swindlers of all kinds; especially one had At Piacenza he hailed a passing waiter to be on guard against foreigners who and bought a small cup of black coffee. pretended friendship. He, for example, At Parma he finished the news, and again had been robbed that very morning in inspected his neighbors. At Modena he Milan while lighting a cigarette in the asked permission in English to light a station. A chance acquaintance had taken cigarette. The spasmodic effusiveness of out of his pocket not only some ninety Mr. Goodchild's assent caused the stran- francs, but also his card-case! ger to respond with some genial remarks. Mr. Goodchild made haste to produce

He, too, was a foreigner, a Greek. He a visiting-card of his own. By way of envied them their first sensations in Flor- exchange, at the other's direction he ence, a city with which he was well ac- wrote in his note-book, “Monsieur Conquainted. “And what a city that is! A stantine Farazounis, antiques, curiosities, bijou, a cup of gold, a gem!” He rolled commissions, box 387, general post-office, up his large, thickly fringed eyes, while a Naples.” well-pretended smile of ecstasy altered his At Bologna rather reluctantly Monface. What sinister trick did this polite- sieur Farazounis rose, gave Aurelius a ness foreshadow ?

sticky hand-clasp, bowed low to the sisters, The warm weather notwithstanding, alighted, and marched away arm in arm he had on a brown plush waistcoat with with a burly fellow whose shepherd-plaid marbled buttons. His broken collar was trousers were badly soiled round the botheld together by a flowing tie, below toms. which, as the breeze made it flutter, there "What an awful tramp!” exclaimed showed on his shirt a round spot, the Thallie. color of the streak on his cuff. All at “His eyes,” Frossie volunteered, "with once they realized that these were wine- all those oily, thick lashes, were positively stains!

indecent!" Mr. Goodchild felt an immense re- "I think, after this," Aglaia re

What a wrong he had done this marked, "we'll travel first-class." To man; how well he had been punished for herself shie added, "And keep dad from that injustice! "It is not often," he telling the story of our lives at least to thought, "that retribution is so prompt." people like that!" He discovered in this poor fellow-travel- "My child! A good plain man, after er's face an unexpected goodness. In the all-" ensuing conversation, Aurelius far ex- "A good plain sharper! My first imceeded his usual expansiveness.

pressions are always right. We'll be in He disclosed to the stranger the reasons luck if this one does n't make some bad for their invasion of Europe, the hopes use of your card.” they had built on Florence, the name of They arrived in Florence. They had the pension where they expected to stay. imagined a town of the sixteenth century, The Greek could not recommend the made up entirely of famous monuments Pension Schwandorf. One ought to enter and landmarks, in every part ready set for some nice Italian family, learn the lan- a comedy of Boccaccio or a tragedy of guage from daily conversation, and at the Dante. But as the cab conveyed them same time "penetrate the soul of the toward the northern quarter, they still country.” He wrote an address on a dirty saw long blocks of commonplace dwellscrap of paper which he took from a ings, with closed shutters, and avenues all

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narrowing to the same mediocre vistas. Aglaia said at once: Not a palace, not a loggia, not an antique "Mr. John Holland -" fountain! Besides, since it was then the "John Holland !" cried Mme. von hottest hour of the afternoon, Florence Schwandorf in the eager, liquid voice of seemed a city of the dead!

Northern

races, that seems when most In a clean, wide street, with two rows amiable always close to tears. “That dear of trees extending its full length, the cab man! How long since I have seen him! stopped before a

corner house, beside But he is not here in Florence, or he which a garden was confined by a tall iron would have called. I shall show you the fence. From the vestibule there ran out room he had nearly twenty years ago, with to them an agile, smiling little man in the the very same writing-desk. Indeed, it is gray mohair livery of a door-porter. And part of a suite that will do so nicely for they read on a brass plate fastened to the

you.” wall, "Pension Schwandorf."

She led the way through the crimson A wide hall, dim and cool, running dining-room, then, through a glass corri

, back to a dining-room with crimson walls, dor, across the garden, then into another was lined with book-cases and divans. On building, and up two fights of stairs. A all sides appeared a dim confusion of orna- maid threw open some windows. ments: framed water-colors of gondolas The two rear bedchambers overlooked and ruined towers, plaques of china and the garden; the front room faced both brass, strange weapons in papier-mâché, garden and street. The high ceilings tufts of pampas-grass, faded photographs, were painted with mermaids, griffins, and and sea-shore souvenirs. Through a harpies, in the style of the Renaissance. door to the left showed the outline of a The walls showed flowered paper of the pianoforte covered with Venetian brocade. gayest hues and most bewildering designs. To the right, behind glass portals, a large The floors, of broad red tiles, were bare. round table was littered with periodicals. In each apartment stood a stove of greenThe perfume of roses, diffused from bou- and-yellow porcelain. And the chintz quets placed here and there in vases, min- covers of the chairs and sofas were grogled with the perfume of old fabrics. The tesquely printed all over with camels, three Graces remembered Zenasville. poppies, monkeys, pomegranates, butter

In the silence one heard, far off, the Aies. clatter of a bell, a faint cry of Arrivi!" But instantly the Goodchild family and presently foot-falls that echoed across found themselves at home. These eccenlong reaches of invisible bare foors. But tric decorations were not able to dispel suddenly, from a door in the wall, Mme. their feeling that they had reached at last von Schwandorf entered.

a long-sought spot, where many influWell past sixty, but with pale-yellow ences, still unknown, were predestined to frizzes encircling her wrinkled brow, she expand their souls. showed a keen, kindly face in which re- When they had thrown their hats upon mained a hint of Scandinavian, rather than the iron beds, they leaned over the balcony Teutonic, beauty. From her salient nose, of the front room. Already the broad, her still delicate mouth, her twinkling, clean street, with its double row of trees, faded eyes, one might have read the history had a more friendly look.

A breeze rusof a crowded life, beginning in fervent tled the leaves; a few shutters swung enthusiasm, now drawing toward its close ajar. A velvet-eyed lad lounged by, singin resignation. A loose gown, decked ing to himself a plaintive, wavering song. with many dangling points of lace, exhaled As his voice died away, a sweet, halfa strong scent of bergamot. From among melancholy peace enveloped them. So the ruffles of her sleeve a blond Florentine Florence began to weave its spell. poodle stretched out his muzzle toward The perfumes, the silences interrupted the strangers.

by melodious, distant sounds, the riotous

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narrowing to the same mediocre vistas. Aglaia said at once: Not a palace, not a loggia, not an antique “Mr. John Holland—” fountain! Besides, since it was then the "John Holland !" cried Mme. von hottest hour of the afternoon, Florence Schwandorf in the eager, liquid voice of seemed a city of the dead!

Northern

races,
that

when most In a clean, wide street, with two rows amiable always close to tears. “That dear of trees extending its full length, the cab man! How long since I have seen him! stopped before a corner house, beside But he is not here in Florence, or he which a garden was confined by a tall iron would have called. I shall show you the fence. From the vestibule there ran out room he had nearly twenty years ago, with to them an agile, smiling little man in the the very same writing-desk. Indeed, it is gray mohair livery of a door-porter. And part of a suite that will do so nicely for they read on a brass plate fastened to the you." wall, “Pension Schwandorf.”

She led the way through the crimson A wide hall, dim and cool, running dining-room, then, through a glass corriback to a dining-room with crimson walls, dor, across the garden, then into another was lined with book-cases and divans. On building, and up two flights of stairs. A all sides appeared a dim confusion of orna- maid threw open some windows. ments: framed water-colors of gondolas The two rear bedchambers overlooked and ruined towers, plaques of china and the garden; the front room faced both brass, strange weapons in papier-mâché, garden and street. The high ceilings tufts of pampas-grass, faded photographs, were painted with mermaids, griffins, and and sea-shore souvenirs. Through a harpies, in the style of the Renaissance. door to the left showed the outline of a The walls showed Powered paper of the pianoforte covered with Venetian brocade. gayest hues and most bewildering designs. To the right, behind glass portals, a large The floors, of broad red tiles, were bare. round table was littered with periodicals. In each apartment stood a stove of greenThe perfume of roses, diffused from bou- and-yellow porcelain. And the chintz quets placed here and there in vases, min- covers of the chairs and sofas were grogled with the perfume of old fabrics. The tesquely printed all over with camels, three Graces remembered Zenasville. poppies, monkeys, pomegranates, butter

In the silence one heard, far off, the Aies. clatter of a bell, a faint cry of Arrivi!But instantly the Goodchild family and presently foot-falls that echoed across found themselves at home. These eccenlong reaches of invisible bare floors. But tric decorations were not able to dispel suddenly, from a door in the wall, Mme. their feeling that they had reached at last von Schwandorf entered.

a long-sought spot, where many influWell past sixty, but with pale-yellow ences, still unknown, were predestined to frizzes encircling her wrinkled brow, she expand their souls. showed a keen, kindly face in which re- When they had thrown their hats upon mained a hint of Scandinavian, rather than the iron beds, they leaned over the balcony Teutonic, beauty. From her salient nose, of the front room. Already the broad, her still delicate mouth, her twinkling, clean street, with its double row of trees, faded eyes, one might have read the history had a more friendly look. A breeze rusof a crowded life, beginning in fervent tled the leaves; a few shutters swung enthusiasm, now drawing toward its close ajar. A velvet-eyed lad lounged by, singin resignation. A loose gown, decked ing to himself a plaintive, wavering song. with many dangling points of lace, exhaled As his voice died away, a sweet, halfa strong scent of bergamot. From among melancholy peace enveloped them. the ruffles of her sleeve a blond Florentine Florence began to weave its spell. poodle stretched out his muzzle toward The perfumes, the silences interrupted the strangers.

by melodious, distant sounds, the riotous

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