well as she could, " You will try and see my
brother, then?"

"Yes; I will endeavour to speak to him."

"Oh, then, give him this from me," again
squeezing my hand. " Tell him to try and live
for four years longer. Tell him that we only live
in the hope of seeing him back again."

A flight by rail to the foot of Mont Cenis; a
tramp on foot over Mont Cenis; another railway
flight from Susa to Turin and Genoa; a scrimble-
scramble along the Corniche from Genoa to
Nice, sometimes on foot, sometimes on wheels,
with the blue Mediterranean on the left, and
olive-clad mountains to the right, all the way
along; and again by rail from Nice to Toulon—
the whole of this distance had to be traversed
and, to confess the truth, enjoyed; but they arc
foreign to my present narrative, except as taking
me to Toulon.

Often, however, my enjoyment was dashed
with the recollection of the task that lay before
me. Often, without even shutting my eyes, I
could see the mother's attitude of helpless
grief, and the careworn face of the more impulsive
sister. Often I wished I had had nothing
to do with the business. What a fool I, a
foreigner, had been to undertake to confront
official formalities and impediments, sure to be
tiresome, perhaps unpleasant.

At the fourth station from Toulon, reckoning
eastward, a village, Solliès-Pont, is pointed out,
severely ravaged by cholera, brought, my
informant assures me, by that river—that quick-
running stream of water there.

"Surely not," I observed in surprise. " The
stream would rather tend to keep disease away.
The stream, no doubt, was running and the
cholera raging at the same place and the same
time; but one was hardly the cause of the
other."

"Oh yes it was; else it wouldn't have been
so bad. The living were insufficient to bury the
dead. They were obliged to get volunteer
forçats from the Bagne to come and dig the graves
and put the corpses in. They behaved very well
indeed, those forçats did. Not a bit afraid.
And they touched nothing—did not take the
value of a pin—would not even go through a
vineyard without somebody to bear witness that
they refrained from gathering the grapes. The
préfet complimented them in a handsome speech,
praising them highly, and holding out hopes of
mitigation of their sentences."

"Good! I am glad of that," I said. And then
the thought occurred that poor Fourrier could
be none the better for the circumstance. The
favour intended by making him " incurable"
would, at the same time, cut him off from all
opportunity of proving his desire to be useful to
society. It would be a too glaring inconsistency
to allow a prisoner, privileged with indulgences
on the ground of bodily infirmity, to go and
merit further advantages by performing the
terrible duty of interring corpses infected with
cholera.

That walking over Mont Cenis and along the
Italian coast has somewhat shabbified my
travelling attire. I had not bargained—no tourist
does—for dust, drenching rain, and scorching
sunshine. I had had, however, a taste of each.
At Toulon, with the letters I have to deliver and
receive, there is no choice but to go to the best,
that is, the most expensive, hotel. And, while
performing the part of rolling-stone, I have
gathered no moss by the way as yet. My cash-
bag is growing beautifully less. I know no
banker in Toulon, and no banker knows me;
and I have to get back again as well as I had to
get here. A new suit of clothes, therefore, is
out of the question. I shall do very well as I
am. My hat, too, is quite passable, only the
edge of the top of the chimney-pot shows a
slight wound on its epidermis. Nobody in the
streets will see it; if they do, no matter. While
making a call, I can hold it in such a way as to
hide the blemish. Fresh gloves and my Sunday
shoes will make a perfectly presentable morning
costume. Bien ganté et bien chaussé", on va
partout. Any evening invitation must, perforce,
be declined.

Toulon is generally a busy place, full of all
sorts of strangers, illustrious and otherwise.
I am put into a first-floor front of the hotel, a
chamber for generals and plenipotentiaries. The
master, just returned from the country (the son
came in next day, and the wife, I think, the day
after), hands me a letter with a very official-
looking outside-aspect. It raises me in his
opinion. I open it. It encloses another
addressed to the Contre-Amiral, then acting as
Préfet Maritime. I am in for it now. With
this, and the one I have in my pocket, there is
no decent loophole for retreat.

"At what o'clock is the table d'hôte dinner?"

"At six, monsieur."

At six I enter the dining-room. Nobody.
Enter a waiter. " Where is the table d'hôte?"

"Here, monsieur."

"And the people who dine at it?"

"You, monsieur."

"Give me some dinner, then. Serve, at once,
what you have readiest at hand."

As soon as he is gone, a passing traveller
inquires in an under tone for news of " the
malady." Nobody mentions cholera to ears polite.
I could give no news. He tied his comforter
round his neck, buttoned his paletot, and went
to take the next train.

Next morning to business in right good
earnest, but with a lingering wish to avoid the
great people, if possible. Doing ante-chamber,
running the gauntlet, and forcing one's way
through porters, sentinels, gendarmes, door-
openers, clerks, and the various safeguards with
which authority is obliged to fence itself in, is
distasteful to many besides myself. The feeling
will be understood, and needs no explanation. I
will first deliver my letter addressed to M.
Margollé", an adjoint to the mayor, to be opened, in
his absence, by his brother-in-law, M. Zurcher,