Miss Hazel and the Englishwoman were ambling on ahead in as matter-of-fact a fashion as if that were their usual mode of travel.

Their donkeys were of a sedater turn of mind than Fidilini--a fact for which Tony offered thanks.
They were by this time well over the worst part of the mountain, and the brief Italian twilight was already fading.

Tony, with a sharp eye on the path ahead and a ready hand for the bridle, was attending strictly to the duties of a well-trained donkey-man.

It was Constance again who opened the conversation.
'Ah, Tony ?' '_Si_, signorina ?' 'Did you ever read any Angleesh books--or do you do most of your reading in Magyar ?' 'I haf read one, two, Angleesh books.' 'Did you ever read--er--_The Lightning Conductor_, for example ?' 'No, signorina; I haf never read heem.' 'I think it would interest you.

It's about a man who pretends he's a chauffeur in order to--to---- There are any number of books with the same motive; _She Stoops to Conquer_, _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, _Lalla Rookh_, _Monsieur Beaucaire_--Oh, dozens of them! It's an old plot; it doesn't require the slightest originality to think of it.' '_Si_, signorina?
Sank you.' Tony's tone was exactly like Gustavo's when he has failed to get the point, but feels that a comment is necessary.
Constance laughed and allowed a silence to follow, while Tony redirected his attention to Fidilini's movements.