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At last, on the second night of their journey, M. Louet succeeds in getting up a doze, out of which he is roused in a very unpleasant manner. We will give his own account of it. "'Two pistol-shots, the flash of which almost burned my face, awoke me. "'Faccia in terra!
The grapes were plucking or gathered in, and everywhere there were songs. "Come volete faccia che non pianga, Sapendo che da voi devo partire? E tu, bello, in Maremma, ed io 'n montagna! Chesta partenza mi far
Or, to quote her own Italian phrase which I have here translated, "colla faccia d'agnello, il cuore dun lupo, a la dritura della volpe." In the course of these pages the cause of this strong feeling against Madame de Genlis will be explained. To dwell on it now would only turn me aside from my narrative. I wish it may not be the foreboding of some great evil!"
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