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There he was entertained by Fra Mariano Fetti, Friar of the Piombo, for whom he painted two pictures of S. Peter and S. Paul at his Convent of S. Silvestro a Monte Cavallo.

But it was cheered again when I reflected how hard we are all working to raise the money for you and Lucien and Mariano. We send you all our dear love. Your affectionate daughter. "Shall I have an opportunity of answering this?" asked Francisco, eagerly. "Yes; I am about to conduct you to the palace, where your son Lucien who, I may mention, is a favourite awaits you."

She could not be deceived; her eyes penetrated farther than his; she divined the impalpable, the invisible that hovered about her. She spoke weakly but with that inexplicable solemnity that is characteristic of a voice that emits its last sounds, of a soul that unbosoms itself for the last time. "I shall die, Mariano, sooner than you think, later than I desire. I shall die and you will be free."

The Operai of Vercelli, I was told, bought the palace a few years ago, restored the noble hall, and devoted a smaller room to a collection of pictures valuable for students of the early Vercellese style of painting. Of these there is no need to speak. The great hall is the gem of the Casa Mariano. It has a coved roof, with a large flat oblong space in the centre of the ceiling.

After running a short time together up the steep ascent of the Frais Vallon, or Fresh Valley, they scattered, according to arrangement, and each man shifted for himself with the single exception of Mariano, who would not leave his father.

The tall man with the sword might have sold little Mariano, too, or thrown him in with the lot for good measure, but nobody seemed to want the boy they all had more boys than they really needed already.

Hunt locked up two of their huts, leaving the other for Mariano, and set off in search of the Patagonians; and a severe journey it was, as they had to carry the heavy clothing required to keep up warmth at night, besides their food, gun, powder, and shot.

A few moments afterwards, from the front of the Alcazar, came the sound of martial music, trumpets, and drums. "Let us go," said Gabriel. "Really, Mariano might have warned us and spared us this surprise." And he added, smiling ironically: "It is always the same; it is the parasites who shine the most and make the most noise; they make up in noise what they lack in utility."

He was followed by a stranger, and by his eldest son, Lucien a tall, grave, slender youth of twenty-three, who was in many respects the opposite of his brother Mariano, physically as well as mentally. The latter was middle-sized, broad-shouldered, and very powerful, with short curly brown hair, flashing eyes and sprightly disposition active as a kitten, and rather mischievous.

Now that business was dull on the wharves, and tio Mariano hadn't gotten him that job in the coast and harbor survey he had wanted so, there was no reason why he shouldn't go along with his brother. The Rector rounded out the plan. The most important thing he had already his own boat, la Garbosa. Tonet gasped with surprise, so the Rector enlarged further on that detail.