e miserable, sacred taper, and at him who held it, until
at last, abandoned by the sacristan, and seized by the engineer, he was
dragged along, much like a pike at the end of a line, and, in spite of
his mute resistance, was finally landed on the threshold of Casa Rigey.

* * * * *

At Castello the houses which stand in unbroken line on the winding
hill-top, enjoying the sun and the view of the lake far below, all white
and smiling on the side towards the open, all dark on the side towards
that other row of less fortunate houses, which rise sadly behind them,
resemble certain favoured individuals, who, brought into too close
contact with misery, assume a hostile demeanour, and press close to one
another that, thus united, they may hold the others in check. Among
these fortunate ones Casa Rigey is one of the darkest on the side facing
the poverty of the common houses, one of the brightest on the side
facing the sun.

From the street door a long and narrow corridor leads to a small, open
loggia, from which, by means of a few steps, one may descend to the
little white terrace which, between the reception room and a high,
windowless wall, stretches out to the edge of the hill, looking down
into the ravines from which issues the Soldo, looking down upon the
lake, as far as the green gulfs of the Birosin and of the Doi, as far as
the quiet sweeps beyond Caprino and Gandria.

Signor Rigey, born in Milan of a French father, had been professor of
the French language at Madame Berra's boarding school, but he had lost
his position there, and most of his private pupils, because it was
rumoured of him that he was irreligious. In 1825 he had purchased this
little house, and retired to it from Milan, wishing to live economically
and peacefully. He had, soon afterwards, married the sister of the
civil-engineer Ribera. Dying in 1844 he left his wife with a daughter of
fifteen, the house and a few thousand _svanziche_.[F]

Hardly had the engineer knocked somewhat noisily at the door, when
light, swift steps were heard in the corridor. The door was thrown open
and a voice neither low nor silvery, but indescribably harmonious,
whispered: "What a noise, Uncle!" "Noise indeed!" her uncle replied
with mock dignity. "Am I then expected to knock with my nose?" His niece
placed one hand over his mouth, and with the other drew him inside; then
she saluted Signor Giacomo gracefully, and closed the door. All this