conclusion, that the excessive wealth of incident with
which the following story abounds is characteristic of the author's
style. Broken threads and occasional inconsistencies are found in all
his works, and if they are met with here, it is not because of, but in
spite of, the abridgment which the book has undergone.

MANASSEH

CHAPTER I.

FELLOW-TRAVELLERS.

Our story opens in an Italian railway station, in the spring of 1848.
From a train that had just arrived, the passengers were hastening to
secure their places in another that stood waiting for them. A guard had
succeeded in crowding a party of two ladies and a gentleman into one of
these itinerant prison-cells, which already contained seven occupants,
before the newcomers perceived that they were being imposed upon. A
vigorous protest followed. The elder of the two ladies, seizing the
guard by the arm, addressed him in an angry tone, first in German, then
in French.

With the calm indifference of an automaton, the uniformed official
pointed to a placard against the wall. _Per dieci persone_ was the
inscription it bore. Ten persons, it seemed, were expected to find
places here.

"But we have first-class tickets," protested the lady, producing a bit
of yellow pasteboard in proof of her assertion.

The guard glanced at it with as little interest as he would have
bestowed on a scarab from the tomb of the Pharaohs. Shrugging his
shoulders, he merely indicated, with a wave of his hand, places where
the three passengers might, perhaps, find seats,--one in this corner, a
second yonder, and, if its owner would kindly transfer a greasy bundle
to his lap, a third over there.

This arrangement, however, was not at all to the liking of either the
ladies or their escort. The latter was altogether disinclined to accept
a seat between two fat cattle-dealers, being of no meagre dimensions
himself.

"We'll see about this!" he exclaimed, and left the compartment in quest
of the station-master.

That dignitary was promenading the platform in military uniform, his
hands behind his back. The complainant began to explain the situation to
him and to demand that consideration to which his first-class ticket
entitled him. But the _illustrissimo_ merely opened his eyes and
surveyed the gentleman in silence, much as a cuttlefish might have done
if similarly addressed.

"_Partenza-a-a!_" shouted the guards, in warning.

The indignant gentleman hurried back to his