ss too delightful," and that,
for his part, he wished that, with the present surroundings, he might
"breathe it forever!" This was gallant. Janet looked at him: he was the
only one who had not bowed at her shrine, and it made her pensive.
Meanwhile Inness's gayety continued; he made a voyage of discovery
through the narrow streets below, coming back with the legend that he
had met the prettiest girl he had seen since his "pretty girl of Arles,"
whose eyes, "enshrined beside those of Miss Trescott" (with a grand
bow), had remained ever since in his "heart's inmost treasury." This,
like Baker's L' Annunziata speech, was both un-American and unnecessary
in the presence of a second young lady, and I looked at Inness,
surprised. But Miss Elaine only smiled on.

The Professor now appeared, having come out from Mentone on a donkey. We
immediately became historical. It appeared that the castle upon whose
old battlements we were idly loitering was one of the "homes" of the
Lascaris, Counts of Ventimiglia, who in 1358 transferred it with its
domains to the Grimaldis, Princes of Monaco.

"These Lascaris and Grimaldis seem to have played at seesaw for the
possession of this coast," said Baker. "Now one is up, and now the
other, but never any one else."

But Janet was impressed. "_Again_ the Lascaris!" she murmured.

"What is your idea of them?" said Verney.

"I hardly know; but of course they were knights in armor; and of course,
being Greeks, they had classic profiles. They were impulsive, and they
were generous; but if any one seriously displeased them, they
immediately ordered him cast into that terrible _oubliette_ we saw
below."

"That," said the Professor, mildly, "is only the well." Then, as if to
strengthen her with something authentic, he added, "The village was
sacked by the Duke of Guise towards the end of the sixteenth century,
when this castle was reduced to the ruined condition in which we find it
now."

"Happily it is not altogether ruined," said Mrs. Trescott, putting up
her eye-glass; "one of the--the apartments seems to be roofed, and to
possess doors."

"That," said the Professor, "is a donkey-stable, erected--or rather
adapted--later."

"Do the donkeys come up all these stairs?" I said, amused.

"I believe they do," replied the Professor. "Indeed, I have seen them
coming up after the day's work is over."

"I am sorry, Janet, but I shall never be able to think of this home of
your Lascaris after th