s, square towers, drawbridges, moats,
donjon keeps, and the like; while Miss Elaine, who had placed herself
beside Verney on the knoll where he was sketching, looked on in a kindly
patronizing way, as much as to say: "Enjoy yourselves, primitive
children of the New World. We of England are familiar with ruins."

Margaret and Lloyd found a seat in one of the ruined windows of the
south tower; I stood beside them for a few moments looking at the view.
On the north the narrow valley curved and went onward, while over its
dark near green rose the glittering snowy peaks so far away. In the
south, the blue of the Mediterranean stretched across the mouth of the
valley, whose sides were bold and high; the little river gleamed out in
spots of silver here and there, and the white belfry of Campo Rosso rose
picturesquely against the dark olive forest. Directly under us were the
roofs of the village, and the old stone bridge of one high arch. "Do you
notice that many of these roofs are flat, with benches, and pots of
flowers?" said Lloyd. "You do not see that in Mentone. It is thoroughly
Italian."

Janet, Mrs. Trescott, Inness, Baker, and the Professor were up on the
highest point of the crag, where the Professor was giving a succinct
account of the Guelphs and Ghibellines. His words floated down to us,
but to which of those celebrated and eternally quarrelling factions
these Dorias belong I regret to say I cannot now remember. But it was
evident that he was talking eloquently, and Inness, who was quite
distanced, by way of diversion threw pebbles at the north tower.

We came down from the castle after a while, and strolled through the
village streets--all of us save Margaret and Lloyd, who remained sitting
in their window. Mrs. Trescott, seeing a vaulted entrance, stopped to
examine it, and the broad doors being partly open, she peeped within. As
there was more vaulting and no one to forbid, she stepped into the old
hall, and we all followed her. We were looking at the massive, finely
proportioned stairway, when a little girl appeared above gazing down
curiously. She was a pretty child of seven or eight, and held some
little thumbed school-books under her arm.

"Is this a school?" asked Verney, in Italian.

She nodded shyly, and ran away, but soon returned accompanied by a
Sister, or nun, who, with a mixture of politeness and timidity, asked if
we wished to see their schools. Of course we wished to see everything,
and going u