I guess is the most luxurious thing on
wheels. I always wanted to _get_ there, wherever 'there' was; but now I
want to go on and on--I wouldn't care if it was to the end of the world,
and I can't think why, unless it's the novelty of automobiling. But it
can't be that, either, I suppose, for only a little while ago I was
thinking that bed-ridden people weren't badly off, they were so _safe_."

We all laughed at this (even the Prince, whom plenty of champagne had
put into a sentimental mood), and I suddenly found myself growing quite
fond of the Countess, crowns and all.

After the heat of the _salle a manger_, the night out of doors appeared
strangely white and cold, its purple depths drenched with moonlight, the
high remoteness of its dome faintly scintillant with icy points of
stars. An adventure seemed to lie before us. We turned wistfully to each
other for the warmth of human companionship, and had not the Prince been
trying to flirt with little Beechy unseen by Mamma, I should have felt
kindly even to him. Even as it was, I consented to let him try sitting
in his own car, and the rope, inured to suffering, had the consideration
not to break.

We forged on, up, up the higher reaches of the Roya valley, so glorious
in full moonlight that it struck us into silence. The mountains towering
round us shaped themselves into castles and cathedrals of carved marble,
their facades, grey by day, glittering white and polished under the
magic of the moon. The wonderful crescent town of Saorge, hanging on the
mountain-side, would alone have been worth coming this way to see if
there had been nothing else. Veiled by the mystery of night, the old
Ligurian stronghold appeared to be suspended between two rocky peaks,
like a great white hammock for a sleeping goddess, and now and then we
caught a jewelled sparkle from her rings.

They had not told an idle tale at the inn. The road, weary of going
up-hill on its knees, like a pilgrim, got suddenly upon its feet and we
were on its back, with the Prince's chariot trailing after us.
Nevertheless, our car did not falter, though the motor panted. Scarcely
ever were we able to pass from the first speed to the second, but then
(as Beechy remarked), considering all things, we ought to be thankful
for any speed above that of a snail.

At Fontan--when he had vouched for us--we dismissed our _oaf_, with a
light heart and a heavy pocket. Again, we were in Italy, a silent,
sleeping Italy, dru