the best of things by turning the tables upon
us, and pointing the finger of derision at our automobile, which by
careening himself out of the window he could see on its truck.

Before the train had stopped, he was down on the platform, gallantly
helping Mamma up the high step into the compartment where he had been
sitting; so we all followed.

"You broke something, I see," His Highness remarked jovially, as if
nothing had ever happened to him.

"It was you who broke it," said I, before either of our men could speak.

"But I mean something in your motor," he explained.

"Yes, its heart! The long agony of towing you up those miles of mountain
was too much for it. But motors' hearts can be mended."

"So can young ladies', _n'est-ce pas_? Well, this is an odd meeting. I
telegraphed you, Countess, to the hotel at Cuneo, where we arranged our
rendezvous, in case you arrived before me, to say that I was on the way;
but now we will all go there together. Since we parted I have had
adventures. So, evidently, have you. Joseph's repairs were so
unsatisfactory, owing to his own inefficiency and that of the machine
shop, that I saw the best thing to do was to come on by train to Cuneo,
where proper tools could be obtained. After some difficulty I found
horses to tow me up to the railway terminus at Vievola, where I
succeeded in getting a truck, and--_voila_!"

Whereupon Mamma poured a history of our exploits into the Prince's ears,
exaggerating a little, but saying nothing detrimental to our
Chauffeulier, who would perhaps not have cared or even heard if she had,
for he was showing things to Maida through the window.

"We're in Piedmont now," he said. "How peaceful and pretty, and
characteristically Italian it is, with the vines and chestnut trees and
mulberries! Who would think, to see this richly cultivated plain, that
it was once appropriately nicknamed 'the cockpit of Europe,' because of
all the fighting that has gone on here between so many nations, ever
since the dawn of civilization? It's just as hard to realize as to
believe that the tiny rills trickling over pebbly river-beds which we
pass can turn into mighty floods when they choose. When the snows melt
on Monte Viso--that great, white, leaning tower against the sky--and on
the other snow mountains, then is the time of danger in this land that
the sun loves."

Mamma thought the train rather restful after an automobile, but I
discouraged her in that opinion by s