our
noble tyres, which had borne so much, seemed to spurn the slight
irregularities. With every twenty yards we had a new view, as if the
landscape slowly turned, to assume different patterns like the pieces in
a kaleidoscope. On our left the mountains appeared to march on with us
always, white and majestic, with strange, violet shadows floating
mysteriously.

Set back from the roadside, behind rich meadows rippling with gold and
silver grain, were huge farmhouses, with an air of dignity born of
self-respect and venerable age. We had pretty garden glimpses, too, and
once in a while passed a fine mansion, good enough to call itself a
chateau so long as there were no real ones in the neighbourhood. Often
chestnut-trees in full glory of white blossom, as if blazing with fairy
candles, lined our way for miles. There was snow of hawthorne
too--"May," our two men called it--and ranks of little feathery white
trees, such as I knew no name for, looking like a procession of brides,
or young girls going to their first communion. Then, to brighten the
white land with colour, there were clumps of lilac, clouds of rose-pink
apple blossoms, blue streaks that meant beds of violets, and a yellow
fire of iris rising straight and bright as flame along the edges of
green, roadside streams.

Just as we came into a splendid old Italian town, thunder began to growl
like a lion hiding in the mountains. A few drops of rain splashed on our
motor-hoods, and a sudden chill wind gathered up the sweet country
scents into one bouquet to fling at us.

"Here we are at Brescia. Shall we stop for the storm and have tea?"
asked Mr. Barrymore.

Aunt Kathryn said "yes" at once, for she doesn't like getting wet, and
can't bear to have the rain spray on her face, though I love it. So we
drove quickly through streets, each one of which made a picture with its
old brown palaces, its stone steps with pretty women chatting in groups
under red umbrellas, its quaint bridge flung across the river, or its
pergola of vines. Past a magnificent cathedral we went as the bells rang
for vespers, and children, young girls, old black-shawled women, smart
soldiers, and gallant-looking, tall officers answered their call. Thus
we arrived at a quaint hotel, with a garden on the river's edge; and
under a thick arbour of chestnut-trees (impervious to floods) we drank
coffee and ate heart-shaped cakes, while the thunder played wild music
for us on a vast cathedral organ in t