"The pathetic little imps," she murmured while they were on the way.

The boy was a st.u.r.dy, square-built fellow, of twelve, thirteen, with a shock of brown hair, brown cheeks, and sunny brown eyes; with a precocious air of doggedness, of responsibility. He wore an old tail-coat, the tail-coat of a man, ragged, discoloured, falling to his ankles.

The girl was ten or eleven, pale, pinched; hungry, weary, and sorry looking. Her hair too had been brown, upon a time; but now it was faded to something near the tint of ashes, and had almost the effect of being grey. Her pale little forehead was crossed by thin wrinkles, lines of pain, of worry, like an old woman's.

The d.u.c.h.essa, pushing her bicycle, and followed by Peter, moved down the road, to meet them. Peter had never been so near to her before--at moments her arm all but brushed his sleeve. I think he blessed the children.

"Where are you going?" the d.u.c.h.essa asked, softly, smiling into the girl's sad little face.

The girl had shown no fear of Peter; but apparently she was somewhat frightened by this grand lady. The toes of her bare feet worked nervously in the dust. She hung her head shyly, and eyed her brother.

But the brother, removing his hat, with the bow of an Italian peasant--and that is to say, the bow of a courtier--spoke up bravely.

"To Turin, n.o.bility."

He said it in a perfectly matter-of-fact way, quite as he might have said, "To the next farm-house."

The d.u.c.h.essa, however, had not bargained for an answer of this measure.

Startled, doubting her ears perhaps, "To--Turin--!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, Excellency," said the boy.

"But--but Turin--Turin is hundreds of kilometres from here," she said, in a kind of gasp.

"Yes, Excellency," said the boy.

"You are going to Turin--you two children--walking--like that!" she persisted.

"Yes, Excellency."

"But--but it will take you a month."

"Pardon, n.o.ble lady," said the boy. "With your Excellency's permission, we were told it should take fifteen days."

"Where do you come from?" she asked.

"From Bergamo, Excellency."

"When did you leave Bergamo?"

"Yesterday morning, Excellency."

"The little girl is your sister?"

"Yes, Excellency."

"Have you a mother and father?"

"A father, Excellency. The mother is dead." Each of the children made the Sign of the Cross; and Peter was somewhat surprised, no doubt, to see the d.u.c.h.essa do likewise. He had yet to learn the beautiful custom of that pious Lombard land, whereby, when the Dead are mentioned, you make the Sign of the Cross, and, pausing reverently for a moment, say in silence the traditional prayer of the Church:

"May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the Mercy of G.o.d, rest in peace."

"And where is your father?" the d.u.c.h.essa asked.

"In Turin, Excellency," answered the boy. "He is a gla.s.s-blower. After the strike at Bergamo, he went to Turin to seek work. Now he has found it. So he has sent for us to come to him."

"And you two children--alone--are going to walk all the way to Turin!"

She could not get over the pitiful wonder of it.

"Yes, Excellency."

"The heart-rending little waifs," she said, in English, with something like a sob. Then, in Italian, "But--but how do you live by the way?"

The boy touched his shoulder-load of baskets.

"We sell these, Excellency."

"What is their price?" she asked.

"Thirty soldi, Excellency."

"Have you sold many since you started?"

The boy looked away; and now it was his turn to hang his head, and to let his toes work nervously in the dust.

"Haven't you sold any?" she exclaimed, drawing her conclusions.

"No, Excellency. The people would not buy," he owned, in a dull voice, keeping his eyes down.

"Poverino," she murmured. "Where are you going to sleep to-night?"

"In a house, Excellency," said he.

But that seemed to strike the d.u.c.h.essa as somewhat vague.

"In what house?" she asked.

"I do not know, Excellency," he confessed. "We will find a house."

"Would you like to come back with me, and sleep at my house?"

The boy and girl looked at each other, taking mute counsel.

Then, "Pardon, n.o.ble lady--with your Excellency's permission, is it far?" the boy questioned.

"I am afraid it is not very near--three or four kilometres."

Again the children looked at each other, conferring. Afterwards, the boy shook his head.