are the gentlemen who are seated within them, all in gray over-coats. They are the King of the Belgians and his suite.
“Nobody can go any further!” says La Tosa, who has no respect to persons. King Leopold looks around him for a moment on Vogogna, with disparaging glances, and returns to Domo d'Ossola.
A portion of his suite and we others console ourselves by dining. I ask for a chicken and a cup of boulli; both are remarkably good, but I have so dreadful a headache from the thunderous state of the atmosphere, that I am quite reconciled to the thought of passing the night at Vogogna. In the mean time, the clouds clear off, the sun shines, and I set out on a little ramble of discovery along the ravines by the side of a little mountain stream.
In the mean time, some of the gentlemen of our traveling party set about to ascertain the state of La Tosa. The river is somewhat above an hour's distance from Vogogna. They find that the ferry is now passable, and returning with these tidings, require that the conductor should put to his horses, and continue the journey. But one lady, who has a place in the coupée, does not appear to the general summons. She has, on the assurance of the conductor that the journey will not be continued that day, gone up into the hills. The omnibus-gentlemen send a couple of persons to bid her return, and, at the same time, compel the conductor to begin his journey. The foreign lady may come after when and how she can. The foreign lady has little idea of the fate that awaits her,
