" There was despair in Joseph's tone, and
suddenly the keen point of truth pierced the armour of my selfishness.
Poor Joseph, facing exile--from Innocentina--and keeping his
countenance politely, while I densely discoursed of "blows"! Being a
muleteer "farmed out" by a master, he was at the mercy of Fate, and
temporarily I represented Fate. He could not journey on southwards,
whither his heart was wandering, unless I bade him go. This fine
fellow, this old soldier, was as much at my orders as if I had been a
king.
"If you aren't in a hurry to get back to Martigny, Joseph," said I,
changing my tone, "I'll tell you what you can do for me. You may take
some of my luggage down to the Riviera. I'm expecting a portmanteau to
arrive here by rail to-night or to-morrow morning, with plenty of
clothing in it. But there are those hold-alls which Finois has carried
for so long. I can't travel about with them in railway carriages; at
that I draw the line; yet if I sent them by _grande vitesse_, their
contents would be injured or stolen. Take them down to Monte Carlo for
me. I shall go there sooner or later, to meet some friends of mine who
are motoring, and I shall stop at the Royal."
Joseph's face would have put radium to shame, with the light it
generated.
"Monsieur is not joking? He is in earnest?" the poor fellow stammered.
"Most certainly.
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