Yes; there in letters of gold, that gleamed like fire in the rays of the morning sun, was the startling answer to the one question forever haunting my mind. A white cloud floating upwards from the valley at this juncture cast a cold shadow over us, and gave me an eerie sensation, as if George himself in ghostly form were passing by.
"He shall return!" repeated my uncle, in a vein of pleasantry that jarred on Daphne's feelings. "And who is it that shall return?"
"O papa! how can you? You know it refers to the millennium. I declare you and Frank are quite like two pagans! I don't believe you have entered a church for the purpose of worship since we first set foot on the Continent."
"Frank and I never go to church in Catholic countries. It's our way of showing our Protestantism."
Daphne turned from her irreverent parent, and became absorbed in the contemplation of the scenery.
"That," I replied, "is the Silver Horn of the Jungfrau."
And I proceeded to deliver a topographical lecture, interwoven with graceful legends and poetic quotations, specially prepared for this occasion on the previous night, in order that I might shine in Daphne's eyes as a hero of knowledge. A sudden exclamation from her, however, put a period to my eloquence.
"Who is this coming up the mountain-path? I have been watching him for a long time."
Whoever the person was, he ascended the mountain with the freedom of one to whom the path was perfectly familiar, selecting his way among the mossy boulders and grass-hidden pools without a moment's hesitation, and springing from crag to crag with the agility of a chamois-hunter.
"'_Excelsior_' evidently is his motto," said I. "Longfellow's young man, perhaps, 'mid snow and ice.'"
"Minus the 'banner with the strange device,'" returned my uncle. "Hanged if it isn't Il Divino! How comes he to be here?"
It was indeed the divine one, looking in the picturesque costume he was wearing more handsome and romantic than ever. A sombrero was slouched with easy negligence over his broad white brow, and a long cloak dropped gracefully from his shoulders. He had all the air of a man who, conscious of his personal charms, is determined to make the best use of them.
The look of pleasure that mantled Daphne's face had so disturbing an effect on my spirits that it was as much as I could do to treat the artist with ordinary civility.