At four o’clock on the next morning we started on our journey.

We all know that lesson, and many of us believe in it; but if the lesson be true, the Italians ought to be the healthiest and wealthiest and wisest of all men and women. Three or four o’clock seems to them quite a natural hour for commencing the day’s work. Why we should have started from Chiavenna at four o’clock in order that we might be kept waiting for the boat an hour and a half on the little quay at Colico, I don’t know; but such was our destiny. There we remained an hour a half, Mrs Greene sitting pertinaciously on the one important box. She had designated it as being smaller than the others, and, as all the seven were now ranged in a row, I had an opportunity of comparing them. It was something smaller—perhaps an inch less high, and an inch and a half shorter. She was a sharp woman, and observed my scrutiny. “I always know it,” she said in a loud whisper, “by this little hole in the canvas,” and she put her finger on a slight rent on one of the ends. “As for Greene, if one of those Italian brigands were to walk off with it on his shoulders, before his eyes, he wouldn’t be the wiser. How helpless you men are, Mr Robinson!”

“It is well for us that we have women to look after us.”

“But you have got no one to look after you;—or perhaps you have left her behind?”

“No, indeed. I’m all alone in the world as yet. But it’s not my own fault. I have asked half a dozen.”

“Now, Mr Robinson!” And in this way the time passed on the quay at Colico, till the boat came and took us away. I should have preferred to pass my time in making myself agreeable to the younger lady; but the younger lady stood aloof, turning up her nose, as I thought, at her mamma.

I will not attempt to describe the scenery about Colico. The little town itself is one of the vilest places under the sun, having no accommodation for travellers, and being excessively unhealthy; but there is very little either north or south of the Alps,—and, perhaps, I may add, very little elsewhere,—to beat the beauty of the mountains which cluster round the head of the lake. When we had sat upon those boxes that hour and a half we were taken on board the steamer, which had been lying off a little way from the shore, and then we commenced our journey. Of course, there was a good deal of exertion and care necessary in getting the packages off from the shore on to the boat, and I observed that anyone with half an eye in his head might have seen that the mental anxiety expended on that one box which was marked by the small hole in the canvas far exceeded that which was extended to all the other six boxes. “They deserve that it should be stolen,” I said to myself, “for being such fools.” And then we went down to breakfast in the cabin.

“I suppose it must be safe,” said Mrs Greene to me, ignoring the fact that the cabin waiter understood English, although she had just ordered some veal cutlets in that language.

“As safe as a church,” I replied, not wishing to give much apparent importance to the subject.

“They can’t carry it off here,” said Mr Greene. But he was innocent of any attempt at a joke, and was looking at me with all his eyes.

“They might throw it overboard,” said Sophonisba. I at once made up my mind that she could not be a good-natured girl. The moment that breakfast was over, Mrs Greene returned again upstairs, and I found her seated on one of the benches near the funnel, from which she could keep her eyes fixed upon the box. “When one is obliged to carry about one’s jewels with one, one must be careful, Mr Robinson,” she said to me apologetically. But I was becoming tired of the box, and the funnel was hot and unpleasant, therefore I left her.