mother had nothing to give to her hungry little Franzerl?" Hans--for it was he--looked with joyful surprise at the cheerful young face, and recognised at once his old playfellow, who years ago had left his native valley to push his fortune in the great world, and whose friends had long believed him to be dead. He had become a soldier; but in spite of his stern employment his heart had remained as warm and true as ever. He drew his old friend to the table where the other man sat, and offered him some of the fiery drink in the glass before him. "Drink, my good fellow," he said pressingly, "drink--you seem to be in need of refreshment--and then tell me what brings you hither." The rough kindness touched the poor wanderer's heart, and acted like magic on his weary spirit. It was the first familiar face that he had seen for many days--the first pleasant reminder of days gone by, and he found it sweet to open his heart to this friend of his childhood, and tell him of the folly that had driven him from home, and how he had wandered since from mountain to mountain begging a bite of bread and a drink of milk from kind-hearted herdsmen; for he had not ventured to go down to the villages, where the news of what had happened might have arrived before him. "And now," he said, "I am going away--away to some far-off country, where they know nothing of Nazerl or of Hans, or even of the beautiful land of the Tyrol." "You are very foolish," laughed Franzerl. "Are you quite sure that Nazerl is dead? He had always a thick skull, as I know full well. Don't be a fool, but stay here and become a brave soldier like us. Believe me, it is a merry life, and it is possible to be a good man even under this coat." Hans hesitated a moment; he had never thought of this, but Franzerl overwhelmed him with persuasive eloquence. "Look here, Hans; tomorrow or next day we are going to Italy, a country that, they say, is even more lovely than our own. Ours is a cheerful life, and when you come back in two or three years grass will have grown over the whole affair, and they will not dare to say a word to you after you have worn the Emperor's uniform." "But Anneli?" sighed Hans. "You cannot see Anneli for a time at any rate, and if she is really worthy of you, she will be true to you." Yes, Franzerl was right, Hans saw that; so he agreed to his proposal, and went with his friend to the recruiting sergeant, who was glad to receive the fine fellow into his ranks. It was autumn. The morning wind swept over the Adriatic, rippling its deep blue waves, and played with the dark hair of a youth who leant in deep reverie against the archway of the Piazza di San Marco, gazing dreamily at the flow of the Grand Canal, which, after cutting Venice with its great curve, mingles its waters with the waves of 

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