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"I must have a postillion," she continued

"Presently,with all a Tuscan

peasant's desire to please "In a minute In less than a h at any ht be expected to flower by the roadside The lady turned

froan was curiously

regarding her carriage A boy stood at the horses' heads, but his dress

and sleepy face showed that he had not been half an hour out of bed, and

there was no one else Wogan ondering how in the world she had

travelled as far as this inn The lady explained

"The postillion who drove me from Florence was drunk--oh, but drunk! He

rolled off his horse just here, opposite the door See, I beat him," and

she raised the beribboned handle of a toy-like cane "But it was no use

I broke et up He crawled into

the passage where he lies"

Wogan had some ado not to smile Neither the cane nor the hand which

wielded it would be likely to interfere even with a sober na to-day," she cried in an extreitation

"It is of the last ian, with a bow "My horse