On the road home, we passed another round tower standing lonely by the roadside overlooking the sea, and No. 3 got out to sketch it. It was—like all the Genoese towers which strew the country, standing erect on every high cliff and commanding hill—perfectly round and not very lofty, but of immense thickness, and but little ruined.
Apparently, our coachman had not profited much by his morning's lesson; for, whilst we sat by the roadside, he found it more to his taste to come and look over our shoulders than to remain by his carriage. The ponies were anxious to get home, and would not stand. They had already taken the empty carriage, with no guard save Bigemark, half across the road, when I pointed out the fact to Jehu.
"Oh," said he, composedly, "they will stand."
"But," said No. 2, "they are not standing; they are moving now."
Again he smiled silently.
"Is it your carriage?" I demanded of the imperturbable man.
"Mais non!"
"Whose, then?"
"M. Stauffe, sans doute."
"Poor M. Stauffe! I am sorry for him. His carriages must come expensive."