CHAPTER II. AN HUMBLE INTERIOR WHEN Dalton parted from his companions at the “Russie,” it was to proceed by many an intricate and narrow passage to a remote part of the upper town, where close to the garden wall of the Ducal Palace stood, and still stands, a little solitary two-storied house, framed in wood, and the partitions displaying some very faded traces of fresco painting. Here was the well-known shop of a toy-maker; and although now closely barred and shuttered, in summer many a gay and merry troop of children devoured with eager eyes the treasures of Hans Roeckle. Entering a dark and narrow passage beside the shop, Dalton ascended the little creaking stairs which led to the second story. The landing place was covered with firewood, great branches of newly-hewn beech and oak, in the midst of which stood a youth, hatchet in hand, busily engaged in chopping and splitting the heavy masses around him. The flush of exercise upon his cheek suited well the character of a figure which, clothed only in shirt and trousers, presented a perfect picture of youthful health and symmetry. “Tired, Frank?” asked the old man, as he came up. “Tired, father! not a bit of it. I only wish I had as much more to split for you, since the winter will be a cold one.” “Come in and sit down, boy, now,” said the father, with a slight tremor as he spoke. “We cannot have many more opportunities of talking together. To-morrow is the 28th of November.” “Yes; and I must be in Vienna by the fourth, so Uncle Stephen writes.” “You must not call him uncle, Frank, he forbids it himself; besides, he is my uncle, and not yours. My father and he were brothers, but never saw each other after fifteen years of age, when the Count that 's what we always called him entered the Austrian service, so that we are all strangers to each other.” “His letter does n't show any lively desire for a closer intimacy,” said the boy, laughing. “A droll composition it is, spelling and all.” “He left Ireland when he was a child, and lucky he was to do so,” sighed Dalton, heavily. “I wish I had done the same.” The chamber into which they entered was, although scrupulously clean and neat, marked by every sign of poverty. The furniture was scanty and of the humblest kind; the table linen, such as used by the peasantry, while the great jug of water that stood on the board seemed the very climax of narrow fortune in a land where the very poorest are wine-drinkers. A small knapsack with a light travelling-cap on it, and a staff beside it, seemed to attract Dalton's eyes as he sat down. “It is but a poor equipment, that yonder. Frank,” said he at last, with a forced smile. “The easier carried,” replied the lad, gayly. “Very true,” sighed the other. “You must make the journey on foot.”