Nothing that the house afforded was too good for the adjutant who brought glad tidings of the Sandwirth. Trout, roast chicken, pastry, were heaped upon his plate,--the best bed prepared for him, the best pillow-case and coverlet placed upon it,--all very hospitable and satisfactory; only--only there was that handsome young soldier, with his arm in a sling, receiving quieter but quite as flattering attentions as himself, and exchanging many a soft tone and softer glance with the smiling Theresa; all of which combined to make poor Giuseppe fume with jealousy, and kept him awake half the night. A few hours' dreamless sleep, however, restored him; he sprang up, full of ardour and self-confidence, and followed Theresa to the fountain. There he told her--what he had better not have told to any one--for she was sorry, but steadfast, and confessed to him her heart belonged to somebody else, and could not be reclaimed. The young man felt it very bitterly; he would not break bread in the house again, nor cross the threshold. He trudged back over the mountain, and when he saw a thunder-rose, he stamped upon it, saying, "Ah, you wretch! it was owing to you." At the inn where he had put up, he ate a pretty good breakfast, mounted his little ambling pony, and prepared to re-cross the Brenner, in a very bad humour. As luck would have it, he picked up a comrade on the road, whose cheerful talk beguiled the tedium of the ascent. They dined together, supped together, slept at Schönberg, and the next day Eisenstecken had recovered his spirits. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XVII. REVERSES. In the streets of London, about this time, might be seen two sunburnt Tyrolese, rather bewildered at the strange sights and sounds around them, accompanying an Englishman to Lord Sidmouth's office. Their names were Müller and Schonecher: their errand was soon told, in earnest, homely phrase. England was the home of the free. England was rich and sympathetic; the Tyrolese were fighting for liberty, but they were poor; they could not even muster enough money to buy gunpowder for their rifles. The present lull could not be expected to last long, for the enemy were already marching on South Tyrol. Would not generous England help them? Of course such a question as this roused the British soul; and the deputies were received as we are wont to receive the latest comers, with hospitality and distinction. They were feasted, they were praised, they were encouraged; but--nothing more was done for them. People sated their eyes with gazing at them, their ears with hearing them, and then--one man went to his farm, another to his merchandise; saying Government should take it up; and Government said it was dangerous, and thought it had better be done by private subscription. And so, nothing was done at the time; and when the grant of thirty thousand pounds was afterwards announced to them by Lord Sidmouth, it was too late--the war was ended.