her quite so enthusiastic as I had expected.

"Don't be so ridiculous," she exclaimed. "What do we know about the men of old? I have not the slightest respect for them. I am sure they were exactly as men are now—if anything I think they were worse; but I don't know anything about it, and you don't either, so please stop that nonsense and stick to the present times—they may be 'degenerate,' but they are much more comfortable."

No, I decidedly think she was unsympathetic!

·       ·       ·       ·       ·

Duino changed hands many times. In 1465 it was the property of the Emperor Frederick III., and in 1508 it belonged to the city of Venice. In 1669 it came into the possession of the Della Torre (the old Lords of Milan), and from them it descended to Prince Egon-Carl Hohenlohe, the father of the present owner, our host.

There is a portrait of Dante in the covered passage. He came to visit Pagano Della Torre here about the year 1320, and is said to have frequented the little island near the bathing place in the "Riviera." The neighbourhood of Duino was very different in his time from what it is now; tradition says the hills were covered with forests of red pine, and that the country generally was swarming with game. The game now is conspicuous by its absence; there is one solitary hare left, which inhabits Dante's island, by the way.

Poor old Dante! He looks very melancholy and unhappy, but we can most of us sympathise with him. There are not many of us, however easily the wheels of life may have run, who do not feel a pang of something like regret when now and then the thought of some one gone out of our lives comes over us. Fate plays tricks with us all. Death, the force of circumstances—it matters little what the cause of our separation was; we have drifted apart, and there is nothing left us but a memory—a dream of what might have been.

CHAPTER II
DUINO—continued

The covered passage before mentioned leads one straight to the principal staircase. It is a graceful winding staircase, and rare and interesting prints cover the walls. On the first landing, after passing through two anterooms (the second of which contains a collection of fine old Viennese china), one enters the dining-room. It is a large room with a balcony, from which there is a beautiful view of Miramar and the sea. There are some most appropriate pictures of eatables by various Dutch masters on the walls. It was a curious taste of these gentlemen to paint things to eat. Perhaps they were on the verge of starvation—that might account for it. I should have thought they might have found more interesting studies, though, than "gralloched" hares and fishes with their necks broken. I know nothing of Art (this is constantly dinned into me), so can speak absolutely without prejudice. An old telescope that once belonged to Nelson, and was presented by him to Count Della Torre (Thurn), Admiral of the King of Naples, is in this room. It is a very good glass; one can see things through it almost as well as with the naked eye, but it requires some manipulation to get the focus right.

THE BALCONY

People dine well in Austria, but you get a superabundance of veal. Veal for lunch, veal for dinner, veal cooked in many ways and concealed under numerous devices, but always veal. There is a fearful invention called "Schnitzl" that is the worst form of all. Foreigners say we English live on beef and mutton, but in Austria they live on veal, so we have the pull over them in the way of variety. One never sees grown-up cattle here. Poor things! they don't get the chance of reaching years of maturity, they are always killed in the first spring of their youth.

Opening into the dining-room is a small drawing-room. This contains mostly family portraits. The most noticeable among them is the portrait of the late Princess Hohenlohe. She must have been very beautiful, and has a very English appearance. She was the last Della Torre.

There are two pictures here that I am convinced are by Morland. No one knew this before, so I am very proud at having made the discovery. Some other animal pictures are ascribed to a Venetian artist—Longhi—portraits of horses. They are extraordinary horses—very fat, and they appear to have been taught to beg, as they are almost all standing up on their hind legs. I am told this is a playful habit that Spanish steeds had.

You go up another flight of stairs and arrive at the door of the gallery. This is a long passage, especially designed for ghosts to walk in—not the sort of place one would care to be left alone in after dark. There are some very fine pictures of the Venetian and Dutch schools here. One of the best is the "Entrance of the Dogaressa Morosina Morosini into Venice," by Tintoretto—all the figures are said to be portraits. At the further end of the gallery is the great banqueting hall. There is a portrait here by Van Dyck of one Matthew Hofer, a former owner of Duino. An old chronicle calls him "a tempestuous and arrogant youth, who had always his hand on his sword, and whose whole life was a drama of blood." In his portrait he has a proud and handsome face, with dark melancholy eyes.

The other full-length portraits represent some of the Lords of Milan—Della Torre—who after many years of unending civil wars were vanquished by the rival family, the Visconti, and obliged to fly from Milan. They took refuge near their kinsman, Pagano IV., then Patriarch of Aquileia, and soon gained wealth and great power in their adopted country. They were a turbulent and overbearing race, and many are the tales still told by the people of their violent or heroic deeds.

PORTRAIT OF MATTHEW HOFER (Van Dyck)

Notice the painting of the gentleman on the ferocious-looking horse, that appears determined to jump on you whichever part of the room you retire to. He was quite a character, and had a special talent for eloping with other people's wives. On one occasion he was condemned to be beheaded, and the soldiers of the Emperor were sent to Duino to arrest him. He treated them with great hospitality, and gave them a splendid banquet—probably in this very room. After dinner he retired to his own apartment, and as all the entrances to the castle were securely guarded, the unsuspicious soldiers thought nothing of it. Suddenly they heard a shot from the sea, rushed to find out what it was, and perceived their former prisoner on board a ship in full sail. Our friend fired the shot to let his would-be captors know they need not wait for him—a proof of his kindly and considerate nature! There was an underground passage leading