“What, never heard of Cumming?”

“Never.”

“And never read his ‘Great Tribulation?’”

“No.”

“Nor his ‘Great Expectation?’”

“No.”

“What! not even his ‘Apocalyptic Sketches?’”

“I never heard of them.”

[Illustration:  “TONITRUENDUM EST MALUM!”]

Tozer looked at her in astonishment; but at this moment they came to a turn in the road, when a sight appeared which drew from Ethel an expression of joy.

It was a little valley on the right, in which was a small hamlet with a church.  The houses were but small, and could not give them much accommodation, but they hoped to find help there.

“I wouldn’t trust the people,” said Ethel.  “I dare say they’re all brigands; but there ought to be a priest there, and we can appeal to him.”

This proposal pleased Tozer, who resumed his work of collecting among the stores of his memory scraps of Latin which he had once stored away there.

The village was at no very great distance away from the road, and they reached it in a short time.  They went at once to the church.  The door was open, and a priest, who seemed the village priest, was standing there.  He was stout, with a good-natured expression on his hearty, rosy face, and a fine twinkle in his eye, which lighted up pleasantly as he saw the strangers enter.

Tozer at once held out his hand and shook that of the priest.

“Buon giorno,” said the priest.

Ethel shook her head.

“Parlate Italiano?” said he.

Ethel shook her head.

“Salve, domine,” said Tozer, who at once plunged headlong into Latin.

“Salve bene,” said the priest, in some surprise.

“Quomodo vales?” asked Tozer.

“Optime valeo, Dei gratia.  Spero vos valere.”

Tozer found the priest’s pronunciation a little difficult, but managed to understand him.

“Domine,” said he, “sumus viatores infelices et innocentes, in quos fures nuper impetum fecerunt.  Omnia bona nostra arripuerunt—­”

“Fieri non potest!” said the priest.

“Et omnes amicos nostros in captivitatem lachrymabilem tractaverunt—­”

“Cor dolet,” said the priest; “miseret me vestrum.”

“Cujusmodi terra est haec in qua sustenendum est tot labores?”

The priest sighed.

“Tonitruendum est malum!” exclaimed Tozer, excited by the recollection of his wrongs.

The priest stared.

“In hostium manibus fuimus, et, bonum tonitru! omnia impedimenta amissimus.  Est nimis omnipotens malum!”

“Quid vis dicere?” said the priest, looking puzzled.  “Quid tibi vis?”

“Est nimis sempiternum durum!”

“In nomine omnium sanctorum apostolorumque,” cried the priest, “quid vis dicere?”

“Potes ne juvare nos,” continued Tozer, “in hoc lachrymabile tempore?  Volo unum verum vivum virum qui possit—­”