But Uncle John almost wished he had left them to escape as best
they might, for the obligation was getting to be decidedly onerous.
While Ferralti was expressing his astonishment at so "unexpectedly"
meeting again his American friends, Uncle John discovered their English
speaking cocchiere, Frascatti Vietri, lolling half asleep on the box of
his victoria.
"Would your energy like to drive us this morning?" he asked.
"It is my duty, signore, if you wish to go," was the reply.
"Then you are engaged. Come, girls; hop in, if you want to ride."
The three nieces and Uncle John just filled the victoria. The count was
disconsolate at being so cleverly dropped from the party, but could
only flourish his hat and wish them a pleasant drive.
They descended the winding road to the coast, where Frascatti took the
highway to Sant' Alessio, a charming drive leading to the Taormina Pass.
"By the way," Uncle John asked the driver, "do you know of a duke that
lives in this neighborhood?"
The laughing face of the Sicilian suddenly turned grave.
"No, signore. There is the Prince di Scaletta; but no duke on this side
the town."
"But on the other side?"
"Oh; in the mountains? To be sure there are noblemen there; old estates
almost forgotten in our great civilization of to-day. We are very
progressive in Taormina, signore.
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