Paolo handed the crown to the old man.

"How had we better take this, Paolo?" Hector asked, as the old man,
chuckling with satisfaction at having escaped a toilsome journey,
turned to retrace his steps.

"There is room for us both between the shafts," Paolo said, "one
behind the other. It would be much easier to walk holding both
poles than for us both to take one, as in that way the weight will
be balanced on each side of us."

There was indeed just room between the ends of the poles and the
pile of brushwood for them to walk close behind each other, and
as the greater portion of the weight rested on the other ends of
the poles they did not find the burden a heavy one.

"How are we going to sell these, Paolo?"

"We shall have no difficulty in selling them, master. This frost
will set every housewife on the lookout for wood, and you will
find that we sha'n't have to go far before we are accosted."

It was two miles from the spot where they had bought the faggots
to the gates of Turin.

"I sha'n't be sorry to get rid of this load," Hector said. "It is
not the weight but the roughness of the poles. My hands are quite
chafed by them."