I told him that Helen and I would call and pay our respects to his wife, and asked for his address.

"We are at present staying with the Mattei, No. 12 Borgo Pinti," he answered. "And the Signora Celeste will feel much gratified at the honour you will confer upon her, in visiting Elvira at her house. And now, Signore, I relieve you of my presence.' He rose and took up his hat. "I have the honour to wish you good morning."

And bowing low, he took his leave in the same gentlemanlike manner with which he had entered.

Helen and I called at the Palazzo where the Mattei family were living a very few days after Giannetto's visit.

Up a long, carpetless stair we climbed, and arrived at an iron grate on the third floor, where we pulled or rather shook, a dilapidated bell. For a long time no one came; then the face of a housemaid looked through the opposite door, and a shrill voice shouted the usual Ita lian question, "Chi è ?"

"Is the Signora Mattei in the house?" inquired Beppo, in reply. "Of course she is, at this hour," answered the woman; and drawing a key out of her pocket, she proceeded slowly to open the grate.

Beppo gave her my card, and she hurried away with it, leaving us standing on the landing place. After a few moments she returned, and saying, "Enter, enter, Signore!" she led the way through a large empty anteroom into what was evidently used as a music-room.

It was a large room, the centre occupied by a grand piano, on the extremity of which lay masses of music, songs, accompaniments, and what looked like manuscript violinmusic. Round the room were long

red-covered seats or divans. The walls were painted a pale-buff colour, and the curtains matched them in hue. Two or three tables stood at one end of the room, and on these were carefully arranged various trifling ornaments, such as photographs in cases, Paris bonbonnières, bits of Florentine mosaic, &c. &c.

Bidding us be seated, the servant fidgeted about the room a little, and then said, "Vossignori are foreigners?" Much amused, I told her we were English. "Ah!" she said, "doubtless the Signori have come a long, long way. La Signora Mattei dearly loves the English. She once, years ago, knew an English lady, and stayed two daysShe broke off; for a shrill voice shouted from the inner room, “ Violante, O Violante!" "I come, I come!" she cried; and making a sort of deprecating shrug at me, as much as to say, "You see we can have no more conversation just now," she hurried out of the room.

We again waited some moments; then a door on the opposite side of the room opened, and a gentle, venerable old gentleman came forward. "S'accommodino-be seated, I beg,"

he began; "these Signori do us too much honour to call on us-on my daughter, I should rather say. La Signora Mattei is a woman of much spirit; she is busy at this hour, but she will be here directly." He was a fine-looking old man, with long, silky, white hair, and a very sweet, courteous expression, particularly when he smiled. His hands were covered with brown cloth mittens; and occasionally he kept up the old custom of slowly fumbling in his pocket for a large tortoise-shell snuff-box, which he made use of with much zest.

"I hope," he continued, "that the Signorina diverts herself in Florence? There is much that is interesting if she has a love of art. Perhaps she is herself an amateur, and occasionally studies in our galleries ?"

I told him that we were staying at Florence much for purposes of study, and then proceeded to make him my compliments on the reputation of his son-in-law.

He bowed, laying his hand on his heart. "The Signor Conte is too good. Without doubt, Giovanni has talent; he will be a great singer. I tell him he should go to England. I was there myself once-it is now twenty years and I know London well. Yes, yes; it is there he would make a fortune. They know nothing of our language, those English, the Signor Conte is Scozzese, he speaks like a native, but they appreciate the talent, and they pay well. I myself heard the Pasta sing, and heard the English say, 'Beautiful, beautiful! but what did she sing? was it not German, or was it French?' Still, not the less do they pay well."

"I hope Signor Giovanni will come to England," said Helen, rather timidly; "at least he will find better support there in the theatre, for all the best artists find their way to London."

"Ah, it is a wonderful place!" continued the Cavaliere Mattei. "Without doubt, Florence appears very small to you; and my son-inlaw tells me that St. Petersburg

He was interrupted by the door flying open, and the abrupt entrance of Signora Celeste, followed by her daughter. It was as if a whirlwind had burst into the room. "Good morning, Signor Conte. Signorina Elena, I have the honour to salute you. I hope I see you in good health. It grieved me to hear from my son-in-law that you are not strong. Be seated. We have heard much of you from Giovanni. He tells me," she continued, without taking breath, "that he made acquaintance with you some years ago at Nice, and that he lies under obligations to you. We are grateful,” she added; " "you do us great honour in visiting us thus, and the opportunity of offering you our thanks we shall hold very dear."

I endeavoured to disclaim all thanks, but she did not pause.

"And the Signorina, does she divert herself in Florence? I fear but little goes on at this moment. She has without doubt visited the Cascine every Sunday afternoon? The Grand Duchess is almost always there, and it is very gay. Do the Signori contemplate being here for the Carnival? There are to be great doings this year; and certain Signori of the principal families are to have balls. The Signorina without doubt loves dancing? She is of an age to do so. Elvira loved it much formerly; but since she is married she is quite changed, she thinks of nothing but her husband and child, and the music. Really, it is a trial of patience a weariness

when she and her father and Giovanni begin with their everlasting music. Not a word can one get in. And what with the violin and the pianoforte, and now Binda, now La Caprera, coming in to practise with

The

Giovanni, life is a burden. people in the streets come under the windows to listen, but I hope I may have put a stop to that; for when they are all listening, Violante and I are often obliged to throw water and vegetabies out of the window. Can I help it ?-bah! one must keep one's house clean!"

"Assuredly," said the Cavaliere, mildly. "But wherefore thus outrage their feelings? Poor souls! it is to them, a great diversion."

She quietly ignored his words. "And the Signor Conte has taken the Villa Vacchini?" she continued. "La Signora Vacchini is one in a thousand! an excellent person; she is much my friend. Without doubt, it is her agent Signor Ettore Bonifazio who has arranged with these Signori? He is a good man; but, Santa Maria! what fat! he is a hill -a mountain! La Vacchini at one time had it in her mind to marry him; but I said to her, 'Lucia, my dear, beware; it is a sack-a mountain-you would marry. An agitation-a slight fright-he is seized with an apoplexy, and you are again a widow! Had I not reason? And she is in good circumstances. She has a large hotel in the Piazza Nuova, which foreigners frequent much; and she has also the Villa Vacchini, and certain olive and vine yards in the hills near the Certosa. I hope," she continued, suddenly breaking off, "that you remain satisfied that she does well by you?"

"Perfectly," I answered. "All I have had to ask for has been done excellently by Signor Bonifazio."

vanni was in Russia, I could see that her heart

"Mamma, for pity's sake," broke in the sweet voice of Giovanni's wife, the first words I had heard her speak. My attention had been fully occupied by the mother, while Helen had been equally busily engaged in extracting gentle monosyllables from Elvira.

The young wife looked very pretty and very shy, but there was somewhat of an air of sadness about her that troubled me. She had not that quiet look of repose which speaks of a heart at rest. Her large eyes looked anxious, and even careworn; and when she was not smiling, her face assumed a gravity unnatural in one so young. It brightened up prettily when Helen asked to see the baby, and she brought it into the room. It was a pretty, brown, Italian baby, with large soft eyes and abundance of dark hair; and Elvira evidently loved it with all the fervour of her southern nature.

"It is a little angel, a darling!" said the old Cavaliere, tenderly patting its little head. "And the Signor Conte, has he also. little grandchildren? The English children are beautiful!"

I told him that my daughter Amy had two little ones-the youngest might be about the age of Elvira's. Elvira looked pleased and interested, and I heard her begin to question Helen in a low voice about the English children.

Signora Celeste turned to me again-"It is curious," she said, "but it is said that English children live upon milk. I suppose, then, that they are very small and thin, and have not much strength till they get older? Elvira would never have reared that child upon milk. But doubtless it is not true."

I answered her that it was quite true.

"Indeed!" she said; "would you

believe it! And you mean to say that you never give them wine at all? What support can they have?" I could only repeat that the children were very healthy and blooming. She evidently looked on my saying so as the ignorant assertion of a man.

It was some time before we could get away-there was so much to be said on Signora Mattei's part. Altogether, for a first visit, it was an unusually long one.

"Well, Helen, and what do you think of Giannetto's pretty wife?" I asked, as soon as we were seated in the carriage, and fairly started on our way home.

66

Very pretty, very fascinating, but not clever, I should think; and, papa, did you notice how very sad she looks? I hope he is kind to her."

"She does indeed look sad, poor little thing! I was especially

charmed with the old Cavaliere. What a thorough gentleman of the old school he is, with his white hair and his gentle venerable face!"

Before very long our visit was returned by the ladies of the party. We were sitting out on the terrace,

Helen putting the finishing touches to a drawing she had been making of a great bunch of yellow nespoli, or medlars; I myself lazily smoking, and reading a very stupid Italian novel, when Beppo announced them. More chairs were brought out, and we reseated ourselves.

After a few moments of general conversation, Signora Celeste leant forward and said in a very loud whisper, "Signor Conte, with your leave, will you do me the great honour of permitting me a little conversation with you in private?"

I could see Elvira colour violently, and give an imploring look to her mother; but that good lady was not to be suppressed by looks. I could not imagine what she could want,

but politeness compelled me to bow, and lead the way into the house. She followed, sweeping along in a silk gown, which I could not help thinking made more rustle than any gown I had ever seen, or rather heard, before. I had an uncomfortable feeling that she was very close at my heels-a feeling increased by the sharp way in which she shut the door behind her with a click, and established herself on a tall oldfashioned arm-chair in front of me. She began the conversation herself. "And now, Signor Conte,' she said, "I shall be greatly obliged to you if you will have the kindness to tell me what you know of the former habits and pursuits of my son-in-law. It is not merely from curiosity that I ask," she added, seeing my natural hesitation; "but if the Signor Conte is able to tell me, it concerns me to know."

"It is, I fear, but little that I can tell you, Signora Mattei," I answered. "My acquaintance with Signor Giovanni was very slight, and of short duration. You are, he tells me, aware that his birth is not equal

"Yes, yes, I know that," she exclaimed. "He was but a peasant, a fisherman; is it not so?"

"You are right; and it was through a conversation with the priest of his village that I first became interested in him. He was very handsome, and-and I am an admirer of beauty. I was enabled to do him some slight service, which he makes too much of by far; and there our acquaintance for the time came to an end. It is an pected honour," I resumed, at my wits' end what to say, "that I have renewed it so advantageously."

unex

Signora Celeste appeared to be thinking deeply, and not to remark my little speech, which was meant to be complimentary. She spoke again, with an abruptness which made me feel as if I was being

snapped at. "And this Curato, was he a friend of Giovanni's?"

"He was very good to him," I answered. "The father was dead, and the priest not only helped his mother with money out of his own very small store, but he also gave him an education which made him superior to his fellows."

"And his voice? Did the priest also teach him to sing?"

"His voice, his voice," I stammered; it developed late in life -unusually late. No; the priest had nothing to do with training that."

"Then he never sang in the choir?" she asked.

"Not to my knowledge," I replied, wishing her anywhere-at

the bottom of the Red Sea.

"And is his mother alive?" "She is that is, I believe so; but it is so long since I have been at San Jacopo, that the Signora will comprehend that I can give no exact answer to her question."

Signora Celeste suddenly rose, drew her chair closer to mine,, and folding her hands (clothed in black net mittens) together, she fixed her eyes upon me, and proceeded: "Signor Conte, I am afraid you have indeed but little to tell me : but I will explain to you the reason of my question; for, without doubt, you consider me indiscreet and impertinent-nay, it is but natural that I should so appear to you."

Of course I endeavoured to disavow the supposition; but she interrupted my attempted civilities ruthlessly. "Listen, Signor," she said "listen. Giovanni has no doubt told you that he came first under my husband's notice as a copyist who was working out his musical education at Milan. At that time we resided much at Milan. My mother was alive, and a great invalid; we spent months with her at a time. My

so .

husband had not then obtained his present appointment at Florence. The Signor Conte knows that the Cavaliere is a great dilettante, has a veritable passion for music; and where there is a musicseller's shop, there he is to be found, at times, for hours in the day. Well, he had at that time a fanaticism for very ancient music, forgotten altogether at this present time, and much of this he had transposed for the violin. It is difficult, this old music, and has to be understood, or the transposing makes it often almost ludicrous. My husband found that Giovanni could do it well, and employed him constantly. The poor boy was at that time so destitute, that I could see that very often he had not enough to buy a good meal ; so it ended in our taking him into the house.

"My mother, poor soul, took a great fancy for Giovanni, and would have it that he was to be one of the greatest singers of the day; and it is certain that his voice was of a beauty, a quality, that one does not meet with often.

"The only times he would never spend with us were his Sundays and his saints' days. On such days, when friends and neighbours meet, going and coming from the churches, he would never consent to be with our family party. At first, when I asked him, he would not say where he went, but latterly he walked into the country to see some old friend of his mother's, who was a Milanese; so I remained satisfied. The Signore knows, I presume, that he obtained an engagement of much distinction, and left us for Russia. By that time we had become so fond of him that it was a sorrow, a grief, to part from him; and it was to us like the return of a dear son when he came home and asked the Cavaliere for Elvira.