“Pleases to----? I feel a great interest in him,” said Lydia. “He startled me so much with the sound of his name; and then he is like somebody I know. I cannot remember who it is--but there is some one; and then Mr. Bonamy asks me so many questions--I feel an interest. I do not think it very wise, if you have poor relations, to be ashamed of them--do you? And yet one does not like to betray another if there is any reason--” Lydia became so fragmentary in her utterances, that Paolo could not follow the broken thread of her thoughts. “Ny-ce?” he said. “But my friend Oliver is very ny-ce--there is not a thought in him that is not ny-ce. I know,” said Paolo, with an ingratiating smile, “that word so well.” “How nice of you to answer for him so!” cried Lydia, turning upon him with a sudden radiance of smiles. “It is delightful to meet with such a true friend.” Paolo’s very soul expanded with pleasure. He put his hand upon his shirtfront, and bowed over the little table, laden with the picture-books. He did not deprecate as an Englishman would have done, or disclaim any merit in this; but took the full credit of it with a pleasant consciousness of deserving it. He thought, however, that there had been enough of Oliver, and determined to push his own successful fortunes without further delay. “Miss Joscelyn, I hope, will stay long, a little while, two, tree weeks at Livorno? No! Oh! that is bad news, very bad news,” said Paolo, his face growing longer and longer as she shook her head. “Only till to-morrow--to-morrow evening we are to go by the steamboat;” and Lydia, reverting to her own thoughts, recorded this statement with a sigh. “You are sorry to leave the beautiful Italy. Ah! and Italy too will be desolated when so many charming Inglesi, so many beautiful ladies leave her shore--to-morrow! That is bad news, very bad news,” Paolo said. “I am afraid Italy will not care very much,” said Lydia, with a little laugh. “The English come and go every year; but I don’t think I shall ever come back. For me it is once in my life,” she said, this time with a sigh; and the sigh was a sad one, for there came once more over her mind, which had been temporarily distracted by a new subject, all the heavy and troubled thoughts which had made her so restless and wretched for a few days past. “No, no,” cried Paolo. “No, no--ah! pardon, it must not be one time in the Signorina’s life. She must return--she must return! There are impressions, made in a moment--which will nevare, nevare be effaced----”