In October, the Countess of Cornwall, or Princess of Wales, as it will be more convenient to call her, had passed into the imperial city of Milan. Her passage had something of a triumphant aspect; she reviewed the troops drawn up in honour of her visit, smiled at the shouts of welcome, mingled with cries for the liberty of Italy, which greeted her, and endured the noisy homage uttered by a dozen _bouches à feu_. She had now but one English lady in her suite, Lady Charlotte Lindsey having resigned her office when in Germany. It was at Milan that her suite first began to assume a foreign aspect. The Princess was about to enter on a wide course of travel, and it was said that she needed the services of those who had had experience in that way. The first and most celebrated official engaged to help her with his service was a Bartholomew Bergami, a handsome man, of an impoverished family, who had served in the army as private courier to General Count Pino (bearer of his despatches, it is to be presumed), had received the decoration of some ‘order,’ and--whether by right of an acre or two of land belonging to his family, or because of his merits--bore the high-sounding name, but not very exalted dignity, of ‘Il Signor Barone.’ He had three sisters, all of whom were respectably married; the eldest and best known was a Countess Oldi, a true Italian lady, who loved and hated with equal intensity. At Milan, as at Geneva, the Princess, undoubtedly, failed to leave a favourable impression of her character. At the latter place the sight of herself and the great Sismondi, both stout, and the former attired as the Queen of Love, waltzing together, was a spectacle quite sufficient to make the beholders what, it is said, the Princess herself would have called, ‘all over shock.’ Then she insisted on undue homage from her attendants, and made such confusion in the geographical programme of her travels ‘that it was enough,’ as she herself used to say on other occasions, ‘to die for laugh.’ On the progress of the Princess through Italy her English attendants fell off, one by one, till she was finally left without a single member of her suite with whom she had originally set out. They probably ventured to give her some good advice, for she complained of their tyranny. They certainly counselled her to return and live quietly in England; but this counsel was always under consideration, yet never followed by the result desired. She was rendered peevish, too, by receiving no letters from her daughter, of whom she had taken but brief and hurried leave previous to her departure from England.