On this hint, I spake. With a rashness which perhaps I should have feared to exercise after a longer acquaintance with Italy and the Italians, I determined to tease my follower. I had resolved from the beginning to speak only Italian, or very broken English, so as not to be found out as a foreigner in too many languages, so I began to expostulate with my officer on his dogging my steps. I made Camille, who was very tall, bend down earnestly and talk to me in a whisper, about nothing or anything. I told my pursuer that I had been too busy to think of him lately, as I had been occupied writing sonnets to the moon, with other wise speeches of an exasperating quality. I then told him I was going to valse, and should not be able to do so if he stuck so close to me. I think I was rather courageous to bear the brunt of the furious looks he cast upon me. He still followed, and after two rounds I came back to the place where he was standing, upbraided him for his jealousy, and raising my mask for a moment, relieved him from all his suspicions by showing the face of an utter stranger. He was not what would be called a handsome man, but it required a southern face and a southern nature to express the delight and relief that he experienced at that moment. His bad quarter of an hour was over, and he was good-humoured enough to enter into the fun and mischief of the mask who had deceived him; his eyes literally beamed with pleasure, and with an arch smile and a low bow he hoped, in the charming Italian form of speech, that we should soon meet again. I next attacked a Marchese of our acquaintance, who was very ill of Anglomania, and extremely proud of speaking the language, which he did very well for a Genoese, for they are not remarkable for being good linguists. To him I spoke in English, and excited as much jealousy in his breast, though of a different nature, as I had already done in that of my officer. I was careful to break my English and to translate from Italian idioms. When asked where I lived and whence I came, I told him that I resided somewhere between the Acqua Sola (the promenade on the north side of the city) and the Lantern, meaning the Lanterna or lighthouse. He then asked me if I had ever been in England, and I told him that I had spent six months in that country. Beckoning to a member of the American Legation, he whispered to him that he should engage in conversation with me, and I had the satisfaction of hearing the referee inform him that I certainly was no Englishwoman. [Sidenote: A BUNCH OF VIOLETS]