He addressed me some words of salutation, to which I responded. As he stood near me, I again observed his calm, thoughtful, intelligent face, which had struck me so much the only time I remembered to have seen him before. While speaking a few moments previous his face was animated, and his eyes flashed with a fire that added more than once to the effect of his clear, penetrating voice, which was always well modulated. His gestures also, though not numerous or studied, had a natural grace and the dignity which strength of conviction, joined to brilliant eloquence, gives to the entire form of an orator. His manner was now so simple that I felt perfectly at ease with him, and told him without any hesitation how happy I was at the double good‐fortune that had brought me in contact with his sister, and had resulted in my coming to this meeting where I had been permitted to hear him speak. “This day will be a memorable one for me as well as for her, madame,” he replied, “and I shall never forget it.” There was not the least inflection in his voice to make me regard his words as anything more than mere politeness, but their evident sincerity caused me a momentary embarrassment. He seemed to attach too much importance to this meeting, but it passed away. He inspired me with almost as much confidence as if he had been a friend. I compared him with Landolfo, and wondered what effect so different an influence would have on Lorenzo, and I could not help wishing he were his friend also.... I continued silent, and he soon resumed: “The Duca di Valenzano is not here?” “No; he will be sorry, and I regret it for his sake.” “The presence of such a traveller would have been a great honor to us.” “He was very happy to have an opportunity of conversing with you on one occasion.” “It was a conversation I have never forgotten. It would have been for my advantage to renew it, but I never go into society—at Paris.” “And elsewhere?” “Elsewhere it is a different thing,” said he, smiling. “I am as social while travelling as I am uncivilized at my return.” “We must not expect, then, to meet you again in Paris; but if you ever go to Italy, may we not hope you will come to see us?” “If you will allow me to do so,” said he eagerly. “Yes, certainly. I think I can promise that the well‐known hospitality of the Neapolitans will not be wanting towards the Comte Gilbert de Kergy.” After a moment’s silence he resumed: “You must have been absent when I was at Naples. That was two years ago.” “I was not married then, and I am not a Neapolitan.” “And not an Italian, perhaps.” “Do you say so on account of the color of my hair? That would be astonishing on the part of so observant a traveller, for you must have noticed that our great masters had almost as many blondes as brunettes for their models. However, I am neither English nor German, as perhaps you are tempted to think. I am a Sicilian.” “I have never seen in Sicily or anywhere else a person who resembled you.”