“You have heard him?” “Yes, a fortnight ago.... Though scarcely acquainted, we are the founders and chief supporters of a review devoted to art and scientific subjects, the acting committee of which summoned a meeting of its members to draw up some resolution, and at this meeting he spoke.” “He is very eloquent, is he not?” “Very eloquent indeed, but, on the whole, visionary.” “Visionary?” “Yes, visionary, and sometimes incomprehensible even. He soars to such vague heights that no one can follow him. But in spite of this, he is a fellow of great talent, and has a noble nature, I should think.” Lorenzo rose while speaking, and drew a memorandum‐book from his pocket: “I will write down the address of the Hôtel de Kergy, that I may not forget to leave my card.” “Mme. de Kergy and her daughter,” said I, “are coming to see me to‐day about four o’clock.” He was silent a moment, and then said: “And till that time?” “Till then,” I replied, turning red, “I shall be at home and alone.” “Very well,” rejoined he, taking up a newspaper, while I silently went to a seat near the open window. I compared the conversation which had just taken place with the one I imagined the evening before. I remembered the effect of the very name of her whose visit I was now expecting, and I felt inclined to both laugh and cry. In a word, I was nervous and agitated, and doubtless manifested my uneasiness and irritation more than I wished. Lorenzo raised his eyes, and looked at me a moment. “What are you thinking of, Ginevra?” “Are you quite sure,” said I abruptly, “that this Donna Faustina is not a _jettatrice_?” He rose and somewhat impatiently threw his paper on the table. But quickly overcoming himself, he said calmly: “Do you find any evidence in what I related last evening that she ever brought ill‐luck to any one?” “If it is not she,” I exclaimed quickly, “I hope, at least, you do not think....” I was about to add, “that it is I,” but I stopped on seeing the cloud that came over his face. “Come, Ginevra,” said he, “you are really too childish! You are joking, doubtless, but no one knows better than you how to point a jest. But you shall tell me yourself what you think of the Marquise de Villanera after seeing her. As for me, I am going away. It is not necessary to have a third party when she comes. I will go meanwhile to see Kergy. But,” added he, as he was leaving the room, “as you have consented to receive her, remember I depend on your doing so politely.” He went away, leaving me in a frame of mind by no means serene. I felt angry with him, and at the same time dissatisfied with myself. Everything went contrary to what I had hoped, and I awaited my visitor with a mixture of anguish and ill‐humor.