This new programme did not displease me. I rather preferred this way of meeting the marchioness again, instead of the one I anticipated after Lorenzo told me she would dine with us. In spite of the favorable impression she produced, this prospect annoyed me. The arrangement now proposed suited me better. I unhesitatingly assented to it, but could not help thinking, as I did so, how much I should have preferred passing the evening alone with him!... I longed for solitude—but shared with him! My heart was full of things I wished to give utterance to, and it seemed as if a kind of fatality multiplied obstacles around us, and kept us absorbed in matters wholly foreign to the sentiments I found it impossible to awaken during the too brief moments in which we were together. My heart was filled with these desires and regrets while I was preparing to accompany him, and they cast a shade over the evening I am giving an account of. Lando took a seat in front of us, and our carriage soon drew up at the door of the marchioness, who followed us in her little _coupé_. She descended when we arrived at our place of destination, and Lorenzo, as was proper, gave her his arm. I took Lando’s, and we proceeded towards the room that had been reserved for us, traversing on our way the principal coffee‐room, which was filled with people. Every eye turned towards us. I saw that Lando’s vanity was more gratified than mine by the observations that reached our ears. I looked at Lorenzo; he too seemed to be proud of the effect produced by the one leaning on his arm, and for the first time did not appear to notice the flattering murmur of which I was the object. I noticed this, and it did not increase my good‐humor. But after we arrived at the little dining‐room that was ours for the time, Faustina seemed wholly occupied with me. We took off our bonnets, and while I was silently admiring her magnificent tresses, which made her resemble some antique statue, she went into open ecstasy about my “golden hair,” my form, and my features; but while she was thus going on, evidently supposing it was not displeasing to me, Lorenzo stopped her. “Take care, marchioness,” said he, smiling, “you do not know Ginevra. Do not take another step in that direction. No one can venture on that ground _but myself alone_.”