He uttered these last words with an accent that made my heart beat and rendered Faustina silent. An expression flashed from her blue eyes quicker than the sharpest lightning, and seemed to give them a terrible brilliancy. However, she soon resumed her playfulness and graceful ease of manner. Like most Italian ladies, she had that naturalness, that total absence of affectation, which often gives to their conversation an originality without parallel, and makes all wit which is less spontaneous than theirs seem factitious and almost defective. It has an inexpressible charm which fascinates, enchants, sets every one at ease, and gives to their very coquetry an appearance of artlessness. We were full of liveliness and gayety at the table. Never was a dinner more agreeable. Donna Faustina had an uncommon talent for relating things without appearing to try to win attention. She could mimic other women without any appearance of malice, and even sound their praises with an earnestness that made her more charming than those of whom she was speaking. Sometimes, too, she would change her tone, and, after making the room ring with our laughter, she would entertain us with some serious account which displayed a powerful, cultivated mind, with all her exuberant gayety. In short, when she was present, nothing was thought of but her, and even those whom she wittingly or unwittingly threw into the shade could not deny the charm by which they were eclipsed. It was, however, with some surprise I recalled after dinner the conversation that had affected me so strongly some hours before, and I asked myself if this was the melancholy, forsaken woman whose fate had moved me to tears. She seemed to have almost read my thoughts; for, as we were returning to the open air, she left Lorenzo’s arm, and came to take mine. “Ginevra,” said she in a low voice, “you find me gay and happy as a child this evening. It is because I no longer feel alone. I have found, not only friends, but a sister!... I am filled with love and gratitude to you.” The Champs Elysées were illuminated. We could see each other as distinctly as by daylight. She seemed much affected and sincere. Perhaps she spoke the truth at that moment.... Perhaps she had only looked deep enough into her own heart to feel persuaded that the romantic friendship she wished to make me believe in was real. However this may be, the illusion did not last long either for her, or Lorenzo, or myself. The music was delightful, and I listened to it for some time in silence. Faustina had taken a seat at my right hand. Lorenzo sat next her, and Lando beside me. “Bravo! Cousin Ginevra,” said the latter in a low tone as soon as the first piece was ended. “Thank heaven, your influence is still all it ought to be!... I am delighted, but not surprised!” So many things had occupied my mind since my last conversation with him that I was at a loss to know what he referred to. “You have persuaded Lorenzo to leave Paris?”