Here I was again in Stuttgart, carried back to lessons. In January, on the occasion of my sixteenth birthday, mamma gave me a coming-out dance. I considered myself fully grown now, having put up my golden mane and let down my frock for the first time that night. I was awfully unhappy to leave Stuttgart in April, for I left my heart behind. It was such a sore trial to part with Jeffrey. He was unwell on the day of our departure and could not see us off. I was in despair at not being able to bid him farewell and sobbed desperately at the thought that I should never see his darling face again. At that moment he was more indispensable to me than air and light. Being ashamed that mamma should see me cry, I swallowed my tears and tried to look cheerful, but when the train began to move, I crept into a corner of the railway-carriage and sobbed my heart out in childish grief, little fool that I was. Before returning to Russia we made a trip to Italy and travelled as far as Naples in the company of the Italian Consul of Manchester, Signor Raphaello Giordano, middle-aged and perfectly gentleman-like. He promised to be our cicerone in Naples, where we arrived at night, rather disconcerted by the hubbub of the clamorous Neapolitans. When we found ourselves on the crowded platform, noisy _fachini_ (porters) besieged us and snatched away our bags. Signor Giordano had to desert us on the quay, whilst we went to get our luggage through the Customs promising to be back soon. In his absence a young man began to hang about in front of us, staring at me all the time with frankest impertinence. He came close to me and managed to whisper in my ear: “What hotel are you going to? Do stop at the hotel where I am staying.” Impudent fellow! I was greatly astonished at his audacity. Fortunately Signor Giordano strolled in at the right moment and rescued me. Both men were standing nervously facing each other and Giordano exclaimed in arrogant tones, his eyes blazing with wrath: “What right have you to speak to that young lady?” “And you, how do you dare to speak to me?” was the impertinent answer. A squabble sprang up between them; it was so hateful to have a scandal! Giordano went to seek a policeman and we remained alone, dreading to move in fear of losing sight of our protector, and our boxes were so long in coming. At last we decided to be bold and wait no longer. We hailed a carriage and rode off to Victoria Hotel, recommended by Giordano, and were very glad when he made his appearance an hour after. Early next morning I opened the shutters and was fascinated by the splendid panorama of the bay of Naples and Vesuvius with its cone rising against the azure sky. How glorious it all was!