“No, when he is well he does his best; but there seems no likelihood of his ardour having any happy results. There was some ground to hope in the first six months of the marriage, but since he has had the gout so badly there seems reason to fear lest his amorous ecstasies should have a fatal termination. Sometimes he wants to approach her, but she dare not let him, and this pains her very much.” I was struck with a lively sense of Lucrezia’s merits, and was just revealing to her the sentiments which she had re-awakened in my breast, when the marchioness appeared in the garden, followed by a page and a young lady. I affected great reverence as she came up to us; and as if we had given each other the word, she answered me in atone of ceremonious politeness. “I have come on an affair of the highest importance,” she said, “and if I fail I shall for ever lose the reputation of a diplomatist.” “Who is the other diplomatist with whom you are afraid of failing?” “‘Tis yourself.” “Then your battle is over, for I consent before I know what you ask. I only make a reserve on one point.” “So much the worse, as that may turn out to be just what I want you to do. Tell me what it is.” “I was going to Rome, when the Abbe Galiani told me that Donna Lucrezia was here with you.” “And can a short delay interfere with your happiness? Are you not your own master?” “Smile on me once more; your desires are orders which must be obeyed. I have always been my own master, but I cease to be so from this moment, since I am your most humble servant.” “Very good. Then I command you to come and spend a few days with us at an estate we have at a short distance. My husband will have himself transported here. You will allow me to send to the inn for your luggage?” “Here, sweet marchioness, is the key to my room. Happy the mortal whom you deign to command.” Leonilda gave the key to the page, a pretty boy, and told him to see that all my belongings were carefully taken to the castle. Her lady-in-waiting was very fair. I said so to Leonilda in French, not knowing that the young lady understood the language, but she smiled and told her mistress that we were old acquaintances. “When had I the pleasure of knowing you, mademoiselle?” “Nine year ago. You have often spoken to me and teased me.” “Where, may I ask?” “At the Duchess of Matalone’s.” “That may be, and I think I do begin to remember, but I really cannot recollect having teased you.” The marchioness and her mother were highly amused at this conversation, and pressed the girl to say how I had teased her. She confined herself, however, to saying that I had played tricks on her. I thought I remembered having stolen a few kisses, but I left the ladies to think what they liked. I was a great student of the human heart, and felt that these reproaches of Anastasia’s (such was her name) were really advances, but unskillfully made, for if she had wanted more of me, she should have held her peace and bided her time.