Three days passed in the new lodgings. Auguste almost never went out; he watched for opportunities for a tête-à-tête with Cecilia; but the aunt was seldom absent and kept a much closer watch upon her niece. However, Auguste obtained a sweet avowal; he knew that he was beloved; but that was not enough, and Cecilia's eyes seemed to promise him more. Bertrand had become accustomed to his new quarters; but he said to his master every day: "You came to Italy to study and work, monsieur; instead of doing that, you pass all your time running after our young landlady." "Cecilia is teaching me to speak Italian better, Bertrand; and I am teaching her French." "I don't see what good this reciprocal teaching will do you." "Why, the pleasure of it, Bertrand--is that to be counted nothing?" "Are we travelling for pleasure?" "Not entirely; but, when it offers itself, why not make the most of it?" "Remember, monsieur, that your pleasures have always cost you dear." "You can't say that I am squandering my money here; I have never been so quiet and orderly. I never go out; these ladies, when I invited them to go to the theatre, declined." "I agree that they are stay-at-homes and don't try to make you take them all over the city. But I don't like that old Falenza with her reverences and her compliments." "Really, Bertrand, you are getting to be too particular. When you travel, my friend, you must accustom yourself to the idea of finding different customs and different manners." "True, monsieur; but I'm very much afraid that the foundation is the same everywhere! Selfish men, coquettish women, schemers who make a great show of wealth in order to make dupes more easily, rascals who open their mouths only to lie; and here and there a few honest people, who nevertheless consider their own interests before everything. I fancy that that's what we shall find in every country." "Travelling makes you very eloquent, Bertrand. Write down your reflections; I'll read them--when we return to France." "It will be high time, monsieur." Auguste was no longer listening to his companion; he had overheard Cecilia's voice, and he went to her. But the young Italian had but a moment to speak to him, as her aunt would soon return. Yielding to the young man's urgent entreaties, she gave him an assignation for the next day. A pretty little wood, about a fourth of a league from the city, was the spot to which Cecilia was to go secretly. The time was agreed upon, and they parted, to avoid arousing her aunt's suspicions. Auguste returned to his room with the inward satisfaction that one always feels at the approach of a long-desired moment. Never did evening seem longer to him, and he retired early so that the morrow would come the sooner.