I have seen the most enlightened and most serious-minded men gathered about her, never weary of conversing with her. Living thus at church and at the theatre, in the poor man's garret and at sumptuous palaces, she imposed gratitude or cheerfulness upon one and all. Her disposition was even and playful, and the character of her beauty was enough to shed serenity all about her. She was of medium height, as white as milk, and fresh as a flower; all was gentleness and youth and kindliness. Just as one would have looked in vain for a sharp angle in her own graceful person, so there was never the slightest asperity in her temper, the slightest break in her goodness. As active as the true spirit of devotion, and at the same time as inert as Venetian indolence, she never passed more than two hours during the day in the same place; but in her palace she was always lying on a sofa, and out-of-doors she was always stretched out in her gondola. She said that she was weak on her legs, and she never went up or down stairs without being supported by two persons; in her own apartments she always leaned on the arm of Salomé, a young Jewess, who waited upon her and acted as her companion. People said that Signora Aldini was lame as a result of the fall of a piece of furniture which her husband had pushed upon her in a fit of anger, and which had broken her leg. Although for more than two years she leaned on my arm as she went in and out of her palace, I never discovered the exact truth of the matter, she took so much pains and exerted so much skill to conceal her infirmity.