The Count expressed his intention of taking his meals as a rule in the
society of some of his fellow-countrymen; he paid in advance for a
certain number of tickets, and ingenuously gave the conversation a
familiar bent to enable him to achieve his purpose quickly.

Hardly had he mentioned the woman he was seeking when Signor Giardini,
with a grotesque shrug, looked knowingly at his customer, a bland
smile on his lips.

"_Basta_!" he exclaimed. "_Capisco_. Your Excellency has come spurred
by two appetites. La Signora Gambara will not have wasted her time if
she has gained the interest of a gentleman so generous as you appear
to be. I can tell you in a few words all we know of the woman, who is
really to be pitied.

"The husband is, I believe, a native of Cremona and has just come here
from Germany. He was hoping to get the Tedeschi to try some new music
and some new instruments. Isn't it pitiable?" said Giardini, shrugging
his shoulders. "Signor Gambara, who thinks himself a great composer,
does not seem to me very clever in other ways. An excellent fellow
with some sense and wit, and sometimes very agreeable, especially when
he has had a few glasses of wine--which does not often happen, for he
is desperately poor; night and day he toils at imaginary symphonies
and operas instead of trying to earn an honest living. His poor wife
is reduced to working for all sorts of people--the women on the
streets! What is to be said? She loves her husband like a father, and
takes care of him like a child.

"Many a young man has dined here to pay his court to madame; but not
one has succeeded," said he, emphasizing the word. "La Signora