was consoled."

At this moment there was the sound of a step in the ante-chamber, and I
saw that the Countess perceived it to be Stanmer's.

"That wouldn't have happened," she murmured. "My poor mother needed a
protector."

Stanmer came in, interrupting our talk, and looking at me, I thought,
with a little air of bravado. He must think me indeed a tiresome,
meddlesome bore; and upon my word, turning it all over, I wonder at his
docility. After all, he's five-and-twenty--and yet I _must_ add, it
_does_ irritate me--the way he sticks! He was followed in a moment by
two or three of the regular Italians, and I made my visit short.

"Good-bye, Countess," I said; and she gave me her hand in silence. "Do
you need a protector?" I added, softly.

She looked at me from head to foot, and then, almost angrily--"Yes,
Signore."

But, to deprecate her anger, I kept her hand an instant, and then bent my
venerable head and kissed it. I think I appeased her.

BOLOGNA, 14th.--I left Florence on the 11th, and have been here these
three days. Delightful old Italian town--but it lacks the charm of my
Florentine secret.

I wrote that last entry five days ago, late at night, after coming back
from Casa Salsi. I afterwards fell asleep in my chair; the night was