On leaving this interesting but hapless girl, I proceeded to the house of
Steffani. I heard from one of his mother's gondoliers that he had
returned to Venice three days before, but that, twenty-four hours after
his return, he had gone away again without any servant, and nobody knew
his whereabouts, not even his mother. The same evening, happening to be
seated next to an abbe from Bologna at the theatre, I asked him several
questions respecting the family of my unfortunate protegee.

The abbe being intimately acquainted with them, I gathered from him all
the information I required, and, amongst other things, I heard that the
young countess had a brother, then an officer in the papal service.

Very early the next morning I called upon her. She was still asleep. The
widow told me that she had made a pretty good supper, but without
speaking a single word, and that she had locked herself up in her room
immediately afterwards. As soon as she had opened her door, I entered her
room, and, cutting short her apologies for having kept me waiting, I
informed her of all I had heard.

Her features bore the stamp of deep sorrow, but she looked calmer, and
her complexion was no longer pale. She thought it unlikely that Steffani
would have left for any other place but for C----. Admitting the
possibility that she might be right, I immediately offered to go to
C---- myself, and to return without loss of time to fetch her, in case
Steffani should be there. Without giving her time to answer I told her
all the particulars I had learned concerning her honourable family, which
caused her real satisfaction.

"I have no objection," she said, "to your going to C----, and I thank you