and of a disposition which enforced affection. I was no less pleased with
this favourable state of things than with the facility with which
Christine was learning the Venetian dialect.

When M. Dandolo and I called at their house, Charles was not at home;
Christine was alone with his two relatives. The most friendly welcome was
proffered to us, and in the course of conversation the aunt praised the
progress made by Christine in her writing very highly, and asked her to
let me see her copy-book. I followed her to the next room, where she told
me that she was very happy; that every day she discovered new virtues in
her husband. He had told her, without the slightest appearance of
suspicion of displeasure, that he knew that we had spent two days
together in Treviso, and that he had laughed at the well-meaning fool who
had given him that piece of information in the hope of raising a cloud in
the heaven of their felicity.

Charles was truly endowed with all the virtues, with all the noble
qualities of an honest and distinguished man. Twenty-six years afterwards
I happened to require the assistance of his purse, and found him my true
friend. I never was a frequent visitor at his house, and he appreciated
my delicacy. He died a few months before my last departure from Venice,
leaving his widow in easy circumstances, and three well-educated sons,
all with good positions, who may, for what I know, be still living with
their mother.

In June I went to the fair at Padua, and made the acquaintance of a young
man of my own age, who was then studying mathematics under the celebrated
Professor Succi. His name was Tognolo, but thinking it did not sound
well, he changed it for that of Fabris. He became, in after years, Comte
de Fabris, lieutenant-general under Joseph II., and died Governor of