I thought that he might amuse Henriette and teach her Italian; after all
it was what I wanted from him. My dear wife told him that she would give
him six libbre for a lesson of two hours: the libbra of Parma being worth
only about threepence, his lessons were not very expensive. She took her
first lesson immediately and gave him two sequins, asking him to purchase
her some good novels.

Whilst my dear Henriette was taking her lesson, I had some conversation
with the dressmaker, in order to ascertain whether she was a relative of
mine.

"What does your husband do?" I asked her.

"He is steward to the Marquis of Sissa."

"Is your father still alive?"

"No, sir, he is dead."

"What was his family name?"

"Scotti."

"Are your husband's parents still alive?"

"His father is dead, but his mother is still alive, and resides with her
uncle, Canon Casanova."

That was enough. The good woman was my Welsh cousin, and her children
were my Welsh nephews. My niece Jeanneton was not pretty; but she