observation, and proceeded to walk about Florence. In the evening I went
to the theatre to see the famous harlequin, Rossi, but I considered his
reputation was greater than he deserved. I passed the same judgment on
the boasted Florentine elocution; I did not care for it at all. I enjoyed
seeing Pertici; having become old, and not being able to sing any more,
he acted, and, strange to say, acted well; for, as a rule, all singers,
men and women, trust to their voice and care nothing for acting, so that
an ordinary cold entirely disables them for the time being.

Next day I called on the banker, Sasso Sassi, on whom I had a good letter
of credit, and after an excellent dinner I dressed and went to the opera
an via della Pergola, taking a stage box, not so much for the music, of
which I was never much of an admirer, as because I wanted to look at the
actress.

The reader may guess my delight and surprise when I recognised in the
prima donna Therese, the false Bellino, whom I had left at Rimini in the
year 1744; that charming Therese whom I should certainly have married if
M. de Gages had not put me under arrest. I had not seen her for seventeen
years, but she looked as beautiful and ravishing as ever as she came
forward on the stage. It seemed impossible. I could not believe my eyes,
thinking the resemblance must be a coincidence, when, after singing an
air, she fixed her eyes on mine and kept them there. I could no longer
doubt that it was she; she plainly recognized me. As she left the stage
she stopped at the wings and made a sign to me with her fan to come and
speak to her.

I went out with a beating heart, though I could not explain my
perturbation, for I did not feel guilty in any way towards Therese, save
in that I had not answered the last letter she had written me from