Five or six days after Betty had left I chanced to meet the Abby Gama,
who had aged a good deal, but was still as gay and active as ever. After
we had told each other our adventures he informed me that, as all the
differences between the Holy See and the Court of Naples had been
adjusted, he was going back to Rome.

Before he went, however, he said he should like to present me to a lady
whom he was sure I should be very glad to see again.

The first persons I thought of were Donna Leonilda, or Donna Lucrezia,
her mother; but what was my surprise to see Agatha, the dancer with whom
I had been in love at Turin after abandoning the Corticelli.

Our delight was mutual, and we proceeded to tell each other the incidents
of our lives since we had parted.

My tale only lasted a quarter of an hour, but Agatha's history was a long
one.

She had only danced a year at Naples. An advocate had fallen in love with
her, and she shewed me four pretty children she had given him. The
husband came in at supper-time, and as she had often talked to him about
me he rushed to embrace me as soon as he heard my name. He was an
intelligent man, like most of the pagletti of Naples. We supped together
like old friends, and the Abbe Gama going soon after supper I stayed with
them till midnight, promising to join them at dinner the next day.

Although Agatha was in the very flower of her beauty, the old fires were
not rekindled in me. I was ten years older. My coolness pleased me, for I