We dined early, and after dinner, according to a promise made in the
morning, Sophonisba ascended with me into the Serbelloni Gardens, and
walked round the terraces on that beautiful hill which commands the
view of the three lakes. When we started I confess that I would
sooner have gone alone, for I was sick of the Greenes in my very soul.
We had had a terrible day. The landlord had been sent for so often,
that he refused to show himself again. The landlady--though Italians
of that class are always courteous--had been so driven that she
snapped her fingers in Mrs. Greene's face. The three girls would not
show themselves. The waiters kept out of the way as much as possible;
and the Boots, in confidence, abused them to me behind their back.
"Monsieur," said the Boots, "do you think there ever was such a box?"

"Perhaps not," said I; and yet I knew that I had seen it.

I would, therefore, have preferred to walk without Sophonisba; but
that now was impossible. So I determined that I would utilise the
occasion by telling her of my present purpose. I had resolved to
start on the following day, and it was now necessary to make my
friends understand that it was not in my power to extend to them any
further pecuniary assistance.

Sophonisba, when we were on the hill, seemed to have forgotten the
box, and to be willing that I should forget it also. But this was
impossible. When, therefore, she told me how sweet it was to escape
from that terrible woman, and leaned on my arm with all the freedom of
old acquaintance, I was obliged to cut short the pleasure of the
moment.

"I hope your father has written that letter," said I.