His eminence received every evening, and his apartments were crowded with the first nobility of Rome.
Until then I had not attended one of these assemblies.
The Abbé Gama told me that I ought to do so as well as he did, without any pretension. I followed his advice.
No one spoke to me at first as I was unknown but eyes turned toward me from every side, and more than one whispered to learn who I might be.
The Abbé Gama asked me which lady seemed to me the most amiable.
I pointed one out, and at once regretted having done so, for he crossed to her side and carried my judgment straight into her ear.
A little later I saw her raise her eyeglass toward me and smile kindly.
She was the Marchioness G----, and her cicisbeo was Cardinal S---- C----.
On the very day I fixed to spend the evening with Donna Lucrezia, the worthy advocate came to see me.
He told me that, if I imagined I could prove I was not in love with his wife by staying away, I was much mistaken.
He then invited me to accompany the family to Testaccio, where they were to take luncheon on the following Thursday.
He added that his wife knew my ode by heart, and had even recited it to the man destined for Angelique, who was eager to meet me.
This gentleman, he said, was a poet as well, and would be of the party.
I promised to come on Thursday with a carriage for two.
At that time every Thursday in the month of October was a festival day in Rome.
That evening I went to Donna Cecilia, and we spoke of nothing but the excursion that was to come.
I felt sure that Donna Lucrezia awaited it with the same pleasure as I did.
We had no plan, and could not have any, but we trusted to the god of love, and tacitly placed our confidence in his protection.
I was careful that Father Georgi should not hear of that excursion before I mentioned it to him myself.
I went to him at once, and asked his permission in such a manner as to seem almost indifferent to it.
The good man approved it warmly. It was, he said, a family party, and I ought to visit the Roman countryside and amuse myself in a respectable way.
I went to Donna Cecilia in a carriage I had hired from a certain Roland, a native of Avignon.
I name him here because the reader will meet him again in eighteen years, his acquaintance with me having had very important results.
The charming widow introduced me to Don Francisco, her future son in law. She praised him as a friend to men of letters and a scholar besides.
I accepted the portrait at once and behaved accordingly.
Yet he did not appear to me quite as lively as a young man on the eve of marrying so lovely a girl as Angelique ought to have been.
But he had plenty of good-nature and plenty of money, and these are better than learning and gallantry.
As we were on the point of entering the carriages, the advocate told me that he would ride with me, while the three ladies were to go with Don Francisco in the other.
I answered at once that he must keep Don Francisco company, and that I claimed the privilege of attending Donna Cecilia. To have arranged it otherwise, I said, would have been to dishonour myself.
I then offered my arm to the handsome widow, who thought the arrangement according to the rules of etiquette and good breeding.
An approving look of my Lucrezia gave me the most agreeable sensation.
Yet the advocate's proposal had chilled me. It did not agree with the tone he had taken with me a few days before, when he had spoken more freely in my room.
"Has he become jealous?" I said to myself.
The thought irritated me for a moment, but I resolved to cure him of it before the day was over.
That resolution restored my good humour, and I showed Donna Cecilia the liveliest attention.
We lunched, we walked, and the hours slipped away more agreeably than I had hoped. I was cheerful throughout, and my love for Lucrezia was not once spoken.
I was all attention to her mother.
I turned now and then toward Lucrezia but I took care never to address a word to the advocate, feeling this the best way to show him that he had insulted me.
As we prepared to return, the advocate carried Donna Cecilia off and placed her in the carriage where Angelique and Don Francisco were already seated.
Scarcely able to control my delight, I offered my arm to Donna Lucrezia, and paid her some absurd compliment which she received with a smile.
The advocate laughed aloud. He seemed to enjoy the trick he imagined he had played me.
How many things we might have said to each other before giving ourselves up to the material enjoyment of our love, had not the instants been so precious!
But, aware that we had only half an hour before us, we were sparing of the minutes.
We were absorbed in voluptuous pleasure when suddenly Lucrezia exclaimed, "Oh! dear, how unhappy we are!"
She pressed me back, drew herself together, and at that very instant the carriage stopped. The servant opened the door.
"What is the matter?" I enquired.
"We are at home," she said.
Whenever I recollect the circumstance, it seems to me fabulous, for it is not possible to annihilate time, and the horses were regular old screws.
But we were lucky all through.
We were served by darkness, by chance, and by the slow descent of the steps. Lucrezia was on the right side, and so alighted first.
The advocate was already at the door before the footman had done his duty, but nothing was lost by it.
I remained at Donna Cecilia's until midnight.
When I returned home, I went to bed, but sleep would not come.
The fire that had been kindled in me on the road from Testaccio to Rome had not been restored to its proper place.
It consumed me instead.
Oh! unhappy are those who believe that the pleasures of Cythera are worth having, unless they are enjoyed in the most perfect accord by two hearts overflowing with love!
I rose only in time for my French lesson.
My master had a daughter named Barbara, a pretty girl who never failed to be present when I came.
More than once she took the trouble to correct me herself, and she did it with more exactitude than her father.
Among the other pupils there was a young man of agreeable looks who was paying court to her. I soon perceived that she loved him.
He often came to see me, and I took a liking to him. His reserve pleased me most.
I had made him confess his love for Barbara, yet whenever I touched the subject again he turned aside with a modesty that did him credit.
I respected that silence and left him in peace for several days.
Then, all at once, his visits ceased. He no longer came to me, nor to the teacher. Barbara disappeared from my lessons.
I felt some curiosity to know what had happened, although it was not, after all, any concern of mine.
A few days later, as I was coming from church, I met him on the quay. I reproached him for keeping away from us all.
He answered with tears in his eyes that he had been struck by a misfortune so great it had unsettled his mind and left him near despair.
When I turned to leave him, he seized my arm. I told him plainly that he could not remain my friend unless he opened his heart to me.
He led me into one of the cloisters and there told me everything.
"I have loved Barbara for the last six months, and for three months she has given me indisputable proofs of her affection. Five days ago, we were betrayed by the servant, and the father caught us in a rather delicate position. He left the room without saying one word, and I followed him, thinking of throwing myself at his feet; but, as I appeared before him, he took hold of me by the arm, pushed me roughly to the door, and forbade me ever to present myself again at his house. I cannot claim her hand in marriage, because one of my brothers is married, and my father is not rich; I have no profession, and my mistress has nothing. Alas, now that I have confessed all to you, tell me, I entreat you, how she is. I am certain that she is as miserable as I am myself. I cannot manage to get a letter delivered to her, for she does not leave the house, even to attend church. Unhappy wretch! What shall I do?"
I could only pity him. As a man of honour, it was impossible for me to interfere in such a business.
I told him that I had not seen Barbara for five days, and not knowing what wiser comfort to offer, I gave him the advice which is tendered by all fools under similar circumstances.
I advised him to forget his mistress.
By then we had reached the quay of Ripetta. I saw that he was casting dark looks toward the Tiber, and I feared that sorrow, if left to itself, might tempt him to some foolish violence against his own life.
So I promised to inquire discreetly of the father and to let him know everything I learned.
He felt quieted by my promise, and entreated me not to forget him.
In spite of the fire which had been raging through my veins ever since the excursion to Testaccio, I had not seen my Lucrezia for four days.
I dreaded Father Georgi's gentle gravity, and I feared still more that he might have resolved to give me no further counsel.
But, unable to resist my desires, I called upon Lucrezia after my French lesson.
I found her alone, sad and dispirited.
"Ah!" she exclaimed, as soon as I was by her side, "I think you might find time to come and see me!"
"My beloved one," I answered, "it is not that I cannot find time, but I am so jealous of my love that I would rather die than let it be known publicly. I have been thinking of inviting you all to dine with me at Frascati. I will send you a phaeton, and I trust that some lucky accident will smile upon our love."
She brightened at once.
"Oh! yes, do, dearest! I am sure your invitation will be accepted."
A quarter of an hour later, the rest of the family came in.
I repeated my invitation for the following Sunday, which happened to be the festival of Saint Ursula, the patroness of Lucrezia's youngest sister. I asked Donna Cecilia to bring the girl and her son as well.
The proposal was readily accepted.
I promised that the phaeton would be at Donna Cecilia's door at seven, and that I would come myself in a carriage for two.