f she
should not receive him at all! Merciful heavens! What then? The sudden
ringing of the sixteen hoofs on a paved way set his heart to beating.
However, it was not yet the streets of Lodi, but those of Melegnano.

He reached Lodi at about nine o'clock, and got out at the Albergo del
Sole, where they gave him a room without fire or sun. Not daring to
brave either the fog in the street or the fumes in the kitchen, he
decided to go to bed, and putting on his night-cap, which was acquainted
with all his woes, he waited, a camphor cigarette between his lips, for
the coming of noon and a happy thought.

* * * * *

At one o'clock he ascended the steps of the Palazzo X. with the wise
determination to carefully forget all the speeches he had prepared, and
to trust to the inspiration of the moment. A footman in a white tie
ushered him into a large, dark apartment, with a brick floor, walls hung
with yellow silk, and a stuccoed ceiling, and having bowed respectfully,
went away. A few antique, white and gilt armchairs covered with red
damask stood in a semicircle before the fireplace, where three or four
enormous logs were burning slowly, behind the brass fender. The air was
laden with the mixed odours of ancient mould, ancient cakes, ancient
stuffs, ancient leather, and decrepit ideas, the whole forming a subtle
essence of old age enough to shrivel the very soul.

The servant reappeared and announced, to Gilardoni's utter confusion,
the imminent arrival of the Signora Marchesa. He waited and waited, and
at last a great door, ornamented with gilding, swung open, a little
moving bell tinkled, Friend trotted in, sniffing the floor to right and
left, and was followed by a great bell-shaped mass of black silk, under
a small cupola of white lace, while, between two blue ribbons, appeared
the black wig, the marble brow, the lifeless eyes of the Marchesa
herself.

"What miracle! The Professor in Lodi!" said the drowsy voice, while the
small dog sniffed at the Professor's boots. Gilardoni made a low bow,
and the lady, who might have been the jar containing the essence of old
age, seated herself on one of the chairs near the fire, and installed
her lap-dog on another; after which she motioned to Gilardoni to be
seated also. "I suppose," said she, "that you have some relative at the
convent of the 'Dame Inglese'?"

"No," the Professor replied, "I have not."

Sometimes the Marchesa was facetious in he