ions. Youth and
vitality were restored. I was again able to enjoy the beauties of
nature, and my taste for the fine arts, which had been awakened by my
former journeys through France and Germany and now found ample food in
Venice and Milan, whither I at first directed my steps, intending to
proceed southwards by slow journies.

Above all I was impatient to reach Florence. The marvels I expected to
find there caused me to look with indifference on the many beauties of
art which I met with on my way thither. Thus I reserved only one day
for Bologna, where I took a hasty survey of the churches and galleries
in the morning, and in the afternoon I drove out to the old convent of
St. Michele at Bosco, in order to quiet my conscience by obtaining a
complete view of the wonderful old town from the summit of the hill.

It was one of the hottest days in midsummer, and though I am generally
little affected by any temperature, yet the suffocating air on that
occasion completely overpowered and exhausted me. The road which leads
from St. Michele back to the town was entirely deserted. Above the
walls of the gardens the trees and bushes projected their dusty boughs.
The wheels of the carriage sank deeply into the burning sand. The
coachman drowsily nodded on his seat, and with difficulty kept his
balance. The tired horse crawled with drooping head and ears along the
edge of the road, in the hope of enjoying the scanty shade which now
and then was cast across it by a villa, or a garden-wall. I had
stretched out my weary limbs along the back seat of the carriage, and
after forming a tent above my head by means of my umbrella I fell into
a dose.

Suddenly I was roused from my repose by a rough blow on my face, as if
some overhanging bough had grazed me as I passed. I started up, and
looking around, discovered a blooming spray of pomegranate lying beside
me. Evidently it had been thrown at me over the neighbouring wall. The
movement I had made seemed to be a signal to the horse to stop. The
coachman quietly slept on, so I had ample leisure to examine the spot
from whence the branch had been thrown at me. I did so all the more
carefully that I had heard from behind the high garden wall a
suppressed girlish titter at the success of the merry trick. I was not
deceived; after waiting a few moments, standing upright in the
carriage, and stedfastly gazing at the wall, I perceived a curly head
shaded by a large florentine straw hat, arise fr