s to bring me the title of an abbe. With the
advent of the carnival I had assumed the black dress and the short silk
coat of an abbate, and had become a new and happier person. For the
first time I took part in the jollities of the carnival, and at the end
of the first day again came across Bernardo, who insisted upon taking me
to the opera to hear a new prima donna who had turned everybody's heart
at Naples. Rumour had not belied her. Her appearance was greeted with
rapturous applause. Bernardo seized my arm; he had recognised in her his
Jewish maiden, just as I was about to exclaim, "It is she!"--the lovely
child who had preached that Christmas at Ara Coeli. There were endless
calls for "Annunciata" when the curtain fell; flowers and garlands were
thrown at her feet, and among them a little poem which I had written
under the inspiration of her exquisite voice. With a crowd of
enthusiasts, we hurried to the stage-door, took the horses from her
carriage, and conducted her in triumph to her apartments.

Bernardo, who, bolder than I, had called on Annunciata, brought me to
her the next day. She was friendly, brilliant in her conversation, and
appeared deeply impressed with my improvisation on "Immortality"--the
immortality first of eternal Rome, and then of the fair singer's art--to
which I was pressed when Bernardo let out the secret of my gift.

"You have given me the sincerest pleasure," she said, and looked
confidingly into my eyes. I ventured to kiss her hand. After that I saw
her every day during the gay carnival, and was more and more captivated
by her charm.

Annunciata left Rome on Ash Wednesday, and with her the brightness
seemed to have gone completely out of my life, my only pleasure being
the recollection of those happy days of the carnival.

_III.--Love and Adventure in Rome_

I saw Annunciata again when Rome had begun to fill with Easter visitors,
and had the happiness of dining with her the same day. She told me that,
although born in Spain, she had been, as a child, in Rome; that it was
she who preached that day at Ara Coeli, "an orphan, who would have
perished of hunger had not a despised Jew given it shelter and food
until it could flutter forth over the wild, restless sea." Next day I
showed her over the Borghese gallery; and on the day before Easter we
drove out to see the procession which initiated the Easter festival, and
in the evening to Monte Mario to see the illuminations of St. Peter's-