ne
evening, on their arrival from Genoa. He wanted me to hear her recite a
passage from some tragedy, in order that I might form an estimate of her
manner, her talent, and her disposition. I saw at once that she was a
young woman of fine figure, though her pregnancy took off from its
appearance. Her face was pitted with the small-pox; but this did not
prevent it from being theatrically effective at a distance. The
abundance of her beautiful blonde hair made up for some defects of
feature. Her clothes, which betrayed a scanty purse, were well put on;
and she carried them with such an air and grace that no one stopped to
think whether they were of silk or wool, new or worn. She seemed to be
somewhat constrained by the unfamiliar society in which she found
herself. I could not make my mind up whether her reserve and shyness
were the result of timidity or cunning. Yet I detected in her something
of habitual impatience. She chafed because her husband did her little
honour in our conversation. He, good man, slept sweetly, in spite of the
clandestine nudges which she gave him.

She recited the fragment of a tragic scene in verse, with a fine and
powerful voice, sound sense, intelligence, and a fire which gave good
hopes of her in her profession, especially in fierce vituperative parts.
I noticed a trifle of hardness and monotony in her declamation, and some
other defects which could be remedied. One incurable fault she had; this
was the movement of her lips, which often amounted to what is called
making a wry face. Her mouth, not small by nature, had been relaxed and
ravaged at its angles by the small-pox, so that the poor young woman
could not overcome the involuntary fault of which I speak. I must add a
physiological observation I have made, which bears upon this point. When
we feel disgust for any object disagreeable to our senses, we naturally
express it by a writhing of the mouth. The Ricci, through prejudice, or
through something proud and wayward in her temper, was always hearing
and seeing things which she felt nauseous and repulsive, and this
repugnance stamped itself upon her features in a contortion of the lips.
Enforcing and stereotyping the physical blemish in question, it
became an ineradicable habit, or rather second nature.

[Illustration: THE RICCI RECITES BEFORE GOZZI AND SACCHI

_Original Etching by Ad. Lalauze_]

When the trial-piece was finished, I paid her some deserved compliments,
and sought to insp