head."

CHAPTER VI

My Grandmother's Death and Its Consequences I Lose M. de
Malipiero's Friendship--I Have No Longer a Home--
La Tintoretta--I Am Sent to a Clerical Seminary--I Am Expelled
From It, and Confined in a Fortress

During supper the conversation turned altogether upon the storm, and the
official, who knew the weakness of his wife, told me that he was quite
certain I would never travel with her again. "Nor I with him," his wife
remarked, "for, in his fearful impiety, he exorcised the lightning with
jokes."

Henceforth she avoided me so skilfully that I never could contrive
another interview with her.

When I returned to Venice I found my grandmother ill, and I had to change
all my habits, for I loved her too dearly not to surround her with every
care and attention; I never left her until she had breathed her last. She
was unable to leave me anything, for during her life she had given me all
she could, and her death compelled me to adopt an entirely different mode
of life.

A month after her death, I received a letter from my mother informing me
that, as there was no probability of her return to Venice, she had
determined to give up the house, the rent of which she was still paying,
that she had communicated her intention to the Abbe Grimani, and that I
was to be guided entirely by his advice.

He was instructed to sell the furniture, and to place me, as well as my
brothers and my sister, in a good boarding-house. I called upon Grimani
to assure him of my perfect disposition to obey his commands.

The rent of the house had been paid until the end of the year; but, as I
was aware that the furniture would be sold on the expiration of the term,
I placed my wants under no restraint. I had already sold some linen, most
of the china, and several tapestries; I now began to dispose of the
mirrors, beds, etc. I had no doubt that my conduct would be severely
blamed, but I knew likewise that it was my father's inheritance, to which
my mother had no claim whatever, and, as to my brothers, there was plenty
of time before any explanation could take place between us.

Four months afterwards I had a second letter from my mother, dated from
Warsaw, and enclosing another. Here is the translation of my mother's
letter:

"My dear son, I have made here the acquaintance of a learned Minim friar,
a Calabrian by birth, whose great qualities have made me think of you
every time he has honoured me