everyone was waiting to see
me off, but my eyes filled with tears. I sought for Clementine in vain;
she had vanished. I pretended to have forgotten something in my room, and
going to my Hebe's chamber I found her in a terrible state, choking with
sobs. I pressed her to my breast, and mingled my tears with hers; and
then laying her gently in her bed, and snatching a last kiss from her
trembling lips, I tore myself away from a place full of such sweet and
agonizing memories.

I thanked and embraced everyone, the good canon amongst others, and
whispering to Eleanore to see to her sister I jumped into the carriage
beside the count. We remained perfectly silent, and slept nearly the
whole of the way. We found the Marquis Triulzi and the countess together,
and the former immediately sent for a dinner for four. I was not much
astonished to find that the countess had found out about our being at
Milan, and at first she seemed inclined to let us feel the weight of her
anger; but the count, always fertile in expedients, told her that it was
delicacy on my part not to tell her, as I was afraid she would be put out
with such an incursion of visitors.

At dinner I said that I should soon be leaving for Genoa, and for my
sorrow the marquis gave me a letter of introduction to the notorious
Signora Isola-Bella, while the countess gave me a letter to her kinsman
the Bishop of Tortona.

My arrival at Milan was well-timed; Therese was on the point of going to
Palermo, and I just succeeded in seeing her before she left. I talked to
her of the wish of Cesarino to go to sea, and I did all in my power to
make her yield to his inclinations.

"I am leaving him at Milan," said she. "I know how he got this idea into
his head, but I will never give my consent. I hope I shall find him wiser
by the time I come back."

She was mistaken. My son never altered his mind, and in fifteen years my
readers will hear more of him.

I settled my accounts with Greppi and took two bills of exchange on
Marseilles, and one of ten thousand francs on Genoa, where I did not
think I would have to spend much money. In spite of my luck at play, I
was poorer by a thousand sequins when I left Milan than when I came
there; but my extravagant expenditure must be taken into account.

I spent all my afternoons with the fair Marchioness sometimes alone and
sometimes with her cousin, but with my mind full of grief for Clementine
she no longer charmed me as she had done t