ated for a young man on the
point of marrying such a pretty girl as Angelique. But he had plenty of
good-nature and plenty of money, and these are better than learning and
gallantry.

As we were ready to get into the carriages, the advocate told me that he
would ride with me in my carriage, and that the three ladies would go
with Don Francisco in the other. I answered at once that he ought to keep
Don Francisco company, and that I claimed the privilege of taking care of
Donna Cecilia, adding that I should feel dishonoured if things were
arranged differently. Thereupon I offered my arm to the handsome widow,
who thought the arrangement according to the rules of etiquette and good
breeding, and an approving look of my Lucrezia gave me the most agreeable
sensation. Yet the proposal of the advocate struck me somewhat
unpleasantly, because it was in contradiction with his former behaviour,
and especially with what he had said to me in my room a few days before.
"Has he become jealous?" I said to myself; that would have made me almost
angry, but the hope of bringing him round during our stay at Testaccio
cleared away the dark cloud on my mind, and I was very amiable to Donna
Cecilia. What with lunching and walking we contrived to pass the
afternoon very pleasantly; I was very gay, and my love for Lucrezia was
not once mentioned; I was all attention to her mother. I occasionally
addressed myself to Lucrezia, but not once to the advocate, feeling this
the best way to shew him that he had insulted me.

As we prepared to return, the advocate carried off Donna Cecilia and went
with her to the carriage in which were already seated Angelique and Don
Francisco. Scarcely able to control my delight, I offered my arm to Donna
Lucrezia, paying her some absurd compliment, while the advocate laughed
outright, and seemed to enjoy the trick he imagined he had played me.

How many things we might have said to each other before giving ourselves
up to the material enjoyment of our love, had not the instants been so
precious! But, aware that we had only half an hour before us, we were
sparing of the minutes. We were absorbed in voluptuous pleasure when
suddenly Lucrezia exclaims,---

"Oh! dear, how unhappy we are!"

She pushes me back, composes herself, the carriage stops, and the servant
opens the door. "What is the matter?" I enquire. "We are at home."
Whenever I recollect the circumstance, it seems to me fabulous, for it is
not possible