The little studies for his
comfort, the small cares entailed upon me during the too brief days and
weeks when his precious life was partly entrusted to my care, might seem
to count for little in an existence far removed from that of an ordinary
man; yet, as a fact, he was glad and grateful for the smallest attention.
He was appreciative of all things. He never regarded gratitude as a
burden, as less generous minds are apt to do," continued Mrs. Bronson.

[Illustration: MRS. ARTHUR BRONSON

From a painting by Ellen Montalba, in Asolo

In the possession of Editta, Contessa Rucellai (_nee_ Bronson),
Palazzo Rucellai, Florence.]

One of his greatest enjoyments in Venice was to wander with Edith Bronson
through the Venetian _calli_. "Edith is the best cicerone in the world,"
he would remark; "she knows everything and teaches me all she knows. There
never was such a guide." The young girl indeed knew her Venice as a
devotee knows his illuminated missal, and her lovely vivacity and
sweetness must have invested her presence with the same charm that is felt
to-day in the Contessa Rucellai, in her Florentine palace, for Miss
Bronson, it may be said _en passant_, became the wife of one of the most
eminent Italian nobles, the Rucellai holding peculiar claim to distinction
even among the princely houses of Florence.

From these gondola excursions they always returned about five, and
sometimes the poet would join the group around Mrs. Bronson's tea-table,
conversing with equal facility in French, German, or Italian, and to their
delight would say, "Edith, dear, you may give me a cup of tea." But as a
rule he considered this beverage as too unhygienic at that hour, and
whenever with an "Excuse me, please," he sought his own apartments, he was
never questioned for his reasons. "It was enough that he wished it," said
his hostess. He and Miss Browning always appeared promptly for dinner,
which was at half-past seven in Casa Alvisi. The poet was scrupulous about
his evening dress; and Miss Browning, Mrs. Bronson relates, was habitually
clad "in rich gowns of a somber tint, with quaint, antique jewels, and
each day with a different French cap of daintiest make."

The evenings seem to have been idyllic. Browning would often read aloud,
and he loved to improvise on an old spinnet standing in a dim recess in
one of the salons. The great Venetian families were usually in
_villeggiatura_ at the time when Browning was in Venice, so