in creature, by this young man who, even in his
weaknesses, has a certain heroic air about him. It was necessary to
break through the bonds of unworthy love. Unable to trust any longer to
his often baffled resolution and self-command, Alfieri devised a
primitive and theatrical remedy too much in harmony with his whole
nature to be otherwise than efficacious. The lady occupied a house in
the great rococo square of San Carlo, opposite to the one which he
rented; she could not go in or out of her door without being seen by
Alfieri, and the sight of her was too much for him: he invariably broke
all his resolves and went across the square to his Armida. Knowing this,
Alfieri obliged a friend of his to receive from him a solemn written
promise to the effect that he would not merely never go to the lady, nor
take any notice of her messages, but that, until he felt himself
absolutely indifferent and beyond her reach, he would go out only in
solitary places and at unlikely hours, and spend the greater part of the
day seated at his window looking at her house, seeing her pass, hearing
her spoken of, receiving her letters, without ever approaching her
or sending her the smallest message. As a pledge of this engagement,
Alfieri cut off his long red hair, and sent the plait to his friend,
leaving himself in a state of crop-headedness, which made it utterly
impossible, in that day when wigs had been given up but short hair had
not yet been adopted, for him to appear anywhere. And then he had
himself tied to his chair with ropes hidden under his cloak, and spent
day after day looking at his mistress' windows, quite unable to read a
word or attend to conversation, raging and sobbing and howling like a
demoniac, but never asking to be untied; until, at the end of a
fortnight or three weeks, he was rewarded, most characteristically, by
being at once delivered of all love for his lady, and inspired with the
idea for a sonnet.

Alfieri worked harder and harder at his Latin and Italian lessons,
sketched out the plan of several plays: and, then, in the early summer
of 1776, got together his horses, procured a permission to travel from
the King of Sardinia, and set out for Tuscany in order to learn the
language in which he was to achieve that great literary glory to which
he had dedicated his life.

CHAPTER VII.

THE CAVALIERE SERVENTE.

Alfieri's greatest terror in life was to fall in love once more. All his
love affairs had bee