aving employed the morning of the following day in completing my round
of sights at Venice,--taking care to visit specially "that picture by
Giorgione," to which the poet's exclamation, "_such_ a woman!"[55] will
long continue to attract all votaries of beauty,--I took my departure
from Venice, and, at about three o'clock, arrived at La Mira. I found my
noble host waiting to receive me, and, in passing with him through the
hall, saw his little Allegra, who, with her nursery maid, was standing
there as if just returned from a walk. To the perverse fancy he had for
falsifying his own character, and even imputing to himself faults the
most alien to his nature, I have already frequently adverted, and had,
on this occasion, a striking instance of it. After I had spoken a
little, in passing, to the child, and made some remark on its beauty, he
said to me,--"Have you any notion--but I suppose _you_ have--of what
they call the parental feeling? For myself, I have not the least." And
yet, when that child died, in a year or two afterwards, he who now
uttered this artificial speech was so overwhelmed by the event, that
those who were about him at the time actually trembled for his reason!

A short time before dinner he left the room, and in a minute or two
returned, carrying in his hand a white leather bag. "Look here," he
said, holding it up--"this would be worth something to Murray, though
_you_, I dare say, would not give sixpence for it."--"What is it?" I
asked.--"My Life and Adventures," he answered. On hearing this, I raised
my hands in a gesture of wonder. "It is not a thing," he continued,
"that can be published during my lifetime, but you may have it--if you
like--there, do whatever you please with it." In taking the bag, and
thanking him most warmly, I added, "This will make a nice legacy for my
little Tom, who shall astonish the latter days of the nineteenth century
with it." He then added, "You may show it to any of our friends you
think worthy of it:"--and this is, nearly word for word, the whole of
what passed between us on the subject.

At dinner we were favoured with the presence of Madame Guiccioli, who
was so obliging as to furnish me, at Lord Byron's suggestion, with a
letter of introduction to her brother, Count Gamba, whom it was
probable, they both thought, I should meet at Rome. This letter I never
had an opportunity of presenting; and as it was left open for me to
read, and was, the greater part of it, I ha