they
lived together again; he not only became more disgusted than
before, but he had in the meantime formed a _liaison_ at Milan
with a very distinguished woman there, once a magnificent beauty,
but now as old and as large as his own wife, and to her he was
very anxious to return. This was Madame Visconti (mother of the
notorious Princess Belgioso), who, though no longer young, had
fine remains of good looks, and was eminently pleasing and
attractive. Accordingly, St. Antonio took occasion to elope (by
himself) from some party of pleasure at which he was present with
his spouse, and when she found that he had gone off without
notice or warning, she first fell into violent fits of grief,
which were rather ludicrous than affecting, and then set off in
pursuit of her faithless lord. She got to Dover, where the sight
of the rolling billows terrified her so much, that, after three
days of doubt whether she should cross the water or not, she
resolved to return, and weep away her vexation in London. Not
long afterwards, however, she plucked up courage, and taking
advantage of a smooth sea she ventured over the Straits, and set
off for Milan, if not to recover her fugitive better half, at all
events to terrify her rival and disturb their joys. The advent of
the Cannizzaro woman was to the Visconti like the irruption of
the Huns of old. She fled to a villa near Milan, which she
proceeded to garrison and fortify, but finding that the other was
not provided with any implements for a siege, and did not stir
from Milan, she ventured to return to the city, and for some time
these ancient heroines drove about the town glaring defiance and
hate at each other, which was the whole amount of the hostilities
that took place between them. Finding her husband was
irrecoverable, she at length got tired of the hopeless pursuit,
and resolved to return home, and console herself with her music
and whatever other gratifications she could command. Not long
after, she fell in love with a fiddler at a second-rate theatre
in Milan, and carried him off to England, which he found, if not
the most agreeable, the most profitable business he could engage
in. The affair was singular and curious, as showing what society
may be induced to put up with. There was not the slightest
attempt to conceal this connexion; on the contrary it was most
ostentatiously exhibited to the world, but the world agreed to
treat it as a joke, and do nothing but laugh at it. The