dividing its garden from the back wall of another palace
(as I remember, one of the Durazzi). Halfway up this lane a narrow
door broke the wall of the Palazzo Verde's garden. I had tried this
door, and found it locked.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, as I turned into this lane, a
middle-aged man met and passed me at the entrance, walking in a
hurry. I had no proof that he came from the garden-door of the
Palazzo Verde, but I thought it worthwhile to turn and follow him;
which I did, keeping at a distance, until he entered a goldsmith's
shop in the Strada Nuova, where presently, through the pane, I saw
him talking with a customer across the counter. I retraced my steps
to the lane. The door (needless to say) was closed; but behind it,
not far within the garden, I heard a gentle persistent tapping, as of
a hammer, and wondered what it might mean.

It spoke eloquently for the Prince Camillo's zest after pleasure that
he pursued it abroad in spite of the weather, which was abominable.
A searching mistral blew through the streets for four days, parching
the blood, and on the night of the fourth rose to something like a
hurricane. Our players fought their way against it to the theatre,
only to find it empty; and returned in the lowest of spirits.
The pretty Bianca was especially disconsolate.

Before dawn the gale dropped, and between eleven o'clock and noon, in
a flat calm, the snow began, freezing as it fell.

The Prince Camillo did not show himself in the streets that day.
But towards dusk, as we passed down the Via Roma, he drove by in an
improvised sleigh with bells jingling on the necks of his horses.
He was bound for the theatre, which stood at the head of the street.
The Princess turned with me, and we were in time to see him alight
and run up the steps, radiant, wrapped in furs, and carrying a great
bouquet of pink roses, such as grow in the Genoese gardens throughout
the winter.

But it appeared that, if we kept good watch on him, others had been
keeping better; for, five minutes later, as we stood debating whether
to follow him into the theatre, Marc'antonio and Stephanu emerged
from its portico and came towards us.

"O Princess," said Marc'antonio, "we have seen him at length and had
word with him. When we told him that you were here in Genoa, he
looked at us for a moment like a man distraught--did he not,
Stephanu?"

"One would have said he was going to faint," Stephanu corroborated.

"I t