ion while he
execrated the Revolution with the whole force of his traditional
instincts. As usual he was too deeply engrossed in his own affairs to
feel much interest in any others; but it was enough for Odo to clasp the
hand of the man who had given a voice to the highest aspirations of his
countrymen. The poet gave more than he could expect from the friend; and
he was satisfied to listen to Alfieri's account of his triumphs,
interspersed with bitter diatribes against the public whose applause he
courted, and the Pope to whom, on bended knee, he had offered a copy of
his plays.

Odo eagerly pressed Alfieri to remain in Pianura, offering to put one of
the ducal villas at his disposal, and suggesting that the Virginia
should be performed before the court on the Duchess's birthday.

"It is true," he said, "that we can offer you but an indifferent company
of actors; but it might be possible to obtain one or two of the leading
tragedians from Turin or Milan, so that the principal parts should at
least be worthily filled."

Alfieri replied with a contemptuous gesture. "Your Highness, our leading
tragedians are monkeys trained to dance to the tune of Goldoni and
Metastasio. The best are no better than the worst. We have no tragedians
in Italy because--hitherto--we have had no tragic dramatist." He drew
himself up and thrust a hand in his bosom. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "if I
could see the part of Virginia acted by the lady who recently recited,
before a small company in Milan, my Odes to Free America! There indeed
were fire, sublimity and passion! And the countenance had not lost its
freshness, the eye its lustre. But," he suddenly added, "your Highness
knows of whom I speak. The lady is Fulvia Vivaldi, the daughter of the
philosopher at whose feet we sat in our youth."

Fulvia Vivaldi! Odo raised his head with a start. She had left Geneva
then, had returned to Italy. The Alps no longer divided them--a scant
day's journey would bring him to her side! It was strange how the mere
thought seemed to fill the room with her presence. He felt her in the
quickened beat of his pulses, in the sudden lightness of the air, in a
lifting and widening of the very bounds of thought.

From Alfieri he learned that she had lived for some months in the
household of the distinguished naturalist, Count Castiglione, with whose
daughter's education she was charged. In such surroundings her wit and
learning could not fail to attract the best company