ing else, and had not heard me.

'Genius _is_ a large word, madame,' I replied. 'But is not that a large
style? Is it not a noble style?'

Cecilia, she allowed, played very finely.

'Finely, madame? 'I respectfully protested--'she should play among the
seraphs. You shall allow me, madame. I am no mean musician. As a critic
I am exact and exacting. Permit me, madame, that I bring my violin, and
play once with Mademoiselle Cecilia.'

She consented. I brought my violin and we played. Cecilia's musical
memory is prodigious. Mine is also retentive and precise. But she had
too much inventive genius for precision, unless the notes were before
her, and sometimes I corrected her. Next, this delicious interlude over,
I begged that the ladies would do me the honour to dine with me.

'You must not be extravagant in your good fortune, signor,' Miss
Grammont said.

'Trust me, madame,' I answered. 'If the day has dawned, I will hasten no
new night and make no artificial curtains.'

Then I went down to paint, and at seven o'clock they joined me at
dinner. The meal was sent in from the famous tavern hard by, and I think
I may say we all enjoyed it. And then came music, and for an hour we
were happy.

CHAPTER III.--AT POSILIPO.

Ay me, for one hour we were happy, and for many hours thereafter. But
when your heart is glad, when you drink the wine of joy, there is Madame
Circumstance keeping the score, and she brings in the bill at the end of
the banquet, and you pay it in coin of sorrow. She is my old enemy, this
Madame Circumstance, as I have told you. It is not always that I can
defy her. Who is it that is always brave? Not I. But I shall be brave
again in the morning, and the battle will begin again, and I shall
win. Pah! I have won already. I have smoked my pipe, and the incense of
victory curls about my head just now, at this moment. There is no friend
like your pipe. None.

Ten minutes ago I was despondent when; I sat down to write. I broke off
and smoked, and I am my own man again. (Regard once more the beautiful
English idiom, and the smiling soul which so soon after battle can take
delight in verbal felicities.)

Now I will go on with my story. It takes a long time to write. It will
be twelve months to-morrow since I last looked at the pages of this
narrative. I may not touch it again after to-day for a year. Who knows?

I went to Mr. Gregory's house in West-bourne Terrace on Friday, and I
continued to go the