ancesca which, since the
evening before, had been floating vaguely through my mind, haunted me
with strange persistency. I thought of her nearly the whole night, and
by degrees the wish to see her again seized me, a confused desire at
first, which gradually grew stronger and more intense. At last I made
up my mind to spend the next day in Genoa to try to find her, and if I
should not succeed, to take the evening train.

Early in the morning I set out on my search. I remembered the directions
she had given me when she left me, perfectly--Victor-Emmanuel Street,
house of the furniture-dealer, at the bottom of the yard on the right.

I found it without the least difficulty, and I knocked at the door of a
somewhat dilapidated-looking dwelling. It was opened by a stout woman,
who must have been very handsome, but who actually was only very dirty.
Although she had too much embonpoint, she still bore the lines of
majestic beauty; her untidy hair fell over her forehead and shoulders,
and one fancied one could see her floating about in an enormous
dressing-gown covered with spots of dirt and grease. Round her neck she
wore a great gilt necklace, and on her wrists were splendid bracelets of
Genoa filigree work.

In rather a hostile manner she asked me what I wanted, and I replied by
requesting her to tell me whether Francesca Rondoli lived there.

"What do you want with her?" she asked.

"I had the pleasure of meeting her last year, and I should like to see
her again."

The old woman looked at me suspiciously.

"Where did you meet her?" she asked.

"Why, here in Genoa itself."

"What is your name?"

I hesitated a moment, and then I told her. I had hardly done so when the
Italian put out her arms as if to embrace me. "Oh! you are the Frenchman
how glad I am to see you! But what grief you caused the poor child! She
waited for you a month; yes, a whole month. At first she thought you
would come to fetch her. She wanted to see whether you loved her. If you
only knew how she cried when she saw that you were not coming! She cried
till she seemed to have no tears left. Then she went to the hotel, but
you had gone. She thought that most likely you were travelling in Italy,
and that you would return by Genoa to fetch her, as she would not go
with you. And she waited more than a month, monsieur; and she was so
unhappy; so unhappy. I am her mother."

I really felt a little disconcerted, but I regained my self-possession,
and a