whereby that sum would go to her after your death."

"I give you my word on it."

"That is enough; but I have one other condition to make."

"Say on."

"It is that you promise to say nothing to Agatha before my departure."

"I swear I will not."

"Very good; and on my part I promise to prepare her for the change:"

The same day the Englishman, whose love grew hotter and hotter, made
Agatha and her mother rich presents, which under any other circumstances
I should not have allowed them to accept.

I lost no time in preparing Agatha and her mother for the impending
change. They seemed affected, but I knew they would soon get reconciled
to the situation. Far from giving me any cause for complaint, Agatha was
more affectionate than ever. She listened attentively to my advice as to
her conduct towards her new lover and the world in general, and promised
to follow it. It was to this advice that she owed her happiness, for
Percy made her fortune. However, she did not leave the theatre for some
years, when we shall hear more of her.

I was not the man to take presents from my equals, and Percy no doubt
being aware of that succeeded in making me a handsome present in a very
singular way. I told him that I thought of paying a visit to England and
requested him to give me a letter of introduction to the duchess, his
mother, whereon he drew out a portrait of her set with magnificent
diamonds, and gave it to me, saying,--

"This is the best letter I can give you. I will write and tell her that
you will call and give her the portrait, unless, indeed, she likes to
leave it in your hands."

"I hope my lady will think me worthy of such an honour."

There are certain ideas, it seems to me, which enter no head but an
Englishman's.

I was invited by Count A---- B---- to Milan, and the countess wrote me a
charming letter, begging me to get her two pieces of sarcenet, of which
she enclosed the patterns.

After taking leave of all my friends and acquaintances I got a letter of
credit on the banker, Greppi, and started for the capital of Lombardy.

My separation from Agatha cost me many tears, but not so many as those
shed by her. Her mother wept also, for she loved me, and was grateful for
all my kindness to her daughter. She said again and again that she could
never have borne any rival but her own daughter, while the latter sobbed
out that she wished she had not to part from me.

I did not like Passano, so I sent him to