obliged, in future, to
make mention of his illegitimate birth, or of the obtained dispensation.
It appears from these letters that the mother of John was not married.
He left his son at Verona under the tuition of Rinaldo di Villa Franca.
Before he had left Provence in this year, for the purpose of visiting
Italy, he had announced his intention to the Pope, who wished to retain
him as an honour to his court, and offered him his choice of several
church preferments. But our poet, whose only wish was to obtain some
moderate benefice that would leave him independent and at liberty,
declined his Holiness's _vague_ offers. If we consider that Petrarch
made no secret of his good wishes for Rienzo, it may seem surprisingly
creditable to the Pontiff's liberality that he should have even
_professed_ any interest in the poet's fortune; but in a letter to his
friend Socrates, Petrarch gives us to understand that he thought the
Pope's professions were merely verbal. He says: "To hold out treasures
to a man who demands a small sum is but a polite mode of refusal." In
fact, the Pope offered him _some_ bishopric, knowing that he wanted
only _some_ benefice that should be a sinecure.

If it be asked what determined him now to leave Avignon, the
counter-question may be put, what detained him so long from Italy? It
appears that he had never parted with his house and garden at Parma; he
hated everything in Avignon excepting Laura; and of the solitude of
Vaucluse he was, in all probability, already weary.

Before he left Avignon, he went to take leave of Laura. He found her at
an assembly which she often frequented. "She was seated," he says,
"among those ladies who are generally her companions, and appeared like
a beautiful rose surrounded with flowers smaller and less blooming." Her
air was more touching than usual. She was dressed perfectly plain, and
without pearls or garlands, or any gay colour. Though she was not
melancholy, she did not appear to have her wonted cheerfulness, but was
serious and thoughtful. She did not sing, as usual, nor speak with that
voice which used to charm every one. She had the air of a person who
fears an evil not yet arrived. "In taking leave of her," says Petrarch,
"I sought in her looks for a consolation of my own sufferings. Her eyes
had an expression which I had never seen in them before. What I saw in
her face seemed to predict the sorrows that threatened me."

This was the last meeting that Petrarch