i now lived there; but, as often happens after such
separations, the reunion was a disappointment. Alfieri, indeed, warmly
welcomed his friend; but he was engrossed in his dawning passion for the
Countess of Albany, and that lady's pitiable situation excluded all
other interests from his mind. To Odo, to whom the years had brought an
increasing detachment, this self-absorption seemed an arrest in growth;
for Alfieri's early worship of liberty had not yet found its destined
channel of expression, and for the moment his enthusiasms had shrunk to
the compass of a romantic adventure. The friends parted after a few days
of unsatisfying intercourse; and it was under the influence of this
final disenchantment that Odo set out for Venice.

It was the vintage season, and the travellers descended from the
Apennines on a landscape diversified by the picturesque incidents of the
grape-gathering. On every slope stood some villa with awnings spread,
and merry parties were picnicking among the vines or watching the
peasants at their work. Cantapresto, who had shown great reluctance at
leaving Monte Alloro, where, as he declared, he found himself as snug as
an eel in a pasty, was now all eagerness to press forward; and Odo was
in the mood to allow any influence to decide his course. He had an
invaluable courier in Cantapresto, whose enormous pretensions generally
assured him the best lodging and the fastest conveyance to be obtained,
and who was never happier than when outwitting a rival emissary, or
bribing a landlord to serve up on Odo's table the repast ordered in
advance for some distinguished traveller. His impatience to reach
Venice, which he described as the scene of all conceivable delights, had
on this occasion tripled his zeal, and they travelled rapidly to Padua,
where he had engaged a burchiello for the passage down the Brenta. Here,
however, he found he had been outdone at his own game; for the servant
of an English Duke had captured the burchiello and embarked his noble
party before Cantapresto reached the wharf. This being the season of the
villeggiatura, when the Venetian nobility were exchanging visits on the
mainland, every conveyance was in motion and no other boat to be had for
a week; while as for the "bucentaur" or public bark, which was just then
getting under way, it was already packed to the gunwale with Jews,
pedlars and such vermin, and the captain swore by the three thousand
relics of Saint Justina that he ha