CHAPTER I

I Find Rosalie Happy—­The Signora Isola-Bella—­The Cook—­Biribi—­Irene—­Possano in Prison—­My Niece Proves to be an Old Friend of Rosalie’s

At Genoa, where he was known to all, Pogomas called himself Possano.  He introduced me to his wife and daughter, but they were so ugly and disgusting in every respect that I left them on some trifling pretext, and went to dine with my new niece.  Afterwards I went to see the Marquis Grimaldi, for I longed to know what had become of Rosalie.  The marquis was away in Venice, and was not expected back till the end of April; but one of his servants took me to Rosalie, who had become Madame Paretti six months after my departure.

My heart beat fast as I entered the abode of this woman, of whom I had such pleasant recollections.  I first went to M. Paretti in his shop, and he received me with a joyful smile, which shewed me how happy he was.  He took me to his wife directly, who cried out with delight, and ran to embrace me.

M. Paretti was busy, and begged me to excuse him, saying his wife would entertain me.

Rosalie shewed me a pretty little girl of six months old, telling me that she was happy, that she loved her husband, and was loved by him, that he was industrious and active in business, and under the patronage of the Marquis Grimaldi had prospered exceedingly.

The peaceful happiness of marriage had improved her wonderfully; she had become a perfect beauty in every sense of the word.

“My dear friend,” she said, “you are very good to call on me directly you arrive, and I hope you will dine with us to-morrow.  I owe all my happiness to you, and that is even a sweeter thought than the recollection of the passionate hours we have spent together.  Let us kiss, but no more; my duty as an honest wife forbids me from going any further, so do not disturb the happiness you have given.”

I pressed her hand tenderly, to skew that I assented to the conditions she laid down.

“Oh! by the way,” she suddenly exclaimed, “I have a pleasant surprise for you.”

She went out, and a moment afterward returned with Veronique, who had become her maid.  I was glad to see her and embraced her affectionately, asking after Annette.  She said her sister was well, and was working with her mother.

“I want her to come and wait on my niece while we are here,” said I.

At this Rosalie burst out laughing.

“What! another niece?  You have a great many relations!  But as she is your niece, I hope you will bring her with you to-morrow.”

“Certainly, and all the more willingly as she is from Marseilles.”

“From Marseilles?  Why, we might know each other.  Not that that would matter, for all your nieces are discreet young persons.  What is her name?”

“Crosin.”

“I don’t know it.”

“I daresay you don’t.  She is the daughter of a cousin of mine who lived at Marseilles.”