When I got up I told the duke that I intended to set out from Naples the next day; and he observed that as everybody knew I was on the eve of my departure, this haste would make people talk.

“Come and have some broth with me,” said he; “and from henceforth look upon this marriage project as one of the many pranks in which you have engaged.  We will spend the three or four days pleasantly together, and perhaps when we have thought over all this for some time we shall end by thinking it matter for mirth and not sadness.  Believe me the mother’s as good as the daughter; recollection is often better than hope; console yourself with Lucrezia.  I don’t think you can see any difference between her present appearance and that of eighteen years ago, for I don’t see how she can ever have been handsomer than she is now.”

This remonstrance brought me to my senses.  I felt that the best thing I could do would be to forget the illusion which had amused me for four or five days, and as my self-esteem was not wounded it ought not to be a difficult task; but yet I was in love and unable to satisfy my love.

Love is not like merchandise, where one can substitute one thing for another when one cannot have what one wants.  Love is a sentiment, only the object who has kindled the flame can soothe the heat thereof.

We went to call on my daughter, the duke in his usual mood, but I looking pale, depressed, weary, and like a boy going to receive the rod.  I was extremely surprised when I came into the room to find the mother and daughter quite gay, but this helped on my cure.  Leonilda threw her arms round my neck, calling me dear papa, and kissing me with all a daughter’s freedom.  Donna Lucrezia stretched out her hand, addressing me as her dear friend.  I regarded her attentively, and I was forced to confess that the eighteen years that had passed away had done little ill to her charms.  There was the same sparkling glance, that fresh complexion, those perfect shapes, those beautiful lips—­in fine, all that had charmed my youthful eyes.

We mutely caressed each other.  Leonilda gave and received the tenderest kisses without seeming to notice what desires she might cause to arise; no doubt she knew that as her father I should have strength to resist, and she was right.  One gets used to everything, and I was ashamed to be sad any longer.

I told Donna Lucrezia of the curious welcome her sister had given me in Rome, and she went off into peals of laughter.  We reminded each other of the night at Tivoli, and these recollections softened our hearts.  From these softened feelings to love is but a short way; but neither place nor time were convenient, so we pretended not to be thinking of it.

After a few moments of silence I told her that if she cared to come to Rome with me to pay a visit to her sister Angelique, I would take her back to Naples at the beginning of Lent.  She promised to let me know whether she could come on the following day.