Milan | Page 6

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 his family at Genoa, giving him
the wherewithal to live till I came for him. As to my man, I dismissed

him for good reasons and took another, as I was obliged to have
somebody; but since I lost my Spaniard I have never felt confidence in
any of my servants.
I travelled with a Chevalier de Rossignan, whose acquaintance I had
made, and we went by Casal to see the opera-bouffe there.
Rossignan was a fine man, a good soldier, fond of wine and women,
and, though he was not learned, he knew the whole of Dante's Divine
Comedy by heart. This was his hobby-horse, and he was always
quoting it, making the passage square with his momentary feelings.
This made him insufferable in society, but he was an amusing
companion for anyone who knew the sublime poet, and could
appreciate his numerous and rare beauties. Nevertheless he made me
privately give in my assent to the proverb, Beware of the man of one
book. Otherwise he was intelligent, statesmanlike, and good-natured.
He made himself known at Berlin by his services as ambassador to the
King of Sardinia.
There was nothing interesting in the opera at Casal, so I went to Pavia,
where, though utterly unknown, I was immediately welcomed by the
Marchioness Corti, who received all strangers of any importance. In
1786 I made the acquaintance of her son, an admirable man, who
honoured me with his friendship, and died quite young in Flanders with
the rank of major-general. I wept bitterly for his loss, but tears, after all,
are but an idle tribute to those who cause them to flow. His good
qualities had endeared him to all his acquaintances, and if he had lived
longer he would undoubtedly have risen to high command in the army.
I only stopped two days at Pavia, but it was decreed that I should get
myself talked of, even in that short time.
At the second ballet at the opera an actress dressed in a tippet held out
her cap to the bones as if to beg an alms, while she was dancing a pas
de deux. I was in the Marchioness of Corti's box, and when the girl held
out her cap to me I was moved by feelings of ostentation and
benevolence to draw forth my purse and drop it in. It contained about
twenty ducats. The girl took it, thanked me with a smile, and the pit

applauded loudly. I asked the Marquis Belcredi, who was near me, if
she had a lover.
"She has a penniless French officer, I believe," he replied; "there he is,
in the pit."
I went back to my inn, and was supping with M. Basili, a Modenese
colonel, when the ballet girl, her mother, and her younger sister came to
thank me for my providential gift. "We are so poor," said the girl.
I had almost done supper, and I asked them all to sup with me after the
performance the next day. This offer was quite a disinterested one, and
it was accepted.
I was delighted to have made a woman happy at so little expense and
without any ulterior objects, and I was giving orders to the landlord for
the supper, when Clairmont, my man, told me that a French officer
wanted to speak to me. I had him in, and asked what I could do for him.
"There are three courses before you, Mr. Venetian," said he, "and you
can take which you like. Either countermand this supper, invite me to
come to it, or come and measure swords with me now."
Clairmont, who was attending to the fire, did not give me time to reply,
but seized a burning brand and rushed on the officer, who thought it
best to escape. Luckily for him the door of my room was open. He
made such a noise in running downstairs that the waiter came out and
caught hold of him, thinking he had stolen something; but Clairmont,
who was pursuing him with his firebrand, had him released.
This adventure became town talk directly. My servant, proud of his
exploit and sure of my approval, came to tell me that I need not be
afraid of going out, as the officer was only a braggart. He did not even
draw his sword on the waiter who had caught hold of him, though the
man only had a knife in his belt.
"At all events," he added, "I will go out with you."

I told him that