from those of French society, and the conversation was not less gay than that carried on in Parisian drawing-rooms. The Marchioness was about thirty years of age, of a fair blooming complexion, and rather fat. Her style of dress was not foreign. She was in the habit of taking the journal of Parisian fashions, and consulted the engravings of every new number. When its pages described any novelties not too expensive for the pockets of the citizens’ wives, she sent them a copy of this preceptor of taste.
“After dinner we played at battledoor and shuttlecock with the sub-prefect, first gentleman in waiting to the Marchioness, and with a dozen priests and abbots, who arrived successively. The Italians appeared to me to possess the art of making their guests feel perfectly at ease. In the evening, the assembly received an addition of about twenty visitors, ladies, ecclesiastics, and laymen. A table, twelve feet long, and three feet broad, covered with a green cloth, was placed against the white wall of the room. The cicisbei stationed themselves by the side of their respective ladies; such ladies as had two, placing one on each side of them. If the number exceeded two, they took precedence according to their rank; a circumstance pointed out to me by a lawyer, who directed my attention to the disposition of the group round, the Marchioness. The marks of distinction conferred upon strangers are entirely subordinate to these rules, as circumstances seldom occur of sufficient importance to warrant their violation.
“In the course of the evening we played the game of chuchu (pronounced kookoo) which is suitable only for numerous parties. The pack is composed of nineteen double cards, each bearing a number from one to fifteen; on five of the cards, between five and fifteen, are represented either a prison, a cat, a horse, a bregou, or the chuchu, or crowned owl, which is the highest card. On five other cards are grotesquely painted the representations of a fool, a bucket, a yellow mask with long ears, and the word nulla; the bucket is of less value than nulla, and the yellow mask is the lowest card of all.
“When each person has received five counters, and deposited his quota in the pool, the cards of the two packs are shuffled and dealt by the person who cuts them, each player receiving only one card. If the player on the right of the dealer is not satisfied with his card, he may pass it to his neighbour, unless the card held by the latter confer on him the privilege of making the former keep his card, which he is then compelled to do, however bad it may be. This exchange of cards is continued throughout the whole circle, till it comes to the turn of the person on the left of the dealer. When a player meets in the hand of his neighbour, the prison, the bregou, or the chuchu, his card is stopped, and he puts a counter into the pool. If he meets the cat, his card is passed from player to player till it comes into the hands of its first owner. If he meets the horse, his card is passed to the person immediately below him who holds the horse; when two fools meet, the persons holding them are entitled each to take a counter from the pool, and that is called faire farine. In short, when the circle is completed, those who hold the lowest cards are condemned to put a counter into the pool, and the game is repeated till only one counter remains. The person who holds this, wins the game.
“This game was the constant amusement of the numerous parties of the Marchioness. The packs of cards are sold at Placentia, and entitled, by the manufacturers, Nuovo e dilettevole ginoco del Chuchu, o ginoco del matto in Piacenza; that is, the new and delightful gume of the chuchu, or fool at Placentia.
“People may well be accounted fools for returning nightly to this game; but it requires some prudence in playing it to avoid being induced, by the tricks and stratagems so well understood by Italian women of some address, to make those sacrifices which the cicisbei take care to make only to their respective ladies. I soon learned that all the rules of the game were sacrificed to the mutual success della signora e del caro cavaliere.
“A French woman delights to pique the man, honoured with her regard, by inconsistency and caprice: this behaviour would not be endured in Italy. There is nothing but sentiment and tenderness, and the least raillery would be destructive of all harmony.
“I heard, about this period, a short history of the family of the Marquis Malaspina, whose motto is bona spina bonis, et mala spina malis. It is very ancient; the whole tract of country which extends over the mountains of Bobbio, and the valleys of Trebia and Stafora, was formerly called Lingua di Malaspina. All the fiefs of this country were held of this noble family, whose chiefs were soldiers, enriched by the sovereigns who had been benefited by their services. This family is now so numerous in its branches, that its descendants are spread all over Italy, and even as far as Vienna, in Austria. Many of its members are now poor, and reduced to the necessity of practising ignoble trades. A Malaspina of Zerba has married a peasant girl, and carries on, at Bobbio, not far from the hotel of the Marchioness, the trade of a retail tailor. I have often employed him. It is whispered that M. Malaspina of Bobbio is an attorney, who has grafted himself on the family stock, by purchasing this privilege from some poor members of the family.
“I eat at the table of the restaurateur, my neighbour, with whom I engaged monthly. I found it very difficult to get milk for breakfast, there being none except that of ewes and goats, which is brought from a league’s distance from Bobbio, so that you may judge how miserable are the resources of this den of the mountains.
“The cold set in at the end of November, when the snow began to fall in as great abundance as in the coldest parts of France. The drifts were so deep in the valley of Trebia, that the precipices were filled up, and the streets of the town covered with to the depth of two or three feet.”
In the mean time we pursued the road which my fellow-traveller had described to me with so much exactness, that I was acquainted with it before I saw it, and arrived in the evening at Bobbio, where I was hospitably received at his house. I passed three days there, during which he introduced me to the Marchioness of whom he had spoken. I regretted much not being able to study the manners of this country, which are less known in France than those of the inhabitants of the wilds of America; but I was impatient to arrive at Genoa, to meet there a naval officer of my acquaintance. He intended to embark in the beginning of December, on board the Breslaw, a vessel of seventy-four guns, which had just been launched, and whose fate, alas! was too like that of so many of our French vessels. I know not in what port of Great Britain it is at this time.
Liverpool. A. W.
THE GARRET-WINDOW.
[ORIGINAL TRANSLATION, BY SPERANS, FROM THE GERMAN OF FREDERIC LAUN.]
(Concluded from our last.)
Chapter 20th. A Message.—I attempted a show of displeasure, but it did not answer the purpose; on the contrary, I had the mortification to perceive a general disposition to laugh and titter at the very moment I intended to rise in a pet; and, when I became aware of the cause, I could not help laughing myself, although I felt otherwise but little inclination for it. In the excess of my bad humour, I had not only demolished the tart which stood before me, but I had actually swallowed the entwined names, just as I had before unconsciously despatched several full bumpers which my complaisant neighbours had poured out for me. At that moment, a servant came to tell me that somebody wanted to speak to me, and I was very glad to escape from my purgatory, even for a short time. A girl was in waiting for me with the following note:
“I am under the absolute necessity of requesting a moment’s conversation with you, and I will thank you to call in the evening. Emma Stern.”
I read the paper with so much attention, and so many times over, that the girl must surely have thought me a very beginner in the noble art of reading. At last, I promised to come, and returned to the room in as great confusion as I had left it.
Chapter 21st. Curiosity on the stretch.—A great alteration had taken place. The collector and his daughter must have passed me unheeded, since I found them, at my return, on their places; and, apparently, in very good spirits. The young lady said that their coming so late must be entirely attributed to me; and she asked me whether behaviour such as mine was very usual in large towns? The eyes of the company were fixed on the fair examiner, and she related, with exquisite humour, all that happened in the course of the morning, including my overturning of her father, and my disappearance with the pretty embroiderer. The guests were thunderstruck with surprise, and I was so with rage; but the collector added, “Indeed this wicked girl of mine has no great cause to boast of her own conduct, however. He lifted up his glass, winked significantly at his daughter, and made her pledge him with a chinking of glasses, during which she-blushed and cast down her eyes. The curiosity of all the spectators was on the rack.
Chapter 22d. A Marriage.—After dinner, the Collector became a little more communicative, and he told us that his daughter and the son of an old friend had long been destined for each other; but that a recent quarrel between the two families had broken off the match; and that the present journey had been chiefly undertaken with the view to make Miss Ida forget her grief. The latter had, nevertheless, found means to inform her lover of her stay in town, and he had taken the earliest opportunity to join her. His own father had already relented; and it had not been particularly difficult to win also the Collector, by a declaration of unchanged mutual love and affection. After having listened to this explanation, I exclaimed, with tolerable composure, “Well! it is then settled in the book of destiny that I am to die a bachelor.” The smile with which I uttered this was, however, a little forced; for the two notes, which I had in my pocket, did materially interfere with my affected tranquillity and stoical indifference.
Chapter 23d. The Robbery.—The clock struck seven, and I hastened to my appointment. I found the aunt with Emma; and was told there must have been thieves in the room, since her best things were gone. I now recollected that the circumstance had already been pointed out to me by the landlord; but I had not particularly noticed it at the time. Ida had left the door open; and I might have laid the blame on her: but what right had I to find fault with a young inconsiderate girl, whilst I was guilty of so many oversights myself. I offered, of course, to replace every thing; but Emma said that there were many articles among the stolen ones which she could easily do without; and that the loss must be borne by herself, since it was owing to my keeping her company that the misfortune had happened: she only requested me to assist her with a small loan, which her situation made indispensible, and for which she could not apply to any body else.
Chapter 24th. The mercantile hand.—Whilst she was yet speaking, the pigeon came again with another paper tied to its neck. Emma carossed the little carrier, and took the note with a smile. After having read it, she said to the aunt, “It appears that a previous billet has fallen into wrong hands.” “Into mine,” I exclaimed, presenting it at the same time. “I am much obliged to you,” she said, without showing any emotion, “a young lady, to whom I give instructions, feels amused with this kind of correspondence, and I take pleasure in humouring her.” “A girl?” I asked, quite shocked at the assurance with which she told me such a falsehood; but
