part of the year, they are accustomed to wander about in masks, they feel no surprise at seeing the black visors on the stage also.
Since solitude in the midst of a great crowd of human beings is, after all, not possible, I have taken up with an old Frenchman, who knows nothing of Italian, and suspects that he is cheated on all hands, and taken advantage of, and who, notwithstanding plenty of letters of recommendation, does not make his way with the good people here. A man of rank, who is well bred, but whose mind cannot go beyond himself and his own immediate circle. He is, perhaps, full fifty, and has at home a boy seven years old, of whom he is always anxious to get news. He is travelling through Italy for pleasure, but rapidly, in order to be able to say that he has seen it, but is willing to learn whatever is possible as he hurries along. I have shown him some civilities, and given him information about many matters. While I was speaking to him about Venice, he asked me how long I had been here, and when he heard that this was my first visit, and that I had only been here fourteen days, he replied, "Il parait que vous n'avez pas perdu votre temps." This is the first testimonium of my good behaviour that I can furnish you. He has been here a week, and leaves to-morrow. It was highly delicious to me to meet in a strange land with such a regular Versailles man. He is now about to quit me. It caused me some surprise to think that any one could ever travel in this temper, without a thought for anything beyond himself; and yet he is, in his way, a polished, sensible, and well-conducted person.
Yesterday, at St. Luke's, a new piece was acted, "L'Inglicismo in Italia" ("The English in Italy").
