however, to see her a little more cheerful. Blessed be work!
At four o'clock in the afternoon we were again seated, Jenny and I, in the railway carriage, now in the firm belief of arriving at Sienna before night. Near to us in the carriage was seated a very elegant, closely-vailed lady, and beside her a handsome young man with a dark, Italian countenance.
Jenny's irresistible, youthful laugh at our traveling qui pro quo, attracted to her the attention of the traveling couple, and the words e bella! bellissima! were exchanged between them. The vailed lady asked questions in French, which we replied to by communicating our little adventure; this led to other questions and other communications, such as, that Jenny was not my daughter, but a young friend, that we were intending to go to Rome, and so on, and all my replies were immediately whispered confidentially in Italian to the young man, who remained silent but observant. We learned from the Italian lady, that she had left her husband—in Genoa, I believe—and was going to her father's, the Marquis of ——, in order that, at his castle among the Apennines, she might have the benefit of a change of air, which her health required, and that she was attended thither by her physician. She threw back her vail, and displayed a pale countenance, with delicate features and intellectual expression, but not indicative of health, either of soul or body. It was evident enough, that we beheld before us in this couple, one of those Cecisbeoesque relationships, which are more renowned than honorable in the love-chronicles of Italy. The delicate lady,
