certain beautiful and distinguished Sicilian lady, and affected to treat
with contempt that which, had it been true, I should have regarded as a
boast. He spoke, indeed, as if he himself had gathered all the flowers
of Naples, and left us foreigners only the gleanings he had scorned.
At this my natural and national gallantry was piqued, and I retorted
by some sarcasms that I should certainly have spared had my blood been
cooler. He laughed heartily, and left me in a strange fit of resentment
and anger. Perhaps (I must own the truth) the wine had produced in me a
wild disposition to take offence and provoke quarrel. As the prince left
me, I turned, and saw Zanoni at my side.

"'The prince is a braggart,' said he, with the same smile that
displeased me before. 'He would monopolize all fortune and all love. Let
us take our revenge.'

"'And how?'

"'He has at this moment, in his house, the most enchanting singer in
Naples,--the celebrated Viola Pisani. She is here, it is true, not by
her own choice; he carried her hither by force, but he will pretend that
she adores him. Let us insist on his producing this secret treasure, and
when she enters, the Duc de R-- can have no doubt that his flatteries
and attentions will charm the lady, and provoke all the jealous fears of
our host. It would be a fair revenge upon his imperious self-conceit.'

"This suggestion delighted me. I hastened to the prince. At that instant
the musicians had just commenced; I waved my hand, ordered the music to
stop, and, addressing the prince, who was standing in the centre of one
of the gayest groups, complained of his want of hospitality in affording
to us such poor proficients in the art, while he reserved for his own