The Improvisatrice. 165 



close to the poetess, who, for several stanzas, adhered 

 strictly to the subject which had been given to her. What 

 it was I do not recollect, except that it had no connec- 

 tion with what followed. All at once, as if by a sudden 

 inspiration, the lady turned her eyes full upon my mother, 

 and with true Italian vehemence and in the full musical 

 accents of Rome, poured forth stanza after stanza of the 

 most eloquent panegyric upon her talents and virtues, 

 extolling them and her to the skies. Throughout the 

 whole of this scene, which lasted a considerable time, 

 my mother remained calm and unmoved, never changing 

 countenance, which surprised not only the persons 

 present but ourselves, as we well knew how much she 

 disliked any display or being brought forward in public. 

 The truth was, that after listening for a while to the 

 improvising, a thought struck her connected with some 

 subject she was engaged in writing upon at the time and 

 so entirely absorbed her that she heard not a word of all 

 that had been declaimed in her praise, and was not a 

 little surprised and confused when she was complimented 

 on it. I call this, advisedly, a power of hers, for although 

 it occasionally led her into strange positions, such as the 

 one above mentioned, it rendered her entirely indepen- 

 dent of outward circumstances, nor did she require to 

 isolate herself from the family circle in order to pursue 

 her studies. I have already mentioned that when we 

 were very young she taught us herself for a few hours 

 daily ; when our lessons were over we always remained 

 in the room with her, learning grammar, arithmetic, or 

 some such plague of childhood. Any one who has 

 plunged into the mazes of the higher branches of 

 mathematics or other abstruse science, would probably 

 feel no slight degree of irritation on being inter- 



