Corbario reached Rome in the afternoon, and the footman who stood waiting for him on the platform was struck by the change in his appearance.

His eyes were hollow and bright, his cheeks were sunken, his lips looked dry; moreover, he moved a little nervously and his foot slipped as he got out of the carriage, so that he nearly fell.

In the crowd, the footman asked his valet questions.

Was he ill?
What had happened to him?
Was he consuming himself with grief?
No, the valet thought not.

He had been much better in Paris and had seen some old friends there.