But what a contemptible husband! Two years later she married a shoemaker, by name Pigozzo--a base, arrant knave who beggared and ill-treated her to such an extent that her brother had to take her home and to provide for her.

Fifteen years afterwards, having been appointed arch-priest at Saint-George de la Vallee, he took her there with him, and when I went to pay him a visit eighteen years ago, I found Bettina old, ill, and dying.

She breathed her last in my arms in 1776, twenty-four hours after my arrival.

I will speak of her death in good time.
About that period, my mother returned from St.Petersburg, where the Empress Anne Iwanowa had not approved of the Italian comedy.

The whole of the troop had already returned to Italy, and my mother had travelled with Carlin Bertinazzi, the harlequin, who died in Paris in the year 1783.