to burying-grounds, and she ascribed some of her deep and tragic powers to this early heart-break.
She became very religious, and while performing in Faenza, in 1841, she was so devout that the people thought her a budding angel or an incipient saint; they mounted a ladder and looked in on her midnight vigils, but only found that she had thrown herself on her bed in her clothes. However, they felt such faith in her future canonization that they divided one of her dresses, which she had left behind her, as a relic. At fourteen she was playing Francesca da Rimini, so tall and thin that she had to be padded — "cotonnée," as she said — to look like a woman. She worked incessantly under a fine old actress, who was most severe with her. She worked until she broke down. She got well, however, and in 1842 began to create parts as a comedienne. As a delineator of the romantic drama, in Goldoni's masterpieces, she held the stage until 1848 in all the great cities of Italy. Mr. Lowell saw her in one of these years, and could never forget the charm of her comedy, especially in Gli Innamorati.
But she went to Rome, and the young Giuliano del Grillo, son and heir to the old Marchese Capranica, fell in love with her, and her own tragedy began. She was of humble origin and an actress, so the old marchese would have none of her. It was most amusing to hear her describe her beautiful youthful lover, and then turn to look at the fat, elderly, exceedingly comfortable Del Grillo husband by her side.
Rome was beside itself with revolutionary ideas in 1846. The young Giulano was watched; the spies were thick; but love laughs at locksmiths. They met and were married at Cascina, whither Del Grillo went as a Papal envoy.
