meet there as at a rout, but in very small circles. . . . They have private boxes, where they play at cards, or talk, or anything else; but, except at the cassino, there are no open houses or balls etc. etc."]
Left him—came home. Read Denina's Ultime Vicende, a poor book. Went to Guyler. Met Caravella—walked with him. Went to dine: where I met his brother, who told me the physician at Florence was dead, and promised to come and take me to the hospital. Met after dinner Abate Berlezi the Crabule.[1] Came home. Read the Calandra of Bibiena, and Sofonisba of Trissino. Took an ice, and went to La Scala. Feast of St. Francis, the Emperor's. When the Dukes went this morning to mass at the Duomo not a hat moved, not a voice of applause: however, when Regnier entered, there was a slight clapping of hands. The theatre was lighted up like an English one, and was magnificent, but showed what the Italians allege—that the scene does not improve by it, but the contrary.
In Brema's loge there were Monti, Brema's brother, and others. Monti a short man, round face, quick eye; pleasant in conversation, not haughty, modest, unassuming; seemed to take great pleasure in parts of the music and in the dancing.
[It will be understood that this is the celebrated
- ↑ The word is more like Crabule than anything else: I don't understand it.
