At Bologna I saw Madame Marucci, who had been expelled from Spain for the same reason as Madame Pelliccia. The latter had retired to Rome, while Madame Marucci was on her way to Lucca, her native country.
Madame Soavi, a Bolognese dancer whom I had known at Parma and Paris, came to Bologna with her daughter by M. de Marigni. The girl, whose name was Adelaide, was very beautiful, and her natural abilities had been fostered by a careful education.
When Madame Soavi got to Bologna she met her husband whom she had not seen for fifteen years.
“Here is a treasure for you,” said she, shewing him her daughter.
“She’s certainly very pretty, but what am I to do with her? She does not belong to me.”
“Yes she does, as I have given her to you. You must know that she has six thousand francs a year, and that I shall be her cashier till I get her married to a good dancer. I want her to learn character dancing, and to make her appearance on the boards. You must take her out on holidays.”
“What shall I say if people ask me who she is?”
“Say she is your daughter, and that you are certain, because your wife gave her to you.”
“I can’t say that.”
“Ah, you have always stayed at home, and consequently your wits are homely.”