A few words more, my lord.

I have been of the hearing, not of the speaking side of the question, in the two last conferences I had the honour to hold with your lordship.  Once you unkindly mentioned the word triumph.  The word at the time went to my heart.  When I can subdue the natural warmth of my temper, then, and then only, I have a triumph.  I should not have remembered this, had I not now, my lord, on this solemn occasion, been received by you with an indignant eye.  I respect your lordship too much not to take notice of this angry reception.  My silence upon it, perhaps, would look like subscribing before this illustrious company to the justice of your contempt:  yet I mean no other notice than this; and this to demonstrate that I was not, in my own opinion at least, absolutely unworthy of the favour I met with from the father, the mother, the brothers, you so justly honour, and which I wished to stand in with you.

And now, my lord, allow me the honour of your hand; and, as I have given you no cause for displeasure, say, that you will remember me with kindness, as I shall honour you and your whole family to the last day of my life.

The general heard me out; but it was with great emotion.  He accepted not my hand; he returned not any answer:  the bishop arose, and, taking him aside, endeavoured to calm him.

I addressed myself to the two young lords, and said, that if ever their curiosity led them to visit England, where I hoped to be in a few months, I should be extremely glad of cultivating their esteem and favour, by the best offices I could do them.

They received my civility with politeness.

I addressed myself next to Lady Laurana—­May you, madam, the friend, the intimate, the chosen companion of Lady Clementina, never know the hundredth part of the woe that fills the breast of the man before you, for the calamity that has befallen your admirable cousin, and, because of that, a whole excellent family.  Let me recommend to you, that tender and soothing treatment to her, which her tender heart would shew to you, in any calamity that should befall you.  I am not a bad man, madam, though of a different communion from yours.  Think but half so charitably of me, as I do of every one of your religion who lives up to his professions, and I shall be happy in your favourable thoughts when you hear me spoken of.

It is easy to imagine, Dr. Bartlett, that I addressed myself in this manner to this lady whom I had never before seen, that she might not think the harder of her cousin’s prepossessions in favour of a Protestant.

I recommended myself to the favour of Father Marescotti.  He assured me of his esteem, in very warm terms.

And just as I was again applying to my Jeronymo, the general came to me:  You cannot think, sir, said he, nor did you design it, I suppose, that I should be pleased with your address to me.  I have only this question to ask, When do you quit Bologna?