I handed her the same sum, and took a seat near her.  After the first round, she asked me if I knew the banker; Celi had heard the question; I answered negatively.  A lady on my left told me that the banker was Count Alfani.  Half an hour later, Madame Querini went seven and lost, she increased her stake of ten sequins; it was the last deal of the game, and therefore the decisive one.  I rose from my chair, and fixed my eyes on the banker’s hands.  But in spite of that, he cheated before me, and Madame lost.

Just at that moment the general offered her his arm to go to supper; she left the remainder of her gold on the table, and after supper, having played again, she lost every sequin.

I enlivened the supper by my stories and witty jests.  I captivated everybody’s friendship, and particularly the general’s, who, having heard me say that I was going to Naples only to gratify an amorous fancy, entreated me to spend a month with him and to sacrifice my whim.  But it was all in vain.  My heart was unoccupied; I longed to see Lucrezia and Therese, whose charms after five years I could scarcely recollect.  I only consented to remain in Cesena the four days during which the general intended to stay.

The next morning as I was dressing I had a call from the cowardly Alfani-Celi; I received him with a jeering smile, saying that I had expected him.

The hair-dresser being in the room Celi did not answer, but as soon as we were alone he said,

“How could you possibly expect my visit?”

“I will tell you my reason as soon as you have handed me one hundred sequins, and you are going to do so at once.’

“Here are fifty which I brought for you; you cannot demand more from me.”

“Thank you, I take them on account, but as I am good-natured I advise you not to shew yourself this evening in Count Spada’s drawing-rooms, for you would not be admitted, and it would be owing to me.”

“I hope that you will think twice before you are guilty of such an ungenerous act.”

“I have made up my mind; but now leave me.”

There was a knock at my door, and the self-styled Count Alfani went away without giving me the trouble of repeating my order.  My new visitor proved to be the first castrato of the theatre, who brought an invitation to dinner from Narici.  The invitation was curious, and I accepted it with a smile.  The castrato was named Nicolas Peritti; he pretended to be the grandson of a natural child of Sixtus V.; it might have been so I shall have to mention him again in fifteen years.

When I made my appearance at Narici’s house I saw Count Alfani, who certainly did not expect me, and must have taken me for his evil genius.  He bowed to me with great politeness, and begged that I would listen to a few words in private.

“Here are fifty sequins more,” he said; “but as an honest man you can take them only to give them to Madame Querini.  But how can you hand the amount to her without letting her know that you have forced me to refund it?  You understand what consequences such a confession might have for me.”