On reflection I concluded that Branicki had not done an ungentlemanly thing in getting into Tomatis’s carriage; he had merely behaved with impetuosity, as if he were the Catai’s lover.  It also appeared to me that, considering the affront he had received from the jealous Italian, the box on the ear was a very moderate form of vengeance.  A blow is bad, of course, but not so bad as death; and Branicki might very well have run his sword through the manager’s body.  Certainly, if Branicki had killed him he would have been stigmatised as an assassin, for though Tomatis had a sword the Polish officer’s servants would never have allowed him to draw it, nevertheless I could not help thinking that Tomatis should have tried to take the servant’s life, even at the risk of his own.  He wanted no more courage for that than in ordering the king’s favourite to come out of the carriage.  He might have foreseen that the Polish noble would be stung to the quick, and would surely attempt to take speedy vengeance.

The next day the encounter was the subject of all conversations.  Tomatis remained indoors for a week, calling for vengeance in vain.  The king told him he could do nothing for him, as Branicki maintained he had only given insult for insult.  I saw Tomatis, who told me in confidence that he could easily take vengeance, but that it would cost him too dear.  He had spent forty thousand ducats on the two ballets, and if he had avenged himself he would have lost it nearly all, as he would be obliged to leave the kingdom.  The only consolation he had was that his great friends were kinder to him than ever, and the king himself honoured him with peculiar attention.  Madame Binetti was triumphant.  When I saw her she condoled with me ironically on the mishap that had befallen my friend.  She wearied me; but I could not guess that Branicki had only acted at her instigation, and still less that she had a grudge against me.  Indeed, if I had known it, I should only have laughed at her, for I had nothing to dread from her bravo’s dagger.  I had never seen him nor spoken to him; he could have no opportunity for attacking me.  He was never with the king in the morning and never went to the palatin’s to supper, being an unpopular character with the Polish nobility.  This Branicki was said to have been originally a Cossack, Branecki by name.  He became the king’s favorite and assumed the name of Branicki, pretending to be of the same family as the illustrious marshal of that name who was still alive; but he, far from recognizing the pretender, ordered his shield to be broken up and buried with him as the last of the race.  However that may be, Branicki was the tool of the Russian party, the determined enemy of those who withstood Catherine’s design of Russianising the ancient Polish constitution.  The king liked him out of habit, and because he had peculiar obligations to him.

The life I lived was really exemplary.  I indulged neither in love affairs nor gaming.  I worked for the king, hoping to become his secretary.  I paid my court to the princess-palatine, who liked my company, and I played tressette with the palatin himself.