Varnier pitied me, and said,—­

“Such are the ways of the great when they have abjured all virtue and honesty.  Nevertheless, I advise you to keep silence about it, unless you would irritate Manucci still farther.”

When I got home I wrote to Manucci begging him to suspend his vengeance, or else I should be obliged to tell the story to all those who insulted me for the ambassador’s sake.  I sent the letter to M. Soderini, the secretary of the embassy, feeling sure that he would forward it to Manucci.

I dined with my mistress, and took her to the bull fight, where I chanced to find myself in a box adjoining that in which Manucci and the two ambassadors were seated.  I made them a bow which they were obliged to return, and did not vouchsafe them another glance for the rest of the spectacle.

The next day the Marquis Grimaldi refused to receive me, and I saw that I should have to abandon all hope.  The Duke of Lossada remained my friend on account of his dislike to the ambassador and his unnatural tastes; but he told me that he had been requested not to receive me, and that he did not think I had the slightest chance of obtaining any employment at Court.

I could scarcely believe in such an extremity of vengeance:  Manucci was making a parade of the influence he possessed over his wife the ambassador.  In his insane desire for revenge he had laid all shame aside.

I was curious to know whether he had forgotten Don Emmanuel de Roda and the Marquis de la Moras; I found both of them had been forewarned against me.  There was still the Count of Aranda, and I was just going to see him when a servant of his highness’s came and told me that his master wished to see me.

I shuddered, for in my then state of mind I drew the most sinister conclusions from the message.

I found the great man alone, looking perfectly calm.  This made me pluck up a heart.  He asked me to sit down—­a favour he had not hitherto done me, and this further contributed to cheer me.

“What have you been doing to offend your ambassador?” he began.

“My lord, I have done nothing to him directly, but by an inexcusable act of stupidity I have wounded his dear friend Manucci in his tenderest part.  With the most innocent intentions I reposed my confidence in a cowardly fellow, who sold it to Manucci for a hundred pistoles.  In his irritation, Manucci has stirred up the great man against me:  ’hinc illae lacrimae’.”

“You have been unwise, but what is done is done.  I am sorry for you, because there is an end to all your hopes of advancement.  The first thing the king would do would be to make enquiries about you of the ambassador.”

“I feel it to my sorrow, my lord, but must I leave Madrid?”

“No.  The ambassador did his best to make me send you way, but I told him that I had no power over you so long as you did not infringe the laws.”

“‘He has calumniated a Venetian subject whom I am bound to protect,’ said he.