“Well, I should have refused Leonilda if she had asked me, but I accept this mark of your friendship.  A refusal would have borne witness to nothing but a foolish pride, as I am a poor man.  I should like Leonilda and her mother to be present when you give me the money.”

“Embrace me; we will do our business after dinner.”

Naples has always been a temple of fortune to me, but if I went there now I should starve.  Fortune flouts old age.

Leonilda and Lucrezia wept with joy when the good marquis gave me the five thousand ducats in bank notes, and presented his mother-in-law with an equal sum in witness of his gratitude to her for having introduced me to him.

The marquis was discreet enough not to reveal his chief reason.  Donna Lucrezia did not know that the Duke of Matalone had told him that Leonilda was my daughter.

An excess of gratitude lessened my high spirits for the rest of the day, and Anastasia did not spend a very lively night with me.

I went off at eight o’clock the next morning.  I was sad, and the whole house was in tears.

I promised that I would write to the marquis from Rome, and I reached Naples at eleven o’clock.

I went to see Agatha, who was astonished at my appearance as she had thought I was at Rome.  Her husband welcomed me in the most friendly manner, although he was suffering a great deal.

I said I would dine with them and start directly afterwards, and I asked the advocate to get me a bill on Rome for five thousand ducats, in exchange for the bank notes I gave him.

Agatha saw that my mind was made up, and without endeavoring to persuade me to stay went in search of Callimena.

She too had thought I was in Rome, and was in an ecstasy of delight to see me again.

My sudden disappearance and my unexpected return were the mystery of the day, but I did not satisfy anyone’s curiosity.

I left them at three o’clock, and stopped at Montecasino, which I had never seen.  I congratulated myself on my idea, for I met there Prince Xaver de Saxe, who was travelling under the name of Comte de Lusace with Madame Spinucci, a lady of Fermo, with whom he had contracted a semi-clandestine marriage.  He had been waiting for three days to hear from the Pope, for by St. Benedict’s rule women are not allowed in monasteries; and as Madame Spinucci was extremely curious on the subject, her husband had been obliged to apply for a dispensation to the Holy Father.

I slept at Montecasino after having seen the curiosities of the place, and I went on to Rome, and put up with Roland’s daughter in the Place d’Espagne.

CHAPTER XV

Margarita—­Madame Buondcorsi—­The Duchess of Fiano—­Cardinal Bernis—­The Princess Santa Croce—­Menicuccio and His Sister