I wished to leave Rome on the second day of Lent, and I called on the Holy Father at a time when all Rome was on the Corso.  His Holiness welcomed me most graciously, and said he was surprised that I had not gone to see the sights on the Corso like everybody else.  I replied that as a lover of pleasure I had chosen the greatest pleasure of all for a Christian—­namely, to kneel at the feet of the vicar of Christ on earth.  He bowed with a kind of majestic humility, which shewed me how the compliment had pleased him.  He kept me for more than an hour, talking about Venice, Padua, and Paris, which latter city the worthy man would not have been sorry to have visited.  I again commended myself to his apostolic intercession to enable me to return to my native country, and he replied,—­

“Have recourse to God, dear son; His grace will be more efficacious than my prayers;” and then he blessed me and wished me a prosperous journey.

I saw that the Head of the Church had no great opinion of his own power.

On Shrove Tuesday I dressed myself richly in the costume of Polichinello, and rode along the Corso showering sweetmeats on all the pretty women I saw.  Finally I emptied the basket on the daughters of the worthy ‘scopatore’, whom Costa was taking about in my landau with all the dignity of a pasha.

At night-time I took off my costume and went to Momolo’s, where I expected to see dear Mariuccia for the last time.  Supper passed off in almost a similar manner to the supper of last Sunday; but there was an interesting novelty for me—­namely, the sight of my beloved mistress in her character of bride.  Her husband seemed to be much more reserved with respect to me than at our first meeting.  I was puzzled by his behaviour, and sat down by Mariuccia and proceeded to question her.  She told me all the circumstances which had passed on the first night, and she spoke highly of her husband’s good qualities.  He was kind, amorous, good-tempered, and delicate.  No doubt he must have noticed that the casket had been opened, but he had said nothing about it.  As he had spoken about me, she had not been able to resist the pleasure of telling him that I was her sole benefactor, at which, so far from being offended, he seemed to trust in her more than ever.

“But has he not questioned you indirectly as to the connection between us?”

“Not at all.  I told him that you went to my confessor after having spoken to me once only in the church, where I told you what a good chance I had of being married to him.”

“Do you think he believed you?”

“I am not sure; however, even if it were otherwise, it is enough that he pretends to, for I am determined to win his esteem.”

“You are right, and I think all the better of him for his suspicions, for it is better to marry a man with some sense in his head than to marry a fool.”