Don Lelio Caraffa offered me a very liberal salary if I would undertake the education of his nephew, the Duke de Matalona, then ten years of age.  I expressed my gratitude, and begged him to be my true benefactor in a different manner—­namely, by giving me a few good letters of introduction for Rome, a favour which he granted at once.  He gave me one for Cardinal Acquaviva, and another for Father Georgi.

I found out that the interest felt towards me by my friends had induced them to obtain for me the honour of kissing the hand of Her Majesty the Queen, and I hastened my preparations to leave Naples, for the queen would certainly have asked me some questions, and I could not have avoided telling her that I had just left Martorano and the poor bishop whom she had sent there.  The queen likewise knew my mother; she would very likely have alluded to my mother’s profession in Dresden; it would have mortified Don Antonio, and my pedigree would have been covered with ridicule.  I knew the force of prejudice!  I should have been ruined, and I felt I should do well to withdraw in good time.  As I took leave of him, Don Antonio presented me with a fine gold watch and gave me a letter for Don Gaspar Vidaldi, whom he called his best friend.  Don Gennaro paid me the sixty ducats, and his son, swearing eternal friendship, asked me to write to him.  They all accompanied me to the coach, blending their tears with mine, and loading me with good wishes and blessings.

From my landing in Chiozza up to my arrival in Naples, fortune had seemed bent upon frowning on me; in Naples it began to shew itself less adverse, and on my return to that city it entirely smiled upon me.  Naples has always been a fortunate place for me, as the reader of my memoirs will discover.  My readers must not forget that in Portici I was on the point of disgracing myself, and there is no remedy against the degradation of the mind, for nothing can restore it to its former standard.  It is a case of disheartening atony for which there is no possible cure.

I was not ungrateful to the good Bishop of Martorano, for, if he had unwittingly injured me by summoning me to his diocese, I felt that to his letter for M. Gennaro I was indebted for all the good fortune which had just befallen me.  I wrote to him from Rome.

I was wholly engaged in drying my tears as we were driving through the beautiful street of Toledo, and it was only after we had left Naples that I could find time to examine the countenance of my travelling companions.  Next to me, I saw a man of from forty to fifty, with a pleasing face and a lively air, but, opposite to me, two charming faces delighted my eyes.  They belonged to two ladies, young and pretty, very well dressed, with a look of candour and modesty.  This discovery was most agreeable, but I felt sad and I wanted calm and silence.  We reached Avessa without one word being exchanged, and as the vetturino stopped there only to water his mules, we did not