“Political reasons,” said he, “prevented me from visiting you at the monastery; but you must not think I had forgotten you, for you were constantly in my thoughts.  I am going to lodge you here, for my wife is very fond of your society; but the rooms will not be ready for another six weeks.”

“I shall take the opportunity, my lord, of paying a visit to the Palatin of Kiowia, who has honoured me with an invitation to come and see him.”

“Who gave you the invitation?”

“Count Bruhl, who is at Dresden; his wife is daughter of the palatin.”

“This journey is an excellent idea, for this duel of yours has made you innumerable enemies, and I only hope you will have to fight no more duels.  I give you fair warning; be on your guard, and never go on foot, especially at night.”

I spent a fortnight in going out to dinner and supper every day.  I had become the fashion, and wherever I went I had to tell the duel story over again.  I was rather tired of it myself, but the wish to please and my own self-love were too strong to be resisted.  The king was nearly always present, but feigned not to hear me.  However, he once asked me if I had been insulted by a patrician in Venice, whether I should have called him out immediately.

“No, sire, for his patrician pride would have prevented his complying, and I should have had my pains for my trouble.”

“Then what would you have done?”

“Sire, I should have contained myself, though if a noble Venetian were to insult me in a foreign country he would have to give me satisfaction.”

I called on Prince Moszczinski, and Madame Binetti happened to be there; the moment she saw me she made her escape.

“What has she against me?” I asked the count.

“She is afraid of you, because she was the cause of the duel, and now Branicki who was her lover will have nothing more to say to her.  She hoped he would serve you as he served Tomatis, and instead of that you almost killed her bravo.  She lays the fault on him for having accepted your challenge, but he has resolved to have done with her.”

This Count Moszczinski was both good-hearted and quick-witted, and so, generous that he ruined himself by making presents.  His wounds were beginning to heal, but though I was the indirect cause of his mishap, far from bearing malice against me he had become my friend.

The person whom I should have expected to be most grateful to me for the duel was Tomatis, but on the contrary he hated the sight of me and hardly concealed his feelings.  I was the living reproach of his cowardice; my wounded hand seemed to shew him that he had loved his money more than his honour.  I am sure he would have preferred Branicki to have killed me, for then he would have become an object of general execration, and Tomatis would have been received with less contempt in the great houses he still frequented.

I resolved to pay a visit to the discontented party who had only recognized the new king on compulsion, and some of whom had not recognized him at all; so I set out with my true friend Campioni and one servant.