Five or six days after Betty had left I chanced to meet the Abby Gama, who had aged a good deal, but was still as gay and active as ever.  After we had told each other our adventures he informed me that, as all the differences between the Holy See and the Court of Naples had been adjusted, he was going back to Rome.

Before he went, however, he said he should like to present me to a lady whom he was sure I should be very glad to see again.

The first persons I thought of were Donna Leonilda, or Donna Lucrezia, her mother; but what was my surprise to see Agatha, the dancer with whom I had been in love at Turin after abandoning the Corticelli.

Our delight was mutual, and we proceeded to tell each other the incidents of our lives since we had parted.

My tale only lasted a quarter of an hour, but Agatha’s history was a long one.

She had only danced a year at Naples.  An advocate had fallen in love with her, and she shewed me four pretty children she had given him.  The husband came in at supper-time, and as she had often talked to him about me he rushed to embrace me as soon as he heard my name.  He was an intelligent man, like most of the pagletti of Naples.  We supped together like old friends, and the Abbe Gama going soon after supper I stayed with them till midnight, promising to join them at dinner the next day.

Although Agatha was in the very flower of her beauty, the old fires were not rekindled in me.  I was ten years older.  My coolness pleased me, for I should not have liked to trouble the peace of a happy home.

After leaving Agatha I proceeded to Goudar’s, in whose bank I took a strong interest.  I found a dozen gamesters round the table, but what was my surprise to recognize in the holder of the bank Count Medini.

Three or four days before this Medini had been expelled from the house of M. de Choiseul, the French ambassador; he had been caught cheating at cards.  I had also my reason to be incensed against him; and, as the reader may remember, we had fought a duel.

On glancing at the bank I saw that it was at the last gasp.  It ought to have held six hundred ounces, and there were scarcely a hundred.  I was interested to the extent of a third.

On examining the face of the punter who had made these ravages I guessed the game.  It was the first time I had seen the rascal at Goudar’s.

At the end of the deal Goudar told me that this punter was a rich Frenchman who had been introduced by Medini.  He told me I should not mind his winning that evening, as he would be sure to lose it all and a good deal more another time.

“I don’t care who the punter is,” said I, “it is not of the slightest consequence to me, as I tell you plainly that as long as Medini is the banker I will have nothing to do with it.”

“I have told Medini about it and wanted to take a third away from the bank, but he seemed offended and said he would make up any loss to you, but that he could not have the bank touched.”