“You have stolen more than twenty from me.”

“Not I, but some of my mates.  If you come with me, perhaps we shall be able to get them all back.”

“Is it far off?”

“In the Largo del Castello.  Let me go; people are looking at us.”

The little rascal took me to an evil-looking tavern, and shewed me into a room, where a man asked me if I wanted to buy any old things.  As soon as he heard I had come for my handkerchiefs, he opened a big cupboard full of handkerchiefs, amongst which I found a dozen of mine, and bought them back for a trifle.

A few days after I bought several others, though I knew they were stolen.

The worthy Neapolitan dealer seemed to think me trustworthy, and three or four days before I left Naples he told me that he could sell me, for ten or twelve thousand ducats, commodities which would fetch four times that amount at Rome or elsewhere.

“What kind of commodities are they?”

“Watches, snuff-boxes, rings, and jewels, which I dare not sell here.”

“Aren’t you afraid of being discovered?”

“Not much, I don’t tell everyone of my business.”

I thanked him, but I would not look at his trinkets, as I was afraid the temptation of making such a profit would be too great.

When I got back to my inn I found some guests had arrived, of whom a few were known to me.  Bartoldi had arrived from Dresden with two young Saxons, whose tutor he was.  These young noblemen were rich and handsome, and looked fond of pleasure.

Bartoldi was an old friend of mine.  He had played Harlequin at the King of Poland’s Italian Theatre.  On the death of the monarch he had been placed at the head of the opera-buffa by the dowager electress, who was passionately fond of music.

Amongst the other strangers were Miss Chudleigh, now Duchess of Kingston, with a nobleman and a knight whose names I have forgotten.

The duchess recognized me at once, and seemed pleased that I paid my court to her.  An hour afterwards Mr. Hamilton came to see her, and I was delighted to make his acquaintance.  We all dined together.  Mr. Hamilton was a genius, and yet he ended by marrying a mere girl, who was clever enough to make him in love with her.  Such a misfortune often comes to clever men in their old age.  Marriage is always a folly; but when a man marries a young woman at a time of life when his physical strength is running low, he is bound to pay dearly for his folly; and if his wife is amorous of him she will kill him even years ago I had a narrow escape myself from the same fate.

After dinner I presented the two Saxons to the duchess; they gave her news of the dowager electress, of whom she was very fond.  We then went to the play together.  As chance would have it, Madame Goudar occupied the box next to ours, and Hamilton amused the duchess by telling the story of the handsome Irishwoman, but her grace did not seem desirous of making Sara’s acquaintance.