Just as the postillion had got on horseback a servant came running up.  He told me very politely that his excellence begged me to step upstairs.

I put my hand in my pocket and gave the man my card with my name and address, and telling him that that was what his master wanted, I ordered the postillion to drive off at a full gallop.

When we had gone half a league we stopped at a good inn, and then proceeded on our way back to Bologna.

The same day I wrote to M. de Zaguri, and described the welcome I had received at the hands of the marquis.  I enclosed the letter in another to M. Dandolo, begging him to read it, and to send it on.  I begged the noble Venetian to write to the marquis that having offended me grievously he must prepare to give me due satisfaction.

I laughed with all my heart next day when my landlady gave me a visiting card with the inscription, General the Marquis of Albeygati.  She told me the marquis had called on me himself, and on hearing I was out had left his card.

I began to look upon the whole of his proceedings as pure gasconnade, only lacking the wit of the true Gascon.  I determined to await M. Zaguri’s reply before making up my mind as to the kind of satisfaction I should demand.

While I was inspecting the card, and wondering what right the marquis had to the title of general, Severini came in, and informed me that the marquis had been made a Knight of the Order of St. Stanislas by the King of Poland, who had also given him the style of royal chamberlain.

“Is he a general in the Polish service as well?” I asked.

“I really don’t know.”

“I understand it all,” I said to myself.  “In Poland a chamberlain has the rank of adjutant-general, and the marquis calls himself general.  But general what?  The adjective without a substantive is a mere cheat.”

I saw my opportunity, and wrote a comic dialogue, which I had printed the next day.  I made a present of the work to a bookseller, and in three or four days he sold out the whole edition at a bajocco apiece.

CHAPTER XIX

Farinello and the Electress Dowager of Saxony—­Madame Slopitz—­Nina—­The
Midwife—­Madame Soavi—­Abbe Bolini—­Madame Viscioletta—­The
Seamstress—­The Sorry Pleasure of Revenge—­Severini Goes to Naples—­My
Departure—­Marquis Mosca

Anyone who attacks a proud person in a comic vein is almost sure of success; the laugh is generally on his side.

I asked in my dialogue whether it was lawful for a provost-marshal to call himself simply marshal, and whether a lieutenant-colonel had a right to the title of colonel.  I also asked whether the man who preferred titles of honour, for which he had paid in hard cash, to his ancient and legitimate rank, could pass for a sage.

Of course the marquis had to laugh at my dialogue, but he was called the general ever after.  He had placed the royal arms of Poland over the gate of his palace, much to the amusement of Count Mischinski, the Polish ambassador to Berlin, who happened to be passing through Bologna at that time.