In Venice she wanted everybody to believe that Querini had married her secretly, but at a distance of fifty leagues she did not think such a formality necessary, and she had already been presented by the general to all the nobility of Cesena as Madame Querini Papozzes.  M. Querini would have been wrong in being jealous of the count, for he was an old acquaintance who would do no harm.  Besides, it is admitted amongst certain women that the reigning lover who is jealous of an old acquaintance is nothing but a fool, and ought to be treated as such.  Juliette, most likely afraid of my being indiscreet, had lost no time in making the first advances, but, seeing that I had likewise some reason to fear her want of discretion, she felt reassured.  From the first moment I treated her politely, and with every consideration due to her position.

I found numerous company at the general’s, and some pretty women.  Not seeing Juliette, I enquired for her from M. Manzoni, who told me that she was at the faro table, losing her money.  I saw her seated next to the banker, who turned pale at the sight of my face.  He was no other than the so-called Count Celi.  He offered me a card, which I refused politely, but I accepted Juliette’s offer to be her partner.  She had about fifty sequins, I handed her the same sum, and took a seat near her.  After the first round, she asked me if I knew the banker; Celi had heard the question; I answered negatively.  A lady on my left told me that the banker was Count Alfani.  Half an hour later, Madame Querini went seven and lost, she increased her stake of ten sequins; it was the last deal of the game, and therefore the decisive one.  I rose from my chair, and fixed my eyes on the banker’s hands.  But in spite of that, he cheated before me, and Madame lost.

Just at that moment the general offered her his arm to go to supper; she left the remainder of her gold on the table, and after supper, having played again, she lost every sequin.

I enlivened the supper by my stories and witty jests.  I captivated everybody’s friendship, and particularly the general’s, who, having heard me say that I was going to Naples only to gratify an amorous fancy, entreated me to spend a month with him and to sacrifice my whim.  But it was all in vain.  My heart was unoccupied; I longed to see Lucrezia and Therese, whose charms after five years I could scarcely recollect.  I only consented to remain in Cesena the four days during which the general intended to stay.

The next morning as I was dressing I had a call from the cowardly Alfani-Celi; I received him with a jeering smile, saying that I had expected him.

The hair-dresser being in the room Celi did not answer, but as soon as we were alone he said,

“How could you possibly expect my visit?”

“I will tell you my reason as soon as you have handed me one hundred sequins, and you are going to do so at once.’

“Here are fifty which I brought for you; you cannot demand more from me.”