prayers,
and blasphemies, for all that goes together at Naples as at Rome. I could
do nothing but compassionate him; but in spite of myself I could not help
laughing, which seemed to vex the poor abbe, who looked for all the world
like a dying dolphin as he rested motionless against the bank. His
distress may be imagined, when the nearest horse yielded to the call of
nature, and voided over the unfortunate man the contents of its bladder.
There was nothing to be done, and I could not help roaring with laughter.

Nevertheless, a strong northerly wind rendered our situation an extremely
unpleasant one. At the slightest noise I cried, "Who goes there?"
threatening to fire on anyone who dared approach. I spent two hours in
this tragic-comic position, until at last Le Duc rode up and told me that
a band of peasants, all armed and provided with lanterns, were
approaching to our assistance.

In less than an hour, the carriage, the horses, and Alfani were seen to.
I kept two of the country-folk to serve as postillions, and I sent the
others away well paid for the interruption of their sleep. I reached St.
Agatha at day-break, and I made the devil's own noise at the door of the
postmaster, calling for an attorney to take down my statement, and
threatening to have the postillions who had overturned and deserted me,
hanged.

A wheelwright inspected my coach and pronounced the axle-tree broken, and
told me I should have to remain for a day at least.

Don Ciccio, who stood in need of a surgeon's aid, called on the Marquis
Galliani without telling me anything about it. However, the marquis
hastened to beg me to stay at his home till I could continue my journey.
I accepted the invitation with great pleasure, and with this my ill
humour, which was really only the result of my desire to make a great
fuss like a great man, evaporated.

The marquis ordered my carriage to be taken to his coach-house, took me
by the arm, and led me to his house. He was as learned as he was polite,
and a perfect Neapolitan--i.e., devoid of all ceremony. He had not the
brilliant wit of his brother, whom I had known at Paris as secretary of
embassy under the Count Cantillana Montdragon, but he possessed a
well-ordered judgment, founded on study and the perusal of ancient and
modern classics. Above all, he was a great mathematician, and was then
preparing an annotated edition of Vitruvius, which was afterwards
published.

The marquis introduced me to hi