le to reply. My enemies might possibly
assassinate me, and the king did not care to be constantly anxious on my
account. Count Moszczinski added that the order to leave carried no
dishonour with it, considering by whom it had been delivered, and the
delay it gave me to make my preparations.

The consequence of all this was that I not only gave my word to go, but
that I begged the count to thank his majesty for his kindness, and the
interest he had been pleased to take in me.

When I gave in, the generous Moszczinski embraced me, begged me to write
to him, and accept a present of a travelling carriage as a token of his
friendship. He informed me that Madame Binetti's husband had gone off
with his wife's maid, taking with him her diamonds, jewels, linen, and
even her silver plate, leaving her to the tender mercies of the dancer,
Pic. Her admirers had clubbed together to make up to her for what her
husband had stolen. I also heard that the king's sister had arrived at
Warsaw from Bialistock, and it was hoped that her husband would follow
her. This husband was the real Count Branicki, and the Branicki, or
rather Branecki, or Bragnecki, who had fought with me, was no relation to
him whatever.

The following day I paid my debts, which amounted to about two hundred
ducats, and I made preparations for starting for Breslau, the day after,
with Count Clary, each of us having his own carriage. Clary was one of
those men to whom lying has become a sort of second nature; whenever such
an one opens his mouth, you may safely say to him, "You have lied, or you
are going to lie." If they could feel their own degradation, they would
be much to be pitied, for by their own fault at last no one will believe
them even when by chance they speak the truth. This Count Clary, who was
not one of the Clarys of Teplitz, could neither go to his own country nor
to Vienna, because he had deserted the army on the eve of a battle. He
was lame, but he walked so adroitly that his defect did not appear. If
this had been the only truth he concealed, it would have been well, for
it was a piece of deception that hurt no one. He died miserably in
Venice.

We reached Breslau in perfect safety, and without experiencing any
adventures. Campioni, who had accompanied me as far as Wurtemburg,
returned, but rejoined me at Vienna in the course of seven months. Count
Clary had left Breslau, and I thought I would make the acquaintance of
the Abbe Bastiani, a celebra