l go back as they come," said Don Domingo, "and that is
empty-handed."

"Then they ask impossibilities?"

"They don't ask anything. 'What do you want?' says a minister.

"'What your excellency will let me have.'

"'What can you do?'

"'I am ready to do whatever your excellency pleases to think best for me'

"'Please leave me. I have no time to waste.'"

That is always the way. Charles III. died a madman; the Queen of Portugal
is mad; the King of England has been mad, and, as some say, is not really
cured. There is nothing astonishing in it; a king who tries to do his
duty is almost forced into madness by his enormous task.

I took leave of M. Mocenigo three days before he left Aranjuez, and I
embraced Manucci affectionately. He had been most kind to me throughout
my stay.

My cobbler had written to tell me that for the sum I had mentioned he
could provide me with a Biscayan maid who could cook. He sent me the
address of my new lodging in the Calle Alcala. I arrived there in the
afternoon, having started from Aranjuez in the morning.

I found that the Biscayan maid could speak French; my room was a very
pleasant one, with another chamber annexed where I could lodge a friend.
After I had had my effects carried up I saw my man, whose face pleased
me.

I was anxious to test the skill of my cook, so I ordered her to get a
good supper for me, and I gave her some money.

"I have some money," she replied, "and I will let you have the bill
to-morrow."

After taking away whatever I had left with Mengs I went to Don Diego's
house, and to my astonishment found it empty. I went back and asked
Philippe, my man, where Don Diego was staying.

"It's some distance, sir; I will take you there tomorrow."

"Where is my landlord?"

"In the floor above; but they are very quiet people."

"I should like to see him."

"He is gone out and won't be home till ten."

At nine o'clock I was told that my supper was ready. I was very hungry,
and the neatness with which the table was laid was a pleasant surprise in
Spain. I was sorry that I had had no opportunity of expressing my
satisfaction to Don Diego, but I sat down to supper. Then indeed I
thought the cobbler a hero; the Biscayan maid might have entered into
rivalry with the best cook in France. There were five dishes, including
my favourite delicacy 'las criadillas', and everything was exquisite. My
lodging was dear enough, but the cook made the whole arrangement a
wonderf