clearly proved this enemy
to be myself, since I had informed the baron that though the name of
Manucci was genuine the title of count was quite apocryphal.

After recapitulating the information which Fraiture had given him, and
which could only have proceeded from myself, he advised me to leave
Madrid as soon as possible, in a week at latest.

I can give the reader no idea of the shock this letter gave me. For the
first time in my life I had to confess myself guilty of folly,
ingratitude, and crime. I felt that my fault was beyond forgiveness, and
did not think of asking Manucci to pardon me; I could do nothing but
despair.

Nevertheless, in spite of Manucci's just indignation, I could not help
seeing that he had made a great mistake in advising me, in so insulting a
manner, to leave Madrid in a week. The young man might have known that my
self-respect would forbid my following such a piece of advice. He could
not compel me to obey his counsel or command; and to leave Madrid would
have been to commit a second baseness worse than the first.

A prey to grief I spent the day without taking any steps one way or the
other, and I went to bed without supping and without the company of Donna
Ignazia.

After a sound sleep I got up and wrote to the friend whom I had offended
a sincere and humble confession of my fault. I concluded my letter by
saying that I hoped that this evidence of my sincere and heartfelt
repentance would suffice, but if not that I was ready to give him any
honourable satisfaction in my power.

"You may," I said, "have me assassinated if you like, but I shall not
leave Madrid till its suits me to do so."

I put a commonplace seal on my letter, and had the address written by
Philippe, whose hand was unknown to Manucci, and then I sent it to Pando
where the king had gone.

I kept my room the whole day; and Donna Ignazia, seeing that I had
recovered my spirits to some degree, made no more enquiries about the
cause of my distress. I waited in the whole of the next day, expecting a
reply, but in vain.

The third day, being Sunday, I went out to call on the Prince della
Catolica. My carriage stopped at his door, but the porter came out and
told me in a polite whisper that his highness had his reasons for not
receiving me any longer.

This was an unexpected blow, but after it I was prepared for anything.

I drove to the Abbe Bigliardi, but the lackey, after taking in my name,
informed me that his mast