the most noteworthy was the wife of the merchant,
David Riguelin, who was a Swabian by birth.

Pittoni was in love with her and continued so till her death. His suit
lasted for twelve years, and like Petrarch, he still sighed, still hoped,
but never succeeded. Her name was Zanetta, and besides her beauty she had
the charm of being an exquisite singer and a polished hostess. Still more
noteworthy, however, was the unvarying sweetness and equability of her
disposition.

I did not want to know her long before recognizing that she was
absolutely impregnable. I told Pittoni so, but all in vain; he still fed
on empty hope.

Zanetta had very poor health, though no one would have judged so from her
appearance, but it was well known to be the case. She died at an early
age.

A few days after M. Zaguri's departure, I had a note from the consul
informing me that the Procurator Morosini was stopping in my inn, and
advising me to call on him if I knew him.

I was infinitely obliged for this advice, for M. Morosini was a personage
of the greatest importance. He had known me from childhood, and the
reader may remember that he had presented me to Marshal Richelieu, at
Fontainebleau, in 1750.

I dressed myself as if I had been about to speak to a monarch, and sent
in a note to his room.

I had not long to wait; he came out and welcomed me most graciously,
telling me how delighted he was to see me again.

When he heard the reason of my being at Trieste, and how I desired to
return to my country, he assured me he would do all in his power to
obtain me my wish. He thanked me for the care I had taken of his nephew
at Florence, and kept me all the day while I told him my principal
adventures.

He was glad to hear that M. Zaguri was working for me, and said that they
must concert the mater together. He commended me warmly to the consul,
who was delighted to be able to inform the Tribunal of the consideration
with which M. Morosini treated me.

After the procurator had gone I began to enjoy life at Trieste, but in
strict moderation and with due regard for economy, for I had only fifteen
sequins a month. I abjured play altogether.

Every day I dined with one of the circle of my friends, who were the
Venetian consul, the French consul (an eccentric but worthy man who kept
a good cook), Pittoni, who kept an excellent table, thanks to his man who
knew what was to his own interests, and several others.

As for the pleasures of love