ed an easy victory, but I even begged her
pardon, which I soon read in the most loving look.

She spoke of Lucrezia, and was pleased with my discretion. She then
alluded to the cardinal, doing her best to make me believe that there was
nothing between them but a feeling of innocent friendship. Of course I
had my opinion on that subject, but it was my interest to appear to
believe every word she uttered. We recited together lines from our best
poets, and all the time she was still sitting down and I standing before
her, with my looks rapt in the contemplation of the most lovely charms,
to which I remained insensible in appearance, for I had made up my mind
not to press her that evening for greater favours than those I had
already received.

The cardinal, waking from his long and peaceful siesta, got up and joined
us in his night-cap, and good-naturedly enquired whether we had not felt
impatient at his protracted sleep. I remained until dark and went home
highly pleased with my day's work, but determined to keep my ardent
desires in check until the opportunity for complete victory offered
itself.

From that day, the charming marchioness never ceased to give me the marks
of her particular esteem, without the slightest constraint; I was
reckoning upon the carnival, which was close at hand, feeling certain
that the more I should spare her delicacy, the more she would endeavour
to find the opportunity of rewarding my loyalty, and of crowning with
happiness my loving constancy. But fate ordained otherwise; Dame Fortune
turned her back upon me at the very moment when the Pope and Cardinal
Acquaviva were thinking of giving me a really good position.

The Holy Father had congratulated me upon the beautiful snuff-box
presented to me by Cardinal S. C., but he had been careful never to name
the marchioness. Cardinal Acquaviva expressed openly his delight at his
brother-cardinal having given me a taste of his negrillo snuff in so
splendid an envelope; the Abbe Gama, finding me so forward on the road to
success, did not venture to counsel me any more, and the virtuous Father
Georgi gave me but one piece of advice-namely, to cling to the lovely
marchioness and not to make any other acquaintances.

Such was my position-truly a brilliant one, when, on Christmas Day, the
lover of Barbara Dalacqua entered my room, locked the door, and threw
himself on the sofa, exclaiming that I saw him for the last time.

"I only come to beg of you