f the ambassador for my salary, and this for no other reason than
because, not being a Frenchman, I had no right to national protection,
and that it was a private affair between him and myself. Everybody
agreed I was insulted, injured, and unfortunate; that the ambassador was
mad, cruel, and iniquitous, and that the whole of the affair dishonored
him forever. But what of this! He was the ambassador, and I was nothing
more than the secretary.

Order, or that which is so called, was in opposition to my obtaining
justice, and of this the least shadow was not granted me. I supposed
that, by loudly complaining, and by publicly treating this madman in the
manner he deserved, I should at length be told to hold my tongue; this
was what I wished for, and I was fully determined not to obey until I had
obtained redress. But at that time there was no minister for foreign
affairs. I was suffered to exclaim, nay, even encouraged to do it, and
joined with; but the affair still remained in the same state, until,
tired of being in the right without obtaining justice, my courage at
length failed me, and let the whole drop.

The only person by whom I was ill received, and from whom I should have
least expected such an injustice, was Madam de Beuzenval. Full of the
prerogatives of rank and nobility, she could not conceive it was possible
an ambassador could ever be in the wrong with respect to his secretary.
The reception she gave me was conformable to this prejudice. I was so
piqued at it that, immediately after leaving her, I wrote her perhaps one
of the strongest and most violent letters that ever came from my pen, and
since that time I never once returned to her house. I was better
received by Father Castel; but, in the midst of his Jesuitical wheedling
I perceived him faithfully to follow one of the great maxims of his
society, which is to sacrifice the weak to the powerful. The strong
conviction I felt of the justice of my cause, and my natural greatness of
mind did not suffer me patiently to endure this partiality. I ceased
visiting Father Castel, and on that account, going to the college of the
Jesuits, where I knew nobody but himself. Besides the intriguing and
tyrannical spirit of his brethren, so different from the cordiality of
the good Father Hemet, gave me such a disgust for their conversation that
I have never since been acquainted with, nor seen anyone of them except
Father Berthier, whom I saw twice or thrice a