need not trouble myself any more about the monk, as she
was sure that the dean would take care of him, and even make it all right
at Venice.

Delighted at getting rid of him in so honourable a manner, I ran to the
inn, told him what I had done, gave him the letter, and promised not to
abandon him in the case of the dean's not giving him a warm welcome. I
got him a good carriage, and started him off the next day at daybreak.
Four days after, Balbi wrote that the dean had received him with great
kindness, that he had given him a room in the deanery, that he had
dressed him as an abbe, that he had introduced him to the Prince-Bishop
of Armstadt, and that he had received assurances of his safety from the
civil magistrates. Furthermore, the dean had promised to keep him till he
obtained his secularization from Rome, and with it freedom to return to
Venice, for as soon as he ceased to be a monk the Tribunal would have no
lien upon him. Father Balbi finished by asking me to send him a few
sequins for pocket-money, as he was too much of a gentleman to ask the
dean who, quoth the ungrateful fellow, "is not gentleman enough to offer
to give me anything." I gave him no answer.

As I was now alone in peace and quietness, I thought seriously of
regaining my health, for my sufferings had given me nervous spasms which
might become dangerous. I put myself on diet, and in three weeks I was
perfectly well. In the meanwhile Madame Riviere came from Dresden with
her son and two daughters. She was going to Paris to marry the elder. The
son had been diligent, and would have passed for a young man of culture.
The elder daughter, who was going to marry an actor, was extremely
beautiful, an accomplished dancer, and played on the clavichord like a
professional, and was altogether most charming and graceful. This
pleasant family was delighted to see me again, and I thought myself
fortunate when Madame Riviere, anticipating my wishes, intimated to me
that my company as far as Paris would give them great pleasure. I had
nothing to say respecting the expenses of the journey. I had to accept
their offer in its entirety. My design was to settle in Paris, and I took
this stroke of fortune as an omen of success in the only town where the
blind goddess freely dispenses her favours to those who leave themselves
to be guided by her, and know how to take advantage of her gifts. And, as
the reader will see by and by, I was not mistaken; but all the gifts of