ry, yet, in spite of all, ever dear to me,
possibly on account of early impressions and early prejudices, or
possibly because the beauties of Venice are really unmatched in the
world. But mighty Paris is a place of good luck or ill, as one takes it,
and it was my part to catch the favouring gale.

Paris was not wholly new to me, as my readers know I had spent two years
there, but I must confess that, having then no other aim than to pass the
time pleasantly, I had merely devoted myself to pleasure and enjoyment.
Fortune, to whom I had paid no court, had not opened to me her golden
doors; but I now felt that I must treat her more reverently, and attach
myself to the throng of her favoured sons whom she loads with her gifts.
I understood now that the nearer one draws to the sun the more one feels
the warmth of its rays. I saw that to attain my end I should have to
employ all my mental and physical talents, that I must make friends of
the great, and take cue from all whom I found it to be my interest to
please. To follow the plans suggested by these thoughts, I saw that I
must avoid what is called bad company, that I must give up my old habits
and pretensions, which would be sure to make me enemies, who would have
no scruple in representing me as a trifler, and not fit to be trusted
with affairs of any importance.

I think I thought wisely, and the reader, I hope, will be of the same
opinion. "I will be reserved," said I, "in what I say and what I do, and
thus I shall get a reputation for discretion which will bring its
reward."

I was in no anxiety on the score of present needs, as I could reckon on a
monthly allowance of a hundred crowns, which my adopted father, the good
and generous M. de Bragadin, sent me, and I found this sum sufficient in
the meanwhile, for with a little self-restraint one can live cheaply at
Paris, and cut a good figure at the same time. I was obliged to wear a
good suit of clothes, and to have a decent lodging; for in all large
towns the most important thing is outward show, by which at the beginning
one is always judged. My anxiety was only for the pressing needs of the
moment, for to speak the truth I had neither clothes nor linen--in a
word, nothing.

If my relations with the French ambassador are recalled, it will be found
natural that my first idea was to address myself to him, as I knew him
sufficiently well to reckon on his serving me.

Being perfectly certain that the porter would tel