A dreadful operation, interrupted the general.--He has. Poor Jeronymo!
He could not write to you. God preserve my brother! But, chevalier, you
did not save half a life, though we thank you for that, when you restored
him to our arms.
I had no reason to boast, my lord, of the accident. I never made a merit
of it. It was a mere accident, and cost me nothing. The service was
greatly over-rated.
Would to God, chevalier, it had been rendered by any other man in the
world!
As it has proved, I am sure, my lord, I have reason to join in the wish.
He shewed me his pictures, statues, and cabinet of curiosities, while
dinner was preparing; but rather for the ostentation of his magnificence
and taste, than to do me pleasure. I even observed an increasing
coldness in his behaviour; and his eye was too often cast upon me with a
fierceness that shewed resentment; and not with the hospitable frankness
that became him to a visitor and guest, who had undertaken a journey of
above two hundred miles, principally to attend him, and to shew him the
confidence he had in his honour. This, as it was more to his dishonour
than mine, I pitied him for. But what most of all disturbed me, was,
that I could not obtain from him any particular intelligence relating to
the health of one person, whose distresses lay heavy upon my heart.
There were several persons of distinction at dinner; the discourse could
therefore be only general. He paid me great respect at his table, but it
was a solemn one. I was the more uneasy at it, as I apprehended, that
the situation of the Bologna family was more unhappy than when I left
that city.
He retired with me into his garden. You stay with me at least the week
out, chevalier?
No, my lord: I have affairs of a deceased friend at Florence and at
Leghorn to settle. To-morrow, as early as I can, I shall set out for
Rome, in my way to Tuscany.