shrine of friendship, take the thousand sequins, and lend them to me, and
let my wife have the dress, for of course he will give it her."

This proposal made me roar with laughter, and certainly it was of a
nature to excite the hilarity of a sufferer from confirmed melancholia,
which I was far from being. However, I stopped laughing when I saw how
the poor count blushed from shame. I kissed him affectionately to calm
him, but at last I was cruel enough to say,

"I will willingly assist you in this arrangement. I will sell the dress
to the marquis as soon as you please, but I won't lend you the money.
I'll give it to you in the person of your wife at a private interview;
but when she receives me she must not only be polite and complaisant, but
as gentle as a lamb. Go and see if it can be arranged, my dear count;
'tis absolutely my last word."

"I will see," said the poor husband; and with that he went out.

Barbaro kept his appointment with exactitude. I made him get into my
carriage, and we alighted at a house at the end of Milan. We went to the
first floor, and there I was introduced to a fine-looking old man, an
amiable lady of pleasing appearance, and then to two charming cousins. He
introduced me as a Venetian gentleman in disgrace with the State
Inquisitors, like himself, adding, that as I was a rich bachelor their
good or ill favour made no difference to me.

He said I was rich, and I looked like it. My luxury of attire was
dazzling: My rings, my snuff-boxes, my chains, my diamonds, my jewelled
cross hanging on my breast-all gave me the air of an important personage.
The cross belonged to the Order of the Spur the Pope had given me, but as