I was glad to meet him, but I found out before the dinner was over that
he was completely devoid of education and the manners of a gentleman; but
he was well content with the one talent he possessed, namely, that of
correcting the freaks of fortune at games of chance. I did not wait to
see the onslaught of the cheats on the dupes, but took my leave while the
table was being made ready.

Such was my life during the seven months which I spent at Florence.

After this dinner I never saw Zen, or Medini, or Zanovitch, except by
chance in the public places.

Here I must recount some incidents which took place towards the middle of
December.

Lord Lincoln, a young man of eighteen, fell in love with a Venetian
dancer named Lamberti, who was a universal favourite. On every night when
the opera was given the young Englishman might be seen going to her
camerino, and everyone wondered why he did not visit her at her own
house, where he would be certain of a good welcome, for he was English,
and therefore rich, young, and handsome. I believe he was the only son of
the Duke of Newcastle.

Zanovitch marked him down, and in a short time had become an intimate
friend of the fair Lamberti. He then made up to Lord Lincoln, and took
him to the lady's house, as a polite man takes a friend to see his
mistress.

Madame Lamberti, who was in collusion with the rascal, was not niggardly