ther and began again: "By
the way, I wrote you a letter some time since, which has not yet been
answered." "You did wrong to write that letter," I rejoined, "and I did
well to take no notice of it." Thinking that my indifference was a sign
of meekness, he presumed so far as to reply with arrogance: "On the
contrary, I did well to write it." I judged it best to change my tone
and put the fellow down. So, knitting my brows and looking him hard in
the face, I spoke as follows: "You did extremely wrong. Remember that
you are in my house. Do not presume upon my civility and forbearance. I
am astounded that you have the boldness to pursue me into my own
sitting-room, and to bolster up the dirty arguments of your epistle."

The wretch turned pale and sat like a statue. Just at this unlucky
minute my servant came in and offered him a cup of chocolate. With
trembling hand he took the cup and drank a single mouthful, then put it
down upon the salver, saying he did not feel well enough to finish it.
When the servant left the room he flung himself upon his knees and
begged me to pardon him. "Get up," I said. "I am perfectly aware that
you had nothing to do either with that letter or this visit. You are
only an emissary, who does not count." Thus encouraged, he entered into
a long recital, to which I listened because it gave me some amusement.
"I shall tell you the whole truth," he said, "just as if I were kneeling
before an altar. Signor Gratarol began to turn my wife's head with his
candied orange-peel and Neapolitan bonbons. A box of the latter arrived
one day at our house, together with a very flattering billet, expressing
the donor's strong desire to be allowed to pay his respects to her. My
wife was for sending an answer back by the servant, thanking him for the
bonbons, and saying that his visits would be most acceptable. I bade her
reflect that this might expose her to slander, and be disagreeable to
yourself--the good Count Gozzi, the godfather of our child, our
protector and adviser and benefactor for so many years. She called me a
fool, and sent the note against my will. You know, Sir Count, that with
my wife it is all the same whether I speak or hold my tongue. By all
that is sacred, I swear that I have told you the whole truth. Signor
Gratarol began and continued his visits both by day and night, without
any fault of mine, and without my consent." The opening of this
flirtation by the gift of bonbons diverted me; and I s