rella was
to be a second parent to me.

I desired to see the world, and I was indulged. I went to Florence, to
Rome, to Naples; thence I passed to Toulon, and at length reached what
had long been the bourne of my wishes, Paris. There was wild work in
Paris then. The poor king, Charles the Sixth, now sane, now mad, now a
monarch, now an abject slave, was the very mockery of humanity. The
queen, the dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy, alternately friends and
foes--now meeting in prodigal feasts, now shedding blood in
rivalry--were blind to the miserable state of their country, and the
dangers that impended over it, and gave themselves wholly up to
dissolute enjoyment or savage strife. My character still followed me. I
was arrogant and self-willed; I loved display, and above all, I threw
all control far from me. Who could control me in Paris? My young friends
were eager to foster passions which furnished them with pleasures. I was
deemed handsome--I was master of every knightly accomplishment. I was
disconnected with any political party. I grew a favorite with all: my
presumption and arrogance was pardoned in one so young; I became a
spoiled child. Who could control me? not letters and advice of
Torella--only strong necessity visiting me in the abhorred shape of an
empty purse. But there were means to refill this void. Acre after acre,
estate after estate, I sold. My dress, my jewels, my horses and their
caparisons, were almost unrivalled in gorgeous Paris, while the lands of
my inheritance passed into possession of others.

The Duke of Orleans was waylaid and murdered by the Duke of Burgundy.
Fear and terror possessed all Paris. The dauphin and the queen shut
themselves up; every pleasure was suspended. I grew weary of this state
of things, and my heart yearned for my boyhood's haunts. I was nearly a
beggar, yet still I would go there, claim my bride, and rebuild my
fortunes. A few happy ventures as a merchant would make me rich again.
Nevertheless, I would not return in humble guise. My last act was to
dispose of my remaining estate near Albaro for half its worth, for ready
money. Then I despatched all kinds of artificers, arras, furniture of
regal splendor, to fit up the last relic of my inheritance, my palace in
Genoa. I lingered a little longer yet, ashamed at the part of the
prodigal returned, which I feared I should play. I sent my horses. One
matchless Spanish jennet I despatched to my promised bride; its
caparisons f