compel him to say
whether his bed-fellow was his wife or his mistress, even supposing that
his companion was truly a woman.

"At all events," he added, "I am determined not to give one crown to
arrange the affair, and to remain in bed until my door is shut. The
moment I am dressed, I will treat you to an amusing denouement of the
comedy. I will drive away all those scoundrels at the point of my sword."

I then see in a corner a broad sword, and a Hungarian costume looking
like a military uniform. I ask whether he is an officer.

"I have written my name and profession," he answers, "in the hotel book."

Astonished at the absurdity of the inn-keeper, I ask him whether it is
so; he confesses it, but adds that the clergy have the right to prevent
scandal.

"The insult you have offered to that officer, Mr. Landlord, will cost you
very dear."

His only answer is to laugh in my face. Highly enraged at seeing such a
scoundrel laugh at me, I take up the officer's quarrel warmly, and asked
him to entrust his passport to me for a few minutes.

"I have two," he says; "therefore I can let you have one." And taking the
document out of his pocket-book, he hands it to me. The passport was
signed by Cardinal Albani. The officer was a captain in a Hungarian
regiment belonging to the empress and queen. He was from Rome, on his way
to Parma with dispatches from Cardinal Albani Alexander to M. Dutillot,
prime minister of the Infante of Parma.

At the same moment, a man burst into the room, speaking very loudly, and
asked me to tell the officer that the affair must be settled at once,
because he wanted to leave Cesena immediately.

"Who are you?" I asked the man.

He answered that he was the 'vetturino' whom the captain had engaged. I
saw that it was a regular put-up thing, and begged the captain to let me
attend to the business, assuring him that I would settle it to his honour
and advantage.

"Do exactly as you please," he said.

Then turning towards the 'vetturino', I ordered him to bring up the
captain's luggage, saying that he would be paid at once. When he had done
so, I handed him eight sequins out of my own purse, and made him give me
a receipt in the name of the captain, who could only speak German,
Hungarian, and Latin. The vetturino went away, and the 'sbirri' followed
him in the greatest consternation, except two who remained.

"Captain," I said to the Hungarian, "keep your bed until I return. I am
going now to t