ould this castrato be allowed to shew his
breast, of which the fairest Roman lady might be proud, and yet wish
everyone to consider him as a man and not a woman? If the stage is
forbidden to the fair sex lest they excite desires, why do they seek out
men-monsters made in the form of women, who excite much more criminal
desires? They keep on preaching that pederasty is comparatively unknown
and entraps only a few, but many clever men endeavour to be entrapped,
and end by thinking it so pleasant that they prefer these monsters to the
most beautiful women."

"The Pope would be sure of heaven if he put a stop to this scandalous
practice."

"I don't agree with you. One could not have a pretty actress to supper
without causing a scandal, but such an invitation to a castrato makes
nobody talk. It is of course known perfectly well that after supper both
heads rest on one pillow, but what everybody knows is ignored by all. One
may sleep with a man out of mere friendship, it is not so with a woman."

"True, monsignor, appearances are saved, and a sin concealed is half
pardoned, as they say in Paris."

"At Rome we say it is pardoned altogether. 'Peccato nascosto non
offende'."

His jesuitical arguments interested me, for I knew that he was an avowed
partisan of the forbidden fruit.

In one of the boxes I saw the Marchioness Passarini (whom I had known at
Dresden) with Don Antonio Borghese, and I went to pay my addresses to
them. The prince, whom I had known at Paris ten years before, recognized
me, and asked me to dine with him on the following day. I went, but my
lord was not at home. A page told me that my place was laid at table, and
that I could dine just as if the prince was there, on which I turned my
back on him and went away. On Ash Wednesday he sent his man to ask me to
sup with him and the marchioness, who was his mistress, and I sent word
that I would not fail to come; but he waited for me in vain. Pride is the
daughter of folly, and always keeps its mother's nature.

After the opera I went to Momolo's, where I found Mariuccia, her father,
her mother, and her future husband. They were anxiously expecting me. It
is not difficult to make people happy when one selects for one's bounty
persons who really deserve happiness. I was amidst poor but honest
people, and I can truly say that I had a delightful supper. It may be
that some of my enjoyment proceeded from a feeling of vanity, for I knew
that I was the author of