His lordship smiled and said very pleasantly that he would read it after dinner, and would see what he could do for his friend Zaguri.

Our dialogue was over in a few seconds.  Thinking him extremely rude I turned my back and went downstairs, arriving just in time to prevent the postillion taking out the horses.  I promised him a double gratuity if he would take me to some village at hand, where he could bait his horses while I breakfasted.

Just as the postillion had got on horseback a servant came running up.  He told me very politely that his excellence begged me to step upstairs.

I put my hand in my pocket and gave the man my card with my name and address, and telling him that that was what his master wanted, I ordered the postillion to drive off at a full gallop.

When we had gone half a league we stopped at a good inn, and then proceeded on our way back to Bologna.

The same day I wrote to M. de Zaguri, and described the welcome I had received at the hands of the marquis.  I enclosed the letter in another to M. Dandolo, begging him to read it, and to send it on.  I begged the noble Venetian to write to the marquis that having offended me grievously he must prepare to give me due satisfaction.

I laughed with all my heart next day when my landlady gave me a visiting card with the inscription, General the Marquis of Albeygati.  She told me the marquis had called on me himself, and on hearing I was out had left his card.

I began to look upon the whole of his proceedings as pure gasconnade, only lacking the wit of the true Gascon.  I determined to await M. Zaguri’s reply before making up my mind as to the kind of satisfaction I should demand.

While I was inspecting the card, and wondering what right the marquis had to the title of general, Severini came in, and informed me that the marquis had been made a Knight of the Order of St. Stanislas by the King of Poland, who had also given him the style of royal chamberlain.

“Is he a general in the Polish service as well?” I asked.

“I really don’t know.”

“I understand it all,” I said to myself.  “In Poland a chamberlain has the rank of adjutant-general, and the marquis calls himself general.  But general what?  The adjective without a substantive is a mere cheat.”

I saw my opportunity, and wrote a comic dialogue, which I had printed the next day.  I made a present of the work to a bookseller, and in three or four days he sold out the whole edition at a bajocco apiece.

CHAPTER XIX

Farinello and the Electress Dowager of Saxony—­Madame Slopitz—­Nina—­The
Midwife—­Madame Soavi—­Abbe Bolini—­Madame Viscioletta—­The
Seamstress—­The Sorry Pleasure of Revenge—­Severini Goes to Naples—­My
Departure—­Marquis Mosca

Anyone who attacks a proud person in a comic vein is almost sure of success; the laugh is generally on his side.