He shewed me his pictures, statues, and cabinet of curiosities, while dinner was preparing; but rather for the ostentation of his magnificence and taste, than to do me pleasure.  I even observed an increasing coldness in his behaviour; and his eye was too often cast upon me with a fierceness that shewed resentment; and not with the hospitable frankness that became him to a visitor and guest, who had undertaken a journey of above two hundred miles, principally to attend him, and to shew him the confidence he had in his honour.  This, as it was more to his dishonour than mine, I pitied him for.  But what most of all disturbed me, was, that I could not obtain from him any particular intelligence relating to the health of one person, whose distresses lay heavy upon my heart.

There were several persons of distinction at dinner; the discourse could therefore be only general.  He paid me great respect at his table, but it was a solemn one.  I was the more uneasy at it, as I apprehended, that the situation of the Bologna family was more unhappy than when I left that city.

He retired with me into his garden.  You stay with me at least the week out, chevalier?

No, my lord:  I have affairs of a deceased friend at Florence and at Leghorn to settle.  To-morrow, as early as I can, I shall set out for Rome, in my way to Tuscany.

I am surprised, chevalier.  You take something amiss in my behaviour.

I cannot say that your lordship’s countenance (I am a very free speaker) has that benignity in it, that complacency, which I have had the pleasure to see in it.

By G—! chevalier, I could have loved you better than any man in the world, next to the men of my own family; but I own I see you not here with so much love as admiration.

The word admiration, my lord, may require explanation.  You may admire at my confidence:  but I thank you for the manly freedom of your acknowledgment in general.

By admiration I mean, all that may do you honour.  Your bravery in coming hither, particularly; and your greatness of mind on your taking leave of us all.  But did you not then mean to insult me?

I meant to observe to you then, as I now do in your own palace, that you had not treated me as my heart told me I deserved to be treated:  but when I thought your warmth was rising to the uneasiness of your assembled friends, instead of answering your question about my stay at Bologna, as you seemed to mean it, I invited myself to an attendance upon you here, at Naples, in such a manner as surely could not be construed as insult.

I own, Grandison, you disconcerted me.  I had intended to save you that journey.

Was that your lordship’s meaning, when, in my absence, you called at my lodgings, the day after the farewell-visit?

Not absolutely:  I was uneasy with myself.  I intended to talk to you.  What that talk might have produced, I know not:  but had I invited you out, if I had found you at home, would you have answered my demands?