Rome | Page 7

owed him
twenty-five Louis as he had left Betty to sleep with me.
The Englishman told him he lied; it was he that had slept with her.
"Are you Betty's lover?" asked l'Etoile.
"Yes, and if I had caught you with her I should have blown out your
brains, for you have deceived her doubly; you're only a beggarly actor."
"I have three thousand crowns."
"I will pay six thousand if the bill proves to be a good one. In the
meanwhile you will stay here, and if it be false, as I expect it is, you
will go to the galleys."
"Very good."
"I shall speak to my counsel."
We went out and called on the advocate, for Sir B---- M---- had a lively
desire to send the impudent rascal to the galleys. However, it could not
be done, for l'Etoile said he was quite ready to give up the bill, but that
he expected Sir B---- M---- to pay a crown a day for his keep while he
remained in prison.
Sir B---- M---- thought he would like to see something of Rome, as he
was there, and was obliged to buy almost everything as he had left his
belongings behind him, while Betty was well provided for as her trunk
was of immense capacity. I went with them everywhere; it was not

exactly the life I liked, but there would be time for me to please myself
after they had gone. I loved Betty without desiring her, and I had taken
a liking to the Englishman who had an excellent heart. At first he
wanted to stay a fortnight at Rome, and then to return to Leghorn; but
his friend Lord Baltimore, who had come to Rome in the meanwhile,
persuaded him to pay a short visit to Naples.
This nobleman, who had with him a very pretty Frenchwoman and two
servants, said he would see to the journey, and that I must join the party.
I had made his acquaintance at London.
I was glad to have the opportunity of seeing Naples again. We lodged
at the "Crocielles" at Chiaggia, or Chiaja, as the Neapolitans call it.
The first news I heard was the death of the Duke of Matalone and the
marriage of his widow with Prince Caramanica.
This circumstance put an end to some of my hopes, and I only thought
of amusing myself with my friends, as if I had never been at Naples
before. Lord Baltimore had been there several times, but his mistress,
Betty, and Sir B---- M----, were strangers, and wanted to see everything.
I accordingly acted as cicerone, for which part I and my lord, too, were
much better qualified than the tedious and ignorant fellows who had an
official right to that title.
The day after our arrival I was unpleasantly surprised to see the
notorious Chevalier Goudar, whom I had known at London. He called
on Lord Baltimore.
This famous rout had a house at Pausilippo, and his wife was none
other than the pretty Irish girl Sara, formerly a drawer in a London
tavern. The reader has been already introduced to her. Goudar knew I
had met her, so he told me who she was, inviting us all to dine with him
the next day.
Sara skewed no surprise nor confusion at the sight of me, but I was
petrified. She was dressed with the utmost elegance, received company
admirably, spoke Italian with perfect correctness, talked sensibly, and

was exquisitely beautiful; I was stupefied; the metamorphosis was so
great.
In a quarter of an hour five or six ladies of the highest rank arrived,
with ten or twelve dukes, princes, and marquises, to say nothing of a
host of distinguished strangers.
The table was laid for thirty, but before dinner Madame Goudar seated
herself at the piano, and sang a few airs with the voice of a siren, and
with a confidence that did not astonish the other guests as they knew
her, but which astonished me extremely, for her singing was really
admirable.
Goudar had worked this miracle. He had been educating her to be his
wife for six or seven years.
After marrying her he had taken her to Paris, Vienna, Venice, Florence,
Rome, etc., everywhere seeking fortune, but in vain. Finally he had
come to Naples, where he had brought his wife into the fashion of
obliging her to renounce in public the errors of the Anglican heresy.
She had been received into the Catholic Church under the auspices of
the Queen of Naples. The amusing part in all this was that Sara, being
an Irishwoman, had been born a Catholic, and had never ceased to be
one.
All the nobility, even to the Court, went to see Sara, while she went
nowhere, for no