I hope I may say that, in the painful position in which I found myself, I did what was becoming to a man of honour more jealous of his wife's than of his own. I reasoned with myself that a scandal, an uproar, an exhibition of my resentment would not only be no protection to Virginia, but would be, on the other hand, the clearest evidence that I doubted her. It could only end in my being turned out of the inn and in her being held by every man and woman of the place for what she was not. I remembered here with admiration the conduct of Father Carnesecchi, who, having on one occasion conducted two ladies and their cavaliers about the church of San Giovannino, and pointed out what beauties it possessed—and many which it did not—was mistaken by them for the sacristan and offered a small gratuity at the door. He thanked them and humbly accepted it, and (as I think), did well; for, as he said afterwards, it would have hurt their esteem much more to have been refused than it could possibly hurt his to have been offered the gift. It was in the spirit of this that I acted in the present state of my affairs. Virginia was undoubtedly my wife, and therefore of my own rank. To doubt a gentleman in any situation, however delicate, were to be offensive; it could not therefore be less offensive, but must needs be more, to doubt a gentlewoman. Not only did I not doubt her in truth, but I would not let it be supposed by any one that I did. There then, in that steaming kitchen, among sweating cooks and greasy cook-aids did I stand, with what countenance I had.

They were too busy just then for any notice to be thrown my way. I sat in a corner out of sight and watched their preparations for a superb banquet. It might have seemed that the cavaliere was going to entertain all the Ancients of the Republic, to judge by the capons and turkeys, the strings of ortolans, the quails, the partridges, roasting, basting or getting trussed. There was a cygnet, I remember; there were large fish stuffed with savoury herbs, crawfish, lampreys, eels in wine; there were pastry, shapes of cream, jellies, custards: you never saw such a feast—and I am sure there were a score of persons of both sexes busy about it. The maids flew from saucepan to stewpan, the boys staggered under piles of plates; the dressers and servers were always in and out, carrying dishes to the lacqueys of the table or coming back for more. The head-cook, a mountain of brawn and lard, seemed fresh from the bath— so he dripped and shone. The hubbub, bustle, heat and worry are not to be described by me.

When the dinner was at last completed and sent to table, the master-cook straightened himself and gave a short order, which was immediately obeyed. I saw him go into the scullery near by and souse his head and neck in a bucket of cold water. In a trice the tables of his late business were cleared, and the scullions laid out the materials for supper. These were, as may be supposed, distinguished by abundance rather than refinement: a dish of tripe, a chine of beef, spaghetti in wash-hand basins, onion salad with garlic, sausages, blood-puddings, pigs' feet in vinegar. High wicker flasks of wine stood in iron cages, to be swung down by the finger; there was one bottle of water: all was ready. But nobody sat down until the master-cook appeared. The men stood on one side of the table, the maids on the other, like soldiers on parade. He entered, the huge fellow, red from his cold douche, his hair all rumpled from the rude embraces of the jack-towel, and walked over to the men's side, wiping the wet from his ears as he went. He stood—this captain of the kitchen—in front of his company, and with a sweeping and appraising eye surveyed the ordered nymphs. He selected the partner of his choice, a modest-mannered creature who answered to the name of Gentucca; she came forward and stood by his side. With no more waiting he took his seat at the head of the board, and, plunging his fingers into a steaming bowl of spaghetti, began to gobble at it in the unedifying way which his nation have—and which, indeed, the dish demands. Gentucca sat at his right hand, but took nothing until she had helped him to drink. Meantime the others had made their arrangements— from the second in command down to the merest pot-boy selections had been made from among the maids. I heard, "Lisabetta, come here," or, "No, no, Liperata, I have chosen you"—or it was Caterina, or Giocosa, or Bettina, as the case may have been. To be brief, down sat everybody in the kitchen, Jack by his Gill, save my unhappy self.

It was the highly favoured Gentucca who pointed me out to the Grand Master of the Cooks. As I still wore the cape and long coat of Aquamorta's servant I was naturally accepted as such. The master-cook, who saw directly that I was a foreigner, courteously invited me to the right hand of Gentucca, ordering a bouncing girl of the name of Maria- Maddelena to make room for me. She very pleasantly did so; my plate was heaped, my cup was filled; all the company stood up and drank my health. Nothing could have been kinder than this humble society. My eyes clouded more than once to recognise it.

My host exerted himself to entertain me, though he tried (and I cannot blame him) to entertain the company at the same time. Perhaps his curiosity got the better of his good nature; certainly he pumped me as dry as I could be induced to go, and it was not until he had learned everything I cared to tell him that he remembered that he could impart as well as receive. He discussed my master (as he supposed him to be), the cavaliere, and by what he told me gave me some entertainment not unmixed with anxiety. That obliging and imperturbable person was, I found out, a gentleman of fortune—a term which implies that he was not a gentleman at all and had no kind of fortune but what he could secure of his neighbours. He travelled like a prince, and spent his money freely, but all was, as my host said, a case of casting nets. "Not but what my gentleman loves his belly as much as you or I," said the master- cook; "and small blame to him if he do. A man's head has no more stout ally than his paunch, while it is well lined, and no more arrant deserter if he cut short the supplies. But if you suppose, sir, that the banquet which I have sent upstairs is all for Aquamorta and his lady to consume en tete-a-tete, you know very little about him. Why, I'll wager that demirep of a valet of his has collected half our young blades to the board. Good food, good wine, good talk there will be, never fear. And afterwards—what follows? So soon as the tables are cleared out come the cards and the fishes. His Excellency, to oblige the company, will make a faro-bank; the company—well fed and well drunken—to oblige his Excellency, will punt. The signora will do the same for the ladies, the ladies for the signora. Now do you see the drift of his net? Should any little dispute arise—as will be on occasion—the cavaliere's sword is at the disposition of the gentleman offended. He is something of a marksman, too, as you cannot fail to have heard if you are a traveller. He has killed a man and undone a couple of ladies in every Court of Europe. He has been under the leads at Venice, and out again, deuce knows how. He has been expelled from half the cities of Italy, and has turned the story into capital in the other half. A most exorbitant, irresistible droll of a master you have there, sir; but who his decoy- duck of the moment may be, I dare say you can tell better than I. A fine young woman, and a cool hand, I could see for myself. I thought she looked waspish and gave herself more graces than were hers by nature. He has a taste for a bitter with his food, it appears; something tart and sharp to give an edge to his palate, perhaps. Do you happen to know her name?"

I said she was known to me as Donna Virginia, whereat he laughed gaily, and taking Gentucca round the waist, kissed her heartily, saying that she was the virgin for him.

Shortly after this, with a few words of polite excuse, he broke up the table and retired with his partner. The rest of the company gave itself up to pleasures which were as zestful as they were free. It may be imagined that I had little taste for such simple sports as these worthy persons could devise. I sat, an unhappy spectator of their gambols—but a diversion of a vigorous kind was at hand. In the midst of the scuffling and babel of voices in the kitchen I heard the strident tones of the cavaliere, evidently in a great rage.

"Where is that dastardly dog? Where is that villain of a cook?" I heard him roar on the stairs. "Bring me that scoundrel that I may slit his ears!" At this moment he burst through the doors, a terrific spectacle of fury, his eyes burning like fires, his face inflamed, his drawn sword in his hand. The company scattered to the walls or dived beneath the tables, chairs were overturned, the maids began to scream.

He glared about him at the desert he had made. "Produce me the cook, you knaves," cried he, "or I mow you down like thistles." The master-cook's face peeped through the gently opened door, and the cavaliere, across the room in two strides, seized his victim by the ear and pulled him headlong into the kitchen. "Hound!" he roared, "and son of a hound! Take the punishment you have earned."

"Sir, sir!" says the unhappy cook, "what have I done?"

"Done!" cries the cavaliere, screwing him unmercifully by the ear, "you have compassed my death by your infernal arts. I am poisoned—a dying man, but my last ounce of strength shall be enough to avenge me." So said, he began to belabour the wretch with the flat of his sword, and at each stroke the cook gave a howl of terror. His poor little mistress ran out of her concealment and clung to his helpless person, seeking to receive upon hers the blows as they fell. It was then that I interposed.

"Cavaliere," I said, "you are acting, with I know not what justice, against a man who has just proved more hospitable to me than yourself has thought fit to do. I must now tell you that any further indignity offered to him must be considered as done to me."

He paused in his furious attack, and "Ha!" says he, "here's the husband." He began to laugh; he laughed with such gusto and abandoned himself to such uproarious mirth that very soon all the company except myself was laughing with him. All of a sudden he stopped, with a mighty serious face. "Harkee, my friend," says he to me, "upon reflection I do believe that I have been hasty. The spasm passes. It may well be that it was the excellence of this honest man's catering which betrayed me, and not any infernal design. A passing cholic, after all!" He smiled benevolently upon his recent prisoner. "Rise, my worthy friend," said he, "and receive a pardon from the right hand of fellowship, sugared, as I hope, to your liking." His hand was full of gold pieces. "Nobody shall say," he added proudly, "that Aquamorta cannot requite good service, because he knows so well how to reprimand bad service." The cook humbly thanking his Excellency, the storm was over.

But I had another brewing, or thought that I should have. As the cavaliere was about to retire, I stopped him and said that I wished to accompany him. He scratched his head.

"Why, my dear sir," says he, "that will be plaguily inconvenient at this moment. My rooms are full of guests, d'ye see? Your charming lady is entertaining all the Senators' mistresses, and I am in the midst of a carouse with their Serenities. I am not one for hard-and-fast categories, as you know. Your dirty shirt and ragged elbows are nothing to me—but zounds! I can't answer for the most Serene Ancients."

I said then that I would retire to my room and wait for my wife—but to that he objected that, in strict truth, and to keep up the fiction upon which my safety depended, I had no room, at all. My wife was considered to be his wife, while I was supposed to be what I had professed myself, his servant. Would I, he asked me, for the sake of a night's gratification, imperil the many happy years which, he hoped and would take care, should be in store for me?

I was somewhat slow in meeting this preposterous question as it deserved, and when I opened my lips to speak he stopped me with, "Say no more. I don't ask your thanks. Your safety is as dear to me as my own." He beckoned to one of the scullions, and "Hi, you," says he, "show this fellow of mine where he can sleep, and see to it that his company be honest." With that he ruffled upstairs with the airs of a grand duke, and left me once more stranded with the cooks. To come to an end of this humiliating page, rejecting all offers of company, I was accommodated with a wretched cupboard below the stairs, which smelt vilely of sour wine and mildewed cheese, and ruefully prepared to spend what sort of night I could, with my thoughts for bedfellows.

I know not what hour of the night it was when I was roused out of a dream-tortured sleep by the creaking of my cupboard door. Looking up, the light of a candle which she held showed me Virginia.

"Behold Virginia," she said. "Did you doubt whether I should come?"

"I never doubted but you would come if you could," I replied, "but I did not see how it was possible." She blew out the candle and crept to my side. "The cavaliere, by diverting his friends with your plight," she said, "revealed to me where he had left you. I excused myself to the company and retired. I think he will be disagreeably surprised before morning."

I was much touched by her devotion and wifely duty, and assured her of it by every means in my power.