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Updated: June 17, 2025
I left him after a few minutes, with the intention of not visiting him again, but I was compelled to do so, as I will explain by-and-by. When I saw M. de Bonneval I told him what had happened and he said that, according to Turkish manners, Ismail had intended to give me a great proof of his friendship, but that I need not be afraid of the offence being repeated.
He was a very business-looking man, with a short, hard, dry way of speaking. I found him immersed in his books. Directly he saw me, he said, abruptly. "You are young Bonneval. You come too late. The others are gone." "Oh" And I dropped into a seat, quite stunned by this reverse. "Mais que voulez-vous?" said he. "They could not wait. The opportunity would have been lost."
It was about eleven in the morning when the janissary called for me, I followed him, and this time I found Bonneval dressed in the Turkish style. His guests soon arrived, and we sat down to dinner, eight of us, all well disposed to be cheerful and happy. The dinner was entirely French, in cooking and service; his steward and his cook were both worthy French renegades.
When we drove into the inn-yard, however, we could hear unruly voices in the house, and feared we might fall into bad company. A man immediately came up to us, and said to me, in a low voice: "Are you M. Jacques Bonneval?" "I am. Are you Antoine Leroux?" "Hist! yes. There are ill-disposed people in the inn; you had better not go in-doors. Can you walk a little way?" "Yes." "Come with me, then."
On a chair near him was placed his coat, on which was to be seen a new shoulder-knot, his hat with a new lace, and the famous sword which had furnished Ravanne with the facetious comparison to his mother's spit. "What! is it you?" cried the captain. "You find me like Monsieur de Bonneval in my seraglio, and surrounded by my slaves.
Five minutes later, with my baskets slung before me, and having left one horse at the inn, I was riding out of Bonneval to tell the Countess that she was free. I had come to a place where the road runs, narrower than ever, between banks covered with bushes.
A few days afterwards, M. de Bonneval took me with him to dine at Ismail's house, where I saw Asiatic luxury on a grand scale, but there were a great many guests, and the conversation was held almost entirely in the Turkish language a circumstance which annoyed me and M. de Bonneval also.
Ismail gave me a letter for the Chevalier de Lezze, but I could not forward it to him because I unfortunately lost it; he presented me with a barrel of hydromel, which I turned likewise into money. M. de Bonneval gave me a letter for Cardinal Acquaviva, which I sent to Rome with an account of my journey, but his eminence did not think fit to acknowledge the receipt of either.
It was about eleven in the morning when the janissary called for me, I followed him, and this time I found Bonneval dressed in the Turkish style. His guests soon arrived, and we sat down to dinner, eight of us, all well disposed to be cheerful and happy. The dinner was entirely French, in cooking and service; his steward and his cook were both worthy French renegades.
The effendi, whose name was Ismail, entreated the pacha to come to dine with him, and to bring me; Bonneval accepted, and fixed a day. Notwithstanding all the politeness of the effendi, I was particularly interested during our charming dinner in a fine elderly man of about sixty, whose countenance breathed at the same time the greatest sagacity and the most perfect kindness.
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