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Such was my life during the seven months which I spent at Florence. After this dinner I never saw Zen, or Medini, or Zanovitch, except by chance in the public places. Here I must recount some incidents which took place towards the middle of December. Lord Lincoln, a young man of eighteen, fell in love with a Venetian dancer named Lamberti, who was a universal favourite.
The carriage stopped at the Place d'Espagne, at a short distance from my lodging, and we went up to a room on the second floor. When I went in I was surprised to see Count Medini and his mistress, the lady whom the chevalier had praised, and whom I found not at all to my taste.
Towards the end of dinner it happened that Medini differed in opinion from me, and expressed his views in such a peremptory manner that I remarked that a gentleman would be rather more choice in his expressions. "Maybe," he replied, "but I am not going to learn manners from you."
I had opened the door, and the police, fearing he would escape, ran forward to get hold of him. Then began an interesting battle. Medini, who had no arms, and was only in his dressing-gown, proceeded to distribute kicks, cuffs, and blows amongst the four cowards, who had their swords at their sides, whilst I held the door to prevent the Irishman going out and calling for assistance.
I shall have to mention her again in four years; now I have only to speak of a certain circumstance which brought my love adventure with her to a close after three or four weeks. Count Medini, a young, thoughtless fellow like myself, and with inclinations of much the same cast, had introduced me to Ancilla. The count was a confirmed gambler and a thorough enemy of fortune.
Medini received me cordially, and thanked the Frenchman for having made me forget the past, and having brought me to see him. M. de Neuville looked astonished, and to avoid any unpleasant explanations I turned the conversation.
Besides, I was no longer at that headstrong age which only knows one kind of satisfaction, that of the sword. I remembered that if Manucci had been wrong so had I, and I felt that my honour ran no danger of being compromised. The day after, I went to dinner with him. The Chevalier de Neuville came in towards the close of the meal, and Medini a few moments later.
However, Medini called out to me to pay no attention to them whatever. When I had given the vetturino his acknowledgment and paid the four or five crowns charged by the police, Medini told me that he had more to say to me; but I turned my back on him, and went home to dinner.
I do not know how Medini found out that I was at Florence, but he wrote me a letter begging me to come and deliver him from the police, who besieged his room and talked of taking him to prison. He said he only wanted me to go bail for him, and protested that I should not run any risk, as he was sure of being able to pay in a few days.
He begged to be excused, saying he had not enough money, so I consented to take his place. The cards were brought in, and I emptied my poor purse on the table. It only held four hundred ounces, but that was all I possessed. The game began; and on Medini asking me if I would allow him a share in the bank, I begged him to excuse me on the score of inconvenience.
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