The noise made by the affair was, however, beginning to subside, when, in
the first days of Lent, the cardinal desired me to come to his private
room, and spoke as follows:

"The affair of the girl Dalacqua is now over; it is no longer spoken of,
but the verdict of the public is that you and I have profited by the
clumsiness of the young man who intended to carry her off. In reality I
care little for such a verdict, for, under similar circumstances, I
should always act in a similar manner, and I do not wish to know that
which no one can compel you to confess, and which, as a man of honour,
you must not admit. If you had no previous knowledge of the intrigue, and
had actually turned the girl out of your room (supposing she did come to
you), you would have been guilty of a wrong and cowardly action, because
you would have sealed her misery for the remainder of her days, and it
would not have caused you to escape the suspicion of being an accomplice,
while at the same time it would have attached to you the odium of
dastardly treachery. Notwithstanding all I have just said, you can easily
imagine that, in spite of my utter contempt for all gossiping fools, I
cannot openly defy them. I therefore feel myself compelled to ask you not
only to quit my service, but even to leave Rome. I undertake to supply
you with an honourable pretext for your departure, so as to insure you
the continuation of the respect which you may have secured through the
marks of esteem I have bestowed upon you. I promise you to whisper in the
ear of any person you may choose, and even to inform everybody, that you
are going on an important mission which I have entrusted to you. You have
only to name the country where you want to go; I have friends everywhere,
and can recommend you to such purpose that you will be sure to find
employment. My letters of recommendation will be in my own handwriting,
and nobody need know where you are going. Meet me to-morrow at the Villa