guest had near him a bottle which might have contained either white wine
or hydromel; all I know is that I drank, as well as M. de Bonneval, next
to whom I was seated, some excellent white Burgundy.

The guests got me on the subject of Venice, and particularly of Rome, and
the conversation very naturally fell upon religion, but not upon dogmatic
questions; the discipline of religion and liturgical questions were alone
discussed.

One of the guests, who was addressed as effendi, because he had been
secretary for foreign affairs, said that the ambassador from Venice to
Rome was a friend of his, and he spoke of him in the highest manner. I
told him that I shared his admiration for that ambassador, who had given
me a letter of introduction for a Turkish nobleman, whom he had
represented as an intimate friend. He enquired for the name of the person
to whom the letter was addressed, but I could not recollect it, and took
the letter out of my pocket-book. The effendi was delighted when he found
that the letter was for himself. He begged leave to read it at once, and
after he had perused it, he kissed the signature and came to embrace me.
This scene pleased M. de Bonneval and all his friends. 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. Two years afterwards I found again the
same features on the handsome face of M. de Bragadin, a Venetian senator
of whom I shall have to speak at length when we come to that period of my
life. That elderly gentleman had listened to me with the greatest