adventures which at the age of seventy-two years impel me to write these
Memoirs, would never have taken place.

For the next three months we continued to meet each other once a week,
always amorous, and never disturbed by the slightest accidents.

M---- M---- could not resist giving the ambassador a full account of our
adventures, and I had promised to write to him, and always to write the
whole truth. He replied by congratulating us on our good fortune, but he
prophesied inevitable disaster if we had not the prudence to stop our
intercourse.

Mr. Murray, the English ambassador, a witty and handsome man, and a great
amateur of the fair sex, wine, and good cheer, then kept the fair
Ancilla, who introduced me to him. This fine fellow became my friend in
much the same way as M. de Bernis, the only difference being that the
Frenchman liked to look on while the Englishman preferred to give the
show. I was never unwelcome at their amorous battles, and the voluptuous
Ancilla was delighted to have me for a witness. I never gave them the
pleasure of mingling in the strife. I loved M---- M----, but I should avow
that my fidelity to her was not entirely dependent on my love. Though
Ancilla was handsome she inspired me with repugnance, for she was always
hoarse, and complained of a sharp pain in the throat, and though her
lover kept well, I was afraid of her, and not without cause, for the
disease which ended the days of Francis I. of France brought her to the
grave in the following autumn. A quarter of an hour before she died, her
brave Briton, yielding to the lascivious requests of this new Messalina,
offered in my presence the last sacrifice, in spite of a large sore on
her face which made her look hideous.