This illustrious lady, then seventy years old, gave me a good reception
and promised to speak on my behalf to the Elector, with a view to his
granting me an asylum in his country. The next day, having fulfilled her
promise, she told me that his highness had nothing to say against me, but
as for Balbi there was no safety for him in Bavaria, for as a fugitive
monk he might be claimed by the monks at Munich, and his highness had no
wish to meddle with the monks. The countess advised me therefore to get
him out of the town as soon as possible, for him to fly to some other
quarter, and thus to avoid the bad turn which his beloved brethren the
monks were certain to do him.

Feeling in duty bound to look after the interests of the wretched fellow,
I went to the Elector's confessor to ask him to give Balbi letters of
introduction to some town in Swabia. The confessor, a Jesuit, did not
give the lie to the fine reputation of his brethren of the order; his
reception of me was as discourteous as it well could be. He told me in a
careless way that at Munich I was well known. I asked him without
flinching if I was to take this as a piece of good or bad news; but he
made no answer, and left me standing. Another priest told me that he had
gone out to verify the truth of a miracle of which the whole town was
talking.

"What miracle is that, reverend father?" I said.

"The empress, the widow of Charles VII, whose body is still exposed to
the public gaze, has warm feet, although she is dead."

"Perhaps something keeps them warm."

"You can assure yourself personally of the truth of this wonderful