"You are to be pitied, but the reason probably is that you have never
been a friend to anyone. You ought to say masses, that is a good way of
getting money."

"I am unknown."

"You must wait, then, till you are known, and then you can make up for
lost time."

"Your suggestions are idle; you will surely give me a few sequins."

"I can't spare any."

"Wait for the dean. He will be back to-morrow. You can talk to him and
persuade him to lend me some money. You can tell him that I will pay it
back."

"I cannot wait, for I am setting out on my journey directly, and were he
here this moment I should not have the face to tell him to lend you money
after all his generous treatment of you, and when he or anyone can see
that you have all you need."

After this sharp dialogue I left him, and travelling post I set out,
displeased with myself for having given such advantages to a man wholly
unworthy of them. In the March following I had a letter from the good
Dean Bassi, in which he told me how Balbi had run away, taking with him
one of his servant girls, a sum of money, a gold watch, and a dozen
silver spoons and forks. He did not know where he was gone.

Towards the end of the same year I learnt at Paris that the wretched man