thought themselves as fit as she to be taken to the duke's titular
mistress, especially as she only enjoyed the honour without the pleasure.
They all intrigued to procure her dismissal, but the Venetian lady
succeeded in holding her ground against all cabals.

Far from reproaching the duke for this incorrigible infidelity, she
encouraged him in it, and was very glad to be left to herself, as she
cared nothing for him. Her chief pleasure was to have the ballet-girls
who aspired to the honours of the handkerchief come to her to solicit her
good offices. She always received them politely, gave them her advice,
and bade them do their best to please the prince. In his turn the duke
thought himself bound to shew his gratitude for her good nature, and gave
her in public all the honours which could be given to a princess.

I was not long in finding out that the duke's chief desire was to be
talked about. He would have liked people to say that there was not a
prince in Europe to compare with him for wit, taste, genius, in the
invention of pleasures, and statesman-like capacities; he would fain be
regarded as a Hercules in the pleasures of Bacchus and Venus, and none
the less an Aristides in governing his people. He dismissed without pity
an attendant who failed to wake him after he had been forced to yield to
sleep for three or four hours, but he did not care how roughly he was
awakened.

It has happened that after having given his highness a large cup of
coffee, the servant has been obliged to throw him into a bath of cold
water, where the duke had to choose between awaking or drowning.

As soon as he was dressed the duke would assemble his council and
dispatch whatever business was on hand, and then he would give audience