When I saw that the postillion was slackening his speed, I increased the
amount of the present I was going to make him, and once more we rushed
along at a headlong pace. I felt perishing with the cold; while the
postillions seeing me so lightly clad, and so prodigal of my money to
speed them on their way, imagined that I was a prince carrying off the
heiress of some noble family. We heard them talking to this effect while
they changed horses, and the Corticelli was so much amused that she did
nothing but laugh for the rest of the way. In five hours we covered forty
miles; we started from Florence at eight o'clock, and at one in the
morning we stopped at a post in the Pope's territory, where I had nothing
to fear. The stage goes under the name of "The Ass Unburdened."

The odd name of the inn made my mistress laugh afresh. Everybody was
asleep, but the noise I made and the distribution of a few pauls procured
me the privilege of a fire. I was dying of hunger, and they coolly told
me there was nothing to eat. I laughed in the landlord's face, and told
him to bring me his butter, his eggs, his macaroni, a ham, and some
Parmesan cheese, for I knew that so much will be found in the inns all
over Italy. The repast was soon ready, and I shewed the idiot host that
he had materials for an excellent meal. We ate like four, and afterwards
they made up an impromptu bed and we went to sleep, telling them to call
me as soon as a carriage and four drew up.

Full of ham and macaroni, slightly warmed with the Chianti and
Montepulciano, and tired with our journey, we stood more in need of
slumber than of love, and so we gave ourselves up to sleep till morning.
Then we gave a few moments to pleasure, but it was so slight an affair as
not to be worth talking about.

At one o'clock we began to feel hungry again and got up, and the host