“The longer you live in Rome,” said his eminence, “the more you will find it so. You have not yet presented yourself to kiss the foot of our Holy Father?”
“Not yet, my lord.”
“Then you must do so.”
I bowed in compliance to his wishes.
The Abbé Gama told me to present myself to the Pope on the morrow, and he added,
“Of course you have already shewn yourself in the Marchioness G.’s palace?”
“No, I have never been there.”
“You astonish me; but she often speaks to you!”
“I have no objection to go with you.”
“I never visit at her palace.”