“I see what you mean, and I can lay no claim to such a character. Any hag with golden eyes will always find me as affectionate as a Celadon.”
“Well said! I shall soon be able to arrange matters for you.”
“I hope you will.”
“Are you going to the ambassador’s?”
“Good God!—no! What should I do when I got there? Tell him my story? He might make things unpleasant for me.”
“Not without your going to see him, but I expect he is not concerning himself with your case.”
“That’s all I ask him.”
“Everybody, my dear count, is in mourning in Paris, so go to my tailor’s and get yourself a black suit. Tell him you come from me, and say you want it by tomorrow. Good bye.”
I went out soon after, and did not come back till midnight. I found the box which Madame Manzoni had sent me in my room, and in it my manuscripts and my beloved portraits, for I never pawned a snuff-box without taking the portrait out.
Next day Tiretta made his appearance all in black, and thanked me for his transformation.