Baletti’s father, who had recovered his health, was to go to Fontainebleau with Silvia and all his family. They invited me to accompany them, and to accept a lodging in a house hired by them.
It was a splendid opportunity; they were my friends, and I accepted, for I could not have met with a better occasion to see the court and all the foreign ministers. I presented myself to M. de Morosini, now Procurator at St. Mark’s, and then ambassador from the Republic to the French court.
The first night of the opera he gave me permission to accompany him; the music was by Lulli. I had a seat in the pit precisely under the private box of Madame de Pompadour, whom I did not know. During the first scene the celebrated Le Maur gave a scream so shrill and so unexpected that I thought she had gone mad. I burst into a genuine laugh, not supposing that any one could possibly find fault with it. But a knight of the Order of the Holy Ghost, who was near the Marquise de Pompadour, dryly asked me what country I came from. I answered, in the same tone,
“From Venice.”
“I have been there, and have laughed heartily at the recitative in your operas.”
“I believe you, sir, and I feel certain that no one ever thought of objecting to your laughing.”
My answer, rather a sharp one, made Madame de Pompadour laugh, and she asked me whether I truly came from down there.
“What do you mean by down there?”
“I mean Venice.”
“Venice, madam, is not down there, but up there.”