A second blessing bid me begone. I have often felt what a good thing it would be if this kind of dismissal could be employed in general society to send away importunate petitioners, to whom one does not dare say, “Begone.”
I was extremely curious to know what the Pope had meant by “a mark of our singular affection.” I was afraid that it would be a blessed rosary, with which I should not have known what to do.
When I got home I sent the book by Costa to the Vatican, and then I went to dine with Mengs. While we were eating the soup the winning numbers from the lottery were brought in. My brother glanced at them and looked at me with astonishment. I was not thinking of the subject at that moment, and his gaze surprised me.
“Twenty-seven,” he cried, “came out fifth.”
“All the better,” said I, “we shall have some amusement out of it.”
I told the story to Mengs, who said,—
“It’s a lucky folly for you this time; but it always is a folly.”
He was quite right, and I told him that I agreed with him; but I added that to make a worthy use of the fifteen hundred roman crowns which fortune had given me, I should go and spend fifteen days at Naples.
“I will come too,” said the Abbe Alfani. “I will pass for your secretary.”
“With all my heart,” I answered, “I shall keep you to your word.”