Next day, the impudent fellow told me that he would order us a good supper at Viterbo, and that of course I would lend him a sequin to pay for his dinner at Montefiascone. So saying, he shewed me in an off-hand way a bill of exchange on Rome for three thousand crowns.
I did not trouble to read it, and gave him the sequin, though I felt sure I should never see it again.
Betty now treated me quite confidentially, and I felt I might ask her almost any questions.
When we were at Montefiascone she said,—
“You see my lover is only without money by chance; he has a bill of exchange for a large amount.”
“I believe it to be a forgery.”
“You are really too cruel.”
“Not at all; I only wish I were mistaken, but I am sure of the contrary. Twenty years ago I should have taken it for a good one, but now it’s another thing, and if the bill is a good one, why did he not negotiate it at Sienna, Florence, or Leghorn?”
“It may be that he had not the time; he was in such a hurry to be gone. Ah! if you knew all!”
“I only want to know what you like to tell me, but I warn you again that what I say is no vague suspicion but hard fact.”