It was commonly said, but without any foundation, that la Signora Olympia, a lady of great prudence, had deceived many lovers, she being both
inconstant and mercenary. I was then of an age
to relish such comical anecdotes.
A young lady of great sweetness of temper, called la Signora Fatelo, thought proper to fall in love with me. She was courted by the reverend father Piognardini and by the reverend father Aconiti,* young monks of an order now extinct; and she reconciled the two rivals by declaring her preference for me; but at the same time I ran the risk of being excommunicated and poisoned. I left Rome highly pleased with the architecture of St. Peter's.
I travelled to France. It was during the reign of Louis the Just. The first question put to me was, whether I chose to breakfast on a slice of the Marshal d'Ancre,† whose flesh the people had roasted and distributed with great liberality to such as chose to taste it.
This kingdom was continually involved in civil wars; sometimes for a place at court, sometimes for
*Alluding to the infamous practice of poisoning and assassination at that time prevalent in Rome.—Trans.
†This was the famous Concini, who was murdered on the drawbridge of the Louvre, by the intrigues of De Luines, not without the knowledge of the king, Louis XIII. His body, which had been secretly interred in the church of St. Germain 1'Auxerrois, was next day dug up by the populace, who dragged it through the streets, then burned the flesh, and threw the bones into the river. The marshal's greatest crime was his being a foreigner.—Tr.
