'More of my lord's economy! Instead of staying at the hotel, we have
hired a damp, mouldy, rambling old palace. My lady insists on having the
best suites of rooms wherever we go — and the palace comes cheaper for a
two months' term. My lord tried to get it for longer; he says the quiet of
Venice is good for his nerves. But a foreign speculator has secured the
palace, and is going to turn it into an hotel. The Baron is still with us,
and there have been more disagreements about money matters. I don't like the
Baron — and I don't find the attractions of my lady grow on me. She was
much nicer before the Baron joined us. My lord is a punctual paymaster;
it's a matter of honour with him; he hates parting with his money, but he
does it because he has given his word. I receive my salary regularly at the
end of each month — not a franc extra, though I have done many things
which are not part of a courier's proper work. Fancy the Baron trying to
borrow money of me! he is an inveterate gambler. I didn't believe it
when my lady's maid first told me so — but I have seen enough since to
satisfy me that she was right. I have seen other things besides, which —
well! which don't increase my respect for my lady and the Baron. The maid
says she means to give warning to leave. She is a respectable British female,
and doesn't take things quite so easily as I do. It is a dull life here. No
going into company — no company at home — not a creature sees my lord — not
even the consul, or the banker. When he goes out, he goes alone, and
generally towards nightfall. Indoors, he shuts himself up in his own room
with his books, and sees as little of his wife and the Baron as possible. I
fancy things are coming to a crisis here. If my lord's suspicions are once
awakened, the consequences will be terrible. Under certain provocations,
the noble Montbarry is a man who would stick at nothing. However, the
pay is good — and I can't afford to talk of leaving the place, like my lady's
maid.'
