This captain was a man of merit, of good understanding, and agreeable person, and as he was known to be a very honest man, he was received in the best companies, where he made as good an appearance as his limited income as a captain of a galley would permit. He was fond of gaming; and though extremely unlucky at it, he could never restrain himself while a crown remained in his pocket. In addition to this he was much addicted to women, which alone would have been sufficient to have ruined him had he been ever so rich. He called himself Favello, a name which a lady whom he had formerly loved had bestowed on him, and which he had ever since gone by, in remembrance of her. He told me the history of his life a few days after, which I could not hear without sighing, so forcibly did it recall to my mind my amour at Florence. The good qualities of this captain, however, were not the only cause of all my politeness to him; for I knew that the galleys would soon sail for Barcelona, and intending as I did to profit by this opportunity of returning to Spain, after having robbed my honest relations, the friendship of Captain Favello was likely to be too useful to me, to neglect to acquire it. No sooner was I up the next morning, than he called to tender his services, and to invite me to take a sail with him on the water: which I gladly accepted. I was conducted after dinner to his galley, where I was received with all the honors that the Pope or the Doge of Genoa could have expected. We left the harbour to admire the fine pleasure-houses along the sea shore, which form a most charming spectacle. Our officer, who was a Genoese by extraction, and spoke freely whatever he thought, did not content himself with naming the proprietors, but added their characters also. Among those whom he spared the least, he chanced to mention one of my relations. I began to laugh: “Softly, Mr. Captain,” said I, “I ask quarter for this last gentleman, for you know that I am one of his family.” “Of his family?” cried he, with surprise mingled with confusion, “How can that be?” “I will tell you,” replied I; “my father was a noble Genoese, but having become a bankrupt to a large amount, was obliged to pass over into Spain. He settled at Seville, where he established his affairs by marrying a lady of the house of Guzman, which name I bear preferably to my own, for two reasons; first, to secure to myself a succession which might otherwise have escaped me; and, secondly, because being at least as much the son of my mother as my father, I thought myself entitled to make choice of which ever of their two names would confer most honour on me.”