I had been waiting a few minutes, when Da Loglio, the Polish agent at Venice and an old friend of mine, came in. "What are you doing here, my dear Casanova?" said he. "I am waiting for an interview with the admiral." "He is very busy." After this, Da Loglio coolly went into the admiral's room. This was impertinent of him; it was as if he said in so many words that the admiral was too busy to see me, but not too busy to see him. A moment after, Marquis Manucci came in with his order of St. Anne and his formal air. He congratulated me on my visit to Leghorn, and then said he had read my work on Venice, and had been surprised to find himself in it. He had some reason for surprise, for there was no connection between him and the subject-matter; but he should have discovered before that the unexpected often happens. He did not give me time to tell him so, but went into the admiral's room as Da Loglio had done. I was vexed to see how these gentlemen were admitted while I danced attendance, and the project of sailing with Orloff began to displease me. In five hours Orloff came out followed by a numerous train. He told me pleasantly that we could have our talk at table or after dinner. "After dinner, if you please," I said. He came in and sat down at two o'clock, and I was among the guests. Orloff kept on saying, "Eat away, gentlemen, eat away;" and read his correspondence and gave his secretary letters all the time. After dinner he suddenly glanced up at me, and taking me by the hand led me to the window, and told me to make haste with my luggage, as he should sail before the morning if the wind kept up. "Quite so; but kindly tell me, count, what is to be my status or employment an board your ship?" "At present I have no special employ to give you; that will come in time. Come on board as my friend." "The offer is an honourable one so far as you are concerned, but all the other officers might treat me with contempt. I should be regarded as a kind of fool, and I should probably kill the first man who dared to insult me. Give me a distinct office, and let me wear your uniform; I will be useful to you. I know the country for which you are bound, I can speak the language, and I am not wanting in courage." "My dear sir, I really have no particular office to give you." "Then, count, I wish you a pleasant sail; I am going to Rome. I hope you may never repent of not taking me, for without me you will never pass the Dardanelles." "Is that a prophecy?" "It's an oracle." "We will test its veracity, my dear Calchus." Such was the short dialogue I had with the worthy count, who, as a matter of fact, did not pass the Dardanelles. Whether he would have succeeded if I had been on board is more than I can say. Next day I delivered my letters to M. Rivarola and the English banker. The squadron had sailed in the early morning.