arrival, and could then have taken effective measures for the security of much of their shipping.
During this conversation I had felt rather uneasy at occupying the king's time so long when several of his own ministers were waiting in his ante-room for an audience, perhaps upon important business. Urged by this truly conscientious motive, I committed a gaucherie of the deepest water—I half rose from my stool to take leave of his Majesty. The King, as well he might, lifted up both his hands and then expressed the greatest interest in the continuance of the subject.
After a conversation of about five-and-twenty minutes the King rose, and, walking with me to the door, I made my bow. The King then held out his hand.
Here might have arisen a puzzling question, what I ought to have done; but previously to the interview I had taken the precaution of inquiring of one of my Sardinian friends what were the usual forms, and whether it was customary to kiss hands on being presented to the sovereign. The answer was in the negative. The ceremony of kissing hands, he informed me, never took place except when a native subject was appointed to some very high office.
I therefore immediately perceived that the King had done me the honour of adopting the salutation of my own country. Under these circumstances I shook hands as an Englishman does, and then, bowing profoundly, retired.
In the course of the evening of that day, being at the opera, I visited the box of one of my Italian acquaintances. A great friend of mine, also an Italian, who had been dining at the palace, came in soon after. He said to me, "What an extraordinary person you are! You have perfectly fascinated our King, who has done nothing but talk of you and the things you have told him during the whole of dinner-time."
