Of course you have heard of the last arrangements. Well, my colleagues left me some time ago, and I am alone at Constantinople. A strange fancy, I think I hear you say. What on earth can have induced him to stay among savages, an exile from his dear native land? But while you exclaim at my choice, you do not forget to ask for every scrap of news I have to give, solemnly promising to accept it all—good, bad, and indifferent—just as it comes. You have other questions which you wish answered. What books am I reading? What am I doing? How do I get through the day? Do I ever go out? Come, come, what you are plaguing me for is, I see, not a letter but a diary. Again, you are specially anxious for information about Bajazet’s fortunes, touching which, you say, there are many rumours at home. You assert that I am under an engagement to give you news of him, and you demand heavy damages for breach of contract! I believe you intend dragging me into court, and are already preparing your pleadings! Pray do not be so hard! Restrain your passion, my friend; or if nothing else will serve, take the full sum; I will pay interest as well, in fact do or pay anything sooner than be brought into court, though indeed a demurrer would probably lie to your claim, for surely after so long an interval I might set up the Statute of Limitations.
When my colleagues, with whom my former letters have made you acquainted, saw that we had already wasted three years here, and that no progress had been made towards peace, or even towards an armistice of any duration, and there appeared hardly any hope of gaining anything if they stayed, they sought leave to return. Now I must tell you that it is easy enough to get here; the difficult thing is to get away![160] and they had much trouble before they could obtain Solyman’s consent. After this we had to decide whether we should all three leave, or I should remain behind, while my two colleagues, who had been longer at Constantinople, returned home. For this point Solyman had left for our decision, as he was afraid, if he kept one of us, that people would think that he was anxious for peace. My colleagues considered it was essential to the Emperor’s interest that one of us should remain. This was tolerably obvious; but, while I shared their opinion, I thought it politic to dissemble, and so, whenever the subject was mentioned in the presence of Turks, I took care to express my dissatisfaction with any arrangement which kept me at Constantinople. ‘Admitting that I had come to discharge the duties of an ambassador in ordinary, yet such a position implied that peace had been concluded. While this was uncertain, I did not see how I could remain at the Sultan’s court without disobeying my instructions, or at any rate going beyond them. The proper course,’ I added, ‘would be for one and all of us to receive our passports.’