I had become acquainted at Venice with a Biscayan, a friend of my friend Carrio's, and worthy of being that of every honest man.

This amiable young man, born with every talent and virtue, had just made the tour of Italy to gain a taste for the fine arts, and, imagining he had nothing more to acquire, intended to return by the most direct road to his own country.

I told him the arts were nothing more than a relaxation to a genius like his, fit to cultivate the sciences; and to give him a taste for these, I advised him to make a journey to Paris and reside there for six months.

He took my advice, and went to Paris.

He was there and expected me when I arrived.
His lodging was too considerable for him, and he offered me the half of it, which I instantly accepted.