It was about eleven in the morning when the janissary called for me, I followed him, and this time I found Bonneval dressed in the Turkish style.

His guests soon arrived, and we sat down to dinner, eight of us, all well disposed to be cheerful and happy.

The dinner was entirely French, in cooking and service; his steward and his cook were both worthy French renegades.
He had taken care to introduce me to all his guests and at the same time to let me know who they were, but he did not give me an opportunity of speaking before dinner was nearly over.

The conversation was entirely kept up in Italian, and I remarked that the Turks did not utter a single word in their own language, even to say the most ordinary thing.

Each guest had near him a bottle which might have contained either white wine or hydromel; all I know is that I drank, as well as M.de Bonneval, next to whom I was seated, some excellent white Burgundy.
The guests got me on the subject of Venice, and particularly of Rome, and the conversation very naturally fell upon religion, but not upon dogmatic questions; the discipline of religion and liturgical questions were alone discussed.
One of the guests, who was addressed as effendi, because he had been secretary for foreign affairs, said that the ambassador from Venice to Rome was a friend of his, and he spoke of him in the highest manner.