No, but she will to-morrow when Costa comes to tell her, and to fetch her and your brother.


That’s the mother, now we shall have some fun. Let’s get something for them to eat, and be ready to hear the history of this marvellous adventure which she will remember to her dying day.


I got an excellent supper ready, according to your orders; it cost me more than ten paoli, as I shall shew you, and I hope you will make it up to me as I’m but a poor woman. All was ready and I joyfully expected you, but in vain; I was in despair. At last when midnight came I sent my son to your lodging to enquire after you, but you may imagine my grief when I heard that nobody knew what had become of you. I passed a sleepless night, weeping all the time, and in the morning I went and complained to the police that you had taken off my daughter, and asked them to send after you and make you give her back to me. But only think, they laughed at me! ‘Why did you let her go out without you?’ laughing in my face. ‘Your daughter’s in good hands,’ says another, ‘you know perfectly well where she is.’ In fact I was grossly slandered. Why did you let her go out without you? Your daughter’s in good hands, you know perfectly well where she is.


Slandered?


Yes, slandered, for it was as much as to say that I had consented to your being carried off, and if I had done that the fools might have known I would not have come to them about it. I went away in a rage to Dr. Vannini’s, where I found your man, who told me that you had gone to Bologna, and that I could follow you if I liked. I consented to this plan, and I hope you will pay my travelling expenses. But I can’t help telling you that this is rather beyond a joke.


Very good. Who is that man?


A SPY.


A spy; and the Government dares to send such a fellow to me?


The ‘borgello’ must have sent him.


Then the ‘borgello’ is the Governor of Modena--the infamous wretch!


Hush! hush! all the best families speak to him in the street.


Then the best people are very low here, I suppose?


Not more than anywhere else. He is the manager of the opera house, and the greatest noblemen dine with him and thus secure his favour.


It’s incredible! But why should the high and mighty borgello send me away from Modena?


I don’t know, but do you take my advice and go and speak to him; you will find him a fine fellow.


What can I do?


You had better go, as the man may put a much more grievous insult on you.


I will do so, but could you oblige me by telling me the reason for such a high-handed action?


Come again this evening; I shall probably be able to satisfy you.


The borgello, saw your name on the bill which he receives daily containing a list of the names of those who enter or leave the city. He remembered that you were daring enough to escape from The Leads, and as he does not at all approve of that sort of thing he resolved not to let the Modenese be contaminated by so egregious an example of the defiance of justice, however unjust it may be; and in short he has given you the order to leave the town.


I am much obliged, but I really wonder how it is that while you were telling me this you did not blush to be a subject of the Duke of Modena’s. What an unworthy action! How contrary is such a system of government to all the best interests of the state!


You are quite right, my dear sir, but I am afraid that as yet men’s eyes are not open to what best serves their interests.


That is doubtless due to the fact that so many men are unworthy.


I will not contradict you.


Farewell, abbé.


Farewell, M. Casanova.


If you like to stop at Parma for three days, and if you will promise to give me fifty sequins when I bring you the news that the borgello is dead, I promise to shoot him within the next twenty-four hours.


Thanks. Such an animal as that should be allowed to die a natural death. Here’s a crown to drink my health.


He’s no profligate, he is sober, and has no liking for bad company. But I think he’s a robber, and a dangerous robber, too. I know it, because he seems so scrupulously careful not to cheat you in small things. Remember what I say, sir; he will do you. He is waiting to gain your confidence, and then he will strike home. Now, I am quite a different sort of fellow, a rogue in a small way; but you know me.


That’s the famous Leah, she is a Jewess, and impregnable. She has resisted the attacks of the best strategists in Turin. Her father’s a famous horse-dealer; you can go and see her easily enough, but there’s nothing to be done there.


Take me there,


As soon as you please.


He is gentleness itself, and he ambles as fast as any other horse trots.


You have ridden it, then?


Often, sir, and if I were rich I would never sell him.


I won’t buy the horse till I have seen you ride it.


You must oblige the gentleman,


Fair Leah, I will buy the horse, but as a present for you; and if you will not take it I shall leave Turin today. The only condition I attach to the gift is, that you will ride with me whenever I ask you.


The condition you impose on me is an extremely pleasant one, and I am sure that my father will like me to accept it. All I ask is for you to make me the present before him, repeating that you will only buy it on the condition that I will accept it.


Another day,


to-day I should like to converse with you in your own house.


You must shew them to the gentleman,


I will look at them,


but I won’t buy, as I should not know what to do with them.


You can take your lady-love out for a drive.


That would be you; but perhaps you would be afraid!


Not at all, if you drove in the country or the suburbs.


Very good, Leah, then I will look at them.


Well, you can have them now for four hundred sequins, but after Easter the price will be five hundred sequins at least.


It’s quite worth four hundred sequins,


and to-morrow I will buy it with pleasure; but on the same condition as that on which I bought the horse, and something more--namely, that you will grant me all the favours that a tender lover can desire.


You speak plainly, and I will answer you in the same way. I’m an honest girl, sir, and not for sale.


All women, dear Leah, whether they are honest or not, are for sale. When a man has plenty of time he buys the woman his heart desires by unremitting attentions; but when he’s in a hurry he buys her with presents, and even with money.


Then he’s a clumsy fellow; he would do better to let sentiment and attention plead his cause and gain the victory.


I wish I could give myself that happiness, fair Leah, but I’m in a great hurry.


Come. We see no more of you now, but come and breakfast with me to-morrow, or I will send you back the horse.


Will you arrange my frill?


If you will buy the phaeton and horses. I will abate twenty sequins.


All that depends on your daughter,


Strike the bargain, and you can give it me when you are sure of my love.


My dear Leah, I am your humble servant, but you know on what condition.


I promise to drive out with you whenever you please, without getting out of the carriage, but I know you would not care for that. No, your affection was only a temporary caprice.


To convince you of the contrary I will buy the phaeton and put it in a coach-house. I will see that the horses are taken care of, though I shall not use them. But if you do not make me happy in the course of a week I shall re-sell the whole.


Come to us to-morrow.


I will do so, but I trust have some pledge of your affection this morning.


This morning? It’s impossible.


Excuse me; I will go upstairs with you, and you can shew me more than one kindness while you are undressing.


Count out the money.


I have not any money about me, but I will write you a cheque, if you like.


Here is paper. You have trusted me, and have thus shewn yourself worthy of my love.


Then undress, quick!


No, my aunt is about the house; and as I cannot shut the door without exciting suspicion, she might come in; but I promise that you shall be content with me tomorrow. Nevertheless, I am going to undress, but you must go in this closet; you may come back when I have got my woman’s clothes on again.


I have seen everything.


Everything in my poor house is at your service.


I have been very busy,


I will take the lot myself.


Where do you live, sir? and when shall I send you your purchases?


You may bring them to-morrow yourself, and do me the honour of breakfasting with me.


I can never leave the shop, sir.


I want some dark lace,


Then kindly follow me, sir.


Yes, mother.


I am really much obliged to you, for your kindness to my girls. They came home enchanted. Tell me frankly whether you are really in love with the pretty Jewess.


I am really in love with her, but as she will not make me happy I have signed my own dismissal.


You were quite right. All Leah thinks of is duping those who are captivated by her charms.


Do not your charming apprentices follow your maxims?


No; but they are only complaisant when I give them leave.


Then I commend myself to your intercession, for they would not even take a cup of chocolate from me.


They were perfectly right not to accept your chocolate: but I see you do not know the ways of Turin. Do you find yourself comfortable in your present lodging?


Quite so.


Are you perfectly free to do what you like?


I think so.


Can you give supper to anyone you like in your own rooms? I am certain you can’t.


I have not had the opportunity of trying the experiment so far, but I believe . . . .


Don’t flatter yourself by believing anything; that house is full of the spies of the police.


Then you think that I could not give you and two or three of your girls a little supper?


I should take very good care not to go to it, that’s all I know. By next morning it would be known to all the town, and especially to the police.


Well, supposing I look out for another lodging?


It’s the same everywhere. Turin is a perfect nest of spies; but I do know a house where you could live at ease, and where my girls might perhaps be able to bring you your purchases. But we should have to be very careful.


Where is the house I will be guided by you in everything.


Don’t trust a Piedmontese; that’s the first commandment here. They will let it you by the month, and if you pay a month in advance you need not even tell them your name.


My dear child, your little Hymen defies the most vigorous lover to enter his temple.


It may prove a happy accident for Victorine; it may make her fortune.


I can only buy this ring from Leah’s hands,


You are the Chevalier de Seingalt?


That is my name, and I have come here to ask how I can oblige you?


I have summoned you here to order you to leave the place in three days at latest.


And as you have no right to give such an order, I have come here to tell you that I shall go when I please, and not before.


I will expel you by force.


You may do that whenever you please. I cannot resist force, but I trust you will give the matter a second thought; for in a well-ordered city they do not expel a man who has committed no crimes, and has a balance of a hundred thousand francs at the bank.


Very good, but in three days you have plenty of time to pack up and arrange matters with your banker. I advise you to obey, as the command comes from the king.


If I were to leave the town I should become accessory to your injustice! I will not obey, but since you mention the king’s name, I will go to his majesty at once, and he will deny your words or revoke the unjust order you have given me with such publicity.


Pray, does not the king possess the power to make you go?


Yes, by force, but not by justice. He has also the power to kill me, but he would have to provide the executioner, as he could not make me commit suicide.


You argue well, but nevertheless you will obey.


I argue well, but I did not learn the art from you, and I will not obey.


With these words I turned my back on him, and left without another word.


My only business here, is to spend my money till I have instructions from the Court of Portugal to attend the Congress of Augsburg on behalf of his most faithful majesty.


Then you think that this Congress will take place?


Nobody doubts it.


Somebody believes it will all end in smoke. However, I am delighted to have been of service to you, and I shall be curious to hear what sort of reception you get from the superintendent.


The Chevalier Osorio tells me that you have business in Turin which will keep you for some days. You may therefore stay, but you must tell me as nearly as possible how long a time you require.


I cannot possibly tell you that.


Why? if you don’t mind telling me.


I am awaiting instructions from the Court of Portugal to attend the Congress to be held at Augsburg, and before I could tell you how long I shall have to stay I should be compelled to ask his most faithful majesty. If this time is not sufficient for me to do my business, I will intimate the fact to you.


I shall be much obliged by your doing so.


Do you know why?


Last night when I was at the coffee-house, Count Scarnafis dared to say that France subsidised the Berne newspapers. I told him he lied, at which he rose and left the place in a rage, giving me a glance the meaning of which is not doubtful. I followed him to bring him to reason or to give him satisfaction; but he would do nothing and I suspect he went to the police to complain. I shall have to leave Turin early to-morrow morning.


You’re a Frenchman, and as you can claim the protection of your ambassador you will be wrong to leave so suddenly.


In the first place the ambassador is away, and in the second my cruel father disavows me. No, I would rather go, and wait for you at Lyons. All I want is for you to lend me a hundred crowns, for which I will give you an account.


It will be an easy account to keep,


but a long time before it is settled.


Possibly; but if it is in my power I will shew my gratitude for the kindnesses you have done me.


Who is that young lady?


That’s the wife of a young gentleman who has to keep his bed to get cured of a sword-thrust which he received four days ago on his way from France.


The doctor will not let him talk, on account of a sword-thrust in the chest he received at half a league from here. We hope he will be all right in a few days, and then we can continue our journey.


Where are you going, madam?


To Geneva.


I would sup in my own apartment, adding that I had not the honour of the lady’s acquaintance.


it would give her great pleasure if I would sup with her


I am only at Chamberi for her sake I would await her convenience.


Nothing. I shall be only too happy, however, if I can be of any service to you.


Ah! I breathe again!


Could you imagine me pursuing any other line of conduct? I am much interested in you, and will do all in my power to help you. Are you married?


Not yet, but we are going to be married when we get to Geneva.


Sit down and tell me all about yourself. I know that your father is unhappily in love with you, and that you avoid his attentions.


He has told you that much? I am glad of it. A year ago he came to Lyons, and as soon as I knew he was in the town I took refuge with a friend of my mother’s, for I was aware that I could not stay in the same house with my father for an hour without exposing myself to the most horrible outrage. The young man in bed is the son of a rich Geneva merchant. My father introduced him to me two years ago, and we soon fell in love with each other. My father went away to Marseilles, and my lover asked my mother to give me in marriage to him; but she did not feel authorized to do so without my father’s consent. She wrote and asked him, but he replied that he would announce his decision when he returned to Lyons. My lover went to Geneva, and as his father approved of the match he returned with all the necessary documents and a strong letter of commendation from M. Tolosan. When my father came to Lyons I escaped, as I told you, and my lover got M. Tolosan to ask my hand for him of my father. His reply was, ‘I can give no answer till she returns to my house!’


M. Tolosan brought this reply to me, and I told him that I was ready to obey if my mother would guarantee my safety. She replied, however, that she knew her husband too well to dare to have us both under the same roof. Again did M. Tolosan endeavour to obtain my father’s consent, but to no purpose. A few days after he left Lyons, telling us that he was first going to Aix and then to Turin, and as it was evident that he would never give his consent my lover proposed that I should go off with him, promising to marry me as soon as we reached Geneva. By ill luck we travelled through Savoy, and thus met my father. As soon as he saw us he stopped the carriage and called to me to get out. I began to shriek, and my lover taking me in his arms to protect me my father stabbed him in the chest. No doubt he would have killed him, but seeing that my shrieks were bringing people to our rescue, and probably believing that my lover was as good as dead, he got on horseback again and rode off at full speed. I can shew you the sword still covered with blood.


I am obliged to answer this letter of his, and I am thinking how I can obtain his consent.


That’s of no consequence; we can marry and be happy without it.


True, but you ought not to despise your dower.


Good heavens! what dower? He has no money!


But on the death of his father, the Marquis Desarmoises . . . .


That’s all a lie. My father has only a small yearly pension for having served thirty years as a Government messenger. His father has been dead these thirty years, and my mother and my sister only live by the work they do.


And you were always able to resist his attempts?


Yes, whenever he pushed things too far.


And how long did this state of things continue?


For two years. When I was thirteen he thought I was ripe, and tried to gather the fruit; but I began to shriek, and escaped from his bed stark naked, and I went to take refuge with my mother, who from that day forth would not let me sleep with him again.


You used to sleep with him? How could your mother allow it?


She never thought that there was anything criminal in his affection for me, and I knew nothing about it. I thought that what he did to me, and what he made me do to him, were mere trifles.


But you have saved the little treasure?


I have kept it for my lover.


Begin with me,


At Grenoble, you are the sole topic of conversation; and I advise you not to go there unless you wish to settle in the country, for they would never let you go. You would have all the nobility at your feet, and above all, the ladies anxious to know the lot of their daughters. Everybody believes in judicial astrology now, and Valenglard triumphs. He has bet a hundred Louis to fifty that my niece will be delivered of a young prince, and he is certain of winning; though to be sure, if he loses, everybody will laugh at him.


Don’t be afraid of his losing.


Is it quite certain?


Has not the horoscope proved truthful in the principal particular? If the other circumstances do not follow, I must have made a great mistake in my calculations.


I am delighted to hear you say so.


I am going to Paris and I hope you will give me a letter of introduction to Madame Varnier, so that I may have the pleasure of seeing your niece.


You shall have the letter to-morrow without fail.


You must make her the present yourself, for though she’s a nun she’s a woman, and we women much prefer a present from a man’s than from a woman’s hand.


Sir, kindly send me the chocolate, and to-morrow we will breakfast together with these dear sisters.


It’s a sight I should like to see, if you will allow me to pay all expenses.


Certainly,


I am quite ready, dearest, to climb the garden wall, and I shall do it more dexterously than your wretched humpback.


Alas! that may not be, for, trust me, you are already spied upon. Everybody here is sure that we knew each other at Aix. Let us forget all, and thus spare ourselves the torments of vain desires.


Give me your hand.


No. All is over. I love you still, probably I shall always love you; but I long for you to go, and by doing so, you will give me a proof of your love.


This is dreadful; you astonish me. You appear to me in perfect health, you are prettier than ever, you are made for the worship of the sweetest of the gods, and I can’t understand how, with a temperament like yours, you can live in continual abstinence.


Alas! lacking the reality we console ourselves by pretending. I will not conceal from you that I love my young boarder. It is an innocent passion, and keeps my mind calm. Her caresses quench the flame which would otherwise kill me.


And that is not against your conscience?


I do not feel any distress on the subject.


But you know it is a sin.


Yes, so I confess it.


And what does the confessor say?


Nothing. He absolves me, and I am quite content.


And does the pretty boarder confess, too?


Certainly, but she does not tell the father of a matter which she thinks is no sin.


I wonder the confessor has not taught her, for that kind of instruction is a great pleasure.


Our confessor is a wise old man.


Am I to leave you, then, without a single kiss?


Not one.


May I come again to-morrow? I must go the day after.


You may come, but I cannot see you by myself as the nuns might talk. I will bring my little one with me to save appearances. Come after dinner, but into the other parlour.


Very pleasantly, like the beginning of the night.


What time would you like to have dinner?


I won’t dine; I prefer to keep my appetite for supper.


It is impossible to keep up with her.


In eating or drinking?


In eating, drinking, and in other things,


What age are you, pretty one?


I am thirteen.


You are wrong, you have not yet completed your twelfth year.


The time will come, when you will diminish the tale of your years instead of increasing it.


I shall never tell a lie, sir; I am sure of that.


So you want to be a nun, do you?


I have not yet received my vocation; but even if I live in the world I need not be a liar.


You are wrong; you will begin to lie as soon as you have a lover.


Will my lover tell lies, too?


Certainly he will.


If the matter were really so, then, I should have a bad opinion of love; but I do not believe it, for I love my sweetheart here, and I never conceal the truth from her.


Yes, but loving a man is a different thing to loving a woman.


No, it isn’t; it’s just the same.


Not so, for you do not go to bed with a woman and you do with your husband.


That’s no matter, my love would be the same.


What? You would not rather sleep with me than with M---- M----?


No, indeed I should not, because you are a man and would see me.


You don’t want a man to see you, then?


No.


Do you think you are so ugly, then?


I am not really ugly, am I?


No, darling, it is quite the other way; you are very pretty.


Your corset is too tight; you can’t possibly have such a small waist as that.


You make a mistake, you can put your hand there and see for yourself.


I can’t believe it. You were right, and I owe you an apology; My opinion is, that we have here a little boy.


Do you know that what you have shewn me has made me unhappy? Has it? Why?


Because your boarder is charming, and I am longing to enjoy her.


I am sorry for that, for you can’t possibly go any further; and besides, I know you, and even if you could satisfy your passion without danger to her, I would not give her up to you, you would spoil her.


How?


Do you think that after enjoying you she would care to enjoy me? I should lose too heavily by the comparison.


Give me your hand.


Stay, one moment.


I don’t want to see anything.


Not a little bit?


Nothing at all.


Are you angry with me, then?


Not at all. If you have been pleased I am glad, and if you have filled her with desires she will love me all the better.


How pleasant it would be, sweetheart, if we could all three of us be together alone and at liberty!


Yes; but it is impossible.


Are you sure that no inquisitive eye is looking upon us?


Quite sure.


The height of that fatal grill has deprived me of the sight of many charms.


Why didn’t you go to the other parlour it is much lower there.


Let us go there, then.


Not to-day; I should not be able to give any reason for the change.


I will come again to-morrow, and start for Lyons in the evening.


As long as you like; you may look at them and touch them as well.


Yes,


You have fired her imagination. She has told me all about it, playing a thousand wanton tricks, and calling me her dear husband. You have seduced the girl, and I am very glad you are going or else you would drive her mad. You will see how she has dressed herself.


Are you sure of her discretion?


Perfectly, but I hope you won’t do anything in my presence. When I see the time coming I will leave the room.


You are an angel, dearest, but you might be something better than that if you would--


I want nothing for myself; it is out of the question.


You could--


No, I will have nothing to do with a pastime which would rekindle fires that are hardly yet quenched. I have spoken; I suffer, but let us say no more about it.


Never mind, I told her all about it. She is a good creature and will not be vexed.


Kneel down on the ledge, and leave the rest to me,


How did the lady receive you, Costa?


She looked into a mirror, sir, and said some words I could make nothing of; then she went round the room three times burning incense; then she came up to me with a majestic air and looked me in the face; and at last she smiled very pleasantly, and told me to wait for a reply in the ante-chamber.


This is the reason,


I will gladly see to all that, but you need not hurry yourself as the Congress will not meet till September.


Believe me, it will never meet at all, but the ambassadors of the belligerent powers will be there all the same. If, contrary to my expectation, the Congress is held, I shall be obliged to go to Lisbon. In any case, I promise to see you again in the ensuing winter. The fortnight that I have to spend here will enable me to defeat a plot of St. Germain’s.


St. Germain--he would never dare to return to Paris.


I am certain that he is here in disguise. The state messenger who ordered him to leave London has convinced him the English minister was not duped by the demand for his person to be given up, made by the Comte d’Afri in the name of the king to the States-General.


The king adores her,


She will give birth to a son who will make France happy, and in thirty years time you will see wondrous things, of which, unfortunately, I can tell you nothing until your transformation. Did you mention my name to her?


No, I did not; but I am sure you will be able to see her, if only at Madame Varnier’s.


It is eighteen years ago,


since I fell asleep on the same spot that we now occupy. During my sleep the divine Horosmadis came down from the sun and stayed with me till I awoke. As I opened my eyes I saw him leave me and ascend to heaven. He left me with child, and I bore a girl which he took away from me years ago, no doubt to punish me for having so far forgotten myself as to love a mortal after him. My lovely Iriasis was like him.


You are quite sure that M. d’Urfe was not the child’s father?


M. d’Urfe did not know me after he saw me lying beside the divine Anael.


That’s the genius of Venus. Did he squint?


To excess. You are aware, then, that he squints?


Yes, and I know that at the amorous crisis he ceases to squint.


I did not notice that. He too, left me on account of my sinning with an Arab.


The Arab was sent to you by an enemy of Anael’s, the genius of Mercury.


It must have been so; it was a great misfortune.


On the contrary, it rendered you more fit for transformation.


Did you see him?


I am quite thunderstruck. I will go and impart this piece of news to the Duc de Choiseul to-morrow morning. I am curious to hear what he will say when I tell him.


You shall see my niece,


If you want to know what my niece’s answer is,


The moment in which I see the Chevalier de Seingalt once more will be one of the happiest of my life. Ask him to be at your house at ten o’clock the day after tomorrow, and if he can’t come then please let me know.


I must spend a whole day with her as she had several questions to put to my oracle.


I should not be surprised,


considering that he spent the night in my closet.


The small Conte d’Aranda after caressing me affectionately begged me to come and breakfast with him at his boarding-house, telling me that Mdlle. Viar would be glad to see me.


They think I am happy, and envy my lot; but can one be happy after the loss of one’s self-respect? For the last six months I have only smiled, not laughed; while at Grenoble I laughed heartily from true gladness. I have diamonds, lace, a beautiful house, a superb carriage, a lovely garden, waiting-maids, and a maid of honour who perhaps despises me; and although the highest Court ladies treat me like a princess, I do not pass a single day without experiencing some mortification.


Mortification?


Yes; people come and bring pleas before me, and I am obliged to send them away as I dare not ask the king anything.


Why not?


Because I cannot look on him as my lover only; he is always my sovereign, too. Ah! happiness is to be sought for in simple homes, not in pompous palaces.


Happiness is gained by complying with the duties of whatever condition of life one is in, and you must constrain yourself to rise to that exalted station in which destiny has placed you. I cannot do it; I love the king and I am always afraid of vexing him. I am always thinking that he does too much for me, and thus I dare not ask for anything for others. But I am sure the king would be only too glad to shew his love for you by benefiting the persons in whom you take an interest. I know he would, and that thought makes me happy, but I cannot overcome my feeling of repugnance to asking favours. I have a hundred louis a month for pin-money, and I distribute it in alms and presents, but with due economy, so that I am not penniless at the end of the month. I have a foolish notion that the chief reason the king loves me is that I do not importune him. And do you love him? How can I help it? He is good-hearted, kindly, handsome, and polite to excess; in short, he possesses all the qualities to captivate a woman’s heart. He is always asking me if I am pleased with my furniture, my clothes, my servants, and my garden, and if I desire anything altered. I thank him with a kiss, and tell him that I am pleased with everything. Does he ever speak of the scion you are going to present to him? He often says that I ought to be careful of myself in my situation. I am hoping that he will recognize my son as a prince of the blood; he ought in justice to do so, as the queen is dead. To be sure he will. I should be very happy if I had a son. I wish I felt sure that I would have one. But I say nothing about this to anyone. If I dared speak to the king about the horoscope, I am certain he would want to know you; but I am afraid of evil tongues. So am I. Continue in your discreet course and nothing will come to disturb your happiness, which may become greater, and which I am pleased to have procured for you.


She would no doubt have been happier. You did not foresee, perhaps, her timidity and her lack of ambition. I can assure you that I did not reckon upon her courage or ambition. I laid aside my own happiness to think only of hers. But what is done cannot be recalled, and I shall be consoled if I see her perfectly happy at last. I hope, indeed, she will be so, above all if she is delivered of a son.


You will have the pleasure of meeting Madame Blondel and her husband,


Does she know I am coming?


No, I promise myself the pleasure of seeing her surprise.


I am much obliged to you for not wishing to enjoy my surprise as well. We shall see each other again, but not to-day, so I must bid you farewell; for as I am a man of honour I hope never to be under the same roof as Madame Blondel again.


Why did you not make the trial before you married? Was it for me to propose such a thing? How should I suppose that such a fine man was impotent? But I will tell you how it all happened. As you know, I was a dancer at the Comedie Italienne, and I was the mistress of M. de Sauci, the ecclesiastical commissioner. He brought your brother to my house, I liked him, and before long I saw that he loved me. My lover advised me that it was an opportunity for getting married and making my fortune. With this idea I conceived the plan of not granting him any favours. He used to come and see me in the morning, and often found me in bed; we talked together, and his passions seemed to be aroused, but it all ended in kissing. On my part, I was waiting for a formal declaration and a proposal of marriage. At that period, M. de Sauci settled an annuity of a thousand crowns on me on the condition that I left the stage. In the spring M. de Sauci invited your brother to spend a month in his country house. I was of the party, but for propriety’s sake it was agreed that I should pass as your brother’s wife. Casanova enjoyed the idea, looking upon it as a jest, and not thinking of the consequences. I was therefore introduced as his wife to my lover’s family, as also to his relations, who were judges, officers, and men about town, and to their wives, who were all women of fashion. Your brother was in high glee that to play our parts properly we were obliged to sleep together. For my part, I was far from disliking the idea, or at all events I looked upon it as a short cut to the marriage I desired. But how can I tell you? Though tender and affectionate in everything, your brother slept with me for a month without our attaining what seemed the natural result under the circumstances.


You might have concluded, then, that he was impotent; for unless he were made of stone, or had taken a vow of chastity, his conduct was inexplicable.


The fact is, that I had no means of knowing whether he was capable or incapable of giving me substantial proof of his love.


Why did you not ascertain his condition for yourself?


A feeling of foolish pride prevented me from putting him to the test. I did not suspect the truth, but imagined reasons flattering to myself. I thought that he loved me so truly that he would not do anything before I was his wife. That idea prevented me humiliating myself by making him give me some positive proof of his powers.


That supposition would have been tenable, though highly improbable, if you had been an innocent young maid, but he knew perfectly well that your novitiate was long over.


Very true; but what can you expect of a woman impelled by love and vanity?


Your reasoning is excellent, but it comes rather late.


Well, at last we went back to Paris, your brother to his house, and I to mine, while he continued his courtship, and I could not understand what he meant by such strange behaviour. M. de Sauci, who knew that nothing serious had taken place between us, tried in vain to solve the enigma. ‘No doubt he is afraid of getting you with child,’ he said, ‘and of thus being obliged to marry you.’ I began to be of the same opinion, but I thought it a strange line for a man in love to take. M. de Nesle, an officer in the French Guards, who had a pretty wife I had met in the country, went to your brother’s to call on me. Not finding me there he asked why we did not live together. Your brother replied openly that our marriage had been a mere jest. M. de Nesle then came to me to enquire if this were the truth, and when he heard that it was he asked me how I would like him to make Casanova marry me. I answered that I should be delighted, and that was enough for him. He went again to your brother, and told him that his wife would never have associated with me on equal terms if I had not been introduced to her as a married woman; that the deceit was an insult to all the company at the country-house, which must be wiped out by his marrying me within the week or by fighting a duel. M. de Nesle added that if he fell he would be avenged by all the gentlemen who had been offended in the same way. Casanova replied, laughing, that so far from fighting to escape marrying me, he was ready to break a lance to get me. ‘I love her,’ he said, ‘and if she loves me I am quite ready to give her my hand. Be kind enough,’ he added, ‘to prepare the way for me, and I will marry her whenever you like.’ M. de Nesle embraced him, and promised to see to everything; he brought me the joyful news, and in a week all was over. M. de Nesle gave us a splendid supper on our wedding-day, and since then I have had the title of his wife. It is an empty title, however, for, despite the ceremony and the fatal yes, I am no wife, for your brother is completely impotent. I am an unhappy wretch, and it is all his fault, for he ought to have known his own condition. He has deceived me horribly.


But he was obliged to act as he did; he is more to be pitied than to be blamed. I also pity you, but I think you are in the wrong, for after his sleeping with you for a month without giving any proof of his manhood you might have guessed the truth. Even if you had been a perfect novice, M. de Sauci ought to have known what was the matter; he must be aware that it is beyond the power of man to sleep beside a pretty woman, and to press her naked body to his breast without becoming, in spite of himself, in a state which would admit of no concealment; that is, in case he were not impotent.


All that seems very reasonable, but nevertheless neither of us thought of it; your brother looks such a Hercules.


There are two remedies open to you; you can either have your marriage annulled, or you can take a lover; and I am sure that my brother is too reasonable a man to offer any opposition to the latter course.


I am perfectly free, but I can neither avail myself of a divorce nor of a lover; for the wretch treats me so kindly that I love him more and more, which doubtless makes my misfortune harder to bear.


He seems to have found his wife a maid, but that’s no fault of mine; and Manon Baletti is the only person he ought to be grateful to. They tell me that he has a pretty baby, and that he lives at the Louvre, while she has another house in the Rue Neuve-des-Petits-Champs. Yes, but he has supper with her every evening. It’s an odd way of living. I assure you it answers capitally. Blondel regards his wife as his mistress. He says that that keeps the flame of love alight, and that as he never had a mistress worthy of being a wife, he is delighted to have a wife worthy of being a mistress.


He would not get me anything to do, because a French poet is rather at a discount in Italy. Yes, he wrote to his mother from Leghorn, telling her that he was going to the Indies, and that if you had not been good enough to give him a thousand Louis he would have been a prisoner at Rome. I will tell her that you are in Paris, and I am sure that she will invite you to supper, for she has the greatest desire to talk to you. He is not the god of wealth by any means. I have no money and no room, and I shall be glad of a supper, if you will ask me. I will read you my play, the ‘Cercle’, which has been accepted. I am sure it will be successful?


If you had returned it, it would be on my finger, and you see that it is not. You’re a liar,


That’s an idle tale, your friend said that he saw you return it, and now he has escaped me. Do you think that I am green enough to be taken in by this sort of thing? You’re a couple of robbers.


Help!


You know the lady, but she made me give my word of honour that I would not tell you. She has only her maid with her, and I am sure you will be pleased to see her.


I am quite sure, that you will come too, for the ambassadors do not assemble at Augsburg till next September.


But, he is the son of the Marquis Desarmoises, of Nancy.


No, he isn’t; he is only a retired messenger, with a small pension from the department of foreign affairs. I know the Marquis Desarmoises; he lives at Nancy, and is not so old as our friend.


Then one can’t see how he can be Desarmoises’s father.


The landlord of the inn at Strasburg knew him when he was a messenger.


How did you make his acquaintance?


We met at the table d’hote. After dinner he came up to my room, and told me he was waiting for a gentleman who was going to Augsburg, and that we might make the journey together. He told me the name, and after questioning him I concluded that the gentleman was yourself, so here we are, and I am very glad of it. But listen to me; I advise you to drop all false styles and titles. Why do you call yourself Seingalt?


Because it’s my name, but that doesn’t prevent my old friends calling me Casanova, for I am both. You understand?


Oh, yes! I understand. Your mother is at Prague, and as she doesn’t get her pension on account of the war, I am afraid she must be rather in difficulties.


I know it, but I do not forget my filial duties. I have sent her some money.


That’s right. Where are you going to stay at Augsburg?


I shall take a house, and if you like you shall be the mistress and do the honours.


That would be delightful! We will give little suppers, and play cards all night.


Your programme is an excellent one.


I will see that you get a good cook; all the Bavarian cooks are good. We shall cut a fine figure, and people will say we love each other madly.


You must know, dearest, that I do not understand jokes at the expense of fidelity.


You may trust me for that. You know how I lived at Dresden.


I will trust you, but not blindly, I promise you. And now let us address each other in the same way; you must call me tu. You must remember we are lovers.


Kiss me!


Everybody knows what kind of a life you lead here, and the way the Renaud behaves, possibly without your knowing it. I advise you to have done with her, as your character is suffering.


That’s a better trade than mine, and I am happy to be able to give you a valuable present.


What is that?


The receipt for the Venetian Specific, which you can sell at two florins a pound, while it will only cost you four gros.


I shall be delighted; but tell me, how is the treasury?


Well, I can’t complain for a first night. I have paid all expenses, and have given my actors a florin apiece. But I am sure I don’t know how I am to play to-morrow, as the company has rebelled; they say they won’t act unless I give each of them a florin in advance.


They don’t ask very much, however.


I know that, but I have no money, and nothing to pledge; but they will be sorry for it afterwards, as I am sure I shall make at least fifty florins to-morrow.


How many are there in the company?


Fourteen, including my family. Could you lend me ten florins? I would pay you back tomorrow night.


Certainly, but I should like to have you all to supper at the nearest inn to the theatre. Here are the ten florins.


Ladies and gentlemen, I will engage you myself for a week at fifty florins a day on the condition that you acknowledge me as your manager for the time being, and pay all the expenses of the theatre. You must charge the prices I name for seats, five members of the company to be chosen by me must sup with me every evening. If the receipts amount to more than fifty florins, we will share the overplus between us.


For to-morrow,


the prices for admission shall remain the same, but the day after we will see what can be done. You and your family will sup with me to-morrow, as also the young Alsatian whom I could never separate from her dear Harlequin.


Courage!


her lover had offered me great provocation;


she would never sup with me again if I did not make her lover return.


I will see to all that,


We shall have nobody there,


Maybe, but that remains to be seen. You must request twelve soldiers to keep order, and I will pay for them.


We shall want some soldiers to look after the mob which will besiege the gallery, but as for the rest of the house . . . .


Again I tell you, we shall see. Carry out my instructions, and whether they prove successful or no, we will have a merry supper as usual.


Why do you bear a false name?


My name is not false. You can ask Carli, the banker, who has paid me fifty thousand florins.


I know that; but your name is Casanova, so why do you call yourself Seingalt?


I take this name, or rather I have taken it, because it belongs to me, and in such a manner that if anyone else dared to take it I should contest it as my property by every legitimate resource.


Ah! and how does this name belong to you?


Because I invented it; but that does not prevent my being Casanova as well.


Sir, you must choose between Casanova and Seingalt; a man cannot have two names.


The Spaniards and Portuguese often have half a dozen names.


But you are not a Spaniard or a Portuguese; you are an Italian: and, after all, how can one invent a name?


It’s the simplest thing in the world.


Kindly explain.


The alphabet belongs equally to the whole human race; no one can deny that. I have taken eight letters and combined them in such a way as to produce the word Seingalt. It pleased me, and I have adopted it as my surname, being firmly persuaded that as no one had borne it before no one could deprive me of it, or carry it without my consent.


This is a very odd idea. Your arguments are rather specious than well grounded, for your name ought to be none other than your father’s name.


I suggest that there you are mistaken; the name you yourself bear because your father bore it before you, has not existed from all eternity; it must have been invented by an ancestor of yours who did not get it from his father, or else your name would have been Adam. Does your worship agree to that?


I am obliged to; but all this is strange, very strange.


You are again mistaken. It’s quite an old custom, and I engage to give you by to-morrow a long list of names invented by worthy people still living, who are allowed to enjoy their names in peace and quietness without being cited to the town hall to explain how they got them.


But you will confess that there are laws against false names?


Yes, but I repeat this name is my true name. Your name which I honour, though I do not know it, cannot be more true than mine, for it is possible that you are not the son of the gentleman you consider your father.


I saw him yesterday, and we had a long talk, in the course of which I succeeded in convincing him on the question of names, and he is now quite of your opinion.


It may be so, but I can’t believe it all the same.


Idiot. I have no wife and no daughter.


Why did you allow your mother to call herself my wife, little simpleton? Do you think that’s a compliment to my judgment? She might have given herself out for your governess, as she wishes to pass you off as my daughter.


My mother is an obstinate old woman who had rather be whipped at the cart-tail than call herself my governess. She has very narrow ideas, and always thinks that governess and procuress mean the same thing.


She’s an old fool, but we will make her hear reason either with her will or in spite of it. But you look well dressed, have you made your fortune?


At Prague I captivated the affections of Count N----, and he proved a generous lover. But let your first action be to send back M. Month. The worthy man has his family at Prague to look after; he can’t afford to stay long here.


True, I will see about it directly.


I owe her all the more friendship, as the family of Lascaris is connected with the family of d’Urfe, and as I am to be born again in the seed of the happy virgin.


You have no business to be jealous, and I am the mistress of my own actions.


Quite right, my dear,


but it is my business to see that you do not behave like a prostitute in your present position.


Yes, that will make double or quits.


We shall see each other again.


Now, you see, we are quits.


Very much quits.


That’s all very well; but, by God! you might have prevented the insult which has dishonoured me.


I might have done so, but I did not care to interfere. You are strong enough to look after yourself. Schmit had not his sword, but I believe him to be a brave man; and he will give you satisfaction if you will return him his money, for there can be no doubt that you lost the match.


I am sure you have come to ask me to fight with d’Ache. I am quite ready to burn powder with him, but he must first pay me the twenty Louis he robbed me of.


You shall have them to-morrow, and I will attend you. D’Ache will be seconded by M. de Pyene.


Very good. I shall expect you at day-break. Here you are, let us be off, then. I have only fought with men of honour up to now, and I don’t much care for killing a rascal; it’s hangman’s work.


I know, that it’s very hard to have to risk one’s life against a fellow like that.


There’s no risk. I am certain that I shall kill him.


How can you be certain?


I shall make him tremble.


I may be mistaken, but I hope to make you pay dearly for your brutality. I owe you twenty louis also;


Place yourself at a distance of ten paces, and fire first. I shall walk to and fro between these two trees, and you may walk as far if you like to do so when my turn comes to fire.


But we must decide, who is to have the first shot.


There is no need. I never fire first, besides, the gentleman has a right to the first shot. You have missed me, sir; I knew you would. Try again.


You have convulsions, have you, dearest?


No, I haven’t. I am quite well, but all the same I shall have them till you give me back my jewel-casket.


You are getting wicked, my poor child; this comes of following your mother’s advice. As for the casket, if you are going to behave like this, probably you will have it.


I will reveal all.


You will not be believed; and I shall send you back to Bologna without letting you take any of the presents which Madame d’Urfe has given you.


You ought to have given me back the casket when I declared myself with child.


Who is, then?


Count N----, whose mistress she was at Prague.


You caused my husband’s death, and I ask you to give me a thousand crowns; if you refuse me I shall commence a lawsuit against you, for as the Swiss officer has left, you are the only person I can prosecute.


I am surprised at your taking such a tone towards me,


and were it not for the respect I feel for your misfortune, I should answer as bitterly as you deserve. In the first place I have not a thousand crowns to throw away, and if I had I would not sacrifice my money to threats. I am curious to know what kind of a case you could get up against me in the courts of law. As for Schmit, he fought like a brave gentleman, and I don’t think you could get much out of him if he were still here. Good-day, madam.


Your intention is not a very flattering one,


and there is something rather brutal about it. I had rather not have any affair of the kind with a man whom I don’t know and to whom I owe nothing.


You are a coward.


I would be, you mean, if I were to imitate you. It is a matter of perfect indifference to me what opinion you may have on the subject.


You will be sorry for this.


Maybe, but I warn you that I never go out unattended by a pair of pistols, which I keep in good order and know how to use.


I should be sorry,


to have anything to do with a fellow like de Pyene, and if you can rid me of him I promise you a hundred crowns.


I daresay that can be managed, and I will tell you what I can do to-morrow!


I feel for your condition, as I feel your abuse of me; and I cannot help saying that you have shewn yourself the vilest of women in inciting de Pyene, who may be an honest man for all I know, to assassinate me. In fine, rich or not, and though I owe you nothing, I will give you enough money to take your property out of pawn, and I may possibly take you to Colmar myself, but you must first consent to my giving your charming daughter a proof of my affection. And you dare to make this horrible proposal to me?


Horrible or not, I do make it.


I will never consent.


Good day, madam.


As I have not the pleasure of knowing you,


prudence will not allow me to do so.


You do know me, though,


Stuart, was only my keeper; my real name is Ranson, and I am the mistress of a rich landed proprietor. I got back to Liege after many sufferings.


I am delighted to hear that you are more prosperous now, but it must be confessed that your behaviour at Avignon was both preposterous and absurd. But the subject is not worth discussing. Good day, madam.


No, I think not, for we don’t play on the same principle. I play for amusement’s sake and you play to win money.


What do you mean? Your words are offensive.


I didn’t mean them to be offensive, but as a matter of fact, each time we have played you have risen after a quarter of an hour.


You ought to be obliged to me, as otherwise you would have lost heavily.


Possibly; but I don’t think so.


I can prove it to you.


I accept the offer, but the first to leave the table must forfeit fifty Louis.


I agree; but money down.


I never play on credit. I am not hungry, but you can go if you want me to put the hundred Louis in my pocket.


Let us agree that the first man who asks for food, who absents himself for more than a quarter of an hour, or who falls asleep in his chair, loses the bet.


I will take you at your word, and I adhere to all your conditions.


O Lord! I pity you, sir.


Now, sir, you may fairly yield.


Madam, in hope of pleasing you, I will gladly divide the stakes and rise from the table. You see, Madam, that I am not the more obstinate of the two.


I made a silly bet, but you have given me a lesson which will last me all my days, and I am much obliged to you for it.


I am delighted to hear it, provided that your health has not suffered.


No, I am quite well, but we will play no more together.


Well, I hope we shan’t play against each other any more.


Why?


She has been very poorly all the evening, and she is in need of sleep.


Very good; then I will sleep too.


It’s a young lord, and I don’t even know his name.


Oh, he is a young lord, is he? and you don’t know his name, you little hussy, don’t you? Well, he will tell me himself. Kindly tell me your name, fair sir.


I am Count B----, canon of Bale.


And do you think you have been performing an ecclesiastical function here?


No sir, no, and I hope you will forgive me and the lady too, for I am the only guilty party.


I am not asking you whether she is guilty or not.


Sir, the countess is perfectly innocent.


No one must hear anything more of this, but you and I will go to a distance of two hundred paces and burn a little powder.


No, no, sir, you may take me where you like, and kill me if you please, but I was not meant for a fighting man.


Really?


Yes, sir, and I only became a priest to escape the fatal duty of duelling.


Then you are a coward, and will not object to a good thrashing?


Anything you like, but it would be cruelty, for my love blinded me. I only came here a quarter of an hour ago, and the countess and her governess were both asleep.


You are a liar.


I had only just taken off my shirt when you came, and I have never seen this angel before.


And that’s gospel truth,


Are you aware that you are a couple of impudent scoundrels? And as for you, master canon, you deserve to be roasted like St. Laurence. Follow me, sir. What will you do, if I forgive you and let you go without putting you to shame?


I will leave in an hour and a half, and you shall never see me here again; but even if we meet in the future, you will find me always ready to do you a service.


Very good. Begone, and in the future take more precautions in your amorous adventures.


I shall say I am ill.


Just as you please, but nobody will take any notice of you.


These are the persons you are to drive, and they will pay you when they reach Turin in safety with their luggage. You are to take four days and a half for the journey, as is stipulated in the agreement, of which they have one copy and you another.


How are our sweethearts getting on?


Excellently. They are always talking about you and regretting your absence; they will go wild with joy when they know you are here.


You must tell them directly, then.


I will go and warn them that we shall all sup together this evening. By the way, M. de Voltaire has given up his house at Delices to M. de Villars, and has gone to live at Ferney.


That makes no difference to me, as I was not thinking of calling on him this time. I shall be here for two or three weeks, and I mean to devote my time to you.


You are too good.


Will you give me writing materials before you go out? I will write a few letters while you are away.


All the better. I shall know how to regulate my conduct, and perhaps I may succeed in initiating her.


I have all the prejudices which honour and religion suggest,


Ah! then, you, sir, are the person who discussed some very singular questions with my cousin, the pastor’s niece. I am delighted to make your acquaintance.


I am equally pleased to make yours, but I hope the pastor’s niece said nothing against me.


Not at all; she has a very high opinion of you.


I am going to dine with her to-morrow, and I shall take care to thank her.


To-morrow! I should like to be there, for I enjoy philosophical discussions though I never dare to put a word in.


Then how could Christ have said that the time in which the world was to come to an end was unknown to Him?


He was speaking the truth; it was not known to Him.


Then he was not God?


That is a false deduction, for since God may do all things, He may certainly be ignorant of an event in futurity.


something difficult, which you don’t know yourself.


I shall be delighted. Do you grant that a god possesses in a supreme degree the qualities of man?


Yes, excepting man’s weaknesses.


Do you class the generative power as a weakness?


No.


Will you tell me, then, of what nature would have been the offspring of a union between a god and a mortal woman?


It would be absurd, to suppose that a deity could perform such an action without its having any results. At the end of nine months a woman would be delivered a male child, which would be three parts man and one part god.


Naturally, if the son of the woman married, his children would be seven-eighths men and one-eighth gods.


Yes, unless he married a goddess, which would have made the proportion different.


Tell me exactly, what proportion of divinity there would be in a child of the sixteenth generation.


Give me a pencil and I will soon tell you,


There is no need to calculate it, the child would have some small share of the wit which you enjoy.


What have you done with Helen?


Nothing; she’s a simpleton, and an intractable one. She hid under the sheets and would not look at my performance with her friend.


You ought to go to her direct.


I have done so, but she repulsed me again and again. I have given it up, and shall not try it again, unless you will tame her for me.


How is it to be done?


Come to dinner to-morrow. I shall be away at Geneva. I shall be back by supper-time. I wish we could give her too much to drink!


That would be a pity. Let me see what I can do. The syndic, is in love with you, and last night . . .


Last night, he amused himself with his old friend. I am for everyone’s following their own tastes, but I expect to be allowed to follow mine.


If I could gain your heart I should be happy.


Why don’t you invite the pastor and my cousin to dine with you? I could come too, for the pastor makes much of everyone who loves his niece.


I am glad to hear that. Has she a lover?


No.


I can scarcely believe it. She is young, pretty, agreeable, and very clever.


You don’t understand Genevan ways. It is because she is so clever that no young man falls in love with her. Those who might be attracted by her personal charms hold themselves aloof on account of her intellectual capacities, as they would have to sit in silence before her.


Are the young Genevans so ignorant, then?


As a rule they are. Some of them have received excellent educations, but in a general way they are full of prejudice. Nobody wishes to be considered a fool or a blockhead, but clever women are not appreciated; and if a girl is witty or well educated she endeavors to hide her lights, at least if she desires to be married.


Ah! now I see why you did not open your lips during our discussion. No, I know I have nothing to hide. This was not the motive which made me keep silence, but the pleasure of listening. I admired my cousin, who was not afraid to display her learning on a subject which any other girl would have affected to know nothing about.


Yes, affected, though she might very probably know as much as her grandmother.


That’s a matter of morals, or rather of prejudices.


Your reasoning is admirable, and I am already longing for the party you so cleverly suggested.


You will have the pleasure of being with my cousin.


I do her justice. Hedvig is certainly a very interesting and agreeable girl, but believe me it is your presence that will constitute my chief enjoyment.


And how if I do not believe you?


You would wrong me and give me pain, for I love you dearly.


In spite of that you have deceived me. I am sure that you have given marks of your affection to those three young ladies. For my part I pity them.


Why?


Because neither of them can flatter herself that you love her, and her alone.


And do you think that your delicacy of feeling makes you happier than they are?


Yes, I think so though of course, I have no experience in the matter. Tell me truly, do you think I am right?


Yes, I do.


I am delighted to hear it; but you must confess that to associate me with them in your attentions would not be giving me the greatest possible proof of your love.


Yes, I do confess it, and I beg your pardon. But tell me how I should set to work to ask the pastor to dinner.


There will be no difficulty. Just call on him and ask him to come, and if you wish me to be of the party beg him to ask my mother and myself.


Why your mother?


Because he has been in love with her these twenty years, and loves her still.


And where shall I give this dinner?


Is not M. Tronchin your banker?


Yes.


He has a nice pleasure house on the lake; ask him to lend it you for the day; he will be delighted to do so. But don’t tell the syndic or his three friends anything about it; they can hear of it afterwards.


But do you think your learned cousin will be glad to be in my company?


More than glad, you may be sure.


Very good, everything will be arranged by tomorrow. The day after, you will be returning to Geneva, and the party will take place two or three days later.


I see,


that I shall waste my time with the little fool. I think I shall give her up.


I think that’s the best thing you could do,


for a man who languishes after a woman who is either devoid of feeling or full of caprice, makes himself her dupe. Bliss should be neither too easy nor too hard to be won.


Do you know,


that you have made a conquest of M. Tronchin?


Have I? The worthy banker asked me some very silly questions.


You must not expect everyone to be able to contend with you.


I can’t help telling you that your question pleased me best of all. A bigoted theologian at the end of the table seemed scandalized at the question and still more at the answer.


And why?


He says I ought to have told you that a deity could not impregnate a woman. He said that he would explain the reason to me if I were a man, but being a woman and a maid he could not with propriety expound such mysteries. I wish you would tell me what the fool meant.


I should be very glad, but you must allow me to speak plainly, and I shall have to take for granted that you are acquainted with the physical conformation of a man.


Yes, speak as plainly as you like, for there is nobody to hear what we say; but I must confess that I am only acquainted with the peculiarities of the male by theory and reading. I have no practical knowledge. I have seen statues, but I have never seen or examined a real live man. Have you, Helen?


I have never wished to do so.


Why not? It is good to know everything.


Well, Hedvig, your theologian meant to say that a god was not capable of this.


What is that?


Give me your hand.


I can feel it, and have thought it would be something like that; without this provision of nature man would not be able to fecundate his mate. And how could the foolish theologian maintain that this was an imperfection?


Because it is the result of desire, Hedvig, and it would not have taken place in me if I had not been charmed with you, and if I had not conceived the most seducing ideas of the beauties that I cannot see from the view of the beauties I can see. Tell me frankly whether feeling that did not give you an agreeable sensation.


It did, and just in the place where your hand is now. Don’t you feel a pleasant tickling there, Helen, after what the gentleman has been saying to us?


Yes, I feel it, but I often do, without anything to excite me.


And then,


nature makes you appease it . . . thus?


Not at all.


Oh, yes!


Even when we are asleep our hands seek that spot as if by instinct, and if it were not for that solace I think we should get terribly ill.


I should like to so much,


And I too,


Then sit down, ladies, on the first step.


Well, well,


men have thighs too.


That will do, charming maids,


you might catch cold if you stayed longer in the water.


What effect had it on you?


I daren’t tell you to look, but feel, both of you.


Do you bathe, too.


It’s out of the question, a man’s undressing takes so much trouble.


But we have still two hours before us, in which we need not fear any interruption.


That,


It’s beautiful!


I have a word too,


and I will shew it to you if you will wait a minute.


Come, Hedvig, and I will save you the trouble of making it yourself, and will do it better.


I daresay, but I have never done it with a man.


No more have I,


We were now close friends, and soon promised to be something more; and we walked back and found the pastor and Helen’s mother strolling by the side of the lake.


To-morrow. I shall be able to get a word with you at Madame Tronchin’s dinner, and I expect Hedvig will have hit on some way for you to satisfy your desires.


Eve, did not deceive her husband, she only cajoled him into eating it in the hope of giving him one more perfection. Besides Eve had not been forbidden to eat the fruit by God, but only by Adam, and in all probability her woman’s sense prevented her regarding the prohibition as serious. I beg your pardon, madam. What do you say to this?


Madam, my niece is not infallible.


Excuse me, dear uncle, I am as infallible as Holy Writ when I speak according to it.


Bring a Bible, and let me see. Hedvig, my dear Hedvig, you are right after all. Here it is. The prohibition was given before woman was made.


I do not think so, because it could only be a symbol of sexual union, and it is clear that such did not take place between Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. All the worse for them, madam, the Scripture is plain enough. In the first verse of the fourth chapter it is written, that Adam knew his wife after they had been driven from the Garden, and that in consequence she conceived Cain. I cannot admit the inference, as in that case she would have conceived; for it would be absurd to suppose that two creatures who had just left God’s hands, and were consequently as nearly perfect as is possible, could perform the act of generation without its having any result. The Old Testament, does not teach this doctrine; but, nevertheless, human reason teaches it, as the soul is a substance, and the destruction of any substance is an unthinkable proposition. Where there is smoke there is always fire. I cannot answer that question, for it is beyond my knowledge. I can only say that as I believe God to be all powerful, I cannot deny Him the power to make matter capable of thought. I believe that I have a soul endowed with thinking capacities, but I do not know whether I shall remember that I had the honour of dining with you to-day after I die. One may be a theologian and a philosopher, for philosophy never contradicts any truth, and besides, to say ‘I do not know’ is not the same as ‘I am sure’. but it must be something quite new. Certainly, and the reason is that in God there is no first principle, and He is therefore incomprehensible. There my learning is baffled. I know not what to reply. You should not ask me so hard a thing as that. That’s prettily said. Be kind enough to reply for me, gentlemen, and teach me what to say. My opinion is that since God knows all, He knows of His own existence, but you must not ask me how He knows it. I cannot recognize the word ‘created,’ Ask me whether matter was formed, and I shall reply in the affirmative. The word ‘created’ cannot have existence, for the existence of anything must be prior to the word which explains it. Made out of nothing. You see the absurdity, for nothing must have first existed. I am glad to see you laugh. Do you think that nothingness could be created? Not at all, not at all. My uncle there. Your question is a purely philosophical one, and I must answer that I do not know enough of spirit or matter to be able to give a satisfactory definition. No solid foundation can be built on abstract ideas. Hobbes calls such ideas mere fantasms. One may have them, but if one begins to reason on them, one is landed in contradiction. I know that God sees me, but I should labour in vain if I endeavoured to prove it by reasoning, for reason tells us no one can see anything without organs of sight; and God being a pure spirit, and therefore without organs, it is scientifically impossible that He can see us any more than we can see Him. But Moses and several others have seen Him, and I believe it so, without attempting to reason on it. I am not afraid of that. I cannot conceive the possibility of Atheism.


Hedvig, will stay the night and sleep with me as she always does when she comes to supper with her uncle. It remains to be seen if you are willing to hide in a place I will shew you at eleven o’clock tomorrow, in order to sleep with us. Call on my mother at that hour to-morrow, and I will find an opportunity of shewing you where it is. You will be safe though not comfortable, and if you grow weary you can console yourself by thinking that you are in our minds. Shall I have to stay there long? Four hours at the most. At seven o’clock the street door is shut, and only opened to anyone who rings. If I happen to cough while I am in hiding might I be heard? Yes, that might happen. There’s a great hazard. All the rest is of no consequence; but no matter, I will risk all for the sake of so great happiness. At seven o’clock, the door will be open, and when you are in put on the bolt. Take care that no one sees you as you are entering the house.


Follow me on tiptoe. There, now come upstairs softly after me.


Divine Hedvig, if I had not loved you madly I would not have stayed a quarter of an hour in that dismal cell, but I am ready to spend four hours there every day till I leave Geneva for your sake. But we must not lose any time; let us go to bed.


Do you two go to bed. I will sleep on the sofa.


don’t think of it; our fate must be exactly equal.


Yes, darling Helen. I love you both with equal ardour, and these ceremonies are only wasting the time in which I ought to be assuring you of my passion. Imitate my proceedings. I am going to undress, and then I shall lie in the middle of the bed. Come and lie beside me, and I’ll shew you how I love you. If all is safe I will remain with you till you send me away, but whatever you do do not put out the light.


In five or six days time, perhaps, the opportunity may recur again, but that will be all. Ask us to sup at your inn to-morrow, and maybe, chance will favour the commission of a sweet felony.


We shall be in the town, and can remain together as long as we please, but do not forget to bring the amiable widow and her charming daughter.


I don’t care to. Well, let us go and see them again.


I will be there. And I will be there to shut you up, but you cannot have a light as the servant might see it. I forgot to tell you, that you would find a fowl there.


We shall be wretched, sweetheart, and if you like we will come with you.


I promise to come and see you before two years have expired,


I am flush of money, and I intend to invite my friends to supper frequently. Can you lay your hands on a good cook?


I know a pearl amongst cooks, and you can have him directly.


You, chevalier, are the pearl of men. Get me this wonder, tell him I am hard to please, and agree on the sum I am to pay him per month.


It would be a good idea, to call on the Count d’Aglie. He knows that the Corticelli is your mistress, and he has given a formal order to Madame Pacienza, the lady with whom she lives, that when you come and see her you are not to be left alone together. Since she has been here, her conduct has been irreproachable.


I am glad to hear that.


You might let her take some lessons from the dancing-master Dupre. He will no doubt give her something to do at the carnival.


I warn you that I have been informed that you keep a mistress, and that I have given strict orders to the respectable woman with whom she lives not to leave her alone with you.


I am glad to hear it,


and the more as I fear her mother is not a person of very rigid morals. I advised the Chevalier Raiberti of my intentions with regard to her, and I am glad to see that he has carried them out so well. I hope the girl will shew herself worthy of your protection.


Do you think of staying here throughout the carnival?


Yes, if your excellency approves.


It depends entirely on your good conduct.


A few peccadilloes excepted, my conduct is always above reproach.


There are some peccadilloes we do not tolerate here. Have you seen the Chevalier Osorio?


I think of calling on him to-day or to-morrow.


I hope you will remember me to him.


Certainly,


for I am not in love with her.


Somehow I don’t think your indifference will be very pleasing to the virtuous duenna.


Shew me your room. Here is something to make you a winter dress,


Is this from the marchioness?


No, it is from me.


But where are the three dresses she said she would give me?


You know very well on what conditions you were to have them, so let us say no more about it. I should have thought, that a virtuous person like you would have been delighted.


I thank God for it every morning and night.


You infernal old hypocrite! Upon my word, anybody who didn’t know you would be taken in. Are you still at Madame R----’s?


Yes sir,


It’s a pleasure, is it? well, I don’t know when you will have it again; it depends on my leisure and my fancy.


Victorine and Caton are the only two of the old set that still remain, but I have replaced them with others.


Has Victorine found anyone to operate on her yet?


No, she is just as you left her, but a gentleman who is in love with her is going to take her to Milan.


You are in good hands, my dear sir,


the woman is not only a spy of d’Aglie’s, but a professional procuress. I wonder the Chevalier Raiberti placed the girl with her.


No one better, sir, for I am Dupre, at your service.


I am delighted at this happy chance. The Chevalier Raiberti gave me to understand that you might be able to give dancing lessons to a ballet-girl of my acquaintance.


M. de Raiberti mentioned your name to me this morning. You must be the Chevalier de Seingalt?


Exactly.


I can give the young lady lessons every morning at nine o’clock at my own home.


No, do you come to her house, but at whatever hour you like. I will pay you, and I hope you will make her one of your best pupils. I must warn you, however, that she is not a novice.


I will call on her to-day, and to-morrow I will tell you what I can make of her; but I think I had better tell you my terms: I charge three Piedmontese livres a lesson.


I think that is very reasonable; I will call on you to-morrow.


You do me honour. Here is my address. If you like to come in the afternoon you will see the rehearsal of a ballet.


Is it not rehearsed at the theatre?


Yes, but at the theatre no on-lookers are allowed by the orders of the superintendent of police.


This superintendent of yours puts his finger into a good many pies.


In too many.


But at your own house anybody may come?


Undoubtedly, but I could not have the dancers there if my wife were not present. The superintendent knows her, and has great confidence in her.


You will see me at the rehearsal.


I am her mother,


You, madam! I should not have thought it possible.


I was very young when she was born.


I should think so. Where do you come from?


I am from Lucca, and what is more, a poor widow.


How can you be poor, when you are still young and handsome, and have an angel for a daughter?


Allow me to offer you mine,


You have not used it,


do so.


You must not give it me back, fair Agatha, till you have had it washed.


May I have the pleasure of calling on you?


I cannot receive you, sir, except in the presence of my landlady.


This cursed restriction is general in Turin, then?


Yes, the superintendent uses everybody in the same way.


Then I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again here?


I hope, that you will come and stay with us at Milan, and that she will please you.


That’s true, and it’s a great pity.


Unfortunately, my poor girl hasn’t got another pair.


I have some pretty imitation pendants, which I could lend you,


they are really very brilliant.


One would swear they were real diamonds,


all the other girls would be jealous, as they would certainly take them for real stones.


It is not so? M. de Seingalt has deceived you, my dear child. A gentleman of his caste does not lend imitation jewellery to such a pretty girl as you are. Your ear-rings are set with magnificent diamonds.


The man’s mad, you ought to have let him have them; they are not worth four sequins.


Am I to tell my girl, of the way in which you proved to me that you love her?


I leave that to your discretion, my dear. I have certainly proved that I love you, but it does not follow that I do not adore your daughter. In fact, I burn for her; and yet, if we are not careful to avoid being alone together, what has just happened between us will often happen again.


It is hard to resist you, and it is possible that I may have occasion to speak to you again in private.


You may be sure you will always be welcome, and all I ask of you is not to put any obstacles in the way of my suit with Agatha.


I have also a favour to ask.


If it is within my power, you may be sure I will grant it.


Very good! Then tell me if these ear-rings are real, and what was your intention in putting them in my daughter’s ears?


The diamonds are perfectly genuine, and my intention was that Agatha should keep them as a proof of my affection.


Sir, I have been looking for you to warn you that I have just seen the Chevalier de Ville-Follet slip into Madame Pacienza’s house, and I suspect he is making an amorous call on the Corticelli.


Sir. I hope you will pardon me for coming in without knocking.


Wait a moment, wait a moment.


I suppose you will not be going to complain to the Count d’Aglie?


It is only fools who complain, above all in circumstances like these.


That’s exactly what I am going to do, and for the rest of my days I never wish to see the Corticelli again, or to make or mar in her affairs, and for all this I am greatly obliged to the Chevalier de Ville-Follet.


I see you are angry. Come, come! you must not abandon the girl for that. I will have the woman Pacienza punished in such a way as to satisfy you, and I will place the girl in a respectable family where you can go and see her in perfect liberty.


I am greatly obliged to you for your kindness, indeed I am grateful; but I despise the Pacienza too heartily to wish for her punishment, and as to the Corticelli and her mother, they are two female swindlers, who have given me too much trouble already. I am well quit of them.


You must confess, however, that you had no right to make a forcible entry into a room in a house which does not belong to you.


I had not the right, I confess, but if I had not taken it I could never have had a certain proof of the perfidy of my mistress; and I should have been obliged to continue supporting her, though she entertained other lovers.


The Corticelli pretends that you are her debtor, and not vice versa. She says that the diamonds you have given another girl belong of right to her, and that Madame d’Urfe, whom I have the honour to know, presented her with them.


She is a liar! And as you know Madame d’Urfe, kindly write to her (she is at Lyons); and if the marchioness replies that I owe the wretched girl anything, be sure that I will discharge the debt. I have a hundred thousand francs in good banks of this town, and the money will be a sufficient surety for the ear-rings I have disposed of.


I am sorry that things have happened so.


And I am very glad, as I have ridden myself of a burden that was hard to bear.


My dear chevalier, it will be enough if you do not demand satisfaction of me.


I do not know, if they are real diamonds, or if they belong to the Corticelli, but I do know that my girl has received no such present from the gentleman.


Well, well, we will have no more surmises in the matter; Dearest Agatha, I make you a present of them before this company, and my giving them to you now is a proof that hitherto they have belonged to me. I should be very glad to do so,


I know, that you are in love with Redegonde, and have long tried vainly to obtain her; now I am willing to exchange her for Agatha, and all I want to know is what sum of money you want over and above?


You are very good, my dear lord, but to determine the excess of value would require a good mathematician. Redegonde is all very well, and inspires me with curiosity, but what is she compared to Agatha?


I know, I know, and I therefore offer you any sum you like to mention.


I am sure of Redegonde’s consent,


But I am not at all sure of Agatha’s,


Why not?


I have very strong grounds for supposing that she would not consent to the arrangement. What reasons have you for the contrary opinion?


She will shew her sense.


But she loves me.


Well, Redegonde loves me.


I dare say; but does she love me?


I am sure I don’t know, but she will love you.


Have you consulted her upon the point?


No, but it is all the same. What I want to know now is whether you approve of my plan, and how much you want for the exchange, for your Agatha is worth much more than my Redegonde.


I am delighted to hear you do my mistress justice. As for the money question, we will speak of that later. In the first place I will take Agatha’s opinion, and will let you know the result to-morrow morning.


Tell me, if you would agree to the change?


I will do just as you like, and if the money he offers be acceptable to you, I advise you to close with him.


We will see, how it all ends. Quite right,


The four of us had better go masked to the first ball at the Carignan Theatre. We will sup at a house which belongs to me, and there the bargain can be struck.


He reflected a few minutes, and told me he must think it over, and would see me again. It would be amusing if he took me at my word, would it not?


Yes, but we should then have to enquire whether he is a madman or a beggar on the verge of bankruptcy. And if he turns out to be a man of means? In that case you would be obliged to accept. I will engage to find you one. As to talent, you have enough and to spare; but you will see that it will come to nothing.


My lord, you know that I love Agatha, and that she loves me, nevertheless I am your friend, and since you adore her I will do my best to hasten your bliss. I will leave you in possession of this treasure, but you must promise that when you abandon her you will give her two thousand guineas.


My dear sir. I will give them her now if you like.


No, my lord, I do not wish her to know anything about our agreement while you are living happily together.


Then I will give you a bond binding myself to pay her the two thousand guineas when we separate.


I don’t want that, the word of an Englishman is enough; but since we cannot command the fates, and may die without having time to put our affairs in order, I wish you to take such steps as may seem convenient to you, whereby that sum would go to her after your death.


I give you my word on it.


That is enough; but I have one other condition to make.


Say on.


It is that you promise to say nothing to Agatha before my departure.


I swear I will not.


Very good; and on my part I promise to prepare her for the change.


This is the best letter I can give you. I will write and tell her that you will call and give her the portrait, unless, indeed, she likes to leave it in your hands.


I hope my lady will think me worthy of such an honour.


We are so poor,


There are three courses before you, Mr. Venetian, and you can take which you like. Either countermand this supper, invite me to come to it, or come and measure swords with me now.


At all events. I will go out with you.


Sir, your affairs of this kind are mine too, I shall take care not to go beyond my duty.


The French are brave,


but generally they are perfectly polite and have wonderful tact. Wretchedness and love, joined to a false spirit of courage, makes a fool of a man all the world over.


My dear count,” I replied, “I have enough fine Turin chocolate to go all round. Does the countess like it?”


Very much, but she won’t take it unless it is made by her woman.”


Here are six pounds: make her accept it, and tell her that if I hear anything about payment I shall take it back.”


I am sure she will accept it, and thank you too. Shall I have your carriage housed?”


I shall be extremely obliged to you, and I shall be glad if you would get me a hired carriage, and a guide for whom you can answer.”


It shall be done.”


Dear, dear, abbé!” said I, laughing, “this sort of thing is not exactly proper in a man of your sacred profession. How can you advise me to tell a lie? No, sir; if the countess asks me any such impertinent question, I shall tell her the truth.”


I am sure she will ask you, and if you answer like that I shall suffer for it.”


Well, sir, if you are in the wrong you deserve to suffer.”


But as it happens, I should be blamed for nothing.”


Well, go and tell her it’s a present; and if she won’t have that, tell her I am in no hurry to be paid.”


I see, sir, that you don’t know the lady or the way in which this house is managed. I will speak to her husband.”


If your wife asks me whether I have received the money, be sure I will answer in the affirmative.”


for, there’s only one fireplace in the house and that’s in your room.


Is it possible that a man of your years has not yet learnt to respect a woman?”


Really, countess. I thought it would be very disrespectful to continue sitting while you were standing.


No,


but I hope to find someone at Milan who will be worthy of such presents.


I know the Prince Triulzi, at Venice; I suppose he is of your family?


He says he is, and it may be so; but I am certainly not a member of his family.”


You must stay to dinner, marquis, and as you only like dishes prepared by your own cook you had better send for them.


Your husband settled with me,


but you have given me a lesson I can never forget.


What lesson?” said the marquis.”


I had hoped that the countess would have deigned to receive this poor present at my hands.”


And she wouldn’t take it? It’s absurd, on my life.”


There is nothing to laugh at, but you laugh at everything.


I am glad of it as it made her speak so.


Is she young? Both young and pretty, sir.


That will do nicely, shew her in.


Do you live at any distance?


I live on the ground floor of this house.


All by yourself?


No sir, I have my father and mother.


And what is your name?


Zenobia.


Your name is as pretty as you are. Will you give me your hand to kiss?


I can’t, my hand is another’s.


You are engaged, are you?


Yes, to a tailor, and we are going to be married before the end of the carnival.


Is he rich or handsome?


Neither the one nor the other.


Then why are you going to marry him?


Because I want to have a house of my own.


I like you, and will stand your friend. Go and fetch your tailor. I will give him some work to do.


Well, master tailor,


so you are going to marry this charming girl?


Yes, sir, the banns have been published already.


You are a lucky fellow indeed to have so much happiness in store. When are you going to marry her?


In ten or twelve days.


Why not to-morrow?


Your worship is in a great hurry.


I think I should be, indeed,


if I were in your place. I want you to make me a domino for the ball to-morrow.


Certainly, sir; but your excellency must find me the stuff, for nobody in Milan would give me credit for it, and I couldn’t afford to lay out so much money in advance.


When you are married you will have money and credit too. In the meanwhile here are ten sequins for you.


He is neither jealous nor amorous. He is only marrying me because I earn more than he does.


With your charms I should have thought you might have made a better match.


I have waited long enough; I have got tired of maidenhood. Besides, he is sharp if he is not handsome, and perhaps a keen head is better than a handsome face.


You are sharp enough yourself, anyhow. But why does he put off the wedding?


Because he hasn’t got any money, and wants to have a fine wedding for his relations to come to. I should like it myself.


I think you are right; but I can’t see why you should not let an honest man kiss your hand.


That was only a piece of slyness to let you know I was to be married. I have no silly prejudices myself.


Ah, that’s better! Tell your future husband that if he likes me to be the patron of the wedding I will pay for everything.


Really?


Yes, really. I will give him twenty-five sequins on the condition that he spends it all on the wedding.


Twenty-five sequins! That will make people talk; but what care we? I will give you an answer to-morrow.


And a kiss now?


With all my heart.


And where is Cesarino? In this town. You can see him whenever you like. Are you happy? Quite. People say that I have a lover, but it is not true; and you can see me at any time with perfect liberty. At Florence. I was still in love with him; but now, if I am still pleasing in your eyes, we can renew our connection, and live together till we die.


I will soon shew you, darling, that I love you as well as ever.


I know where you have been, but if you love that person, you will not go and see her again, or else her lover will leave her.


Then I would take his place, madam.


You are right in amusing yourself with women who know how to earn your presents. I am aware that you never give anything till you have received evident proofs of their affection.


That has always been my principle.


It’s an excellent way to avoid being duped. The lover of the person you have been with kept a lady in society for some time in great splendour, but all the rest of us despised her.


Why so, if you please?


Because she lowered herself so terribly. Greppi is absolutely a man of no family whatever.


The only thing needful,


is a fine physique and plenty of money, and those ladies who despised their friend were either ridiculously proud or abominably envious. I have not the slightest doubt that if they could find any more Gieppis they would be willing enough to lower themselves.


They say it’s worth a thousand sequins,


Yes, that is so; but I would sell everything I possess before parting with any of the articles which I intend for the fair sex.


Marquis Triulzi wants it badly to present to someone.


I am very sorry, but I cannot sell it to him.


I will expect you, then. I know you were in love with Countess A---- B----, and I felt sure you would not dare to come to supper with me.


And I thought I should confound you by accepting your invitation, as I knew Greppi was your lover.


He is my friend. If he loves me in any other way than that of friendship, I pity him, for as yet he has not discovered the secret of seduction.


Do you think he ever will?


No, I don’t. I am rich.


Yes, but he is richer than you.


I know that, but I think he loves his money better than he loves me.


I understand. You will make him happy if he loves you well enough to ruin himself.


That is it, but it will never come to pass. But here we are, together again after a divorce of nearly twenty years. I don’t think you will find any change in me.


That is a privilege which nature grants to the fair sex only. You will find me changed, but you will be able to work miracles.


the tailor was ready to marry her next Sunday if my offer was not a joke.


To convince you of the contrary,


here are the twenty-five sequins.


I suppose you will be giving it to the person with whom you spent the night,


That’s an impossibility,


for I spent the night in play.


I saw you losing money at Canano’s bank, and remembering our old friendship I want to communicate to you a sure way of winning money. All that is necessary is for me to introduce you to a club of young men who are very fond of play, and cannot possibly win.


Where does this club meet?


In an extremely respectable house. If you agree I will keep the bank myself, and I am sure of winning. I want you to lend me capital, and I only ask a fourth of the profits.


I suppose you can hold the cards well.


You are right.


My dear sir,


I will give you my decision after seeing the club to which you want to introduce me.


Will you be at the theatre coffee-house at three o’clock to-morrow?


Yes, but I hope to see you at the ball in the evening.


You insult me cruelly,


you must know my character better than that.


I know everything, my dear countess; but, after all, the insult’s nothing; you can easily forgive me if you pluck up a little spirit; trample on a foolish prejudice; get the dress, and make me happy for a whole night long.


That it all very well when one is in love, but you must confess that your coarse way of speaking is more likely to make me hate you than love you.


I use that style, because I want to come to the point; I have no time to waste. And you, countess, must confess in your turn, that you would be delighted to have me sighing at your feet.


It would be all the same to me, I don’t think I could love you.


Then we are agreed on one point at all events, for I love you no more than you love me.


And yet you would spend a thousand sequins for the pleasure of passing a night with me.


Not at all, I don’t want to sleep with you for the sake of the pleasure, but to mortify your infernal pride, which becomes you so ill.


You lost an immense sum, and I am very glad of it. The marquis will give you a thousand sequins, and the money will bring you luck.


And you, too, for I suppose you will have the dress?


Maybe.


No, madam, you shall never have it in this way, and you know the other. I despise a thousand sequins.


And I despise you and your presents.


You may despise me as much as you please, and you may be sure I despise you.


Triulzi will give you a thousand sequins; that will fit you up again.


For the dress you mean?


Yes.


I wanted to give it to your wife, but she said she would despise it, coming from my hands.


You astonish me; she is mad after it. You must have wounded her haughty temper in some way or another. But sell it, and get the thousand sequins.


I will let you know to-morrow.


my affairs were his own, and that I could count on his secrecy.


Such a meeting would give me the greatest pleasure,


My wife is in a furious rage with you, and won’t tell me why.


The reason is, my dear count, that I won’t let her accept the dress from any hand but mine. She told me that she should despise it as a gift from me, but she has nothing to be furious about that I know.


It’s some mad notion of hers, and I don’t know what to make of it. But pray attend to what I am about to say to you. You despise a thousand sequins--good. I congratulate you. But if you are in a position to despise a sum which would make me happy, offer up a foolish vanity on the shrine of friendship, take the thousand sequins, and lend them to me, and let my wife have the dress, for of course he will give it her.


I will willingly assist you in this arrangement. I will sell the dress to the marquis as soon as you please, but I won’t lend you the money. I’ll give it to you in the person of your wife at a private interview; but when she receives me she must not only be polite and complaisant, but as gentle as a lamb. Go and see if it can be arranged, my dear count; ‘tis absolutely my last word.


I will see,


It only serves to dazzle fools, and here you have none such to deal with.


he knew Venice, and as I was not a patrician I could live as pleasantly anywhere else. consider his house and all he possessed as mine.


The two young ladies are two incarnate angels,


I shall pay my duty to them, and shall find out in a few days whether they are for me. As for the gaming speculation, I will lend you two hundred sequins; but I don’t want to lose the money, so you must give me good security.


To that I agree willingly, but I am certain of giving it you back with good interest.


You shall have a half share and not twenty-five per cent., and I must strongly insist that nobody shall know of my having anything to do with your bank. If I hear any rumours, I shall bet heavily on my own account.


You may be sure I shall keep the secret; it is to my own interest to have it believed that I am my own capitalist.


Very good. Come to me early to-morrow morning, and bring me good security, and you shall have the money.


You make me blush, marquis, for not having called on you yet.


No, no; there can be nothing of that kind between men of the world, who know the world’s worth.


We are agreed there, at all events.


By the way, I hear you have decided on selling me that handsome dress of yours. I am really very much obliged to you, and will give you the fifteen thousand livres whenever you like.


You can come and take it to-morrow morning. When I was in church the other day I saw two exquisite beauties. A man at my side told me they were cousins, the Marchionesses Q---- and I----, I think he said. Do you know them? I am quite curious to hear about them.