The Adventures of the Chevalier de Faublas
Published by The Ex-Classics Project, 2025
Pubic Domain

Bibliographical and Editorial Note

The Adventures of the Chevalier de Faublas was written in French 
by Jean-Baptise Louvet de Couvray in three volumes: Les Amours 
du Chevalier de Faublas 1786, followed in 1788 by Six semaines 
de la vie du chevalier de Faublas and in 1790 by La Fin des 
amours du chevalier de Faublas. These were republished several 
times in the nineteenth century.  An English translation 
(notoriously imperfect and mutilated) was published in 1795, and 
a much better version, translated by 'G.C.', in 1822. This 1822 
version was republished in 1898, with illustrations by Paul 
Avril.

This Ex-Classics edition is taken from the 1898 publication. The 
eccentric punctuation has been standardised and the text, which 
was continuous, broken up into chapters. Some parts had been 
left in the original French (and in one case, in Italian): a 
translation has ben provided in each case. Notes are identified 
by <nn> and will be found at the end of the book. .Some notes 
have been added by the transcriber: these have been marked [TN]; 
others were footnotes in the original.


Frontispiece
 
Portrait of Louvet de Couvray


 

Title Page of Volume 1

THE AMOURS

OF THE

CHEVALIER DE FAUBLAS

BY
JOHN BAPTISTE LOUVET DE COUVRAY

FOUNDED ON HISTORICAL FACTS. INTERSPERSED
WITH MOST REMARKABLE NARRATIVES

A LITERAL UNEXPURGATED TRANSLATION
FROM THE PARIS EDITION OF 1821

VOLUME I

WITH NUMEROUS BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS
ETCHED BY LOUIS MONZIES
FROM DRAWINGS BY PAUL AVRIL
EDITION STRICTLY LIMITED TO ONE HUNDRED COPIES

LONDON
PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR SOCIETE DES BIBLIOPHILES
MDCCCXCVIII
 



PREFACE BY THE TRANSLATOR.
This Work, on its first appearance in France, was received with 
the same éclat as the novels of the author of Waverley have 
since been in this country. Its popularity has continued to this 
day, and it has been translated into almost every European 
language. It affords an excellent picture of French manners, 
previously to, and at the period of, the revolution; and however 
minutely it may describe the foibles and vices of our species, 
it, at the same time, places in a most elevated point of view 
all those virtues which are an honour to our nature. Shakespeare 
observes, that "the thread of life is of a mingled yarn;" 
following up this idea, may we not say that society is of a many 
coloured texture, and cannot be described without being examined 
on both sides. Such books as give but the fair side of human 
nature, are only calculated to mislead the inexperienced, and 
cause them to form those sanguine expectations of frail 
mortality, which end in misanthropy, in consequence of the 
repeated mortifications and disappointments they meet with. 
Whereas, by the bad being blended with the good, as it really 
exists, we are enabled to form a just estimate of mankind, and 
by not expecting too much, are capable of continuing in better 
temper with them. The characters in this Romance are, generally 
speaking, drawn by the hand of a master, and some of them are 
most highly finished. Though the gay and dissipated libertine 
and the lively and intriguing Marchioness are delineated with 
more precision than could be wished, and though they may dazzle 
the eyes by the showy splendour of their colouring, there are 
other figures on the canvas, whose superior qualities appeal 
directly to our hearts, and whose amiable and heroic virtues 
strike us with an indelible impression. Where can we find a more 
faithful portraiture of youthful innocence and simplicity; of 
the constancy of female affection and conjugal devotion amidst 
continued trials and accumulated sufferings; of philosophic 
fortitude, manly courage, disinterested patriotism, and 
consummate heroism, than in the Romance of Faublas. The 
affecting episode of Lodoiska has been dramatized many years 
since, but the most interesting part of the story will be found 
to follow the catastrophe which terminates the play.

The present translation was undertaken in consequence of a great 
demand arising for the work, and the former one being extremely 
scarce. That published in 1795 was notoriously imperfect and 
mutilated; it was, therefore, deemed more advisable to make a 
new and faithful translation, than to be at the pains of 
correcting the old one. The edition made use of was that printed 
by Didot, the king's printer, for Ambroise Tardieu, at Paris, in 
four elegant 8vo volumes, in 1821.

The translator has rendered it as close as the idioms of the two 
languages will admit, not wishing to alter the style of a work 
so elegant in the original, although the sententious and 
interjectional mode of writing, familiar to the French, may not 
sound quite so natural to an English ear.

G.C.

London, June 5, 1822.



BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.

JOHN BAPTISTE LOUVET DE COUVRAY was born at Paris in the year 
1764. His youth was devoted to study, and afforded nothing 
remarkable. Destined to the profession of the law, but disgusted 
with an occupation so little conformable to his taste, he gave 
himself up to literary pursuits.

He published the first part of this romance, under the title of 
One Year of the Life of the Chevalier de Faublas, in 1789. A 
lively and poignant style: much truth, mingled with a long 
series of events and stories, told with grace, rendered this 
production a fashionable book.

It is not that Louvet always paints the society he brings before 
us with a rigorous exactness; for some of his personages are 
rather conceived than studied; but the beings he has created are 
not unnatural; the passions which he causes to act are ours; and 
it is pleasant sometimes to forget an afflicting reality, and 
roam without restraint in the fields of imagination.

The Marquis de Lauraguais assigns an historical origin to 
Faublas. According to him, this personage was the Abbé de 
Choisi, who lived under Louis the Fourteenth. Being a priest, 
and paying his court de Madame Maintenon, in order to obtain 
some benefice, he dedicated to her a translation he had made of 
the "Imitation of Jesus Christ." With this motto in the title 
page, Concupiscit rex decorum tuum, and which he said could only 
be rendered with decency as follows: "Thy charms have excited 
the concupiscence of the king." This Abbé de Choisi published 
his memoirs under the name of the Comtesse des Barres, and had 
played the part of a woman with more than a Marchioness de B***, 
and more than a Comtesse de Lignolle.

However it may be, Louvet lived a long time in the country near 
a lady to whom he was passionately attached from his earliest 
years. A forced marriage separated them in vain; at liberty, 
after six years of absence, they were united to part no more. 
Happy, both by temperament and philosophy, Louvet continued his 
work, of which the first-fruits supplied his wants. Retired from 
the world, he thought himself sheltered from its storms-but the 
revolution broke out; with the Bastille fell the yoke which 
oppressed France. Louvet received the tricoloured cockade from 
the hands of that Lodoiska whose name he has attached to the 
most pathetic episode of his work. This act of liberty became 
the cause of a persecution which Louvet experienced from some 
gentlemen in his neighbourhood, and ultimately determined him to 
go to Paris.

A pamphlet which he published against M. Mounier of the 
Constituent Assembly, after the affair of 1789, procured him an 
admission to the Jacobin Club. This club was then open but to 
patriotism and talent. Launched into a political career, he 
published Emilie de Varmont, et les Amours du curé Sevin, a 
romance, the object of which was to prove the necessity of 
divorce, and the marriage of priests. He composed, at the same 
time, three comedies, only one of which was presented; it was 
intended to ridicule the troops assembled at Coblenz.

Free from ambition, Louvet appeared but seldom in popular 
assemblies. Persuaded that the natural course of things would 
bring about the reform they had a right to expect, he remained 
in the obscure ranks of the revolution, of which he took upon 
himself all the trouble, entirely regardless of his private 
interests. As soon as he learnt that a party had conspired 
against the Constitution which had been sworn to, and that 
several of the representatives of the people had sold themselves 
to power, he thought himself obliged, in his turn, to enter the 
lists.

On the 25th December, 1791, he presented himself at the bar of 
the legislative assembly, at the head of a deputation from the 
Section of the Lombards, to obtain a decree against the princes 
who had emigrated, and a war against the sovereigns who were 
arming in their favour.

Louvet was very assiduous in the club of which he became a 
member; he spoke with much force when they discussed the 
question of the war with Austria. Robespierre opposed him. The 
reply of Louvet overwhelmed his antagonist, who never forgave 
him from that time, but continued to bear him the most 
implacable hatred. The ministers, who were all desirous of war, 
were pleased to find Louvet so powerful an auxiliary. To testify 
their gratitude and their esteem, they had it in contemplation 
to put him at the head of the judicial department. The inimical 
faction, alarmed at this resolution, employed every resource to 
prevent its accomplishment. They spared neither menaces nor 
calumnies, and succeeded in frustrating his appointment. This 
weakness on the part of government emboldened the adversaries 
which it thought to calm by an act of condescension, and we know 
to what a pitch they afterwards carried their audacity.

Connected in a close friendship with the minister Roland, whose 
house was the rendezvous of all who advocated a prudent liberty, 
Louvet became the soul of his counsels. This virtuous citizen 
induced him to conduct The Sentinel, a journal which he destined 
to neutralize the fatal doctrines of the demagogues. Louvet, in 
acquitting himself of this task, displayed such an excess of 
zeal for liberty, as caused him to lose the ambassadorship to 
Constantinople, for which Dumouriez, than in full power, 
destined him. His friends thought to repair this disgrace, by 
offering him the place of commissary at St. Domingo; but he 
refused it, that he might not leave his country at a moment when 
she was a prey to the most dreadful convulsions.

We have not room to follow Louvet through his political career; 
to do that would require considerable reference to the progress 
of the French Revolution, and a variety of details, probably 
uninteresting to the majority of our readers. From the moment he 
discovered the violent and ambitious views of Robespierre, he 
openly denounced him, and opposed him with all his might. He was 
spontaneously chosen to represent the department of Loiret, 
which circumstance called down upon him a special proscription 
from the Terrorists.

When Louis XVI was brought up for judgment, Louvet insisted on 
an appeal to the people, and said, if it was not made, no power 
on earth should compel him to vote. Although his opinion was 
little favourable to the monarch, his heart sought to reconcile 
the duties of a representative with the rights of humanity. He 
was convinced, that by investing the nation with the 
sovereignty, they would do away with the influence of party, and 
in awakening all the citizens to a sense of their strength and 
their dignity, they should paralyze the factious.

The appeal to the people being rejected, the punishment then 
became the question.

"Representatives," said Louvet, after having repeated his 
opinion, "you are about to pronounce an irreparable judgment; 
may the tutelary genius of my country ward off the evils that 
are preparing for her! May his all-powerful hand retrieve you 
from the abyss into which some ambitious men have contributed to 
precipitate you! May his avenging hand crush the tyrants who 
have started up! The dangers of the republic become immense and 
pressing; but her safety is still in your hands. Be careful of 
parting with your power; pay homage to the rights of those who 
have sent you; and if, for having fulfilled your duties, you 
should fall by the hands of assassins, you will, at least, fall 
worthy of regret and esteem. Times, men, and circumstances may 
change, but principles can never change; nor will I change any 
more than principles."

Louvet did not vote for the death of the king.

After being President of the Convention, Member of the Committee 
of Public Safety, Deputy for La Gironde, one of the Council of 
Five Hundred, and pursuing a most zealous but consistent 
political career, up to the year 1797, he found that the heat of 
political controversy had injured his health; his soul was 
aggrandized in the school of misfortune, at the expense of his 
too delicate constitution. He withdrew from active life, and was 
named Consul for Palermo, but died on the 5th of August, 1797. 
The celebrated Madame Roland, speaking of our author, says:-

"Louvet is small, delicate, near-sighted, and of a slovenly 
habit, but there is nothing vulgar about him. Who has not 
remarked the nobleness of his forehead, and the life which 
animates his eyes at the expression of an important truth? His 
pretty romances are known to the men of letters, and the science 
of politics is indebted to him for labors of a graver nature. It 
is impossible to unite more wit with less pretensions, and more 
good nature. Courageous as a lion, mild as an infant, he is a 
sensible man, a good citizen, and a vigorous writer. He could 
make a Catiline tremble at the tribune, and sup with 
Bachaumont."

After having partaken of his dangers and disgraces, his wife, 
Lodoiska, who had ever afforded him the sweetest consolation, 
could not support the loss of a man she had loved so much. She 
poisoned herself; but her family compelled her to take an 
antidote, which, by extending her life, only prolonged her 
regrets.

Louvet is generally represented to have been a man of probity 
and rigid morals; and of all the members of the deliberative 
assemblies the most invariably attached to his principles. 
Neither times nor circumstances had any influence upon him 
during a revolution so remarkable for the fickleness and 
tergiversation of its actors. Inaccessible to corruption as to 
threats, and undeviating in his duties, he sacrificed his 
fortune to the interests of the people, and defended liberty at 
the peril of his life, and still defended it, when the victim of 
anarchy, he paid, by a merciless proscription, for the honour of 
so noble a devotion. "Since even in a country which I thought 
ready to regenerate itself," he said when dying, "the good 
people are so indolent, and the wicked so furious, it is clear 
that all collections of men, improperly called PEOPLE by such 
fools as myself, are nothing but an imbecile herd, who are happy 
in being trampled on by a master."

The feelings of Louvet, in his last moments, seemed much like 
those of the virtuous Brutus, when he exclaimed:

"OH, VIRTUE! I HAVE WORSHIPPED THEE AS A REAL GOOD, BUT FIND 
THOU ART ONLY AN EMPTY NAME!"

Extracted from the Memoir prefixed to the Paris edition., dated 
Feb. 16, 1821.



ADVERTISEMENT.

This work is now so universally read and admired in the 
original, that a great demand has arisen for it in an English 
dress by those who do not read French. In consequence of this 
demand the publisher has procured it to be faithfully 
translated, and he has printed it verbatim, without any of the 
mutilations which he is given to understand a former translation 
(now out of print, and very scarce) underwent.

April, 1822.



ONE YEAR OF THE LIFE OF THE CHEVALIER DE FAUBLAS.
First Published 1786



I.

THEY tell me that my ancestors were persons of consideration in 
their province, having always enjoyed there a handsome fortune, 
and a distinguished rank. My father, the Baron Faublas, 
transmitted to me their ancient nobility without disgrace; but 
my mother died too soon. I was not sixteen years of age, when my 
sister, still younger than myself by eighteen months, was placed 
in a convent at Paris. The Baron, who conducted her there, 
embraced with pleasure that opportunity of showing the capital 
to a son, for whose education he had neglected nothing.

It was in October, 1783, that we entered the capital, by the 
suburb of Saint Marceau. I looked for the superb city of which I 
had read such brilliant descriptions. I saw lofty but ugly 
cottages; streets long but very narrow; wretches covered with 
rags, and a crowd of children almost naked; I saw a numerous 
population and dreadful misery. I demanded of my father, if this 
was Paris; he replied coldly, that it was not the finest part of 
it; that next day we should have time to visit another quarter. 
It was almost night; Adelaide (which was the name of my sister) 
entered her convent, where she was expected. My father descended 
with me near the Arsenal, at the house of Monsieur du Portail, 
his intimate friend, of whom I shall speak more than once in the 
course of these memoirs.

The next day my father kept his word with me; in a quarter of an 
hour a swift conveyance conducted us to the square of Louis the 
Fifteenth. There we got out, and walked: the spectacle which 
struck my eyes dazzled them with its magnificence. To the right, 
La Seine a regret fugitive; upon the banks extensive mansions; 
upon the left superb palaces; delightful walks behind me; and in 
front a noble garden. We advanced, and I saw the dwelling of 
kings. It is easier to imagine my astonishment than to describe 
it. My attention was attracted by new objects at every step: I 
admired the richness of the fashions; the gaiety of the dress 
and the elegance of the manners of those by whom I was 
surrounded. All at once I remembered the other quarter of the 
city, and my astonishment was greatly excited; I could not 
comprehend how objects so different could be contained within 
the same circumference; experience had not then taught me that 
everywhere the palaces concealed cottages; that luxury produced 
misery; that the great opulence of a single person always 
produced the extreme poverty of many.

We employed several days in visiting what was most remarkable in 
Paris. The Baron showed me a number of monuments celebrated by 
foreigners, which were almost unknown by those who possessed 
them. How many chefs d'oeuvres astonished me at first, for which 
in a little time I felt but a cold admiration. But what do we 
know at fifteen years of age about the glory of the arts and the 
immortality of genius? It requires beauties more animated to 
warm a youthful heart.
 
Illustration. My father perceived, and was amused at my 
embarrassment:

It was at the convent of Adelaide that I was to meet the 
adorable object in whom my existence centred. The Baron, who 
loved my sister, went almost every day to see her in the 
conversation room. All young ladies of good birth find that in a 
convent they have good friends; many fine ladies affirm, that it 
is difficult to find them elsewhere. However that may be, my 
sister, naturally sensible, had presently chosen hers. One day 
she spoke to us of Mademoiselle de Pontis, and pronounced a 
eulogium on this young person, which we thought exaggerated. My 
father was curious to see the good friend of his daughter. I 
know not what soft presentiment made my heart palpitate, when 
the Baron told Adelaide to go and fetch Mademoiselle de Pontis. 
My sister ran and brought her-figure to yourself a Venus of 
fourteen. I wished to advance towards her-to speak to her-to 
salute her, but I remained with my eyes fixed, my mouth open, 
and my hands hanging by my sides. My father perceived, and was 
amused at my embarrassment; "You will salute the lady, at 
least," he said to me. My trouble augmented; I made a most 
awkward bow. "Mademoiselle," continued the Baron, "I assure you 
that this young man has had a dancing master." I was entirely 
disconcerted. The Baron paid a very flattering compliment to 
Sophia; she replied to it modestly, and with a faltering voice 
which reverberated to my heart. I stared at her with 
astonishment, and I attended most minutely to everything she 
said, but I was still incapable of giving vent to my feelings. 
Being about to leave them, my father embraced his daughter, and 
made his reverence to Mademoiselle de Pontis; and I, in an 
involuntary transport, made a bow to my sister, and was going to 
embrace Sophia. The old gouvernante, preserving more presence of 
mind than myself, took care to tell me of my mistake; the Baron 
regarded me with an air of astonishment, and the face of Sophia 
was covered with an amiable blush, but a slight smile 
nevertheless escaped her rosy lips.

We returned to the house of M. du Portail and sat down to 
dinner; I ate like a youth of fifteen just smitten with love, 
and when the table was cleared, pretended a slight indisposition 
in order that I might retire to my apartment. There I freely 
ruminated on Sophia, and all her charms. "What grace! What 
beauty!" I said: "her charming figure is full of animation, and 
her mind, I am sure, must correspond with her person. Her fine 
black eyes have inspired me, I know not how-it is love, without 
doubt. Ah! Sophia, it is with love and for life!" Recovered from 
this first transport, I remembered to have seen in several 
romances, the wonderful effects of an unexpected meeting; the 
first glance of a beautiful eye had been sufficient to captivate 
a tender lover, and the fair lady herself, flattered by the 
powerful impression she had made, became immediately susceptible 
of a similar sentiment, and irresistibly impelled to follow its 
bias. I had also read long dissertations wherein profound 
philosophers had denied the power of sympathy, and called it a 
chimera. "Sophia!" I exclaimed, "I feel truly that I love you; 
but have you shared my trouble and my agitations?" The manner in 
which I was presented was not such as to give me much 
confidence; but her sweet voice, at first so faltering, and 
which she with so much difficulty recovered; that sweet smile by 
which she appeared to sanction my mistake, and to console me for 
my privation! Hope cheered my heart; it appeared to me very 
possible that on the subjects of sensibility, philosophers 
talked nonsense, and the romances had reason on their side.

I had approached, by chance, towards my window; I saw the Baron 
and M. du Portail walk with hasty steps in the garden. My father 
spoke with energy, his friend every now and then smiled, and 
both, at intervals, cast their eyes upon my window; I judged 
that it was of me they were discoursing, and that my father 
perhaps had already suspected my new-born passion. This idea 
made me uneasy, much less, however, than that of the departure 
of my father, which I believed near at hand. To quit my Sophia 
without knowing when I should have the happiness of seeing her 
again! To have more than a hundred leagues between us! I could 
not think of it without trembling. A thousand painful 
reflections occupied me during the evening. I made but a poor 
supper; I was, as yet, ignorant of the pleasures of love, but I 
already groaned under its most poignant anxieties.

Part of the night passed in the same agitations. I went to sleep 
in hopes of seeing my Sophia the next day; her image came to 
embellish my dreams; love, propitious to my vows, deigned to 
prolong so charming a sleep. It was late when I awoke; I learned 
with regret that they had suffered me to sleep when I found that 
father had gone out in the morning, and would not be back before 
the evening.

While bewailing my misfortune in not being able to visit my 
sister, M. du Portail entered; he made me many kind professions 
of friendship, and asked me if I was satisfied with the Capital; 
I assured him that I feared nothing so much as quitting it. He 
told me I should not have that mortification; that my father, 
anxious to give me a very good education, as the only heir of 
his house, and that he might watch very closely the happiness of 
a daughter whom he loved, had resolved to continue at Paris some 
years: and in order to live there in a manner suitable to a man 
of his rank, had taken a house. This good news gave me a 
pleasure which I could not dissimulate; he, however, soon 
moderated its excess when he informed me that my father had 
commenced by choosing me a tutor and a faithful servant. At this 
instant, Monsieur l'Abbé Person was announced.

A very thin and pale little gentleman entered, and his mien 
fully justified the ill-humour with which his title had inspired 
me. He advanced with a grave and composed air, and in a low and 
mild tone began: "Monsieur, your figure"-satisfied with the 
words he had uttered, he stopped to consider what he should next 
say-"your figure corresponds with your person." I replied very 
dryly to this sweet compliment.

Deprived of the happiness of seeing Sophia, I could find no 
other resource than the pleasure of thinking of her; and M. 
l'Abbé came to rob me of that consolation. I resolved, 
therefore, to probe him to the bottom, and from the first day 
succeeded.

In the evening my father confirmed with his own mouth the 
arrangements he had proposed; he signified to me at the same 
time, that I was never to go out but with my tutor: this warned 
me that I must gain him to my interest. My situation became 
critical, and my love, irritated by obstacles, seemed to 
increase with my constraint. I had made a very good progress in 
my studies, and my tutor was charged with the painful task of 
making me perfect in them; happily, I had an opportunity, in my 
first lessons, of perceiving that the pupil knew as much as the 
instructor. Monsieur l'Abbé, I said to him, you are as capable 
of teaching as I am curious to learn. Why, then, should we 
mutually trouble each other? Listen to me, let us leave there 
the books upon which we can speak at leisure; come and see my 
sister at her convent, and if Mademoiselle Sophia de Pontis 
comes to the conversation room, you will see how pretty she is. 
The Abbé was inclined to be angry, but profiting by the 
advantage I had over him, "I see you do not love exercise," I 
replied to him, "well, we'll remain here; but this evening I 
will declare to the Baron the extreme desire I have to be 
advanced in my studies, and your absolute insufficiency to 
lighten my labours. If you deny it, I will demand an 
examination, which my father himself will make us undergo." The 
Abbé was overcome by the strength of my last arguments; he made 
a hideous grimace, took his little cane and his rusty hat, and 
accompanied me to the convent.

Adelaide came to the conference room accompanied only by her 
governess whom they called Manon. This woman was an old domestic 
of my mother, who had brought her up. I asked her to leave us, 
and she did so without hesitation. The cursed little tutor 
remained, and it was impossible to remove him. My sister 
complained that we had suffered several days to pass without 
seeing her, and I was astonished to learn that the Baron had 
neglected her as well as myself. We concluded that his mind must 
have been so much occupied with his new projects, that he forgot 
his dear girl. "But you, Faublas, what has detained you all this 
time? Do you slight your sister, and her dear friend? It is 
ungrateful of you. Mademoiselle de Pontis is gone out; come and 
see us tomorrow; and above all, take care you give no offence, 
and Sophia will endeavour to make your peace with her old 
gouvernante, who has not yet quite pardoned your indiscretions." 
I told my sister that I must obtain permission of the Abbé, and 
that he possessed a rage for study without any relaxation. 
Adelaide, believing that I spoke seriously, addressed the most 
charming solicitations to my grave tutor, which I followed up by 
my own entreaties. He sustained this jeering better than I 
expected; I remarked also, that when I spoke of going home, he 
observed, that it was all in good time: this complaisance 
entirely reconciled me to him.

My father expected me at M. Du Portail's, in order to conduct us 
to a very fine house, which he had taken in the Faubourg St. 
Germain. I was put, the same evening, in possession of the 
apartment he had allotted me. I found there Jasmin, the servant 
of whom they had spoken to me: he was a stout youth, of good 
appearance, and he pleased me on first sight.

"Do you slight your sister and her dear friend? It is ungrateful 
of you," said Adelaide to me. I repeated this reproach to myself 
a hundred times, and commented on it in a hundred different 
ways. Have they then talked about me? Have they expected me? 
Have I then been wished for? How long the night seemed to me! 
What a torment it is to hear the hours strike, and not have it 
in your power to hasten that which will bring us to the much-
loved object.

At last the long desired moment arrived, I saw my sister, and I 
saw Sophia, who appeared to me more beautiful and interesting 
than when I first saw her. There was, in her simple dress, a 
something which I cannot express, most attractive and seducing. 
In this second visit my eyes scrutinized minutely her charms, 
and more than once our glances met during the charming 
examination. I admired her long black hair, which contrasted 
singularly with her fine skin, the whiteness of which dazzled 
one's sight; her waist so elegant and slender, that I could have 
embraced it with my ten fingers; the most enchanting graces 
spread themselves over her whole person, her little feet, of 
which I knew not the favourable omen, and above all her eyes-her 
bright eyes, which seemed to say to me: "Ah! That we might 
render the mortal happy who possesses the power to please us!"

I made Mademoiselle a compliment which was calculated to flatter 
her, in as much as it was easy to perceive that it was not 
studied. The conversation was at first general, and Sophia's 
gouvernante joined in it; I saw that they contrived to amuse the 
old woman, and that she loved to hear herself talk, therefore I 
appeared delighted with her foolish stories. In the meantime the 
Abbé chatted with my sister, and I, in a low and trembling 
voice, put a hundred questions and paid as many compliments to 
my lovely Sophia. The old woman continued to relate her 
nonsensical histories, which we no longer listened to, and she 
perceived, at last, that she had been speaking a long time to no 
purpose. She rose abruptly, and said, "You made me begin my 
narrative, sir, and you do not attend to the conclusion; this is 
not very polite." Sophia, on leaving me, consoled me with a 
tender look.

We heard the rattling of a carriage; it was that of the Baron, 
who entered immediately. Adelaide complained of the rarity of 
his visits; he alleged, in a constrained tone, the 
embarrassments of a new establishment. He talked with her a few 
minutes, in a manner as if he had something on his mind, after 
which he left her hastily, and took me home with him.

We found a brilliant equipage at our door. The porter told my 
father that a great black gentleman had been waiting for him 
above an hour, and that a pretty lady had that moment arrived; 
my father appeared as much pleased as surprised, he went in with 
eagerness, and I wished to follow, but he told me to go to my 
own room. Jasmin, of whom I enquired if he knew "the great black 
gentleman," and the "pretty lady," answered in the negative.

Curious to penetrate the mystery, I placed myself to watch at 
one of the windows of my apartment which overlooked the street; 
I did not wait long without seeing a stout gentleman, dressed in 
black, go out by himself, and with the appearance of perfect 
satisfaction. A quarter of an hour after I saw a young lady 
spring lightly into her carriage. The Baron, much less nimble, 
wished to jump as expertly, but fell, and I thought he had 
broken his neck. I was much alarmed, but the burst of laughter 
which came from the carriage fully satisfied me. I was 
astonished that my father, who was naturally choleric, showed no 
signs of ill humour, but stepped in quietly; he bowed his head 
to the porter, saw me at my casement, and appeared rather 
confused. I heard him order the servants to tell me he was gone 
out on business, and that I need not wait supper for him. I 
imparted my curiosity to Jasmin, who appeared to merit my 
confidence. He enquired without affectation of the domestics of 
the Baron, and I learnt the same evening that my father 
frequented public places, and read the newspapers; that he was 
gone to take a mistress to the opera: I concluded that the Baron 
must be very rich to charge himself with such a burden. The 
reflection did not affect me much. I had hopes of success with 
my fair Sophia, and in the spring-tide of life we know no other 
wealth.

In a little time I paid my sister very frequent visits; 
Mademoiselle de Pontis almost always accompanied her to the 
conference room. The old gouvernante was no longer angry, 
because I let her finish her histories, and likewise, because 
Adelaide took care to make her some little presents. The Abbé 
was no longer the severe tutor, possessed (like many of his 
profession) with the rage for teaching that of which he was 
ignorant; but he became, like many others also, a little rosy-
faced pedant, with his hair very regularly dressed, minute in 
his apparel, lax in his morals, displaying profound erudition 
with the women; and with the men affecting to skim but over the 
surface. As mild and complaisant, as he was at first untractable 
and obstinate, he appeared to have no other desire than to 
anticipate my wishes, and to facilitate their accomplishment; 
when I spoke of going to the convent, I found him equally eager 
with myself.

In the meanwhile, my father, devoted to the noisy pleasures of 
the Capital, entertained much company at home. I was caressed by 
the fair sex, who gave me enticements which I could not 
comprehend. A certain dowager in particular, tried on me the 
power of her charms, gave herself a number of childish airs, and 
exhausted all her affected conceits: I alone was ignorant of 
what it all meant. Elsewhere I saw no one in the world but 
Sophia; the love with which she inspired me was pure and 
innocent, and I knew not, as yet, that there existed a passion 
of another description.

For more than five months I had seen Sophia almost every day, 
and we were so accustomed to meet, that we looked upon it as a 
matter of course, and it seemed as necessary as our daily food. 
When we are ignorant of our love, or seek to disguise it, we 
frequently use names or phrases which are familiar and friendly, 
instead of those still more tender, which would excite 
suspicion. Sophia called me her young cousin, and I called 
Sophia my pretty cousin. The tenderness which we felt towards 
each other was evinced by our most indifferent actions, and 
expressed by our looks; my lips had not yet hazarded the avowal, 
and my sister was either blind to it, or she kept well the 
secret of her fair friend. I followed the first impulses of 
NATURE, but was far from suspecting the ends she had in view. 
Content to speak to Sophia, happy to hear her, and to kiss 
sometimes her pretty hand, I desired no more, or at least I 
could not have said what I desired. The moment approached, when 
one of the most charming women in the capital was to dissipate 
the darkness that environed me, and initiate me into the most 
delightful mysteries of Venus.

We were in that bustling season of the year when pleasure and 
folly united hold dominion over the city; Momus had given the 
signal for the dance, and the days were spent in festivity. The 
young Count de Rosambert, who had been for three months 
companion of my exercises, and who was loaded with civilities by 
my father, reproached me for the retired and tranquil life I 
led; ought I, at my age, to bury myself alive in the house of my 
father? To confine my walks to foolish visits to a nunnery to 
see my sister? Was it not time to quit my childhood which they 
wished eternally to prolong? And ought I not to hasten my 
entrance into the world, where with my figure and understanding, 
I could not fail to be favourably received? "Be advised by me," 
he continued, "I will, tomorrow, conduct you to a charming ball, 
where I go regularly four times a week, and you will there see 
good company." I hesitated; "He is cautious, like a girl," 
replied the Count: well, do "you fear that your chastity will 
run some hazard? Dress yourself as a woman; in this garb you 
will be safe." I burst into laughter, without knowing why. 
"Indeed," he said, "that will become you best; you have a 
slender and graceful figure, your cheeks are hardly covered with 
a light down; you will pass admirably! And then- Mind you, I 
wish to torment a certain person. Faublas, dress yourself as a 
woman, we will amuse ourselves. It will be delightful You shall 
see, you shall see!"

The idea of this disguise pleased me, and I thought it would be 
very agreeable to go and see Sophia in the habiliments of her 
own sex. The next day an expert tailor whom the Count de 
Rosambert had spoken to, brought me the complete dress of an 
Amazon, such as is worn by the English ladies when they ride on 
horseback. An experienced milliner dressed my hair, consistent 
with my new character, and placed on my virgin head, a little 
hat of white beaver. I went down to my father; the moment he saw 
me, he came to me with an air of inquietude; then stopping all 
at once: "Good," he said, laughing, "I had at first thought it 
was Adelaide!" I observed to him, that he flattered me very 
much. "No, I took you for Adelaide, and was endeavouring to 
guess what motive induced her to quit the convent without my 
peremission, and come here in that strange habit. But as to 
yourself, be not proud of this trifling advantage; a pretty 
person is, in a man, one of the lowest merits."

It was my father who in the first place testified a desire to go 
to the convent, and he conducted me there. Adelaide did not know 
me until after some minutes' examination. The Baron, enchanted 
with the extreme resemblance there was between my sister and me, 
loaded us with caresses, and embraced us alternately. 
Nevertheless Adelaide seemed to repent having come to the 
conversation room alone: "I am sorry," she said, "that I have 
not brought with me my dear friend! How we should delight in her 
surprise! Permit me, my dear father, to go and fetch her?" The 
Baron consented. In re-entering, Adelaide said to Sophia: "My 
good friend, embrace my sister." Sophia with astonishment eyed 
me from head to foot, and stood confounded. "Embrace 
Mademoiselle," said the old gouvernante, deceived by the 
metamorphosis. "Mademoiselle, embrace my daughter," said the 
Baron, who was amused by the scene. Sophia blushed, and trembled 
as she approached; my heart palpitated. I know not what secret 
instinct conducted us, I know not with what address we concealed 
our happiness from the interested witnesses who observed us; 
they thought that our cheeks alone had met-but my lips had 
pressed the lips of Sophia You, readers, who are susceptible; 
who have been affected by the lovers of Saint Preux,<1> judge 
what bliss we experienced. This was also the first kiss of love.

On our return, we found the Count de Rosambert, who had been 
waiting for me. The Baron was presently informed of the scheme, 
and permitted me, more readily than I had expected, to pass the 
whole night at the ball, where we were conveyed in his own 
chariot. "I am going," said the Count to me, "to present you to 
a young lady that I esteem very much; it is full two months 
since I have sworn an eternal attachment to her, and more than 
six weeks that I have proved it to her." This language was quite 
enigmatical to me, but already I began to blush at my ignorance, 
and I put on a knowing smile, to make Rosambert think that I 
understood him. "As I am going to torment her," he continued, 
"assume an air as if you loved me very much, you'll see what 
effect it will make on her! Above all, let me caution you 
against telling her that you are not a girl. We shall be sure to 
mortify her."

As soon as we appeared in the assembly, all eyes were fixed on 
me; I was vexed to feel that I blushed, and could not keep my 
countenance. Sometimes I thought that a part of my dress must be 
out of order, or that my borrowed character had betrayed me; but 
presently, from the general attention of the men, and the 
universal discontent of the women, I judged that I was well 
disguised. One lady threw at me a disdainful look; another 
examined me with a pouting air; they agitated their fans, they 
whispered among themselves, and smiled maliciously. I saw that I 
received such a welcome with which they honour, in a numerous 
circle, a rival who is too pretty, when she appears for the 
first time.

A very handsome woman entered; it was the mistress of Rosambert. 
He presented to her his relation, who came, he said, from a 
convent. The lady (who was called the Marchioness B***) welcomed 
me in the most obliging manner; I took a seat by her, and the 
young folks formed a semicircle round us. The Count, much 
pleased to excite the jealousy of his mistress, affected to give 
me a marked preference. The Marchioness, apparently piqued at 
his coquetry, and fully resolved to punish him, in concealing 
from him her resentment, redoubled her politeness towards me: 
"Mademoiselle, have you a taste for the convent?" she said to 
me. "I should like it well, Madame, if I found there many 
persons like yourself." The Marchioness testified by a smile, 
how much this compliment flattered her; she put several other 
questions to me, and appeared delighted with my answers. She 
loaded me with the caresses which the women lavish on each 
other; told Rosambert, that he was happy in having such a 
relation, and finally gave me a tender kiss, which I returned 
very politely. This was neither what Rosambert wished, nor what 
he had promised himself. Hurt at the vivacity of the 
Marchioness, and still more at the readiness with which I 
received her caresses, he whispered into her ear, and discovered 
to her the secret of my disguise. "A very likely tale!" cried 
the Marchioness, after having regarded me for a few moments: the 
Count protested he had told her the truth. She looked at me 
again: "What folly! It cannot be." The Count renewed his 
protestations. "What an idea!" replied the Marchioness and 
dropping her voice; "do you know what he says? He insists that 
you are a young man disguised." I answered timidly, in a low 
voice, that he had said the truth. The Marchioness darted a 
tender look at me, gently squeezed my hand, and pretending to 
have misunderstood me: "I know it well," she said, sufficiently 
loud, "it has not the shadow of probability." Then addressing 
the Count, "but sir, to what end are all these jokes?"

"What!" he replied, to this, with astonishment, "does 
mademoiselle pretend-"

"How, if she pretends! Look at her! A child so amiable! So 
pretty!"

"What!" said the Count again. "Oh! Sir, do pray drop this 
nonsense," continued the Marchioness, in a manner peculiarly 
piquante; "you either take me for a fool, or you are mad 
yourself."

I began seriously to think she had not understood me; I said in 
a low tone: "I beg your pardon, Madame, I have, perhaps, badly 
explained myself; I am not what I appear to be: the Count has 
told you the truth."

"I do not believe you, any more than him," she replied, speaking 
still lower than myself, and squeezing my hand. "I assure you, 
Madame-"

"Hold your tongue, you are a hypocrite; but you shall not 
deceive me any more than him;" and she embraced me. Rosambert, 
who had not heard us, remained stupefied. The young folks who 
surrounded us, seemed to wait with as much curiosity as 
impatience the end and explanation of a dialogue so obscure to 
them; but the Count restrained by the fear of offending his 
mistress if he covered himself with ridicule; and also 
flattering himself, that I should presently put an end to the 
mistake, bit his lips, and dared not say a word. Happily at this 
moment, the Marchioness saw her friend the Countess C*** enter 
the ball-room: I know not what she whispered into her ear, but 
the Countess immediately attached herself to Rosambert, nor 
quitted him during the evening.

In the meanwhile the ball had commenced, I joined in a country 
dance; it happened, by chance, that the Countess and Rosambert 
were seated behind the place which I occupied. The young lady 
said to him: "No, no, all that is useless, I have taken 
possession of you for the whole evening, I do not give you up to 
anyone. More jealous than a sultan, I shall not suffer you to 
speak to any one whatever; you dance not at all, or you dance 
with me; and if you mean all the obliging things you have said 
to me, I forbid you to say a word, a single word, to the 
Marchioness, or your young relation!"

"My young relation? said the Count: "If you knew-"

"I will know nothing-only I wish you to remain here. Suppose," 
she added, in a softer tone, "I have designs upon you; are you 
going to be cruel?" I heard no more of it, for the country dance 
finished.

The Marchioness had not lost sight of me for a moment; I wished 
to rest myself, I found a place near her; we began, and re-
began! Broke off, and began twenty times, a very animated 
conversation, which was often interrupted by caresses, and in 
which I saw plainly, that I must leave her in the error which 
appeared to please her so much.

The Count did not cease to observe us with great inquietude, but 
the Marchioness would not appear to see him: "My intention," she 
said to me, "is not to pass the whole night here, and if you 
take my advice, you will be careful of your health. Come home 
and have some slight refreshment with me; it is past midnight. 
Monsieur the Marquis will not be long in coming to join me; we 
will go and sup, and I will afterwards conduct you to your own 
house; you will find the Marquis a very singular man. He has 
occasionally fits of tenderness for me-at other times caprices 
of jealousy, very ridiculous, and frequently is inclined to pay 
me attentions with which I could willingly dispense. When he 
vows fidelity to me, I neither believe it nor care for it; 
nevertheless I shall not be sorry to put him to the proof: he 
will see you, and find you charming. You will not begin then 
with this pretty tale of your disguise; 'tis an amusing joke, 
but we have worn it out; therefore, instead of repeating it 
before the Marquis de B***, you will do well, if you have no 
objection to oblige me a little, to make him some advances." I 
demanded of her what advances she meant. She laughed heartily at 
the simplicity of my question, and then regarding me with a 
tender look: "Hear me," she said, "it is clear that you are a 
woman: therefore, all the caresses which I have given you this 
evening, are only out of friendship; but if you had indeed been 
a young man disguised, and believing it, I had treated you in 
the same manner, that would have been called making advances, 
and very warm ones too." I promised her to make advances to the 
Marquis. "Very well! Smile at his proposals, look at him in a 
significant manner, but do not let him press your hand as I have 
done, nor embrace you as I have embraced you; that would be 
neither proper nor decent."

The Marquis arrived. He still had a young look: he was well 
made, but of very small stature; his appearance was gay, but the 
gaiety was of that sort which always causes a laugh at its 
expense. "Here is Mademoiselle du Portail," said the Marchioness 
(for I had taken that name), "she is a young relation of the 
Count, you will thank me for having introduced her to you; she 
is kind enough to sup with us." The Marquis found that I had a 
very happy physiognomy, he lavished on me the most ridiculous 
eulogiums, and I returned them by the most extravagant 
compliments. "I am very happy, Mademoiselle," he said, in a 
formal manner, which he thought very fine, "that you do me the 
honour to sup with me; you are very pretty-very pretty, and you 
may depend on what I say in that respect, for I am skilled in 
physiognomy. "My dear child," said the Marchioness, "you have 
given me your word, you are too polite to break it; I will 
disembarrass you of the Marquis as soon as he becomes tiresome." 
She squeezed my hand, and the Marquis saw it. "Oh! That I might 
press one of those little hands in mine!" he said. I cast a 
scornful glance at him: "Let us go, ladies, let us go," he 
cried, with an air of levity and triumph, and went out to call 
his servants.

Rosambert, who heard him, came to us notwithstanding the efforts 
of the Countess to restrain him: "Monsieur" (he said to me, in a 
tone of serious irony,) "you no doubt find your new dress very 
convenient, and do not intend to undeceive the Marchioness." I 
replied in the same tone, but lowering my voice: "My dear 
kinsman, would you so soon destroy your own work?" He addressed 
himself to the Marchioness: "I feel myself bound in conscience, 
Madame, to warn you once more, that it is not Mademoiselle du 
Portail who will have the honour to sup with you, but the 
Chevalier de Faublas, my very young and very faithful friend."

"And I, sir, declare to you, that you have reckoned too much on 
my credulity and my patience. Have the goodness to drop this 
impertinent badinage, or determine never to see me more."

"I have the courage to choose either the one or the other, 
Madame, but I should be sorry to interfere with your pleasures, 
by my indiscretions, or baulk them by my importunities."

The Marquis re-entered at the same moment; he tapped Rosambert 
on the shoulder, and holding him by the hand, said: "What? Do 
you not sup with us? Do you leave your relation with us! Know 
you that she is pretty! Know you what her physiognomy promises!" 
He lowered his voice: "but between us, I think the little 
creature is somewhat lively."

"Oh! Yes, very pretty, and very lively," replied the Count, with 
a sarcastic smile; "she resembles many others;" and then, as if 
he had predicted the approaching fate of this good husband; "I 
wish you a good night," he said. "What! Think you," replied the 
Marquis, "that I keep your relation for? Listen then, if she is 
desirous!"

"I wish you a good night," repeated the Count, and he went out 
laughing heartily. The Marchioness contended that Rosambert had 
become mad; and I considered that he was very impolite. "Not at 
all," said the Marquis, confidently to me, "he loves you to 
distraction; he has observed that I pay my court to you, and he 
is jealous."

In five minutes we were at the residence of the Marquis. Supper 
was served up immediately, and I was placed between the 
Marchioness and her gallant spouse, who never ceased saying to 
me, what he thought very pretty things. Too much occupied at 
first in satisfying an appetite, rather masculine, which dancing 
had given me, I did not find time to reply to him, except by the 
language of the eyes. As soon as my hunger was a little abated, 
I applauded, without exception, all the foolish things that he 
had been pleased to utter, and his bad bon mots produced him a 
hundred compliments, with which he was enchanted. The 
Marchioness, who had all along paid me the greatest attention, 
and whose looks were visibly animated, possessed herself of one 
of my hands. Curious to see how far the power of my deceitful 
charms extended, I abandoned the other to the Marquis, who 
seized it with an inexpressible transport.

 
Illustration: The Marquis squeezed it in a manner that made me 
cry out. 

The Marchioness, plunged into the most profound reflections, 
seemed meditating some important project; I observed her blush, 
tremble by turns, and without saying a word, she gently pressed 
my right hand, which she held within her own. But my left hand 
was in a prison less agreeable; the Marquis squeezed it in a 
manner that made me cry out. Charmed with his good fortune, 
proud of his happiness, and astonished at the address with which 
he deceived his wife, even in her own presence, he began 
alternately to heave deep sighs, and to burst into fits of 
laughter, which made the ceiling ring; at length, fearing to 
betray himself, and wishing to stifle this laughter, which the 
Marchioness might notice, and also, perhaps, thinking thereby to 
convince me of his passion, he bit my fingers.

The beautiful Marchioness waking from her reverie, said: 
"Mademoiselle du Portail, it is late; you were to have passed 
the whole night at the ball, and they do not expect you at home 
before eight or nine o'clock in the morning; stay, therefore, 
with me. I offer to any one an apartment in my house, but my own 
room shall be at your service. I ought," she added, "in an 
affectionate tone, to act as your mamma; and I would not that my 
daughter should have any other room to sleep in than my own; I 
will go and make up a little bed for you, near mine."

"And why make up a bed," interrupted the Marquis, "there is 
quite room enough for two in your own: when I come to you there, 
shall I incommode you? I sleep all the night, and so do you." 
Having said this, he gave me, in an amorous manner, beneath the 
table, so hard a blow on the knee, that it grazed the skin. I 
instantly replied to this gallantry in the same manner, and so 
vigorously, that he uttered a loud cry. The Marchioness rose 
with an air of alarm. "It is nothing," he said, "I have only hit 
my leg against the table." I burst with laughter, the 
Marchioness could no more restrain herself than me, and her dear 
spouse, without knowing why, began to laugh still louder than us 
both.

When our excessive gaiety was a little moderated, the 
Marchioness renewed her offers. "Accept the half of the 
Marchioness' bed," cried the Marquis, "accept it, I beg of you, 
you will be well there, you will be very comfortable indeed 
there."

"I am going for the present, but do pray, in the meantime accept 
her offer." He left us. "Madame," I said to the Marchioness, 
"your invitation is as flattering as it is agreeable, but is it 
for Mademoiselle du Portail, or Monsieur de Faublas that you 
intend it?"

"What! The Count's bad jokes over again, you little rogue! And 
do you repeat them! Have I not told you, that I do not believe 
you?"

"But, Madame-"

"Peace, peace," she replied, putting her hand on my mouth; "the 
Marquis is coming, let him not hear such nonsense as this. What 
a charming girl!" (she said, embracing me tenderly) "how timid 
and how modest she is! But she is also very whimsical; come on, 
you little wag, come:" she held out her hand to me, and we 
passed into her chamber.

I hesitated about going to bed. The maids of the Marchioness 
wished to lend me their assistance; I trembled and begged them 
to offer their services to their mistress, as I could dispense 
with them. "Yes," said the Marchioness, attentive to all my 
motions, "do not trouble her; 'tis the childishness of the 
convent; leave her to herself." I got immediately behind the 
curtains; but I found myself much embarrassed when I was obliged 
to strip myself of a dress to which I was so little familiar. I 
broke the strings, tore out the pins, pricked myself in one 
place, scratched myself in another, and the more I hurried the 
less progress I made. A chambermaid passed near me at the very 
moment when I was pulling off the last petticoat. I trembled 
lest she should open the curtains; I jumped into bed, astonished 
at the singular adventure which brought me there, but not as yet 
suspecting that in sleeping together, we should have any other 
desire than of chatting with each other, before we went to 
sleep. The Marchioness was not long in following me; we heard 
the voice of her husband: "These ladies might as well permit me 
to assist them in going to bed. What! Already in bed?" He wanted 
to embrace me; the Marchioness was greatly offended; he closed 
the curtains himself, and bade us good night.

A profound silence reigned for some moments. "Are you asleep 
already, my sweet child," said the Marchioness in a gentle tone. 
"Oh! No, I am not asleep." She threw herself into my arms, and 
pressed me against her bosom. "Oh, heaven!" she cried, with an 
astonishment very naturally assumed, if it was assumed, "it is a 
man!" and then, quickly repulsed me: "What! Is it possible?"

"Madame," I replied, trembling, "I told you so. "You told me so, 
sir, but was it to be believed? Well, you must not remain in my 
house-or at least another bed must be prepared for you."

"Madame, it is not me, it is the Marquis-"

"But, sir, speak then in a lower tone. You must not remain in my 
house, you must go away."

"Well, Madame, I'm going." She then took hold of me by the arm. 
"You are going away! Where, and what to do? To awake my maids; 
to hazard your life in jumping out of the window! To discover, 
in all probability, to my servants, that I have had a man in bed 
with me!"

"Pardon me, Madame, be not angry; I am going to recline in the 
armchair."

"Yes, undoubtedly you must-but what a fine resource," (still 
holding me by the arm) "fatigued as you must be! To remain in 
the cold, and to injure your health! You deserve that I should 
treat you with this rigour-well, rest there, but promise that 
you will be prudent."

"Provided, Madame, that you will pardon me."

"No, I do not pardon you! But I have still more regard for you, 
than you have for me. See how cold your hand is already!" And 
out of pity she put it on her ivory bosom. Guided by nature, and 
by love, this happy hand descended a little; I knew not the 
stimulus which caused my blood to boil. "No woman," said the 
Marchioness in a milder tone, "ever experienced the 
embarrassment in which you place me."

"Ah! Pardon me then, my dear mamma"! "Your dear mamma, indeed! 
You have a great regard for your dear mamma, little libertine 
that you are!" Her arms which had at first repulsed me, gently 
drew me towards her: presently we were so close to each other, 
that our lips came in contact, and I was emboldened to print a 
burning kiss upon hers. "Faublas," she said in a voice scarcely 
audible, "is this what you promised me?" Her hand strayed; a 
raging flame circulated in all my veins- "Ah! Madame! Pardon me, 
I die."

"Ah! My dear Faublas-my friend!" I continued motionless. The 
Marchioness felt for my embarrassment, which could not displease 
her. She kindly aided my inexperience, and I reeceived, with as 
much astonishment as pleasure, a charming lesson, which I 
repeated more than once.

We employed several hours in this agreeable exercise; I began to 
fall asleep on the bosom of my fair mistress, when I heard the 
noise of a door which opened gently; somebody entered and 
advanced on tiptoe; I was without arms, in a house with which I 
was unacquainted, and I could not help experiencing a sensation 
of alarm. The Marchioness guessed who it was, told me in a 
whisper to take her place, and give her mine, and I immediately 
obeyed her.

Scarcely had I changed places, when someone opened the curtains 
on the side which I had just quitted. "Who comes to wake me 
thus?" said the Marchioness. The person hesitated a few moments, 
but presently explained himself, without replying to her. "And 
what a strange whim is this, sir?" she continued, "the time too 
that you choose sir, is also very improper; without 
consideration for me, and without respect for the innocence of 
this young person, who perhaps is not asleep, or who may awake! 
You are very unreasonable, I beg you will retire." The Marquis 
insisted, and endeavoured to apepease his wife by some very 
comic excuses. "No, sir," she said, "I will not, it shall not 
be, I assure you, you shall not, therefore I beg you will 
retire;" she jumped out of bed, took him by the arm and put him 
out of the door.

My beautiful mistress returned to me laughing, "Was not that 
well done," she said, "you see what I have refused on your 
account." I felt that I owed her a remuneration, which I offered 
her with ardour, and she accepted with gratitude: so complaisant 
is a woman of twenty-five when she loves! And so fertile are the 
resources which nature gives to a novice of sixteen!

Nevertheless everything has its bounds with us weak mortals; I 
was not long before I fell into a profound sleep. When I awoke 
the daylight penetrated the apartment in spite of the curtains: 
I thought of my father-Alas! My Sophia came into my remembrance! 
A tear escaped me, and the Marchioness perceived it. Already 
capable of some dissimulation, I attributed it to my fears on 
her account and to the painful regret I felt at leaving her; she 
embraced me tenderly. She appeared to me so lovely! And there 
was so little time to spare!-The sound sleep had completely 
invigorated my frame-the intoxication of pleasure dissipated the 
remorse of love.

We were at length obliged to think of rising. The Marchioness 
herself served me for a chamber-maid; she was so expert, that 
the affairs of the toilette had been presently finished, if our 
own minds had been tranquil. When we thought that nothing more 
was wanting in the adjustment of my disguise, the Marchioness 
rung for her women. The Marquis had been up above an hour. He 
complimented me on my diligence; "I am sure," he said to me, 
"you have passed an excellent night;" and without giving me time 
to answer: "She appears fatigued, nevertheless; her eyes arc 
hollow! See the effects of dancing, I always tell the 
Marchioness of it, but she pays no attention to it: come, we 
must restore the strength of this charming girl, and then we 
will conduct her home."

Nothing was more calculated to render me more uneasy than this 
"we will conduct her." I told the Marquis that it would be quite 
sufficient for the Marchioness to take that trouble, but he 
insisted on going. The Marchioness joined me in persuading him 
from his purpose. He replied that M. du Portail could not think 
amiss of his bringing home his daughter since the Marchioness 
would be with us, and he was anxious to be acquainted with the 
happy parents of so amiable a child. All our efforts could not 
prevent his accompanying us.

I began to fear that this adventure, which had so happy a 
commencement, would terminate badly. I knew no plan better than 
to give the Marquis's coachman the correct address of M. du 
Portail, "At M. du Portail's, near the Arsenal," I said. The 
Marchioness perceived my embarrassment, and partook of it, no 
expedient had as yet occurred to me, when we arrived at the door 
of my pretended father.

He was at home; they told him that the Marquis and Marchioness 
of B***, had brought home his daughter! "My daughter!" he cried, 
with the most lively emotion, "My daughter!" He ran towards us, 
without giving him time to say a word, I threw my arms around 
his neck: "Yes," I said, "you are a widower, and you have a 
daughter."

"Speak still lower," he replied, with much vivacity, "speak 
lower; who told you so?"

"My God! Do you not understand me? It is I who am your daughter. 
Pray don't deny me before the Marquis." M. du Portail more 
tranquil, but not less astonished, seemed to wait for some 
explanation. "Monsieur," said the Marquis to him, "Mademoiselle 
du Portail has passed part of the night at a ball, and the 
remainder at my house. Are you angry," said the Marquis, who 
observed his astonishment," that she has passed part of the 
night with us? You are wrong, for she has slept in my wife's 
apartment, and even in her own bed with her, and she could not 
be lodged better. Are you angry that I have accompanied her 
home? I confess that the ladies did not wish it; it is my-"

"I am very sensible," replied M. du Portail, now recovered from 
his first surprise, and somewhat better instructed by the 
discourse of the Marquis; "I am very sensible of the kindness 
you have had for my daughter; but I ought to declare to you 
before her (he looked at me, and I trembled) that I am very much 
astonished at her going to a ball disguised in this fashion."

"How disguised, sir? said the Marchioness. "Yes, Madame, in an 
Amazonian habit, which but ill becomes my daughter? At least, 
ought she not to have asked my advice and permission?"

Charmed at the ingenious turn my new father had given the 
affair, I affected to appear bumbled. "Ah! I thought that papa 
knew it," said the Marquis; "Monsieur, you must pardon this 
little fault. Mademoiselle your daughter has a most happy 
physiognomy; I tell you so, and I know it; Mademoiselle your 
daughter-is a charming girl; she has delighted all the world, 
and my wife above all; Oh! Believe me, my wife is enraptured 
with her."

"It is true, sir," said the Marchioness, with an admirable sang-
froid, "that Mademoiselle has inspired me with the friendship 
she merits."

I thought myself saved, when my real father, the Baron de 
Faublas, who never caused himself to be announced at the house 
of his friend, entered suddenly. "Ah! Ah!" he said, on 
perceiving me. M. du Portail ran to him with open arms: "My dear 
Faublas, you see my daughter, whom Monsieur the Marquis and 
Madame the Marchioness de B***, have brought me home!"

"Your daughter!" interrupted my father. "Yes, my daughter, but 
you do not recognize her under this ridiculous habit! 
Mademoiselle, he added, with anger, go to your room, that no one 
may again surprise you in this indecent garb."

I made, without saying a word, a bow to M. du Portail, who 
seemed to pity me, and one to the Marchioness, who appeared 
alarmed at the dilemma we were placed in; for at the name of my 
father, she was so agitated, that I feared she would be taken 
ill. I retired to an adjoining room and listened. "Your 
daughter!" again repeated the Baron. "Yes! My daughter! Who was 
advised to go to the ball in the dress which you have seen, the 
Marquis will tell you the rest." And, indeed, the Marquis did 
recapitulate to the Baron everything which he had told M. du 
Portail; that I had slept in his wife's chamber, and even in her 
own bed with her. "She is very lucky," said my father, looking 
at the Marchioness, "very lucky," repeated he, "that so great an 
imprudence had not had a disagreeable termination. "And what 
very great imprudence has this dear child committed," replied 
the Marchioness, whom I had seen so disconcerted, but who had so 
soon recovered her wits? "What! Because she has assumed the 
habit of an Amazon!"

"Without doubt," interrupted the Marquis, "it is but a trifle! 
And you, sir," (addressing himself to my father in an angry 
tone) "permit me to say, that instead of making reflections upon 
this young lady calculated to hurt her feelings, you had better 
join us in soliciting her father to pardon her."

"Madame," said M. du Portail to the Marchioness, "I pardon her 
on your account:" (then addressing himself to the Marquis) "but 
on condition that she goes there no more in the habit of an 
Amazon."

"Be it so," replied the latter, but I hope we shall see her 
again in her ordinary dress; it would be a great deprivation if 
we were not to see the charming girl again."

"Assuredly," said the Marchioness, rising up, "and if Monsieur 
her father would do us a real favour, he will accompany her." M. 
du Portail reconducted the Marchioness to her carriage, pouring 
forth the thanks which he was presumed to owe for her attention 
to his daughter.

Their departure relieved me from a great burden. "This is a very 
singular adventure," said M. du Portail on re-entering. "Very 
singular," replied my father; "the Marchioness is a very fine 
woman, and the little wag is very happy."

"Know you," replied his friend, "that your son had almost 
penetrated my secret; when they announced my daughter, I thought 
that my own daughter was come home to me, and some words 
escaped, which have betrayed me."

"Never fear; there is a remedy; Faublas is more reasonable than 
youths generally are at his age, he wanted but a little 
practical knowledge, which he has no doubt acquired last night: 
he has a noble soul and an excellent heart; a secret that we 
penetrate does not bind us, as you know; but an honest man would 
think it dishonourable to betray that which a friend has 
confided to him; impart yours to my son; no half confidence; you 
may depend on his discretion."

"But for secrets of this importance-he is so young! "So young, 
my friend! My son, already a youth and ignorant of one of the 
most sacred duties of a thinking being! A child whom I have 
educated, must have seen very little of his father if he would 
do a mean action! My friend, I must now return. My dear du 
Portail, believe me, you will never repent it. I hope, moreover, 
that this confidence, which is become almost necessary, will not 
be entirely useless. You know that I have made some sacrifices 
to give my son an education suitable to his birth, and the hopes 
I have conceived of him; he will remain another year in this 
Capital to perfect himself in his studies, I think it will be 
sufficient; afterwards he will travel, and I shall not be 
displeased if he continues some months in Poland."

"Baron," interrupted M. du Portail, "the contrivance which your 
friendship has had recourse to, is as ingenious as delicate; I 
feel all the civility of your proposition, which I confess is 
very agreeable to me."

"Then," replied the Baron, "you'll do well to give Faublas a 
letter for the faithful servant you have left in that country; 
Bolesas and my son will make new researches. My dear Lovinski, 
do not yet despair of your fortune; if your daughter exists, it 
is not impossible but she may be restored to you. If the King of 
Poland," my father spoke lower, and took his friend to the other 
end of the apartment: they conversed there more than half-an-
hour, when both of them having approached the door behind which 
I was, I heard the Baron, who said: "I will not require of him 
the details of his adventure; probably they are very pleasant, 
and I should not hear them with the gravity I ought. Without 
doubt he will relate to you minutely the whole affair, and you 
can inform me. From appearances, I think we shall hear of a very 
foolish husband." H"e is not the only one, my friend," replied 
M. du Portail. "It is very true," replied the Baron, "but we 
must say nothing about it." I heard them coming towards my door, 
and I went and threw myself on an armchair. The Baron said to 
me, on entering: "My carriage is below, let it take you home; go 
and rest yourself, and I forbid you to go out in that dress 
again."

"My friend," said M. du Portail, who followed me to the door, 
"one of these days we will dine together by ourselves; you know 
a part of my secret, I will tell you the rest; but above all 
things be discreet; remember also that I have rendered you a 
service." I assured him that I should never forget it, and that 
he might rely upon me. As soon as I arrived at home, I went to 
bed and slept profoundly.



II.

It was very late when I awoke: the Abbé accompanied me to the 
convent; with what soft emotion did I again behold my Sophia! 
Her modest countenance-her ingenuous simplicity-the timid yet 
tender welcome which she gave me-the air of embarrassment caused 
by the remembrance of the last night's kiss, all combined to 
inspire me with love-a love the most pure and respectful.

Nevertheless, the idea of the Marchioness' charms followed me 
even to the conversation room of the convent; but what precious 
advantages her young rival had over her! It is true that the 
pleasures of the last night had made a lively impression on my 
heated imagination; but how much did I prefer to that, the 
delightful moment when I found on the lips of Sophia an immortal 
soul! The Marchioness reigned in my astonished senses, but my 
heart adored Sophia.

The next day I remembered that the Marchioness expected me to 
visit her; I recollected also that the Baron had said: "I forbid 
you to go out in that dress." Besides, how was I to go to the 
Marchioness, without being at least accompanied by a femme de 
chambre? I could not think of the Count, it was not likely he 
would conduct me there; and as to the Marquis, would he not 
think it odd for a young lady to come out entirely alone?

Impatient once more to behold my fair mistress, but restrained 
by the fear of displeasing my father, I knew not which way to 
resolve myself. Jasmin came to tell me that a middle-aged woman, 
sent by Mademoiselle Justine, wished to speak with me. "I know 
not who this Justine is; but let her enter."

"Mademoiselle Justine has charged me to present her compliments 
to you," said the woman to me, "and to give you this packet, and 
this letter." Before opening the packet, I took the letter, of 
which the address was simply, To Mademoiselle du Portail. I 
opened it with eagerness, and read:

Send me some news of yourself, my dear child; have you 
passed a good night; you had need of repose; I fear that 
the fatigues of the ball, and the disagreeable scene which 
took place in the presence of your father, may have injured 
your health. I am grieved to think you incurred displeasure 
on my account; believe me, that during that interview, I 
suffered as much as yourself. The Marquis talks of going to 
the ball again this evening; but I do not feel disposed to 
go, and I think you'll have no more desire than myself. 
Nevertheless, as a mother ought to have some complaisance 
for her daughter, and particularly when she has one as 
amiable as yourself, we will go there if you wish it. I 
have not forgot that your Amazonian dress is forbidden you, 
and I thought that you might not have another ball dress, 
as it is not a necessary article in a convent, therefore I 
have sent you one of mine, we are very nearly of the same 
stature, and I think it will fit you well. 
Justine has told me that you are in want of a femme de 
chambre; she who brings you this letter is prudent, 
intelligent and adroit! You can take her into your service, 
and place your entire confidence in her, I will answer for 
her. 
I do not invite you to dinner with me, I know that M. du 
Portail seldom dines without his daughter; but if you love 
your dear mamma as much as she loves you, you will come in 
the evening as soon as you can. The Marquis does not dine 
at home; come in good time, my dear child, I shall be alone 
all the evening, and you can keep me company. Believe that 
no one loves you so well as your dear mamma. 
The Marchioness de B***.
P. S.-I have not the patience to write all the foolish 
things which the Marquis bade me tell you on his part. You 
can scold him well when you see him; he wished this morning 
to send in his own name to M. du Portail's. I had great 
trouble in persuading him that it was not proper, and that 
it was more becoming for me to write.

I was enchanted with this letter. "Monsieur," said the 
intelligent woman who brought it to me, "Justine is the femme de 
chambre of Madame the Marchioness de B***, and if Mademoiselle 
wishes it, I can be hers today and tomorrow. In short, Monsieur 
or Mademoiselle may equally confide in me; when Mademoiselle 
Justine and Madame Dutour engage in an intrigue, they never 
spoil it, that is why I am chosen."

"Very well," I said, "Madame Dutour, I see you know your 
business; you shall accompany me to the Marchioness. I offered 
my duenna a double Louis d'Or, which she accepted. "It is not 
but they have already well paid me," she said: "but Monsieur 
ought to know that persons of my profession always receive from 
both parties."

As soon as the Baron had dined, he set out for the opera, 
according to his custom. My milliner was sent for; a plume of 
feathers was placed on my head instead of the little hat. Madame 
Dutour dressed me completely in the charming ball dress, sent by 
the Marchioness, and which became me wonderfully; my resemblance 
to Adelaide was now more striking. I took a fan, and a large 
nosegay, and flew to the rendezvous the Marchioness had assigned 
me.

I found her in her boudoir, negligently reclining upon an 
ottoman; an elegant dishabille, instead of concealing, showed 
her charms to advantage. She rose as soon as she saw me. "How 
charming you look in this dress, Mademoiselle du Portail! How 
well this gown becomes you!" and as soon as the door was shut: 
"Oh! How happy am I to see you, my dear Faublas, how your 
punctuality flatters me! My heart told me you would find the 
means of coming in spite of your two fathers." I only replied by 
the most tender embraces; and compelling her to take the 
position from which she rose to receive me, I proved to her that 
her lessons were not forgotten; when we heard a noise in the 
adjoining room. Dreading to be surprised in a situation by no 
means equivocal, I rose precipitately, and, thanks to my 
convenient garments, I had only to change my posture, for my 
disorder to be repaired. The Marchioness, without appearing 
embarrassed, merely put that in order which was most necessary; 
this was only the affair of a moment. The door opened; it was 
the Marquis. "I knew well, sir," she said to him, "that no one 
but yourself, could come in to me without being announced, but I 
thought at least that you would knock at this door before 
opening it; this dear child had some secret griefs to impart to 
her dear mamma; a moment sooner you would have surprised her!-it 
is not usual to enter thus abruptly where there are ladies!"

"Good," replied the Marquis, "I surprise her-oh, no! I have not 
surprised her, there cannot be much mischief done if that is 
all; however, I am sure the dear girl will pardon me; she is 
more indulgent than you. But we must agree that her father was 
right in wishing her to lay aside that Amazonian habit; she is 
so much more lovely in her present attire."

He resumed with me, that ridiculous strain of gallantry which 
had already so much amused us; he found that I was perfectly 
recovered, that my eyes were brilliant, my countenance very 
animated, and even that there was something extraordinary, and 
which augured well in my physiognomy.

After this he said: "Fair ladies, do you go to the ball this 
evening?

 The Marchioness answered in the negative.

"You are jesting with me, certainly. I am come home purposely to 
conduct you there."

"I assure you that I shall not go."

"And why not? You told me this morning-"

"I said that I might go there out of complaisance to 
Mademoiselle du Portail; but she does not care to go; she is 
afraid of again meeting there the Count de Rosambert, who 
conducted himself very improperly the last time;"

I interrupted the Marchioness: "Certainly his behaviour to me 
was very impolite, therefore in future his company will give me 
as much uneasiness, as it formerly afforded me pleasure."

"You are right," said the Marquis, "the Count is one of those 
coxcombs who think all the women are in love with them; it is 
proper that these gentlemen should sometimes be taught that 
there are those in the world who know how to treat them-" I 
perceived his drift, and to justify his remark, I darted at him, 
by stealth, a glance of the eye, which was very expressive, "-
and who treat them with the contempt they deserve," he added, 
immediately raising his voice, and rising on tip-toe to give 
himself an affected swing, which he accomplished in a very 
unfortunate manner. He struck his head with great violence 
against the wainscot, and experienced a very heavy fall on the 
floor, which gave him a large bruise on the forehead. Ashamed of 
his misfortune, but wishing to dissemble, he appeared insensible 
to the pain which he felt. "Charming girl," he said to me with 
great sang-froid, but making every now and then some ugly 
grimaces which betrayed him, "you have reason to avoid the 
Count; but be not afraid of meeting him this evening, it is a 
masked ball, the Marchioness has luckily two dominoes, she will 
lend you one, and take the other herself; we will go to the 
ball, you shall come back and sup with us; and if you were not 
too badly accommodated the night before last-"

"Oh! Yes, that will be delightful," cried I with more vivacity 
than prudence; "we will go to the ball."

"What! With my dominoes, which are so well known to the Count," 
interrupted the Marchioness, more thoughtful than myself. "Yes, 
Madame, with your dominoes! We must treat this child with a 
sight of a masked ball, she has never seen such a thing; the 
Count will not recognize you, he may not perhaps be there." The 
Marchioness appeared dubious, I could see she was embarrassed 
between the desire to keep me another night with her, and the 
fear of going there again in the presence of the Marquis, to be 
subject to the sarcasms of the Count. "As for myself," said the 
accommodating husband, in a mysterious tone, "I will conduct you 
there, but I have business, and cannot stop, I shall leave you 
there, and come and look for you at midnight." This last remark 
of the Marquis, more than all his entreaties, determined the 
Marchioness upon going; she still declined it for a while, but 
in a tone which gave me to understand that I must press her, and 
that she was about to consent.

In the meanwhile, the contusion which the Marquis had received, 
became more apparent, and the bump seemed to increase while one 
looked at it. I demanded of him, with an air of astonishment, 
what he had on his forehead. "It is nothing," he said to me, 
with a forced laugh; "when we are married, we are exposed to 
such accidents." I remembered the torture he had made me undergo 
when my hand was within his-and resolving to avenge myself, I 
drew a piece of money out of my pocket, placed it on his 
forehead, and then struck it with all my force, as if to beat 
down the bump. The patient pressed his sides with his closed 
fists, ground his teeth together, groaned grievously, and made 
the most horrible contortions. "She has strength in her wrist," 
he said, in great pain. I redoubled my efforts: he at last 
uttered a terrible cry, and escaping from me with violence, 
would have tumbled heels over head if I had not caught him. "Oh! 
The little devil has almost split my skull!"

"The little wag has done it on purpose," said the Marchioness, 
who with difficulty restrained herself from laughing.

"Do you think she did it on purpose? Well! I'll embrace her to 
punish her."

"To punish me? Be it so:" I presented my cheek with a good 
grace, and he thought himself the happiest of men: if I had been 
willing to listen to him, I should have continued, at the same 
price, to put his courage to the proof.

"Let us have done with this nonsense," said the Marchioness, 
pretending to be a little angry, "and let us think of this ball, 
since we must go there."

"Oh! Madame is out of temper!" replied the Marquis: "let us be 
prudent," he said to me, in a low tone, "there is a little 
jealousy." He looked at us both with an air of satisfaction; 
"You love each other very much," he continued, "but if you 
should quarrel about me one of these days-that would be very 
singular!"

"Do we go to the ball, or do we not?" interrupted the 
Marchioness. She immediately began to prepare herself; they 
brought her the dominoes, but she did not wish to use them; she 
sent for two others, in which we were gaily muffled up. "You 
know mine," said the Marquis; "I shall put it on when I come to 
look for you: I am not afraid to be recognised, not I!" He 
conducted us to the ball, and promised to join us at twelve 
o'clock precisely.

As soon as we appeared at the door of the assembly-room, we were 
surrounded by a crowd of masks; they examined us minutely, and 
made us dance; my eyes were at first greatly delighted with the 
novelty of the spectacle-the elegant dresses-the rich ornaments-
the singular and grotesque costumes-even the ugliness of their 
droll metamorphoses-the odd representation of all the faces with 
paint and pasteboard-the mixture of colours-the buzz of a 
hundred confused voices-the multitude of objects-their perpetual 
motion, which unceasingly varied and animated the picture, all 
combined to arrest my attention, which was soon fatigued. Some 
new masks having entered, the country dance was interrupted, and 
the Marchioness, profiting by the circumstance, mingled with the 
crowd: I followed her in silence, curious to examine in detail 
this many-coloured scene. I was not long in observing that some 
of the actors were busily occupied in doing nothing, and talked 
prodigiously without saying anything. They seek you with 
eagerness, they regard you with curiosity, join you with 
familiarity, and quit you without knowing why: the next moment 
they meet you again with a sneer; one deafens you by boring your 
ear with his squeaking voice; another, in a nasal tone, stammers 
a hundred dull things, which he scarcely comprehends himself: 
this one, lisps a gross bon mot, which he accompanies with 
ridiculous gestures; that, puts a stupid question, which is 
answered by an attempt at wit still more foolish. I saw, 
nevertheless, some persons cruelly tormented, who certainly 
would have paid very dear for the opportunity of escaping from 
malicious tricks and spiteful looks. I saw others very much 
wearied, whose principal object appeared to be in passing the 
night at the ball in any manner they could; and who no doubt 
remained there with the slender consolation of saying, the next 
day, how much they were amused the night before. "Is this, then, 
a masked ball?" I said to the Marchioness. "I am not astonished 
that good people are here abused by scoundrels; and persons of 
wit perplexed by fools. I should certainly not remain here if I 
was not with you."

"Hold your tongue," she replied to me, "we are followed, and 
perhaps recognised-do you not see the mask which is treading in 
our steps? I fear much that it is the Count; let us go out of 
the crowd, and do not be alarmed."

It was indeed M. de Rosambert: we had no trouble in recognising 
him, for he did not even disguise his voice, but merely dropped 
it sufficiently low to be heard only by the Marchioness and 
myself. "How does Madame the Marchioness and her charming 
friend?" demanded he of us with an affected interest. I dared 
not reply. The Marchioness, feeling that it would be useless to 
attempt to make him believe that he was mistaken, preferred 
entering into a polite conversation, which she might, perhaps, 
by her address, have terminated happily, if the Count had been 
less informed of our affairs. "Ah! It is you, M. de Rosambert! 
You have recognised me! I am astonished at that! I thought you 
had sworn never to see me, or speak to me again."

"It is true that I have promised it, Madame, and I know how much 
that assurance which I gave you, has given you satisfaction."

"I do not understand you, and you misunderstand me; if I did not 
wish to see you, what obliges me to speak to you? Why am I come 
here in order to meet you?"

"In order to meet me, Madame! Flattering as such a profession 
is, I might, perhaps, have had the weakness to deem it sincere, 
if this dear child who is here-"

"Sir," replied the Marchioness, "have you not brought the 
Countess? The Countess is very amiable! What say you?"

"I say, Madame, that she is, moreover, very officious!"

The Marchioness interrupted him again-"The Countess is very 
amiable! You ought to have brought her."

"Yes, Madame! And you apparently would again have confided to 
her the polite employment which she so generously accepted, and 
executed with so much complaisance."

"What! Would you insinuate that I employed her to occupy you the 
whole evening, to engage you in a disagreeable quarrel with 
myself, to repeat to me a hundred times an uncivil pleasantry, 
to push me to such extremities, that I was at last obliged to 
speak to you in very harsh terms, which you have not failed to 
take in the most literal acceptation, and of which I should have 
repented, if you had come the next day; as I hoped to beg your 
pardon."

"My pardon! You would have granted me, Madame. Oh, how generous 
you are! But be tranquil, I will not abuse so much goodness; I 
fear that I embarrass you too much, and also that I give pain to 
my young relation, who listens to us so attentively, and who has 
such good reasons for remaining silent."

"What, sir!" I replied immediately, "what can I say to you?"

"Nothing-nothing but what I know, or what I can guess."

"I acknowledge, Monsieur de Rosambert, that you know something 
which Madame does not know; But," added I, in a lower voice, 
"have a little discretion; the Marchioness was not willing to 
believe you the day before yesterday; what does it cost you to 
leave her but for one day more in an error which still continues 
agreeable?"

"Very well," he cried, "it is an admirable turn! Ou, such a 
novice before yesterday, today so artful! You must certainly 
have received some good lessons!"

"What say you, then?" replied the Marchioness, a little 
mortified. "I say, Madame, my young relation is advanced greatly 
in four and twenty hours; but I am not astonished, we know how 
soon girls become enlightened."

"You do us the favour at last then, to acknowledge, that 
Mademoiselle is of her own sex!"

"I shall not think proper to deny it any more, Madame, since I 
perceive how painful it would be to you to be undeceived. To 
lose a fair friend, and to find in her place but a young suitor! 
The misfortune would be too severe."

"What you say is very reasonable," replied the Marchioness, with 
an impatience very badly disguised, "but the tone in which you 
say it is so singular- "Explain yourself, sir; is this child, 
whom you have introduced to me as your relation, (speaking low) 
Mademoiselle du Portail, or Monsieur de Faublas? You compel me 
to ask you a very extraordinary question, but you must tell me 
seriously which is the truth."

"Tell you the truth, Madame! I could have hazarded such a thing 
the day before yesterday; but today it is for me to ask you that 
question."

"Me," she replied, without being disconcerted, "I have no kind 
of doubt about it: her air, her looks, her conduct, her 
discourse, all proclaim to me that she is Mademoiselle du 
Portail; and, besides, I have proofs which I did not look for."

"Proofs!"

"Yes, sir, proofs; she supped with me the night before last."

"I know it well, Madame; and she was still with you at ten 
o'clock the next morning."

"At ten in the morning?-be it so; but after that we conducted 
her home."

"To her house in the Faubourg Saint Germain!"

"No, near the Arsenal; and Monsieur her father-"

"Her father, the Baron de Faublas?"

"No such thing! But M. du Portail. M. du Portail returned many 
thanks to the Marquis and myself for taking his daughter home!"

"The Marquis and you, Madame! What! The Marquis accompany you to 
the house of M. du Portail?"

"What is there so astonishing in that?"

"And M. du Portail thanked the Marquis?"

"Yes, sir."

Here the Count burst into a fit of laughter. "Oh! The good 
husband! he cried aloud-what a charming adventure! Oh, what a 
polite husband!" He was preparing to quit us. I thought that it 
would be for the interest of the Marchioness and myself if we 
could moderate his excessive gaiety.

"Monsieur," I said to him, lowering my voice, "Could I not have 
a more serious explanation with you?"

He regarded me with a smile. "A serious explanation between us 
this evening, my dear friend?-(he lifted my mask up a little)-
you are too pretty: I leave you TO LOVE and TO PLEASE: moreover, 
it is fit I should profit to-day of my advantages; the 
explanation will do for tomorrow, if you desire it."

"For tomorrow, sir, at what hour, and in what place?"

"The hour I cannot fix with you; that will depend upon 
circumstances. Do you not go to sup with the Marchioness? 
Tomorrow, it will, perhaps, be noon when the very accommodating 
Marquis will reconduct you to the very complaisant M. du 
Portail's; you will probably be fatigued, I will not take an 
improper advantage of you, it is necessary that you have time to 
rest; I shall pass near your house in the evening; I shall not 
take my leave of you, I shall have the pleasure of seeing you 
again by-and-by, before the hour of departure from hence." He 
bowed to us, and left the room.

The Marchioness was much pleased at his absence. "He has given 
us some home-thrusts," she said to me; "but we could not have 
defended ourselves better." I observed to her, that the Count 
endeavoured to lower his voice whenever he launched at us any 
very pointed remark; and that his intention being only to 
torment us severely, he seemed unwilling to compromise the 
matter until it reached a certain point. "I do not trust to 
that," she said; "he knows that you have passed the night with 
me, and he is piqued at it. The return that he announced to you 
is no good omen; he is, without doubt, preparing a stronger 
attack for us: let us go without waiting for him, or the Marquis 
either."

We were preparing ourselves to go out, when two masks stopped 
us. One of the two said to the Marchioness, "I know you, 
beautiful mask. Good evening to you, Monsieur de Faublas, said 
the other to me. I did not reply. Good evening, Monsieur de 
Faublas," repeated he. I felt that I must summon up my strength, 
and answer with boldness. "You have not the art of divination, 
beautiful mask; you deceive yourself as to my name and my sex."

"One or the other must be very doubtful."

"You are mad, beautiful mask."

"Not at all; some baptize you Faublas, and contend that you are 
a fine boy, and others call you du Portail, and swear that you 
are a very pretty girl."

"Du Portail or Faublas," I replied, much confounded, "what 
matters it?"

"We will explain, beautiful mask."

"If you are a pretty damsel, it is of consequence to me; if you 
are a fine young man, it is of importance to that fair lady 
(pointing to the Marchioness.)" I remained stupefied. He 
resumed: "Answer me, Mademoiselle du Portail; speak, then, 
Monsieur de Faublas; decide to give me one of the names. Ah! If 
I only considered my personal interests and appearances, you are 
Mademoiselle du Portail; but if I believe the chronicles of 
scandal, you are M. de Faublas."

The Marchioness did not lose a word of this dialogue, but 
already too hard pressed by the unknown who had attacked her, 
she could render me no assistance. I know not but my 
embarrassment might have betrayed me, but there arose in the 
assembly-room a great tumult; they all crowded towards the door, 
and surrounded a mask who was just entering; some pointed with 
their fingers, others broke out into long peals of laughter, and 
altogether cried out: "It is Monsieur the Marquis de B***, who 
has a bump on his forehead!" As soon as the two demons who were 
persecuting us had heard these joyous exclamations, they quitted 
us to swell the number of laughers. At length, "Behold the 
party!" said my fair mistress to me, a little astonished: "But, 
among these reiterated cries, do you not hear the name of the 
Marquis? I'll wager that it is some new trick that they are 
playing my poor husband!"

In the meanwhile, the rumour continued increasing; we 
approached, we heard a confusion of voices, who said, "Good 
evening to you, Monsieur the Marquis de B***; what have you on 
your forehead, Monsieur? How long have you had this bump?" And 
presently, in the transports of their turbulent gaiety, all the 
masks cried, "It is the Marquis de B***, who has a bump on his 
forehead!" By dint of elbowing our neighbours, we were enabled 
to join the mask who was so much ridiculed: it was neither the 
yellow domino of the Marquis, nor his short stature, but it was, 
notwithstanding, the Marquis himself! We perceived that someone 
had stuck between his shoulders a slip of paper, upon which was 
written, in very legible characters, these words, which he had 
already heard so often repeated: "It is the Marquis de B***, who 
has a bump on his forehead!" He instantly recognised us. "I 
cannot comprehend what all this means," he said to us, in a 
mortified tone; let us go. Still pursued by the shouts of 
derision, and pressed to suffocation in the crowd, he had as 
much difficulty in regaining the door, as he had in penetrating 
into the middle of the room.

We followed him closely. "Zounds," cried the Marquis, so 
confounded that he had not power to take his seat in the 
carriage, "I cannot comprehend all this; I never was so well 
disguised, and yet every one recognised me." The Marchioness 
asked him what was his design. "I was desirous," he replied, "of 
affording you an agreeable surprise; as soon as I saw you in the 
ballroom, I returned home and imparted my project to Justine, 
your femme de chambre, and to that of this charming girl, for I 
found them both together. I took a new domino, and shoes with 
very high heels, which elevated me a great deal, so that no one 
might recognise me. Justine presided at my toilette." (While he 
was speaking, the Marchioness adroitly removed the perfidious 
label from his back, and put it into her pocket.) "Ask Justine: 
she will tell you that I was never so well disguised, for she 
told me so a hundred times, but nevertheless, all the world 
discovered me!"

The Marchioness and myself easily guessed that our femmes de 
chambre had served us faithfully. "But," replied the Marquis, 
after a moment's reflection, "how could they see that I had a 
bump on my forehead? Have you spoken of my accident?"

"To no one, I assure you."

"That is very singular; my face was covered with a mask, and 
they saw my bump! I was disguised better than usual, yet every 
one recognized me!" The Marquis did not cease to testify his 
astonishment by exclamations such as these; while the 
Marchioness and I congratulated ourselves on the address of our 
women, who had saved us in so comic a manner from the 
disagreeable consequences to which we should have been exposed, 
by the disguise of her husband, and the vengeance of my rival.

What was our astonishment when, on arriving at the hôtel of the 
Marquis, we found the Count de Rosambert had been waiting for us 
some minutes. He approached in an easy and familiar manner: "I 
was sure, ladies, that you would not remain long at the ball: 
this masked ball is a very dull thing! Those whom we do not know 
are tiresome to us, and those we do know torment us!"

"Oh!" Replied the Marquis, "I had not time to get tired, not I! 
You see how I am disguised!"

"Very well, indeed!" 

"Well! As soon as I entered, everybody knew me."

"How, everybody?"

"Yes, yes, everybody; they immediately surrounded me: [and said] 
'Ah! Good evening to you, Monsieur, how came that bump on your 
forehead?' and they squeezed me! They pushed me! They laughed at 
me! Made faces at me! And made such a noise, that I thought I 
should never have recovered my hearing. I'll be hung if ever I 
go there again! But how could they have known that I had this 
bump on my forehead?"

"Zounds! It might be seen for a league!" said the Count.

"But my mask!"

"That matters nothing! Look at me, I also was recognized."

"Good!" replied the Marquis, a little consoled.

"Yes," continued the Count, my adventure is very droll; "I met 
there a very pretty lady, who esteemed me very much, last week!"

"I understand you, I understand you," said the Marquis."

"This week she has shifted me off in a very curious manner!"

"Imagine that I was at the ball with one of my friends, who was 
very prettily disguised." The Marchioness, being alarmed, 
interrupted him: "Monsieur the Count sups with us this evening, 
without doubt?" He answered in the most polite and flattering 
manner: "If it will not embarrass you too much, Madame."

"What!" interrupted the Marquis, "are you going to stand upon 
ceremony with us? Endeavour rather to make your peace with your 
young relative, who requires it of you."

"Me, sir, not at all! I have always thought that the Count de 
Rosambert was a man of honour, and I believe him too gallant a 
man to take advantage of circumstances."

"We must abuse nothing," said the Count to me, "but we must make 
use of everything."

"What are these circumstances?" cried the Marquis. "What means 
she by circumstances? What circumstances are these? Rosambert, 
you will tell me that: but go on with your story."

"Most willingly.-"

"Gentlemen," again interrupted the Marchioness, "they have 
already told you that supper was served."

"Yes, yes, let us to go to supper," replied the Marquis; "you 
can relate to us your misfortune while we are at table." The 
Marchioness then approached her husband, and in a low voice, 
said, "Do you think it proper, sir, that one should relate an 
affair of gallantry before this child?"

"Well, well," he replied to her, "at her age they are not so 
ignorant;" and then addressing himself to the Count: "Rosambert, 
you will go on with your adventure, but you must gloss 
everything over in such a manner that this child-you understand 
me."

The Marchioness arranged us in such order that the Count was 
placed between me and her, so that I found myself between the 
Count and the Marquis. My beautiful mistress gave me a 
particular look, which warned me to pay every attention to our 
critical situation; not to speak without reflection, and to act 
with the greatest circumspection.

The Marquis ate a great deal, and talked still more; I replied 
but by monosyllables to the kind things he said to me. The 
Count, encouraged by the eulogiums of the Marquis, began to 
lavish on me, in a tone of raillery, the most fulsome and 
overstrained compliments; asserting that no one in the world was 
more amiable than his young relation, and demanded of the 
Marchioness, what she thought of her; at the same time 
protesting that she alone, up to this moment, knew precisely how 
much Mademoiselle du Portail merited to be beloved. The 
Marchioness, equally adroit and prompt, replied quickly and with 
great aptitude, always measuring the defence to the attack, she 
eluded without affectation, or defended without asperity: 
determined to manoeuvre an enemy she could not hope to vanquish, 
to pointed questions she opposed equivocal answers; she parried 
strong allegations by mitigated negations, and rebutted sarcasms 
more bitter than embarrassing, by recriminations more subtle 
than spiteful: extremely interested to penetrate the designs of 
the Count, with whom vengeance was so easy, she examined him 
often with a piercing eye; then endeavouring to bend him by 
interesting him, she overwhelmed him with politeness and 
attention. Pretending to have a bad headache, she uttered her 
sweet accents in a faint and languishing manner, and by 
supplicating looks solicited his mercy, but could not obtain it.

As soon as the servants had placed the dessert on the table and 
retired, the Count commenced a still warmer attack, which threw 
both the Marchioness and myself into the most dreadful anxiety.

The COUNT. I was telling you, Monsieur, that last week a young 
lady honoured me with a very particular attention.

THE MARCHIONESS. [Aside.] What a coxcomb! [Aloud.] Again in good 
fortune! It is your old subject.

The COUNT. No, Madame, a sudden infidelity, with circumstances 
very novel, which will amuse you.

THE MARCHIONESS. Not at all, sir, I assure you.

The MARQUIS. Good! The women always say that the relation of an 
affair of gallantry tires them. Rosambert, tell us yours.

The COUNT. This lady was at the ball;-I forget the night. [To 
the Marchioness.] Madame, assist me, you were there also.

The MARCHIONESS. [In a lively manner.] The night, sir! Of what 
consequence is the night? Besides, do you think that I noticed-

The MARQUIS. Go on, go on: the night signifies nothing.

The COUNT. Well, then, I went to the ball with one of my 
friends, who was disguised so admirably that no one knew him.

The MARQUIS. That no one knew him! He was very clever! What 
habit had he then?

The MARCHIONESS. [With gaiety.] He went in character, most 
probably.

The COUNT. Dressed in character! No, but [looking at the 
Marchioness,] nevertheless, it shall be so, if you wish it; 
dressed in character! No one recognised him; no one, except the 
lady in question, who guessed that it was a very fine youth. 
	[Here the Marchioness rung for a servant, whom she detained 
some time under different pretences; the Marquis became 
impatient, sent him away, and the Count resumed.] The lady, 
charmed with her discovery but I will say no more, because the 
Marquis knows her.

The MARQUIS [laughing.] That may be: I know a great many; but 
that's no matter, go on.

The MARCHIONESS. Monsieur, they gave us a new play last night.

The COUNT. Yes, Madame, but permit me to finish my tale.

The MARCHIONESS. No; I wish to know what you think of the piece.

The COUNT. Permit me, Madame.

The MARQUIS. Yes, Madame, let him then tell us.

The COUNT. To be short, you shall know that my young friend 
pleased the lady very much; that my presence became embarrassing 
to her; and the means which she devised to get rid of me-

The MARCHIONESS. This adventure of yours is nothing but a 
romance.

The COUNT. A romance, Madame! Ah, I can presently, if I am 
forced, convince the most incredulous. The means which she 
conceived was to detach me by a young Countess, her intimate 
friend, a very skilful and obliging woman, who took possession 
in such a manner as-

The MARQUIS. Ah! Did she play her part well, then?

The COUNT. Not amiss, not amiss; but not so well as the husband, 
who arrived-

The MARQUIS. Ah! A husband in the case! So much the better: I am 
fond of an adventure where a husband figures; at least, such as 
I know many of! Well, the husband arrived. What is the matter 
with you, Madame?

The MARCHIONESS. A most shocking headache! I am in torture. [To 
the Count.] Monsieur, have the goodness to defer the recital of 
this adventure until another day.

The MARQUIS. Oh no; go on, go on; it will cure her headache.

The COUNT. Yes, in two words; I have done.

MADEMOISELLE DU PORTAIL. [To the Marquis, in a very low voice.] 
M. de Rosambert is very fond of tattling, and tells falsehoods, 
sometimes, with a good grace.

The MARQUIS. I know it well, I know it well; but this story is 
droll: there is a husband in it; I'll wager that they entrap him 
like a fool.

The COUNT. [Without listening to the Marchioness, who wished to 
speak with him.] The husband arrived, and what is most 
astonishing, that on seeing the slender figure, agreeable 
person, and fresh complexion of this young man, who was so well 
disguised, he took him for a woman.

The MARQUIS. Good! Oh! That was excellent. I could not have been 
taken in like that, not I; I am too well skilled in physiognomy.

MADEMOISELLE DU PORTAIL. But it is not credible.

The MARCHIONESS. Impossible! M. de Rosambert has been inventing 
tales for us; which he had better finish, for I feel myself very 
unwell.

The COUNT. He thought himself so happy, that he lavished 
compliments, a variety of attentions, and even went so far as to 
take his hand, and pressed it gently. [To the Marquis.] For 
instance, much after the manner as you do at present to my 
cousin.

The MARQUIS. [Astonished, immediately quitting my hand, which, 
in truth, he had been pressing.] He has done it on purpose, [he 
said to me;] I think that he would the Marchioness should 
perceive our understanding. He is jealous! He is mischievous!" 
"And a liar," I replied; "he lies like a counsellor." 

THE COUNT, always deaf to the entreaties which the Marchioness 
had had time to renew, resumed:  Whilst the good husband, on the 
one side, exhausted all the commonplaces of antiquated 
gallantry, and fondly pressed the cherished hand-the lady, not 
less sensible, but more happy-

The MARCHIONESS. Oh, Monsieur! What sort of women have you then 
known; You represent this to us under such colours! Might she 
not have been deceived by appearances, as well as her husband?

The COUNT. That was possible; but I believe it was not the case. 
But of that you shall judge for yourself, if you hear me to the 
end.

The MARCHIONESS. If it is absolutely necessary that you should 
finish this story, I beg at least you will have some regard 
[looking towards Mademoiselle du Portail] for certain persons 
who listen to you.

The MARQUIS. Madame is right; gloss it over a little, on account 
of this child.

The COUNT. Yes, yes. The lady, much captivated-

The MARCHIONESS. Do, pray, sir, abridge the details, which are 
not-decent.

MADEMOISELLE DU PORTAIL. [In a very abrupt tone.] It is 
midnight, sir.

The COUNT. [Harshly.] I know it well, Mademoiselle; and if the 
conversation tires you, I will say but one word-to finish it.

The MARQUIS. [To Mademoiselle du Portail.] He is much piqued 
against you. The kindness you show to me!-He is jealous as a 
tiger.

The MARCHIONESS. Monsieur, a propos, while I think of it, have 
you obtained of the minister-

THE COUNT. Yes, Madame, I have obtained everything I wished; but 
let me see-

The MARQUIS. Ah! Ah! What is it, then, that you solicited?

The COUNT. A little pension of ten thousand livres for the young 
Viscomte de G***, my kinsman; it is now some days past-but to 
return to my adventure.

THE MARQUIS. Yes, yes, let us return to it.

The MARCHIONESS. I suppose the Viscount must be very well 
pleased with you?

The COUNT. The lady was very much affected-

The MARCHIONESS. Monsieur, why do you not answer my question?

THE COUNT. Yes, Madame, he is very well pleased-the lady was 
very much affected-

The MARCHIONESS. And his dear uncle, the commander?

The COUNT. He is very well pleased also, Madame; but you 
interest yourself very much.

The MARCHIONESS. Yes, everything which regards my friends 
touches me sensibly, and this affair torments me on your 
account; if you had spoken to me of it sooner I could have 
served you.

THE COUNT. Madame, I am very sensible-but permit me-

THE MARCHIONESS. Has the Viscount, in point of fact, rendered 
any service to the state?

THE COUNT. [Laughing.] Yes, Madame, without him, the Duke de 
B*** would not have had an heir; the family would have been 
extinct.

The MARCHIONESS. But if they recompense so munificently all 
those who serve the state in this manner, I am no longer 
astonished at the embarrassment of the royal treasury.

The COUNT. Very true, Madame; but nevertheless permit me-

The MARCHIONESS. Well, it's no matter; if ever the like occasion 
should occur, employ me, or we shall quarrel seriously.

The COUNT. Madame, I return you thanks: permit me at last to 
finish the recital of my adventure.

The MARCHIONESS. Oh! If you apply to anyone else, I shall not 
pardon you, I assure you.

The MARQUIS. Come enough of that; let him finish his story.

THE COUNT. The lady, quite enraptured, lavished on the young 
Adonis-

The MARCHIONESS. Oh! What a headache I have!

The COUNT. Lavished on the young Adonis-

The MARCHIONESS. [Taking the Marquis aside, and speaking to him 
in a low voice.] Monsieur, I repeat it, it is not decent to 
relate before this child.

The MARQUIS. Never mind; she knows more than you are aware of; 
the little wag is crafty! I'm skilful in physiognomy.

The COUNT. I shall never be able to finish my narrative, they 
interrupt me so at every moment; I am going home, tomorrow 
morning I will send you the details in writing.

The MARCHIONESS. A good joke, certainly.

The COUNT. [To the Marquis.] No, I'll send it you, upon my 
honour; and I will put the initial letters to each name-at 
least, unless they'll let me finish it this evening.

The MARQUIS. Well, go on, then, finish it.

The MARCHIONESS. Well, make haste, then, and finish it; but 
reflect-

The COUNT. The lady, quite enraptured, lavished on the young 
Adonis the most delicate and flattering confidence, the kindest 
offers, and the most tender embraces; in fact, one ought to 
behold so delightful a scene to form a proper idea of it: it 
cannot be described, but one might act it-here, let us perform 
it.

The MARQUIS. You are in jest.

The MARCHIONESS. What folly.

MADEMOISELLE DU PORTAIL. What an idea!

The COUNT. Let us act it; Madame shall be the lady in question; 
I will be the poor discarded lover. Ah! But we shall want a 
Countess!-[To the Marchioness.]-But Madame is very clever, she 
can easily fill two characters at the same time.

The MARCHIONESS. [Endeavouring to restrain her anger.] 
Monsieur!-

The COUNT. I beg your pardon, Madame; it is only a supposition.

The MARQUIS. Certainly; you cannot be angry at that.

The MARCHIONESS. [In a faint voice, and with tears in her eyes.] 
The question is not about the parts you offer me, but it is very 
cruel, when I have been complaining, for this hour past, of 
being very ill, that you do not deign to pay me the least 
attention. [To the Count, in agitation.] Could one, sir, without 
offence, observe to you that it is late, and I have need of 
repose!

The COUNT. [A little affected.] I am grieved to importune you 
so, Madame.

The MARCHIONESS. You do not intrude upon me, sir; but I repeat 
it to you, that I am ill-very ill.

The MARQUIS. Well! But what are we to do now? Where does 
Mademoiselle du Portail sleep?

The MARCHIONESS. [In a lively manner.] Indeed, sir, it would 
seem as if we had but one apartment in the house.

Alarmed at the turn which the conversation was likely to take, I 
approached the Count. "Charming girl," he said to me, in a very 
low voice, "leave it to me; nothing you can say to me will have 
any effect, because I am curious to know the whole, and shall 
have it presently."

The MARQUIS. There are apartments, Madame; but will not this 
child be afraid to be alone?

The COUNT. [With great vivacity.] No more so than the last time.

The MARQUIS. [Abruptly, and pointing towards the Marchioness.] 
But the last time she slept with Madame.

The COUNT. Ah!

The MARCHIONESS. [With much embarrassment, and stammering.] She 
slept in my chamber-and I-

The MARQUIS. She slept in your own bed with you; I know it well, 
because I closed the curtains myself; do you not remember it? 
[The Marchioness, confounded, made no reply; the Marquis 
continued, affecting to speak low.] Do you not remember my 
coming in the night? [The Marchioness held her hand to her 
forehead, cried out, and fainted.]

I could not discover if the fainting was very natural, but I 
know that as soon as the Marquis had quitted us, to fetch some 
waters, which he said were a sovereign remedy in such cases, the 
Marchioness recovered her senses, cheered up immediately, and 
addressing herself to the Count: "Monsieur," she said to him, 
"have you then sworn to ruin me?"

"No, Madame, I wished to inform myself of certain matters that I 
was ignorant of, to prove to you that I am not to be tricked 
with impunity, and to make you acknowledge that I am capable of 
avenging myself."

"Of avenging yourself?" she cried, "and for what?"

"I know, nevertheless," he continued, "how to govern my 
resentment, and do not carry my vengeance too far. Now, Madame, 
you may be tranquil, but upon one condition. I feel," he added, 
looking at us in a malignant manner, "that I have afflicted you 
both; you promised yourselves a happy night-happy as the night 
before the last; but you, sir-you have had too little skill to 
interest me in the success of your gallant projects; and you, 
Madame, expect, without doubt, that as a complaisant minister to 
your pleasures, I-"

"Me, sir!" she cried, "I expect nothing from you; but I believe, 
also, that I have nothing to fear: and whatever has been my 
conduct, from whence do you derive, I should like you to know, 
the right you claim to investigate it?" Rosambert only replied 
to this question by a sarcastic smile: "As a complaisant 
minister to your pleasures, I can see as a husband."

"Dare you to use that epithet?"

"I can see M. de Faublas clasped in your arms, even in my 
presence."

"M. de Faublas in my arms!"

"Or Mademoiselle du Portail in your bed, is it not the same 
thing! Ah! But, Madame, I believe we are agreed upon that score. 
The time is precious, let us not lose it in disputing any longer 
about words: let us be composed. Let this charming girl give me 
the honour of accompanying her, that I may conduct her presently 
to her father: on this condition I hold my tongue."

The Marquis entered, with a bottle in his hand. "I am very 
sensible of your care, "said the Marchioness to him, "but you 
see that I am better; I wish I was quite well, that I might keep 
Mademoiselle du Portail."

"What!" cried the Marquis. "I am always incommoded. It is 
impossible for this dear child to pass the night with me."

"Hey dey! Madame, is there not, as you said just now, more than 
one chamber in the house?"

"Yes, sir, but you have made an objection to which I agree-this 
child would be afraid. Besides, to leave her all alone! I could 
not suffer it." 

"She shall not be alone, Madame; her femme de chambre is here."

"Her femme de chambre!-her femme de chambre! Well, sir, since we 
must tell you everything, M. du Portail does not wish that his 
daughter should sleep here tonight."

"Who told you so, Madame?"

"Monsieur the Count has just announced to me that M. du Portail 
begged him to come here, and bring home his daughter."

"Wherefore did you not tell us that before?"

"But," replied Rosambert, laughing, "it was because I would not 
interfere with your mirth during supper."

"M. du Portail send for his daughter!" replied the Marquis. 
"Does he think she is not safe here? And why, moreover, did he 
charge you with such a commission? He owes us a visit of 
acknowledgment; when he comes himself I shall see him. I would 
know his reasons-I shall see him."

I made a profound reverence to the Marchioness; she rose, and 
came to embrace me. M. de Rosambert threw himself between us: 
"Madame, you are fatigued; do not disturb yourself;" and taking 
her gently by the hand, he forced her to sit down; after which 
he took me by the arm, with an air of gallantry, and the Marquis 
saw, with a lively regret, Mademoiselle du Portail and Madame 
Dutour go away in the carriage of the Count.

At the turning of the first street, M. de Rosambert ordered his 
coachman to stop. "I know that face," he said, on looking at my 
pretended femme de chambre; "I do not think the service of this 
good woman will be required at the house of the Baron de 
Faublas, therefore we will dispense with her accompanying us so 
far." La Dutour got out without saying a single word, and we 
continued our route.

I remarked to the Count that we were now at liberty; that he had 
taken too much advantage of the awkward circumstances in which I 
was placed, and that he could not excuse himself from giving me 
immediate satisfaction. "I see no one this evening but 
Mademoiselle du Portail," he replied to me; "tomorrow, if the 
Chevalier de Faublas has anything to say to me, he will find me 
at home. We will breakfast together, and I will tell my friend 
what I think of his conduct; and if he is reasonable, I hope to 
convince him, without much trouble, that be ought to be 
satisfied with mine."

In the meanwhile we arrived at the door of my father's mansion; 
it was the Abbé Person himself who opened it to me; he informed 
me that the Baron had expected my return with more anxiety than 
anger, and that despairing at last to see me this evening, he 
retired to bed, after having told Jasmin about twenty times, to 
go as soon as it was light, and seek me at the ball, or at the 
house of the Marquis de B***.

I went to my chamber, where, calling to mind the various events 
of this bustling day, I was astonished at being able to pass it 
without once thinking of my Sophia; and to make amends for this 
long forgetfulness, I repeated to myself, a hundred times, her 
much loved name.

I confess also, that that of the Marchioness came sometimes upon 
my lips; I acknowledge that, at first, it seemed hard to be 
reduced to vent such useless sighs in my solitary bed; but I 
determined to offer to my adored Sophia the sacrifice of my 
pleasures, involuntary, or at least unsought for, as they had 
been, and went to sleep almost reconciled with the celibacy to 
which the Count's vengeance had condemned me.

As soon as it was morning I made my respects to the Baron. He 
said to me, in a very mild manner, "Faublas, you are no longer a 
child; I shall give you a reasonable liberty; I hope that you 
will not abuse it, and I trust you will never pass your night 
otherwise than in this house; remember that I am your father, 
and that if my son loves me, he will be careful not to displease 
me."

I hastened to the house of M. de Rosambert, who was already 
waiting for me. The moment he saw me, he came to me laughing, 
and without giving me time to say a single word, he threw his 
arm round my neck: "Let me embrace you, my dear Faublas! Your 
adventure was delightful! The more I think of it, the more it 
amuses me."

I interrupted him bluntly. "I am not come to receive your 
compliments."

The Count begged me, in a serious tone, to sit down: "You may," 
he said, "wish them to me again. I see you in the same 
disposition. Come on, then, my young friend, you are mad. What! 
An ungrateful beauty favours you, and discards me; it is I who 
am sacrificed; it is to you that I am immolated; and yet you are 
angry about it. I punished but by a momentary uneasiness the 
deceitful gallantry of the skilful couple who play upon me; and 
it is by the blood of his friend that M. de Faublas pretends to 
avenge the petty tribulations of Mademoiselle du Portail: I 
swear to you, it shall not be. My dear de Faublas, I have over 
you the advantage of six years' experience; I know very well 
that at sixteen we know but one's mistress and one's sword; but 
at twenty-two a man of the world fights no more for a woman."

I evinced some symptoms of astonishment, which he observed. "Do 
you believe there is such a thing as true love?" he added, 
immediately; "it is one of the illusions of youth, and I warn 
you against it. For my part, I have seen throughout nothing but 
gallantry. What else is there in your adventure? Great success, 
and nothing more; and out of a comic tale we should make a 
tragedy! We should cut each other's throats for a fine lady, who 
quits me today, and tomorrow will discard you. Chevalier, keep 
your courage for a more important occasion; you cannot hereafter 
suspect mine. It is too true that the fatal concourse of 
circumstances compels us sometimes to shed the blood of a 
friend; may honour, inflexible honour, never reduce you to this 
horrible extremity! My dear Faublas, I was about your age when 
the Marchioness de Rosambert, whose son I am, completed her 
thirty-fifth year; she was still as comely as if she had been 
only twenty-five; and when among strangers, she was taken for my 
eldest sister. With all the agreeableness of youth, she had 
preserved its propensities; she loved crowded assemblies and the 
bustle of public places. One night, when I had conducted her to 
the ball of the opera, she was publicly insulted. I heard the 
cries of the Marchioness, and ran to her assistance; she was 
about to take off her mask; already the insolent unknown had 
apologized for his mistake, and mingled with the crowd. I 
followed him, and obliged him to unmask; I recognised in him the 
young Saint Clair,-Saint Clair, the companion of my youth! And 
of all friends the most dear, 'I knew not that it was the 
Marchioness de Rosambert!' This was all he said to me: it was 
enough, no doubt. But, alas! A general murmur gave us to 
understand that it was not sufficient: honour would have blood; 
we fought-Saint Clair fell-I sunk insensible near my dying 
friend. For more than six weeks a dreadful fever raged in my 
veins, and disordered my reason. In my frightful delirium, I saw 
nothing but Saint Clair; his wound bleeding before my eyes; the 
convulsions of death agitated his trembling limbs; yet he, 
nevertheless, regarded me with a tender look, and, in a faint 
voice, he bade me a most affectionate farewell. In his last 
moments he seemed sensible of no other grief than what he felt 
at quitting the barbarian who sacrificed him. This frightful 
phantom of the imagination pursued me for a long time; for a 
long time my life was despaired of; at length, nature, seconded 
by the efforts of art, brought about my cure; but I recovered my 
reason, without losing my remorse. Time, which reconciles 
everything, dried up my tears; but never, never, will the 
remembrance of that frightful combat be effaced from my mind. 
Chevalier, it is always with regret that I am obliged to fight, 
even with a stranger; judge, then, if I would go rashly to 
oppose my life in order to threaten yours. Ah! If ever 
inflexible honour compels us to it, my dear Faublas, I swear to 
you that your victory will neither be difficult nor glorious; I 
have too often experienced that in such cases, he who dies is 
not the most unhappy."

Rosambert stretched his arms toward me; I embraced him with all 
my heart, and his seriousness was soon dissipated. "Let us 
breakfast," he said to me; and resuming his former gaiety: "You 
came to pick a quarrel with me, you ungrateful rogue, at the 
very time that you owe me a thousand thanks."

"I owe you?"

"Without doubt: was it not I who introduced you to the 
Marchioness? It is true I did not foresee the mischievous trick 
that was to be played upon me: I had calculated upon an 
infidelity, but never guessed that it was to happen so speedily, 
and under such singular circumstances! [He burst into a fit of 
laughter.] Oh! But the more I think on it, the more I ought to 
congratulate you. Your adventure was most delightful! How 
charming it is to be introduced to the world through such a 
beautiful door! The Marchioness is young, handsome, witty, of 
consideration in the city, well received at court, and 
intriguing as the devil: her interest and her influence are very 
extensive, and she is zealous in serving her friends." I assured 
the Count that I should never employ such means in seeking my 
fortune. "Then you are wrong," he replied; "how many persons of 
real merit are, notwithstanding, advanced by such means alone! 
But let us drop this subject: do you not give me any details of 
this joyous night? You must have been completely happy; you must 
have been bathed in ecstasy, and lapped in Paradise!"

I complied with his request. "Ah! The crafty Marchioness!" 
exclaimed the Count, after having heard me. "Ah! The subtle 
dame! How admirably she manoeuvred for her own pleasure! And her 
honest spouse, the dear Marquis, the most kind, credulous, and 
complaisant, of all the accommodating husbands with which France 
abounds. Indeed, it makes me believe that certain men have been 
created to serve for the amusement of their friends. But his 
wife! His wife!"

"Is very amiable."

"I know it well; I knew it even before you; and we should have 
killed each other on her account."

"Ah! I agree, Rosambert, that we should have done wrong-very 
wrong;"

"And then such a freak would have been a very dangerous 
example."

"How?"

"Listen, Faublas: in the small circle of each of the societies 
which compose what is called the fashionable world, there are a 
number of intrigues which interfere, and a variety of interests 
which jar, the one with the other: such as the husband of this 
lady, who is the lover of that: one is discarded that another 
may be embraced today, and the last, perhaps, will be sacrificed 
tomorrow.

"The men are enterprising, and they attack unceasingly; the 
women are weak, and they always yield. It results from this, 
that celibacy is a very agreeable state, and that the yoke of 
matrimony appears less insupportable; the young are amused, 
subjects are produced for the state, and all the world are 
satisfied. Now if jealousy was at this day to spread among us 
its deadly poison; if the husbands whose heads we embellish were 
to arm themselves to repair the honour of their frail ribs; if 
the lovers they discard killed each other in disputing about an 
inconstant heart, you would see a general desolation; the city 
and the court would become a vast field of slaughter. How many 
wives, who are considered virtuous, would presently become 
widows! How many fine children, reputed legitimate, would have 
to mourn the loss of their fathers! How many charming bastards 
would then be left destitute! The present generation would pass 
away after having produced, but without having brought up its 
offspring!"

"What a picture you draw, Rosambert; you paint gallantry, but 
love, tender and respectful love!-"

"Exists no more; it was tiresome to the women; the women have 
destroyed it."

"You estimate the women but lightly, then?"

"True; I love them as they wish to be loved."

"Ah!" I replied, with the greatest vivacity, I pardon your 
blasphemies, you know not my Sophia!" He demanded an explanation 
of these last words; but I refused him with that discretion 
which, particularly in the beginning, accompanies a sincere 
affection.

In the meantime we took a breakfast substantial enough for a 
dinner; the champagne was not spared, and we know that Bacchus 
is the father of gaiety. It appeared to me that the Count valued 
the women very little, loved them very much, and was fond of 
talking about them. Full of the system which he had detailed, he 
supported it by a recital of scandalous anecdotes concerning the 
gallantry of the day. Rosambert embarrassed me without 
persuading me; to every example which he gave me, I uniformly 
replied that an exception, far from destroying the rule, served 
but to prove it. "But you know not," he said, with some warmth, 
"you do not know to what a pitch the greater part of this sex, 
so much honoured, carry every day, their forgetfulness of that 
natural timidity, that innate modesty, which you suppose them to 
possess." He rose with great vivacity, and laughing with all his 
might. "Zounds! I'll convince you. You have not engaged yourself 
to-day? Come with me, come; I will in a moment present you to a 
fine lady; we shall find her among several others: they are all 
pretty; you shall have an opportunity of estimating the whole of 
them, or as many as you like."

We were both elevated with wine; we took a decent hackney 
chariot, and were driven to a house of respectable appearance; 
the air of freedom, however, which was remarkable in the 
mistress of it, the familiarity with which the Count treated 
her, and the no less familiar welcome with which she honoured 
me, made me suspect that I was to be introduced to a party of 
Cyprians. I was presently convinced of it, when the good lady, 
to whom the Count appeared very well known, and who wished, as 
she said politely, to initiate me, had shown me all the 
curiosities of her house.

Rosambert took the pains to explain everything to me himself; 
"Behold there," he said, "the bath, where they scour and perfume 
the sturdy and athletic recruits, which both the city and the 
country daily furnish to this active procuress. In this closet, 
you see several flasks of a very astringent liquor, the great 
merit of which is to repair every species of breach made in what 
virgins call their virtue. Thousands of young ladies, of the 
first respectability, use it with discretion, and have the 
satisfaction, on their wedding night, to offer to the happy 
mortal who marries them a new virginity. On another side is 
'L'Essence a l'usage des Monstres,' which produces effects 
entirely opposite to the other; and, therefore, it is never 
wanted! Alas! The age of miniatures is gone! And I would wager 
that, in all Paris, you would not find a single little woman who 
stood in need of this remedy: on the contrary, if that which you 
see in those very large bottles possessed the virtues they 
pretend, it would have a prodigious consumption; you would see 
the Doctor Guibert de Preval beset with a crowd of lawyer's 
clerks, some lawyers, numerous great lords, many of the 
military, and almost all the Abbés; it is the 'Infallible 
Specific.'

"You know, Faublas, what the closet of a dressing-room is; this 
has nothing remarkable, let us go further. This is the ball-
room; but they do not dance here, they only disguise. Look at 
this door, you would take it for a closet; it is only a passage 
of communication; it comes from a house, the entrance of which 
is in another street. If a lady of quality has certain delicate 
and secret wants, which she is anxious to satisfy, she enters by 
that door, disguised as a waiting-woman, exposes her charms for 
attraction, and receives the vigorous embraces of some robust 
countryman, dressed up, perhaps, like a bishop; or of a fat 
bishop, so naturally metamorphosed, that one would take him for 
a rustic. Thus they render each other a mutual service! And, as 
they are entirely unknown, they are under no obligation.

"Presently we will enter the infirmary-but let not the name 
alarm you. Open, if you like, these licentious pamphlets; 
examine the obscene prints; they were placed here to warm the 
imagination of those old debauchees whom Death has already 
struck in the most sensible part; and it is here, likewise, 
that, with little fasces of perfumed broom, they endeavour to 
'rouse the Venus loitering in their veins.'<2>

"You think, perhaps, that a like method would be too violent for 
the fair sex, but some of them resort to it, and others avail 
themselves of these pastilles, which are so stimulating that no 
sooner has a woman eaten one, than she is infected with what 
they call la rage d'amour. These are, however, seldom employed 
except against some pretty country girl, who is cold by 
temperament, and resolutely virtuous. Our ladies of fashion and 
education never evince sufficient resistance to require our 
attacking them with such manoeuvres.

"Come here, look at this; among the curious plants in the king's 
garden, have you never observed this? It is what many poor girls 
call their comforter; you cannot conceive how many devotees 
Madame has furnished with it.

"This last apartment is called the hall of Vulcan: there is 
nothing remarkable in it but that infernal armchair. The 
wretched fair one who sits down on it, finds herself immediately 
thrown on her back; her arms are spread open; and in fact she is 
fixed, by means of springs, in such a position, as to be 
violated without her being capable of making the least 
resistance. You shudder, Faublas! And for this time you have 
reason. I am young, ardent, and a libertine not over scrupulous; 
but, indeed, I think I could never resolve to rifle a poor girl, 
by force, in this machine."

The Count added: "If we had come sooner, they would have 
furnished us with two young lasses from the city; but, for want 
of better, let us see the seraglio." It was thus he called the 
saloon, wherein we found a great many nymphs assembled, who all 
passed before us as candidates for the honour of the 
handkerchief. Rosambert chose the prettiest, and I had the 
singular whim to select the most ugly amongst them.

"While we are waiting," said the Count, "for the dinner which I 
have ordered, we can each of us have a dish of chat with our 
girls; at table, we will form a party for general conversation." 
Naturally curious, I thought I would examine minutely the nymph 
I had chosen; it appeared to me important to ascertain whether 
there was any difference between a handsome Marchioness and an 
ugly courtesan. The investigation amused me at first, merely by 
the objects of comparison which she offered me; I was insensibly 
inflamed, and began mechanically to think of pushing the 
examination as far as it could go. The nymph, perceiving how I 
was disposed, left me no time for reflection, but invited me to 
the attack, and prepared herself vigorously to sustain it; but 
all at once, without my having had occasion to explain to her my 
pacific intentions, the experienced heroine perceived that there 
would not have been between us even the slightest skirmish, she 
rose up with great sang-froid, and looking at me earnestly: So 
much the better, she said, "it would have been a pity!" It is 
impossible to conceive how I was struck by the idea, so forcibly 
conveyed in these words It would have been a pity. I enquired 
not what had become of Rosambert, but fled from this infamous 
house, swearing never to enter it again.

The Count called on me the next morning by ten o'clock: he came 
to know what panic terror had seized me, and assured me, that my 
adventure was spread throughout the house, and had afforded them 
very great diversion. "What! Rosambert, that girl said to me, 
'It would have been a pity!' And you call my alarm a panic of 
terror!"

"Oh, that is different! The girl has a little misrepresented the 
adventure: she took care not to tell us, that 'it would have 
been a pity!' which changes her story entirely. Well! Faublas, 
do you esteem this woman for having coldly suffered you to 
escape a danger into which she had invited you to run?"

"You ask me a very droll question, Rosambert; what deduction 
could you draw from my answer against her sex in general?"

"You quibble, my friend; you are incorrigible. Well! Esteem 
them-esteem them, since you are resolved to do it: as for me, I 
must go to bed."

"How! Go to bed?"

"From whence come you then? From where would you have me come? 
In this world we must amuse ourselves with everything. I met 
with the Commander de G***, the little Chevalier de M**, and the 
Abbé de R**; we spent all the evening, and all the night, in 
revelry-in Bacchanalian orgies! Oh! It was delightful!-but I 
must go to bed."

I was scarcely dressed, when my father came up to me, and 
informed me, that M. du Portail expected me to dinner. "You will 
pass the whole evening together," he added, "and as I shall sup 
in that quarter, I will call and bring you home."

I hastened to get out, as I longed to see my pretty cousin. She 
came to the conversation room with my sister. "You are lucky," 
said Adelaide to me in a very lively manner, "to go to balls, to 
pass whole nights at them, and to get acquainted with a very 
fine lady!"

"And who has told you all that?"

"The Abbé, who keeps no secret from us." Sophia held down her 
eyes and was silent; but my sister continued: "Tell us, then, 
who this lady is; and a masked ball! That must be very grand!"

"Very tiresome, I assure you; and as to the lady, she is pretty, 
certainly; but much less so than-oh! Much less so than my 
charming cousin." Sophia, still silent, still looking on the 
ground, appeared to be entirely occupied with some trinket on 
the string of her watch; but the deep crimson blush with which 
her countenance was suffused, betrayed her. I perceived that our 
conversation touched her in proportion as she affected to be 
least interested in it. "Something vexes you, my pretty cousin?"

"Why do you not reply, Mademoiselle?" said the old Gouvernante.

"No, sir; but it is that I did not sleep well last night."

"Yes, "said the old woman, that is true; "she has not slept for 
these three or four nights past; it is a very bad habit, very 
bad, and will soon kill you. I knew a young lady-Mademoiselle 
Storch-you did not know her, you are too young; it is five-and-
forty years since it happened-Mademoiselle Storch-"

The old woman had thus commenced her story, and if I did not 
wish to be deprived of the happiness of seeing my pretty cousin, 
I must of course listen to her long narration. Sophia spared me 
this mortification, by giving a still greater. She rose; the 
Gouvernante demanded, with some warmth, what was the matter with 
her; she replied that she was very unwell; her voice faltered. 
"This is the way you always serve me," replied the old woman; 
"one never has time to speak to a person. Monsieur the 
Chevalier, come tomorrow, you will find it interesting, and that 
there is good reason for saying young people ought to sleep."

"Permit me, brother, to follow my dear friend."

"Yes, my dear Adelaide, yes; take good care of her." At length, 
Sophia lifted her eyes to salute me; and gave me a look so full 
of anguish, that it penetrated to my heart, and awakened my 
remorse.


III.

It was time for me to visit M. du Portail. After having repeated 
my thanks to him, I related all my adventures, not forgetting 
the breakfast with Rosambert; but did not tell him where our 
gaiety conducted us afterwards. "I am glad," he said, "that M. 
de Rosambert, who, from the details you have given me, appears 
to be a fop, in every sense of the word, has, at least, just 
ideas regarding real honour. Keep in mind, my young friend, that 
of all the laws of your country, that which forbids duels is the 
most respectable. In this age of literature and philosophy, the 
ferocity of mankind is greatly softened down. How many lives 
have been spared to the nation, and how many families have been 
saved from the most poignant distress, by the happy revolution 
which has taken place on this subject in the minds of men! As to 
the women, it appears, indeed, that the Count does not esteem 
them; if it is only through the example of so many young men, 
like himself, who affect for them the most profound contempt, 
which, in reality, they have not, I pity him; but I pity him 
still more, if he has only known such women as were unworthy of 
esteem.

"Faublas, trust to my experience, which is much greater than 
that of the Count, who thinks, at the age of twenty-two, that he 
has seen a great deal. Rely on my judgment, which is deeper, and 
my observation, which has been more extensive. If we do meet in 
the world some women without shame, we meet with more young men 
without principle. Be cautious of listening to the stale 
declamation of these fops. There are women existing, whose 
modest graces can inspire the most pure and tender love, whose 
susceptible hearts are formed for tenderness, who command our 
homage by the amiableness of their manners, and our respect by 
the mildness of their virtues. We meet, less rarely than they 
have told you, with affectionate and disinterested females, with 
prudent wives, and excellent mothers of families. There are some 
who would shed their blood for their husbands and their 
children. I have known some who united to the mildest virtues of 
their sex the most masculine virtues of our own; who have given 
to men worthy of them, examples of generous devotion, of heroic 
courage, and of patience, which was proof against everything.

"Your Marchioness is not a heroine, he added with a smile, she 
is very young, and very imprudent. My friend, endeavour to be 
more reasonable than her, and put an end to this dangerous 
connection; for, however credulous the husband may be, some 
unforeseen event must necessarily bring everything to light; 
promise me never to visit Madame de B*** any more."

I hesitated: M. du Portail pressed me; but, while making his 
eulogium on woman, he had recalled the charming Sophia to my 
mind. I at length promised that it should be as he wished. 
"Now," he said, "I have some important secrets to reveal to you; 
when you shall have heard me, you will feel that you must repay 
the great confidence I place in you by an inviolable secrecy.

"My history affords a frightful example of the vicissitudes of 
fortune. It is generally very convenient, but sometimes very 
dangerous, to have an ancient name to sustain, and great wealth 
to preserve. The only heir of an illustrious family, the origin 
of which it is now impossible to trace, I ought to be occupying 
the principal offices of the state in the country which produced 
me, instead of being condemned to languish in a foreign nation, 
and in idle obscurity. The name of Lovinski is honourably 
inscribed in the annals of Poland, and that name is about to 
perish with me! I know that an austere philosophy rejects vain 
titles and corrupting riches; perhaps I could console me if I 
had lost nothing else; but my young friend, I mourn a wife whom 
I adored, I seek a daughter whom I dearly love, and I shall 
never behold my native country again what fortitude can be 
hardened against misfortunes like these?

"My father, Lovinski, still more distinguished by his virtues 
than his rank, enjoyed at court that consideration which always 
follows the favour of the Prince, and which personal merit 
sometimes obtains. He gave to the education of my two sisters 
the attention of a most tender father; he occupied himself, 
above all, concerning mine, with the zeal of an old gentleman 
jealous of the honour of his house, of which I was the only 
hope, and with the activity of a good citizen, who desired 
nothing more than to leave to the state a successor worthy of 
himself.

"I pursued my studies at Warsaw; whilst there the young M. de 
P*** distinguished himself amongst us by the most amiable 
qualities; to a very agreeable person he joined a highly 
cultivated understanding; he possessed an address rarely to be 
met with among our young warriors; and his modesty was such that 
he seemed uniformly desirous of concealing his own merit, and of 
exalting the humbler talents of his rivals, who were almost 
always vanquished; the urbanity of his manners, and the 
gentleness of his character, attracted attention, commanded 
esteem, and rendered him dear to the brilliant assemblage of 
youth who partook of our labours and our pleasures. To say that 
it was the resemblance of characters and sympathy of minds which 
began my connection with M. de P***, would be arrogating too 
much to myself; let it be as it will, we became presently the 
most inseparable friends. How happy, but how quickly fled, is 
that age, when we are ignorant either of the ambition which 
sacrifices everything to the ideas of fortune and of glory which 
possesses it, or of love, whose power supreme, absorbs and 
concentrates all our faculties upon a single object! That age of 
innocent pleasure, and implicit confidence, when the heart, 
still inexperienced, pursues freely the growing impulses of 
sensibility, and devotes itself, without reserve, to the object 
of its disinterested affections! Then, my dear Faublas, then, 
friendship is not a vain and empty name. Being the confidant of 
all the secrets of M. de P***, I undertook nothing of which I 
did not previously inform him; his counsels regulated my 
conduct, mine determined his resolutions; and by this agreeable 
reciprocity our youth had no pleasures which were not 
participated, no pains which were not alleviated.

"With what grief I saw the fatal moment arrive when M. de P***, 
obliged, by his father's orders, to leave Warsaw, bade me the 
most tender farewell. We promised each other that we would 
preserve throughout life the same lively attachment, which had 
been the happiness of our youth; I swore rashly, that the 
passions of another age should not alter it.

"Oh! What a void the absence of my friend left in my heart! At 
first, it seemed as if nothing could recompense me for the loss 
of him; the tenderness of a father, the caresses of my sisters, 
affected me but slightly. I thought that there remained no other 
means of dispelling my ennui, than by occupying my leisure with 
some useful labour. I learned the French language, which was 
already spread throughout Europe. I read with delight some 
famous works, eternal monuments of genius, and wondered how, in 
an idiom so unfavourable for poetry, so many great poets had 
been able to distinguish themselves, and so many great writers 
had, with justice, obtained immortality. I applied myself 
seriously to the study of geometry; I adopted, moreover, that 
noble trade which makes a hero at the expense of a hundred 
thousand victims, and which men, less humane than valiant, have 
called the grand art of war.

"Several years were employed in these studies, as difficult as 
profound. At last, they occupied my whole mind. M. de P***, who 
wrote to me often, but rarely received answers, and those were 
short: our correspondence languished in this manner until love 
put an end to it, by making me forget friendship.

"My father had been for a long time very closely connected with 
the Count Pulauski. Remarkable for his rigid morals, and the 
inflexibility of his truly republican virtues: Pulauski, at once 
a great captain and brave soldier, had signalized, in more than 
one engagement, his heroic courage, and his ardent patriotism. 
Addicted to reading the ancients, he had derived from their 
history lessons of noble disinterestedness, of unchangeable 
constancy, and absolute devotion. Like the heroes, to whom 
idolatrous Rome, out of gratitude, erected altars, Pulauski had 
sacrificed all his wealth to the prosperity of his country; he 
had shed his blood in her defence; he had even immolated his 
only daughter, his dear Lodoiska.

"Lodoiska! Oh, how beautiful she was! Oh, how I loved her! Her 
cherished name is always on my lips; her adored image is still 
fresh upon my heart. From the moment I had seen her, I saw no 
one but her; I abandoned my studies, entirely forgot my 
friendship, and consecrated all my time to Lodoiska. My father 
and hers could not be long ignorant of our amour: they never 
spoke to me of it.-Did they not then approve it?-This idea 
appeared to me so well founded, that I gave myself up, without 
solicitude, to the pleasing fascination of hope and love. I 
concerted measures, in order to see Lodoiska almost every day, 
either at her own house or that of my sisters, by whom she was 
loved very much. In this delightful occupation, two years passed 
away.

"At length, Pulauski took me aside one day, and said to me: 'Thy 
father and I have formed great hopes regarding thee, which thy 
conduct hitherto justifies; I have observed thee, for a long 
time, employing thy youth in labours as honourable as useful. 
To-day-' (he saw I was about to interrupt him, and he prevented 
me) 'what art thou going to say to me? Dost thou think to inform 
me of anything I do not know? Thinkest thou that it was 
necessary for me to be every day witness of thy transports, to 
convince me how much my Lodoiska deserves to be beloved? It is 
because I know, as well as thou dost, the worth of my child, 
that thou wilt not obtain her but by meriting her.

"'Young man, know that weaknesses, being legitimate, is not a 
sufficient excuse for them; that a good citizen ought to turn 
everything to the advantage of his country; that love, even 
love, will be like all the vile passions, but despicable and 
dangerous if it does not present to generous hearts a more 
powerful stimulus to tread in the paths of honour.

"'Now attend to me: Our monarch is drawing towards his end; his 
health, each day more tottering, has awakened the ambition of 
our neighbours; they are preparing, without doubt, to sow 
divisions amongst us; they calculate, by biasing our votes, to 
give us a king of their choice. Foreign troops have dared to 
show themselves on the frontiers of Poland: already, two 
thousand gentlemen have assembled to check their audacious 
insolence; go and join these brave youths; go, and above all, at 
the end of the campaign, come back covered with the blood of our 
enemies, and present to Pulauski a kinsman worthy of himself.'

"I did not hesitate a moment; my father approved my resolutions, 
but it was with regret he consented to my precipitate departure. 
He held me for a long time clasped to his breast; his 
countenance was marked by the most anxious solicitude; he bade 
me farewell in the most painful manner; his looks evinced the 
anguish of his heart, and our tears mingled on his venerable 
face.

"Pulauski, who was present at this affecting scene, reproached 
us stoically with what he called a weakness. 'Dry thy tears,' he 
said to me, 'or keep them for Lodoiska; it belongs but to weak 
lovers to shed them at parting for only six months.' He even 
informed his daughter, in my presence, of my departure, and the 
motives which determined it. Lodoiska turned pale, sighed, 
looked at her father with a blush, and assured me in a trembling 
voice, that her prayers would hasten my return, and that her 
happiness was in my hands. Encouraged in this manner, what 
dangers could I fear? I set out; but in the course of this 
campaign, nothing passed deserving of notice. The enemy, as 
careful as ourselves in avoiding an action, which might plunge 
the two nations into open war, contented themselves with 
fatiguing us by frequent marches. We confined ourselves to 
following and observing them; they did the same by us, whenever 
the country was sufficiently open to afford them easy access. At 
the approach of bad weather, they prepared themselves to retire 
homeward for winter quarters; and our little army, composed 
almost entirely of gentlemen, separated.

"I returned to Warsaw, full of joy and impatience. I thought 
that Love and Hymen were about to present me with Lodoiska. 
Alas! I had no longer a father! I learnt, on entering the 
capital, that the night before my father died of an apoplexy. 
Thus I had not even the melancholy satisfaction of receiving the 
last sighs of the tenderst of fathers; I could only recline upon 
his tomb, which I watered with my tears.

"'It is not,' said Pulauski, very little touched by my grief, 
'it is not by useless tears that they honour the memory of a 
father like thine. Poland regrets in him an heroic citizen, who 
would have been of important service in the critical 
circumstances to which I am about to draw your attention. 
Exhausted by a long illness, our monarch has not many days to 
live, and on the choice of his successor depends the happiness 
or the misery of our citizens. Of all the rights which the death 
of your father transmits to you, the most valuable, without 
doubt, is that of assisting at the States, where you will go as 
a representative; it is there that your father should revive in 
you; it is there that you must prove a courage much more 
difficult than that of braving death in the field of battle. The 
valour of a soldier is but a common virtue; but those are not 
ordinary men who preserve a tranquil firmness on the most trying 
occasions; and by displaying a penetrating activity, discover 
the projects of the powerful who cabal, frustrate secret 
intrigues, and set at defiance the most daring factions; who, 
always firm, incorruptible and just, never give their votes but 
to those they deem the most worthy of them; who study nothing so 
much as the welfare of their country; whom neither gold nor 
promises can seduce, entreaties bend, or menaces intimidate. 
Those are the virtues which distinguished thy father; this is 
the truly precious inheritance which you should eagerly possess. 
The day when our States assemble for the election of a king, is 
an epoch when several of our fellow-citizens, more occupied with 
their personal interests, than jealous for the safety of their 
country; and the insidious designs of powerful neighbours, whose 
wicked policy destroys our strength, by dividing us, manifest 
their pretensions. If I do not deceive myself, the fatal moment 
approaches, which will fix forever the destinies of my tottering 
country; her enemies conspire her ruin; they have planned, in 
secret, a revolution, which they shall never carry into 
execution whilst my arm can lift a sword. May God, the protector 
of my country, spare it from evil war! But that extremity, 
however dreadful, may, perhaps, be necessary. I flatter myself, 
however, there will be but one violent crisis; after which, this 
state, being regenerated, will resume its ancient splendour. 
Thou shouldst second my efforts, Lovinski; the trifling 
interests of love ought to be waived before interests more 
sacred: I cannot give thee my daughter in times of mourning, 
when the country is in danger; but I promise thee that the first 
days of peace shall be marked by thy marriage with Lodoiska.'

"Pulauski did not speak in vain; I was sensible of the very 
important duties it was incumbent on me to perform; but these 
weighty cares which I took upon myself did not afford my grief 
sufficient alleviation: I own it without blushing: the sorrow of 
my sisters, their affectionate friendship, the embraces, more 
reserved, but not less sweet, of my fair mistress, made a more 
lively impression upon my heart than the patriotic counsels of 
Pulauski. I beheld Lodoiska sensibly affected at the irreparable 
loss I had sustained, and equally afflicted as myself by the 
cruel events which deferred our union: my griefs, being thus 
participated, were considerably lightened.

"In the meanwhile the king died, and the Diet was convoked. On 
the very day that it was about to open, and at the moment I was 
going there, a person whom I knew not, presented himself in my 
palace, and demanded to speak to me, without witnesses. As soon 
as my servants had retired, he entered with precipitation, threw 
himself in my arms, and embraced me with tenderness. It was M. 
de P***: the ten years which had passed since our separation, 
had not so much changed, but that I recognised him. I testified 
the joy and surprise which his unexpected return gave me. 'You 
will be much more astonished, he said, when you know the cause. 
I have this instant arrived, and am going to the assembly of the 
States. Is it too presumptuous of thy friend to reckon on thy 
vote?' 'On my vote! And for whom?' 'For myself, my friend.' He 
observed my astonishment. 'Yes, for me,' he continued, with 
vivacity; 'there is no time to tell you of the happy revolution 
which has taken place in my fortune, and prompts me to indulge 
such lofty hopes; let it suffice you for the present to know, 
that my ambition is justified by the greater number of votes, 
and that it is in vain for my two feeble rivals to dispute the 
crown to which I pretend. Lovinski,' he continued, embracing me 
again, 'if you were not my friend, if I esteemed you less, I 
might perhaps dazzle you by great promises; I might, perhaps, 
point out the great favour that attends you, the honourable 
distinctions which are reserved for you, and the noble and 
extensive career which is open to you; but I have no need to 
seduce you, I shall only persuade you. I see it with grief, and 
you know it as well as I do, that for several years Poland has 
been so weak, that she has only been indebted for her safety, to 
the understanding of three powers which surround her, and that 
the desire of enriching themselves with our plunder, might 
unite, in a moment, our divided enemies. Let us prevent, if we 
can, so unfortunate an occurrence, of which the dismemberment of 
our provinces would be the infallible result. There is no doubt 
but, in happier times, our ancestors maintained the liberty of 
elections; we must at present yield to the necessity which 
presses upon us. Russia will, as a matter of course, protect the 
king who shall be of her own making; in receiving that which she 
has chosen, you prevent that triple alliance which would render 
our fall inevitable; and you are sure of a powerful ally, which 
we can oppose with success to the two enemies that remain. 
These, then are the reasons which have determined me. I abandon 
some of our rights, to preserve others that are more precious. I 
would not mount a tottering throne, but to strengthen it by a 
sound policy; I do not, in fact, alter the constitution of this 
state but to save it altogether.'

"We went to the Diet; I voted for M. de P***, and he obtained 
the greatest number of suffrages; but Pulauski, Zaremba, and 
some others, declared for the Prince C****: nothing could be 
decided in the tumult of this first assembly.

"When the assembly broke up, M. de P*** came to me again, and 
invited me to follow him to the palace, which some secret 
emissaries had prepared for him in the capital. We shut 
ourselves up for several hours: we renewed our protestations of 
eternal friendship; I informed him of my connection with 
Pulauski, and my love for Lodoiska. He returned my confidence by 
a confidence still greater; he told me the events which had 
paved the way to his approaching greatness; he explained to me 
his most secret designs, and I quitted him, convinced that he 
was less occupied by the desire of elevating himself than of 
restoring to Poland her ancient prosperity.

"Under these impressions, I flew to my future father-in-law, 
whom I was anxious to bring over to the party of my friend. 
Pulauski was walking, with hasty strides, the apartment of his 
daughter, who appeared as much agitated as himself. 'Behold 
him,' he said to Lodoiska, as soon as he saw me enter: 'Behold 
this man that I esteemed, and you loved! He has sacrificed us 
both to a blind friendship.' I was going to reply, but he 
continued: 'You have been bound, from infancy, to M. de P***; a 
powerful faction bears him towards the throne; you know it-you 
know his designs; this morning, at the Diet, you voted for him; 
you have deceived me; but think not to deceive me with 
impunity.' I begged of him to hear me; he preserved a stern 
silence. I informed him that M. de P***, whom I had so long 
neglected, had surprised me by his unforeseen return. Lodoiska 
appeared delighted on hearing my justification. 'You cannot 
deceive me like a credulous woman,' said Pulauski, 'but it's no 
matter, go on.' I gave him an account of the short conversation 
I had with M. de P*** before I went to the assembly of the 
States. 'And these are your projects,' he cried: 'M. de P*** 
sees no other remedy for the misfortunes of his fellow citizens 
than their slavery! He proposed it, and Lodoiska approved it! 
And they despise me sufficiently to tempt me to enter into this 
infamous plot! Do you think I could see the Russians commanding 
in our provinces, while it was pretended we were governed by a 
Pole? The Russians,' repeated he, regenerate my country-!' (he 
came towards me with the greatest impetuosity) 'Perfidious 
wretch! Thou hast deceived me, thou hast betrayed thy country! 
Get out of this palace instantly, lest I tear thee in pieces.'

"I acknowledge to you, Faublas, that an affront, so cruel, and 
so little merited, made me forget myself in the first transport 
of my passion. I put my hand upon my sword; quicker than 
lightning, Pulauski drew his. His daughter, his distracted 
daughter, threw herself upon me: 'Lovinski, what are you about?'

"The sweet accents of her much-loved voice recalled my scattered 
senses, but I felt that in a moment he might snatch Lodoiska 
from me for ever. She had quitted me, to throw herself in the 
arms of her father; the cruel man perceived the poignancy of my 
anguish, and was pleased to augment it. 'Go, traitor,' he said, 
'you see her for the last time.'

"I returned home in despair; the odious epithets which Pulauski 
had lavished on me presented themselves continually to my mind. 
The interests of Poland and those of M. de P*** appeared to me 
so strictly allied, that I could not conceive how I could betray 
my fellow citizens in serving my friend. Nevertheless, I must 
either abandon that, or renounce Lodoiska. How must I resolve? 
Which part must I take? I passed the whole night in this cruel 
uncertainty; and, in the morning, I went to Pulauski without 
knowing how I should determine.

"One domestic alone remained in the place, who informed me that 
his master, after having taken leave of his friends, went away 
early in the evening before with Lodoiska. You may judge of my 
grief at this news. I demanded of the domestic where Pulauski 
was gone. 'I am entirely ignorant,' he said: 'all I can tell you 
is, that last night, you had scarcely left here, when we heard a 
great noise in the apartment of his daughter. Still frightened 
at the dreadful scene which was likely to have taken place 
between you, I ventured to approach and listen; Lodoiska wept; 
her father was loading her with insults; he even cursed her-and 
I heard him say to her: Who would love a traitor, could be one 
also. Ungrateful wretch! I am going to put you into a place of 
security, where you shall be hereafter free from seduction.'

"Could I be any longer ignorant of my misfortunes? I called 
Boleslas, one of the most faithful of my domestics; I ordered 
him to place around the palace of Pulauski some vigilant spies, 
who might render me an account of everything that passed there; 
to follow Pulauski everywhere, if he entered the capital before 
me; and not despairing to meet with him again in the 
neighbouring districts, I set off myself in the pursuit.

"I went over all the estates of Pulauski; I enquired for 
Lodoiska of all the travellers I met-but it was useless. After 
having spent eight days in this painful search, I determined 
upon returning to Warsaw. I was not greatly astonished at 
beholding a Russian army encamped almost under its walls, on the 
borders of the Vistula.

"It was night when I entered the capital; the palaces of the 
great were illuminated; an immense populace filled the streets, 
and I heard the acclamations of mirth; I saw wine running from 
fountains in the public squares; everything announced to me that 
Poland had a king.

"Boleslas had expected me with impatience. 'Pulauski,' he said, 
'returned alone the second day; he has never left his house but 
to go to the Diet, where, in spite of his efforts, the 
ascendancy of Russian interest manifested itself more and more 
every day. In the last assembly, held this morning, M. de P*** 
obtained almost all the votes, and was elected; Pulauski 
pronounced the fatal veto; at that instant, twenty sabres were 
drawn. The fierce Palatine de ***, whom Pulauski had so little 
pleased in the preceding assembly, was the first who drew and 
aimed a terrible stroke at his head. Zaremba, and some others, 
flew to the defence of their friend, but all their efforts could 
not have saved him, if M. de P*** himself had not sprung amongst 
them, crying out that he would immolate, with his own hand, the 
first that dared approach. The assailants retired. In the 
meanwhile, Pulauski lost both his blood and his strength! He 
fainted, and was carried away. Zaremba went out, swearing to 
avenge him. The numerous partisans of M. de P***, remaining 
masters of the deliberations, immediately proclaimed him king. 
Pulauski, when taken to his palace, soon recovered his senses. 
The surgeons, called in to examine his wound, declared that it 
was not mortal: then, although he experienced very great pain, 
and though several of his friends opposed themselves to his 
design, he made them place him in his carriage. It was almost 
noon when he set out from Warsaw, accompanied by Mazeppa and 
some other discontents. Your spies have followed him, and will, 
no doubt, in a few days, inform you of the place of his retreat.

"It was scarcely possible for them to announce to me more 
disagreeable intelligence. My friend was on the throne, but my 
reconciliation with Pulauski appeared hereafter impossible; and, 
seemingly, I had lost Lodoiska for ever. I knew her father 
sufficiently to make me fear he had taken very violent 
resolutions; I was terrified at the present aspect of things; I 
dared not reflect upon the future, and my grief oppressed me to 
such a degree, that I did not even go to congratulate the new 
king.

"One of my people, whom Boleslas had despatched in pursuit of 
Pulauski, came back the fourth day; he had followed him even to 
fifteen leagues from the capital; there, Zaremba, always seeing 
an unknown at some distance from the post-chaise, had conceived 
suspicions. A little further on, four of his people, hid behind 
some ruins, surprised my courier and conducted him to Pulauski. 
A pistol was presented at him, and he was compelled to 
acknowledge to whom he belonged. I will send you to Lovinski, 
said Pulauski to him, and tell him from me, that he shall not 
escape my just vengeance. At these words, they bound the eyes of 
my courier; he could not tell where they had conducted him, and 
shut him up: but at the expiration of three days they came to 
fetch him, and having again taken the precaution of binding his 
eyes, after riding for several hours, the carriage stopped, and 
they made him descend. He had scarcely set his foot to the 
ground when his guard left him at swift pace: he detached the 
bonds from his eyes, and found himself precisely in the same 
place where they had first arrested him.

"This news gave me much uneasiness; the menaces of Pulauski 
frightened me much less on my own account than that of Lodoiska, 
who remained in his power; he might, in his wrath, go to the 
last extremities with her. I resolved to expose myself to 
everything, in order to discover the retreat of the father, and 
the prison of his daughter. The next day, I informed my sisters 
of my design, and quitted the capital. Boleslas alone 
accompanied me, and I treated him as a brother. We went all over 
Poland: I then saw that the events justified too much the fears 
of Pulauski. Under pretence of making people take the oath of 
fidelity to the new king, the Russians spread themselves in our 
provinces, committed a thousand exactions in our towns, and laid 
waste the fields. After having lost three months in vain 
researches, despairing of finding Lodoiska, most sensibly 
touched by the misfortunes of my country, lamenting at the same 
time both her fate and my own, I was about to return to Warsaw, 
to inform the new king what excesses the foreigners had 
committed in his states, when a rencontre, which threatened to 
be very unlucky for me, compelled me to take another direction.

"The Turks had declared war against Russia, and the Tartars of 
Budsiac and of Crimea, made frequent incursions in Volhymie, 
where I then found myself. Four of these brigands attacked us 
coming out of a wood near Ostropol. I had very imprudently 
neglected to charge my pistols, but I availed myself of my 
sabre, with so much dexterity and success, that presently two of 
them fell, grievously wounded. Boleslas occupied the third; the 
fourth combatted me with great vigour; he gave me a slight wound 
in my thigh, and received at the same time a terrible blow, 
which threw him from his horse. Boleslas saw himself at this 
moment disembarrassed of his enemy, who, at the noise of the 
fall of his comrade, took flight.

"The one whom I had last overthrown, said to me, in bad Polish: 
'A man so brave as you ought to be generous. I beg my life of 
you. Friend, instead of finishing me, assist me; trust me, help 
me, and bind up my wounds.' He demanded quarter in a tone so 
noble and so singular, that I did not hesitate. I descended from 
my horse: Boleslas and myself relieved him and bound up his 
wounds. 'You do well, brave man,' said the Tartar; 'you do 
well.' As he spoke, there arose around us a cloud of dust; more 
than three hundred Tartars appeared in sight. 'Fear nothing,' he 
said, whom I had spared; 'I am the chief of this troop.' And, 
indeed, by a sign he stopped the soldiers, who were ready to 
massacre me. He said to them, in their language, some words 
which I did not understand; they opened their ranks to let 
myself and Boleslas pass. 'Brave man,' said the captain again to 
me, 'had I not reason to tell you that you did well? Thou hast 
spared my life-I save thine: it is sometimes good to spare an 
enemy, and even a robber. Hear me, my friend: in attacking thee, 
I was following my trade: thou hast done thy duty in well 
thrashing me; I pardon thee: let us embrace.' He added: 'The day 
begins to close; I would not advise thee to travel in these 
cantons; those men are each going to their post, and I cannot 
answer for them. Thou seest that castle on the height to the 
right; it belongs to a certain Count Dourlinski, who owes us a 
great deal, because he is very rich; go and request of him an 
asylum; tell him thou hast wounded Titsikan, that Titsikan 
pursued thee; he knows me by name: I have already made him pass 
some disagreeable journeys. You may reckon on his house being 
respected while you are there; but be sure you do not leave it 
under three days, nor remain in it more than eight. Adieu!'

"It was with real pleasure that we took our leave of Titsikan 
and his company. The advice of a Tartar was an order. I said to 
Boleslas: 'Let us gain immediately the castle which he has shown 
us; I know this Dourlinski very well by name. Pulauski has 
sometimes spoken to me of him: he may not be ignorant where 
Pulauski has retired; it is not impossible but with a little 
address we may obtain some knowledge of him. I will say, at all 
hazards, that it is Pulauski who has sent us; his recommendation 
will be worth more than that of Titsikan: thou, Boleslas, forget 
not that I am thy brother, and do not discover me.'

"We arrived at the moat of the castle; the people of Dourlinski 
demanded of us who we were. I replied, that we came to speak 
with their master on the part of Pulauski; that robbers had 
attacked us, and we were pursued. The drawbridge was raised, and 
we entered: they told us that, for the present, we could not 
speak with Dourlinski, but that the next day, at ten o'clock, he 
could give us audience. They demanded our arms of us, and we 
gave them up without hesitation. Boleslas examined my wound; the 
flesh was scarcely entered. They lost no time in serving us with 
a frugal repast in the kitchen. We were afterwards conducted 
into a humble chamber, where a couple of indifferent beds were 
prepared for us; they left us without a light, and fastened us 
in.

"I could not shut my eyes all night: Titsikan had given me but a 
slight wound, but that in my heart was so deep! At daybreak, I 
was impatient of my prison; I wished to open the shutters, but 
they were locked. I shook them vigorously, and the bolts flew; I 
perceived a very beautiful park; the window was low; I jumped 
from it, and found myself in the gardens of Dourlinski. After I 
had walked there some minutes, I sat down on a stone bench, 
placed at the foot of a tower, the ancient architecture of which 
engaged my attention for some time. I remained absorbed in 
profound reflection, when a tile fell at my feet: I thought it 
had slipped from the roof of this old building; and to avoid a 
similar accident, I placed myself at the other end of the bench. 
Some moments after a second tile fell by my side; the 
circumstance appeared to me surprising. I rose with inquietude, 
and examined the tower attentively. I perceived, about twenty-
five or thirty feet high, a narrow opening; I gathered up the 
tiles which were thrown at me; upon the first I deciphered, 
traced with some chalk, 'Lovinski, is it then you! Do you live!' 
And on the second, as follows: 'Deliver me! Save Lodoiska!'

"You cannot, my dear Faublas, figure to yourself the various 
feelings which agitated me at one time; my astonishment, my joy, 
my grief, my embarrassment, cannot be expressed. I examined the 
prison of Lodoiska; I sought how I could take her from it. She 
sent me yet another tile: I read, 'At midnight bring some paper, 
pens and ink; tomorrow, after sunrise, come and seek a letter. 
Go away.'

"I returned to my chamber; I called Boleslas, who assisted me in 
entering by the window, and we fastened the shutters as well as 
we could. I informed my faithful servant of the unhoped-for 
meeting, which put an end to my searches, but redoubled my 
anxiety. How was this tower to be penetrated? How extricate 
Lodoiska from her prison? How was she to be snatched from under 
the eyes of Dourlinski, from the midst of his people, in a 
fortified castle! Even supposing that so many obstacles were not 
insurmountable, could I attempt an enterprise so difficult, in 
the short time that Titsikan had given me? Titsikan had 
recommended me to remain but three days with Dourlinski, and at 
all events, not to stop longer than eight. To go out of this 
castle before the third day, or after the eighth, was it not to 
expose ourselves to the attacks of Tartars? To release my dear 
Lodoiska from prison to deliver her to robbers, was to be for 
ever separated from her by slavery or death! It was horrible to 
think of. But why was she in such a frightful prison? The letter 
which she has promised me will instruct me, without doubt. It 
was necessary to procure some paper: I charged Boleslas with 
their care, and prepared myself to sustain the delicate part of 
an emissary of Pulauski.

"It was broad day when they came to set us at liberty; they 
informed us that Dourlinski was now at leisure, and desired to 
see us. We presented ourselves with assurance: we beheld a man 
about sixty years of age, whose address was blunt, and whose 
manners were repulsive. He asked us who we were. 'My brother and 
myself, I said, belong to Seigneur Pulauski; my master has 
charged me with a secret commission to you; my brother has 
accompanied me for another purpose; I ought to be alone when I 
explain myself; I ought to speak but to yourself.' 'Well!' 
replied Dourlinski, 'let thy brother go; and do you also go 
away,' he said to his servants; 'but as for you,' (pointing to 
him who was his confidant,) 'you will do well to remain; you can 
say everything before him.' Pulauski has sent me-I see well that 
he has sent you-To inquire of you-' 'What?' (I took courage.) 
'To inquire of you news regarding his daughter.' 'Pulauski said 
so?' 'Yes, my master told me Lodoiska was here.' I perceived 
that Dourlinski turned pale; he looked at his confidant, and 
fixed his eyes on me a long time in silence. 'You astonish me,' 
he replied, at last; 'to confide in you a secret of this 
importance, your master must be very imprudent.' 'Not more so 
than yourself, seigneur; have not you a confidant? The great 
would be much to be pitied, if they could not put confidence in 
someone. Pulauski has charged me to tell you that Lovinski has 
already run over a great part of Poland, and will, no doubt, 
visit your cantons.' 'If he dares come here,' he replied, 
immediately, with the greatest vivacity, 'I keep for him a 
lodging which he will occupy a long time. Do you know this 
Lovinski?' 'I have seen him often at my master's in Warsaw.' 
'They say he's a fine man?' 'He is well made, and near about my 
height.' 'His countenance?' 'Is engaging: it is a-' 'He is an 
insolent fellow,' he interrupted, with anger; 'if ever he falls 
into my hands-' 'My lord, they say he is brave.' 'He! I'll wager 
that he knows nothing but the seduction of girls. Let him fall 
into my hands!' 'I was about to reply, when he added, in a more 
calm tone: 'It is a long time since Pulauski has written to me: 
where is he at present?' 'My lord, I have positive orders not to 
answer that question, all that I must tell you is, that he has 
many reasons for concealing his retreat, and not writing, which 
he will shortly come and explain to you himself.'

"Dourlinski appeared very much astonished; I thought I even 
perceived some signs of alarm; he looked at his confidant, who 
seems as much embarrassed as himself: 'You say that Pulauski 
will come shortly?' 'Yes, my lord, in a fortnight, or better.' 
He looked at his confidant, and then affecting as much sang-
froid as he had evinced embarrassment: 'Return to thy master, I 
am sorry that I have nothing but bad news for him; tell him that 
Lodoiska is no longer here.' 'I was astonished in my turn: What! 
My lord, Lodoiska-' 'Is no longer here, I tell thee. To oblige 
Pulauski, whom I esteem, I undertook with repugnance, to keep 
his daughter in my castle. No one but him and myself (pointing 
to the confidant) knew that she was here. About a month since, 
we went, as usual, to take her daily refreshments, and there was 
no one in her apartment-I am ignorant how she accomplished it, 
but I know well that she has escaped, and I have not heard of 
her since: she is, without doubt, gone to join Lovinski, at 
Warsaw, if the Tartars seized her not on the road.'

"My astonishment became extreme; how was what I had seen in the 
garden, to be reconciled with what Dourlinski told me? There was 
some mystery in it which I was impatient to unravel, 
nevertheless I was cautious of appearing the least doubtful: 'My 
lord, this is very sad news for my master.' 'Undoubtedly it is, 
but I cannot help it.' 'My lord, I have a favour to ask of you.' 
'What is it?' 'The Tartars are infesting the environs of your 
castle; they have attacked us, we have escaped them by a 
miracle; will you permit my brother and myself to rest here for 
two days?' 'Only two days; I consent.' 'Where have they lodged? 
Demanded he of his confidant.' 'On the ground floor, in a common 
chamber-' 'Which looks into my gardens!' interrupted Dorlinski, 
with anxiety. 'The shutters fasten with a lock, replied the 
other.' 'No matter, we must put them elsewhere.' I trembled at 
these words. The confidant replied: 'that is impossible,-but' 
(he said the rest in a whisper. 'Very well,' replied the master, 
'and let it be done immediately;' and addressing himself to me: 
'Thy brother and thou wilt go the day after tomorrow; before 
setting out, thou wilt speak to me; I will give thee a letter 
for Pulauski.'

"I went to join Boleslas in the kitchen, where he was taking his 
breakfast; he gave me a little bottle, full of ink, several 
pens, and some sheets of paper, which he had procured without 
trouble. I burnt with desire to write to Lodoiska, but I was 
embarrassed to find a convenient place where the curious might 
not disturb me. They had already informed Boleslas that we were 
not to enter the chamber where we slept, until bedtime. I 
thought of a stratagem which succeeded admirably. The servants 
of Dourlinski were drinking with my pretended brother, and 
invited me politely to join them. I drank freely, cup after cup, 
several glasses of a very bad wine; presently, my limbs 
tottered; I told the merry throng a hundred stories, as droll as 
they were unreasonable; in a word, I acted drunkenness so well, 
that Boleslas himself was deceived by it. He trembled, lest in a 
moment when I appeared disposed to tell everything, my secret 
should escape me. 'Gentlemen, he said to the astonished topers, 
my brother is not very strong in the head to-day; perhaps it is 
the effects of his wound; we must not suffer him either to talk 
or drink any more; I fear it would do him harm, and if you would 
oblige me, you will help me to carry him to his bed.' 'To his 
bed? No, that cannot be,' replied one of them; 'but I will 
cheerfully lend you my chamber.' They carried me up into a 
garret, of which the only furniture consisted of a bed, a chair, 
and a table. They shut me up in this place; it was everything 
that I wished. The moment I was left alone, I wrote to Lodoiska 
a letter of several sheets. I began by justifying myself fully 
from the crimes which Pulauski had imputed to me, and then 
related to her everything which had happened to me from the 
period of our separation unto that when I arrived at 
Dourlinski's; I detailed the conversation I had with him, and 
finished by assuring her of the most tender and respectful love; 
I pledged myself, that as soon as she had given me the necessary 
explanations, I would risk everything to deliver her from such 
horrible slavery.

"As soon as my letter was finished, I gave myself up to 
reflections which greatly perplexed me. Was it, indeed, Lodoiska 
who had thrown me the tiles in the garden? Could Pulauski have 
the injustice to punish his daughter for a love he had approved? 
Had he the inhumanity to plunge her in this frightful dungeon? 
And even if the hatred which he had sworn towards me had blinded 
him to this pitch, how was it that Dourlinski could resolve thus 
to aid his vengeance? But, on the other side, I had worn, the 
better to disguise myself, the most humble garb; the fatigues of 
a long journey, and my own cares, had greatly changed me-who, 
then, but a lover, could have recognized Lovinski in the garden 
of Dourlinski? Had I not, moreover, seen the name of Lodoiska 
traced upon the tile? And had not even Dourlinski himself 
confessed that she had been a prisoner under him? He added, it 
is true, that she had escaped; but was that credible? And 
wherefore the hatred that Dourlinski had avowed towards me, 
without knowing me? Why that air of inquietude when they told 
him the servants of Pulauski had occupied a chamber that looked 
into the garden? Why, above all, that air of alarm when I 
announced to him the approaching visit of my pretended master? 
The whole of this was calculated to give me the most poignant 
anxiety. I could form nothing but the most frightful 
conjectures, which I could not explain. I continued, for a 
couple of hours, proposing to myself questions which I was very 
much embarrassed to solve, when at length Boleslas came to see 
if his brother had recovered his reason. I had no trouble in 
convincing him that my intoxication was feigned; we went down 
into the kitchen, where we passed the rest of the day. What an 
evening, my dear Faublas! None in my life appeared so long; not 
even those which followed it.

"At last they conducted us to our chamber, where they fastened 
us in, as on the night before, without leaving us a light: we 
had still to wait two hours before it struck twelve. At the 
first stroke of the clock, we gently opened the shutters of the 
window: I prepared myself to jump into the garden: ray 
embarrassment was equal to my despair when I found myself 
restrained by bars. 'There, I said to Boleslas, 'see what it was 
that the cursed confidant of Dourlinski whispered into his ear: 
this is what his odious master approved, when he replied: "It is 
well; let it be done immediately." See what they have executed 
during the day: it was on this account we were forbidden to come 
here.' 'My lord, they have worked outside,' said Boleslas, 'for 
they have not perceived that the shutter has been forced.' 'Ah! 
Whether they have seen it or not,' cried I, 'with violence, what 
matter? This fatal grating overturns all my hopes; it confirms 
the slavery of Lodoiska, and ensures my death!'

"'Yes, without doubt, it ensures your death,' said someone to 
me, on opening my door. Dourlinski, preceded by armed men, and 
followed by others who carried torches, entered with his sabre 
in his hand. 'Traitor!' he said to me, glancing at me a look 
sufficiently expressive of his fury, 'I have overheard all: I'll 
know what thou art; thou shalt tell me thy name; thy pretended 
brother shall tell it. Tremble! I am of all the enemies of 
Lovinski, the most implacable! Let them be searched,' he said to 
his people. They seized me; I was without arms; I made a vain 
resistance: they took from me my papers, and the letter I had 
prepared for Lodoiska. Dourlinski betrayed, while reading it, a 
thousand signs of impatience; he could ill conceal it. 
'Lovinski,' he said, suppressing his rage, 'I merit already thy 
hatred; presently I shall merit it more. In the meantime thou 
shalt remain with thy worthy confidant in this chamber, which 
thou lovest.' At these words, he went out, double-locked the 
door, placed a sentinel without, and another opposite the window 
in the garden.

"You will imagine the overwhelming situation Boleslas and myself 
were placed in. My misfortunes had reached their height; those 
of Lodoiska affected me more intensely. Unfortunate creature! 
What must be her anxiety! She expected Lovinski, and Lovinski 
abandoned her! But no; Lodoiska knows me too well; she will 
never suspect me of so base a perfidy. Lodoiska will judge of 
her lover by herself! She will feel that Lovinski participated 
her fate, since he did not relieve her! Alas! The certainty of 
my fate will aggravate her own.

"Such were my painful reflections in the first moments: they 
left me time enough to make many others, not less gloomy. The 
next day, they gave us, through the bars, our allowance of 
provisions. From the quality of the food which they furnished 
us, Boleslas judged that they did not intend to render our 
prison very agreeeable. Boleslas, less wretched than myself, 
supported his lot more courageously; he offered me my portion of 
the slender repast he was about to make. I would not eat; he 
pressed me, but in vain; my existence had become an 
insupportable burden. 'Oh! Live,' he said to me, bursting into 
tears: 'live, if not for Boleslas, let it be for Lodoiska!' 
These words made a more lively impression upon me; they re-
animated my courage, and cheered my heart with hope: I embraced 
my faithful servant. 'O! My friend!' cried I, with transport: 
'Oh! My true friend! I have sacrificed thee, and my own cares 
touch me more than thine! Yes, Boleslas, I will live for 
Lodoiska, I will live for thee: would heaven this moment restore 
my fortune and my rank, thou shouldst see that thy master was 
not ungrateful.' We embraced again: Ah! My dear Faublas! If you 
knew how misfortune links us together! How delightful it is, 
when one is suffering, to hear another unfortunate being address 
to us a word of consolation! 

"We had groaned twelve days in this prison, when they came to 
conduct me to Dourlinski. Boleslas wished to follow me, but was 
repulsed in a brutal manner; they nevertheless permitted me to 
speak to him for a moment. I drew from my hand a ring, which I 
had worn from the age of ten years. I said to Boleslas, 'This 
ring was given me by M. de P***, when we studied together at 
Warsaw: take it, my friend, and keep it for my sake. If 
Dourlinski consummates his treason by causing me to be 
assassinated, and thou art permitted to leave this castle, go to 
thy king, show him this jewel, remind him of our long 
friendship, and relate to him my misfortunes; he will recompense 
thee, Boleslas, he will send succour to Lodoiska. Adieu, my 
friend.'

"They conducted me to the apartment of Dourlinski. As soon as 
the door was opened, I perceived a female, fainting on an 
armchair; I approached; it was Lodoiska. Oh, God! How changed I 
found her! But what beauty she still possessed! 'Barbarian!' I 
said to Dourlinski. At the voice of her lover, Lodoiska 
recovered her senses. 'Ah, my dear Lovinski! Knowest thou what 
the wretch proposes? Knowest thou at what price he offers me thy 
liberty?' 'Yes,' replied the furious Dourlinski; 'yes, I will; 
thou seest it is in my power: if within three days I obtain 
nothing, he shall die.' I would have thrown myself on my knees 
to Lodoiska, but my guards prevented me. 'I see thee again; all 
my tortures are forgotten. Lodoiska, death has nothing in it to 
terrify me. Thou coward, remember that Pulauski will revenge his 
daughter, and that the king will revenge his friend.' 'Take him 
away!' cried Dourlinski. 'Ah!' said Lodoiska, 'my love has 
sacrificed you!' I would have replied, but they dragged me out, 
and reconducted me to my prison. Boleslas received me with 
inexpressible transports of joy: he confessed that he thought me 
lost. I related to him how my death had been deferred. The scene 
of which I had been witness confirmed all my suspicions; it was 
clear that Pulauski knew not the unworthy treatment his daughter 
was experiencing; it was clear that Dourlinski, amorous and 
jealous, would satisfy his passion at any price he could.

"In the meantime, of the three days which Dourlinski had given 
Lodoiska to make up her mind, two had already passed; we were in 
the middle of the night which preceded the third day; I could 
not sleep, I was pacing up and down my chamber; all at once I 
heard a cry, 'To arms!' The most frightful howling arose from 
every quarter without the castle; it made a great bustle in the 
interior; the sentinel placed before our window quitted his 
post; Boleslas and myself distinguished the voice of Dourlinski; 
he called-he rallied his people; we heard distinctly, the clash 
of arms, the cries of the wounded, and the groans of the dying. 
The noise, at first very great, seemed to diminish; presently it 
began again; it continued and redoubled; they cried 'Victory!- 
numbers ran in and shut the doors after them with violence; the 
night became less dark; the trees in the garden began to assume 
a yellow and reddish tint; we flew to the window: the castle of 
Dourlinski was wrapped in flames; they spread on every side of 
the chamber we were in; and, to complete the horror, the most 
piercing shrieks came from the tower where I knew Lodoiska was 
confined."



IV.

Here M. du Portail was interrupted by the Marquis de B***, who 
having found no servant in the antechamber, entered without 
being announced. He started two paces on seeing me, "Ah! Ah!" he 
said, saluting M. du Portail, "have you a son also?" Then 
addressing himself to me: Monsieur is apparently the brother?"

"Of my sister, yes, sir."

"Ah! You have a very amiable sister; she is a charming girl!"

"You are as polite as you are indulgent," interrupted M. du 
Portail. "Indulgent! Oh, I am not always so; for example, I am 
come to reproach you, sir."

"Me? Have I had the misfortune?"

"Yes, you played us a cruel trick the day before yesterday."

"How, sir!"

"You charged that little Rosambert to take Mademoiselle du 
Portail from us; the Marchioness had made sure that her dear 
daughter would pass the night with her."

"I fear, sir, that my daughter has caused you a great deal of 
trouble."

"None; none, sir: Mademoiselle du Portail is very agreeable; my 
wife is passionately fond of her, as I have told you before; 
indeed," he added, "tittering, I believe the Marchioness loves 
that child more than she loves myself. I am, notwithstanding, 
her husband! If you had come yourself to fetch her-"

"Pardon me, sir, I was unwell; I am still very-"

"I know that I owe Madame de B*** many thanks-."

"It is not for that-"

During this dialogue, I was not much at my ease. The Marquis 
observed me with an attention which made me very uncomfortable. 
"Do you know," he said at last, "that you resemble your sister 
very much?"

"You flatter me, sir."

"But it is very striking; I know it well; all my friends agree 
that I am a skilful physiognomist at the first sight: I have 
never seen you before, and I recognise you immediately." M. du 
Portail could not help laughing with me at the simplicity of the 
Marquis. "Monsieur," he said to him, "it is as you have very 
justly remarked; my son and my daughter are very much alike, we 
must agree that there is a family resemblance."

"Yes," replied the Marquis, continuing to look at me, "this 
young man is well, very well, but his sister is still better, 
much better. [He took me by the arm.] She is a little taller, 
has a more serious air; although she is a little wag, her manner 
is somewhat grave, but there is a something in your features 
more bold; you have less grace in your action, and in all the 
motions of your body something more vigorous and robust. Do not 
be angry; all this is very natural; it would not do for a boy to 
be made like a girl! [Phlegmatic as M. du Portail was, he could 
not keep his countenance at these last remarks; the Marquis saw 
us laugh, and began to laugh heartily himself.] "Oh!" he 
replied, "I have told you that I am a great physiognomist; but I 
have not the pleasure to see the dear sister.-"

M. du Portail hastened to reply: "No, sir, she is gone to take 
her leave."

"To take her leave!"

"Yes, sir, she sets out to morrow for her convent."

"For her convent in Paris?"

"No, at Soissons."

"To Soissons tomorrow morning? That dear child to leave us?"

"It is for the best, sir."

"And is actually taking farewell?"

"Yes, sir"

"And, without doubt, she will come and bid farewell to her 
mamma?"

"Most assuredly, sir; she ought even to be at your house at this 
moment."

"Ah! How sorry I am! The Marchioness was still unwell this 
morning; she wished to go out this evening; I represented to her 
that the air was sharp, and would give her cold; but the women 
will have their way-she is gone out: Well, so much the worse for 
her, she will not see her dear girl, and I shall see her, for 
she certainly will not be long before she comes home."

"She has several visits to make," I said to the Marquis.

"Yes, added M. du Portail, "we only expect her to supper."

"You eat suppers then? You are right; it is all the mania now, 
not to eat of an evening; for my part, I love not to die of 
hunger, because it is the fashion: I'll stop and sup with you. 
You'll say, perhaps, that I make free, but 'tis my way; I wish 
people to do the same with me: When you know me better, you will 
find that I am a good devil."

There was no means of receding from what we had said. M. du 
Portail instantly took the necessary measures. "I am very happy, 
sir, that you will be free with us. You will excuse my son 
quitting us for an hour or two, as he has some urgent business."

"Monsieur must not hinder himself on my account."

"Let him leave us by all means, that he may see us again the 
sooner, for your son is very amiable, sir."

"You'll excuse me also a few minutes as I have something to say 
to him."

"Do the same, sir, as if I was not here." I bowed to the 
Marquis, he rose precipitately, took me by the hand, and said to 
M. du Portail: "Stop, sir, you may say what you will, but this 
young man is as like his sister as two drops of water. I am 
skilled in countenance; I will sustain it before the Abbé 
Pernetti.<3>"

"Yes, sir," said M. du Portail, "he has a family likeness."

Having said this, he went with me into another apartment. 
"Zounds," he said to me, "what a singular man this Marquis is; 
he does not constrain himself with those he loves."

"It is very true, my dear father, that the Marquis comes, 
without ceremony, to make free with us-but, as for myself, I 
have no right to complain, for I was happy when at his house."

"As to yourself, you say true; but let us drop this pleasantry, 
and see how we are to get out of the scrape we are in. If I only 
looked to him it would be soon settled; but, my friend, you have 
to manage matters properly, on account of his wife. Hear me; go 
home, make your servant take another dress, and come here to 
announce that Mademoiselle du Portail sups with Madame de ***, 
the first name that comes into your head."

"Well! What next? The Marquis will sup with you, and wait 
tranquilly the return of your daughter: this is what he will do; 
he has told you so himself."

"What, then, is to be done?"

"Why, my dear father, I can play the girl so well, I will go and 
change myself, and your daughter shall in reality come and sup 
with you. It shall be your son, on the contrary, who is 
detained, and cannot come. It is now six o'clock; I need not be 
home until ten: I shall have plenty of time."

"With all my heart. But you must agree, nevertheless, that 
Lovinski will have to play rather a singular part. You have 
embarked me in a curious adventure; but it is too late to find 
fault: go and effect it as soon as possible."

I ran home. Jasmin told me my father was gone out, and that a 
pretty girl had been waiting for me above an hour. A pretty 
girl, Jasmin? I flew to my apartment. Ah! Justine, is it thee! 
Jasmin was right when he told me it was a pretty girl: I 
embraced her. "Keep that for my mistress," she said, pretending 
to be sullen. "For thy mistress, Justine? Thou art as good as 
her."

"Who told you so?"

"I think so; it rests with thee to make me certain of it." I 
embraced her again, and she suffered me to do so, still 
repeating, "Keep that for my mistress."

"My God! How well you look in your own dress," she added; "and 
will you ever quit it again, to disguise yourself as a woman?"

"To-night, for the last time, Justine: after that I shall always 
be a man; at thy service, sweet girl."

"At my service? Oh, no; at the service of Madame."

"At hers and thine at the same time, Justine."

"Hey dey, so you must have two at a time!"

"I feel, my dear, that it is not too much." I embraced Justine, 
and my hands strayed upon her snowy hills, which she scarcely 
defended. "How impudent he is," said Justine. "What has become 
of the modesty of Mademoiselle du Portail?"

"Ah, Justine, thou knowest not how one night has changed me!"

"That night also made an alteration in my mistress; the next day 
she was pale and fatigued. My God! When I saw her, I was not at 
a loss in guessing that Mademoiselle du Portail was a very nice 
young man."

I was going to embrace her again. For this time, she prevented 
it by recoiling a few paces: my bed was behind her; she fell on 
her back; and by an accident which might, perhaps, be expected, 
I lost my equilibrium at the same moment.

Some minutes after, Justine, who was in no haste to repair her 
disorder, asked, with a smile, what I thought of the little 
piece of waggery she had played the Marquis. "What about, my 
dear?"

"The placard stuck on his back. What say you of the trick?"

"Charming, delightful; almost as good as that which we are now 
playing the Marchioness."

"I am glad you mentioned her, I had forgot my commission. My 
mistress expects you."

"She expects me? I'll go directly."

"There, he's going: and where are you going?"

"I do not know."

"See how bluntly he leaves me!"

"Justine, it is-You know-"

"I know you are a careless libertine."

"Stop, Justine, let us be friends; a Louis d'or and a kiss."

"I take," she said, "the one very willingly, and give you the 
other with all my heart. Oh, what a charming young man! 
Handsome, lively and generous! Oh, I am sure you will rise in 
the world! But let us go; follow me at a little distance, and 
take no notice. You will see me go into a shop; close by is a 
great gate, which you will find partly open; enter it quickly. A 
porter will demand of you who you are; you will answer, Love. 
You will go up to the first floor. Upon a little white door you 
will read the word, Paphos. Open it with this key, and you'll 
not be there long without a companion."

Before going out, I called Jasmin, and ordered him to change his 
dress, and go on the part of M. de Saint-Luc, to announce to M. 
du Portail that his son would not come home to supper.

Justine was impatient: I followed her. She went into a 
milliner's shop. I brushed hastily through the gate. "Love," I 
said to the porter, and in an instant I was at Paphos. I opened 
it, and entered. The place appeared to be worthy of the god they 
adored there. A few wax candles were burning. It was hung with 
the most luxurious and fascinating pictures; the furniture was 
as elegant as convenient: I observed above all, at the back of a 
gilt alcove, lined with looking-glass, a spring bed, the clothes 
of which, being black satin, were calculated to afford an 
agreeable contrast to a fine white skin: I then recollected I 
had promised M. du Portail never again to see the Marchioness, 
but it may easily be guessed that my recollection came too late.

A door, which I had not observed, opened all at once. The 
Marchioness entered. To fly into her arms-to give her twenty 
kisses-to carry her to the alcove-to place her on the springing 
couch-and to plunge with her into a delightful ecstasy, was the 
affair of a moment. The Marchioness recovered her senses at the 
same time with myself. I asked her how she did. "What say you?" 
she replied, with an astonished air. I repeated:" My dear little 
mamma, how do you do?" She burst into a fit of laughter: "I 
thought I had misunderstood you; the how do you do is excellent; 
but if I was unwell, it would have been a very queer time to ask 
me such a question. Do you think that this exercise would agree 
with a sick person? My dear Faublas," she added, embracing me 
tenderly, "you are very lively."

"My dear little mamma, it is because I now know several things 
of which I was ignorant three days since."

"Are you afraid that you'll forget them?"

"Oh, no!"

"Oh, no!" repeated she, counterfeiting my voice; "I believe it 
indeed, Mr. Libertine." She embraced me again. "Promise that you 
will never remember those things but with me."

"I promise it, my dear mamma."

"You swear to be faithful?"

"I swear it."

"Always?"

"Yes, always."

"But you delayed a long while in coming to me."

"I was not at home; I dined with M. du Portail."

"With M. du Portail! Did he speak to you of me?"

"Yes."

"You have not told him anything?"

"No, mamma."

She continued, in a very serious tone: "You told him that I was, 
like the Marquis, deceived by appearances?"

"Yes, mamma."

"And that I am still so?" she continued, with a trembling voice, 
and at the same time giving me a most tender kiss.

"Yes, mamma."

"Charming child!" she cried, "I must then adore you! If you will 
not be ungrateful I shall."

I valued this reply more than all the caresses; but a degree of 
uneasiness still remaining: "So you assured M. du Portail that I 
think you-a girl?" added the Marchioness, blushing.

"Yes."

"You know, then, how to lie?"

"Have I lied?"

"I think the rogue is mocking his mamma!"

I pretended that I wished to go, but she detained me. "Beg my 
pardon directly, sir." I begged it as a man would do who was 
sure of obtaining it; the badinage pleased her, and the peace 
was signed.

"You are no longer angry," I said, to the Marechioness.

"Good!" she replied, "laughing; does the anger of a lover last 
long about such matters?"

"My dear mamma, I am spending some delightful moments with you; 
do you know to whom I am obliged for them?"

"It is very singular that you should think you are indebted for 
them to anyone but myself."

"It is singular, I agree; but it is so."

"Explain yourself, my friend."

"I was ignorant of the happiness you intended me; I should still 
have been with M. du Portail, if your dear husband had not paid 
us a visit."

"To M. du Portail?"

"And to me, Madame." 

"He has seen you at M. du Portail's?"

Here I related to my beautiful mistress everything that had 
passed in the Marquis's visit to M. du Portail. She had great 
difficulty to restrain herself from laughing. "The poor 
Marquis," she said, "was born under an unfortunate star. It 
seems as if he went to seek for ridicule! A wife is very 
unhappy, my dear Faueblas; from the moment she loves anyone, her 
husband is no more than a fool."

"My dear mamma has not much to complain of: it seems, in this 
case, that the misfortune is on the husband."

"Ah! But," she replied, assuming a serious air, "one always 
feels the humiliations that a husband receives."

"They feel them sometimes I admit; but do they never profit by 
them?"

"Faublas, you are cutting at yourself. But tell me; must you sup 
with the Marquis? You have no gown: and then, do you reckon to 
quit me so soon?"

"As late as possible, my dear mamma."

"But you can dress yourself here." At these words, she rung for 
Justine: "Go," she said, "and get one of my gowns; we want to 
dress Mademoiselle." I shut the door upon Justine, who gave me a 
box on the ear; the Marchioness did not perceive it, and I 
returned near her.

"My dear mamma, are you quite sure your femme de chambre will 
not talk?"

"Yes, my friend; I give her, to hold her tongue, a great deal 
more money than any will give her for tattling. I could not 
receive you at home; I must either renounce the pleasure of 
seeing you, or decide upon doing what is imprudent. My dear 
Faublas, I have not hesitated; it is not the first folly thou 
hast made me commit." She took my hand, which she kissed, and 
then covered her eyes with it.

"My dear mamma, will you not look at me any more?"

"Ah! At all times, and in all places," she cried, "or it had 
been better I had never seen thee."

My hand, which lately concealed her eyes, was now pressing 
against her heart; her heart palpitated; her long eye-lashes 
were filled with tears; and her charming lips, approaching mine, 
demanded a kiss: she received a thousand!-a devouring flame 
burnt throughout me; I felt that it was reciprocated, and I 
wished to allay it; but my mistress, entirely absorbed and 
intoxicated by an overflow of tender sensations, tasted the 
inexpressible sweets of those pleasures which come from the 
soul, and she refused enjoyments less ravishing, although 
delightful.

"Never to see thee more," she replied, "would be to exist no 
more, and I have only existed since-an imprudence," she added 
quickly, rolling her eyes on all the objects which surrounded 
us: "Ah! Have I committed but one? How many must I yet risk, if 
I judge by those which, in so short a time, thou hast obliged me 
to commit!"

"My dear mamma, permit me to ask a question, which is perhaps 
very indiscreet, but you excite my most anxious curiosity; at 
whose house, then, are we now?" This question awoke the 
Marchioness from the ecstasy she was in:

"At whose house are we? At at one of my friends."

"This friend loves-"

Madame de B***, entirely recovered, hastened to interrupt me:

"Yes, Faublas, she loves; you have said right; she loves. It is 
love that has made this charming place; it is for her lover."

"And for yours, my dear mamma."

"Yes, my good friend, she was very willing to lend me this 
boudoir for the evening. That door, by which you entered, goes 
into her apartments."

"One more question, mamma."

"Well?

"How do you do?" She looked at me with an air of surprise, and 
laughed. "Yes," continued I, "joking apart: you were ill the day 
before yesterday: M. de Rosambert."

"Do not speak to me of him: M. de Rosambert is an unworthy man, 
capable of playing me a thousand dirty tricks, and of telling 
you a thousand stories. If he found you disposed to believe him, 
he would confidently assert that he had known all the women in 
the world. Still, if he were nothing but a coxcomb, I could 
pardon him; but his odious proceedings towards me, even if I had 
merited them, would be inexcusable."

"It is true that he greatly tormented us the day before 
yesterday-"

"I did not close my eyes all night! Let us drop that 
nevertheless. When I see thee, my dear friend, I think no more 
of what I have suffered for thee. How well you look in your male 
attire! How handsome! How charming you are! But what a pity," 
she added, rising with an air of gaiety, "that they must be laid 
aside. Come on, make way for Mademoiselle du Portail." At these 
words she undid, with a single stroke of her hand, all the 
buttons of my waistcoat. I revenged myself on her neck-
handkerchief, which I had already considerably deranged, and 
which I now took entirely away. She continued the attack, and I 
was pleased with her vengeance; we took off all without 
replacing anything. I showed to the half-naked Marchioness the 
alcove, and once more she let me conduct her there.

Someone gently knocked at the door. We must do her justice, for 
this once she has executed her commission promptly. Though not 
very decently covered, I was going, unthinkingly, to open the 
door to the femme de chambre; the Marchioness pulled a string, 
some curtains closed around us, and the door opened.

"Madame, here is everything that's necessary, shall I help you 
to dress?" 

"No, Justine, I can do that; but thou shalt dress my head: I 
will ring for thee." Justine went out; we amused ourselves some 
time in contemplating the laughable and multiplied pictures 
which were presented by the glass which surrounded us. "Come," 
said the Marchioness, embracing me, "I must dress my daughter:"

I would have marked the moment of my retreat by a final victory. 
"No, my good friend," she added, "we must not abuse anything."

The duties of my toilette commenced. While the Marchioness was 
seriously occupied, I amused myself in a very different manner. 
"We shall soon finish you," said my beautiful mistress; "come 
on, recollect that you must be prudent now you are a girl."

I was muffled up with stays and petticoats. "My dear mamma, 
Justine must now dress my head; after which she can finish me."

"I was going to ring. How thoughtless he is! Do you not see the 
condition in which you have put me? I must dress also."

I offered my services to the Marchioness; I did everything 
wrong. "It requires more time to repair you than to pull you in 
pieces, my dear mamma."

"Oh, yes, I see it will. What a fine femme de chambre I have; 
she is still more curious than unskilful."

At last we rang for Justine. "We must dress this child's head."

"Yes, Madame. But must I not arrange your hair also?"

"Why so? Is my head out of order?"

"Yes, Madame, it seems so."

The Marchioness opened a closet, where they thrust my male 
garments. "Tomorrow morning," she said, "a discreet agent will 
carry them home for you." In another, but deeper closet, there 
was a toilette table which they drew towards me, and Justine 
began to exercise her little active fingers.

The Marchioness, placing herself near me, said: "Mademoiselle du 
Portail, permit me to make my court to you."

"Yes, yes," interrupted Justine; "in expectation that M. de 
Faublas will still make his to you."

"What says that hare-brained girl?" replied the Marchioness

"She says that I love you well."

"Does she say true, Faublas?"

"Do you doubt it, mamma?" and I kissed her hand. That apparently 
displeased Justine.

"The devil's in the hair," she said, giving a vigorous stroke of 
the comb, "how it is entangled!"

"Ha! Justine, you hurt me!"

"Never mind, sir; think of your own business: Madame speaks to 
you."

"Justine, I am saying nothing; I am looking at Mademoiselle du 
Portail; thou makest her very pretty!"

"It is that she may please Madame the more."

"I think, at the bottom, it amuses yourself. Mademoiselle du 
Portail, does it displease thee?"

"Madame, I prefer M. de Faublas."

"She is candid, at least."

"Very candid, Madame; inquire of himself."

"Me, Justine? I know nothing about it."

"You tell stories, sir."

"How tell stories?"

"Yes, sir, you must know that when I must do anything for you, I 
am always ready. When Madame sends me to you, I go with 
alacrity."

"But," interrupted the Marchioness, "you do not come back."
 
Illustration: Here Justine tickled me gently in the neck in 
turning a curl

"Madame, it wnas not my fault to-day, he made me wait." (Here 
Justine tickled me gently in the neck, in turning a curl.) "It 
is because he is not in a hurry when he comes to see me."

"Ah! My dear mamma, I am never happy but when I am near you." I 
embraced the Marchioness, who affected to prevent it. Justine 
found this badinage too long; she pinched me rudely, the pain 
forced me to cry out.

"Take care what you do," said the Marchioness to Justine, with a 
little anger.

"But, Madame, he cannot hold himself still for a moment."

We had a few moments' silence. My fair mistress had one of my 
hands within her own: the waggish Abigail occupied the other, by 
making me hold an end of ribbon, which she was plaiting in my 
hair; and seizing the moment, she dabbed a little pomatum on my 
face.

"Justine!" I said.

"Justine!" said the Marchioness.

"Madame, I employ but one hand, could he not defend himself with 
the other?" And then, pretending that the puff had slipped from 
her hand, she threw some of the powder in my eyes.

"Justine, you are very foolish! I will send you no more to his 
house!"

"Good! Very good! Madame, is it because he is dangerous? I have 
no fear of him."

"But, Justine, it is because you do not know how mischievous he 
is."

"Oh, yes, I do, Madame."

"Thou knowest it?"

"Yes, Madame, Madame remembers the night that this sweet miss 
slept at our house!"

"Well?"

"I offered to undress her; Madame would not let me."

"Certainly; she appeared so modest and timid! Who might not have 
been deceived? I know not how I could pardon her."

"It is because Madame is so good? Madame, I said, then, that you 
did not wish it. Mademoiselle du Portail undressed herself 
behind the curtains. I passed, by chance, near her, at the 
moment when, having pulled off her last petticoat, she leaped 
into bed."

"And what then?"

"To conclude, this droll young lady jumped so quick, and so 
singularly, that-"

"Well! Finish, then," I said to Justine."

"Ah! But I dare not."

"Finish, then," said the Marchioness, hiding her face with her 
fan.

"She jumped so singularly, and with so little precaution, that I 
perceived-"

"What, Justine," interrupted the Marchioness, in a tone almost 
serious, "did you perceive?"

"That it was a young man, Madame."

"What! And you did not tell me of it?"

"Good Madame, how could I? Your women were in the apartment! The 
Marquis about to enter! That would have made a fine confusion! 
And perhaps, Madame knew of it."

At these last words, the Marchioness turned pale. "You are 
mocking me, miss; know, that if I choose to forget myself, I 
would not have other people forget their manners!" The tone in 
which these words were pronounced made poor Justine tremble; she 
excused herself as well as she could.

"Madame, I was only joking."

"I believe it, miss; if you had spoken seriously, I would 
discharge you this evening."

Justine began to cry. I tried to appease the Marchioness.

"You must agree," she said, "that she has been impertinent. How! 
Dare to suppose; dare tell me to my face, before you, that I 
knew!"

She took me by the hand, and squeezed it gently.

"My dear Faublas, my good friend, you know all that came to 
pass; you know if my weakness is excusable! Your disguise 
deceived all the world. I saw a young lady at the ball, whose 
beauty and wit made me attached to her; she supped with me; she 
slept with me; everyone has retired, the amiable girl is in my 
bed, at my side; I find that he is a charming young man! So far, 
chance, or rather love, did everything! After that, I have, 
without doubt, been very weak; but what woman, in my place, 
could have resisted? The next day I applauded the accident, 
which caused my happiness, and ensured it. Faublas, you know the 
Marquis; they married me against my consent; they sacrificed me; 
what woman would they excuse if they judge me with rigour?"

I observed that the Marchioness was ready to cry, and I 
endeavoured to console her by a most tender kiss; I was going to 
speak.

"A moment," she said to me, "a moment, my friend. The next day I 
confided to Justine my astonishing adventure; I told the whole-
everything! Faublas, She has the secret of my life, my dearest 
secret! She appeared to pity me, and to love me; but her 
appearance was deceitful, for she has abused my confidence; she 
supposes what is horrible; she tells me to my face-"

Justine burst into tears; she fell upon her knees before her 
mistress, and begged her pardon twenty times. I joined my 
entreaty to hers, for I was sensibly affected. The Marchioness 
was softened: "Go," she said; "I pardon you, Justine; yes, I 
pardon you."

Justine kissed her mistress' hand, and begged her pardon. "It is 
sufficient," said the Marchioness to her, "it is sufficient, I 
am easy, I am satisfied; rise, Justine, and remember, that if 
your mistress has weaknesses, they are not to be magnified into 
vices; that, instead of making her out more culpable than she 
is, you ought to excuse or pity her; and, finally, that you 
render yourself unworthy of her goodness when you are wanting in 
fidelity and respect. Come," she added with much sweetness, 
"leave off crying; get up, I tell you that I pardon you; finish 
this headdress, and drop the subject."

Justine went on with her work, leering at me in great confusion. 
The Marchioness looked at me in a very languishing manner. We 
all three kept silence, and the business of my toilette 
proceeded the quicker, as I had two femmes de chambre instead of 
one. It was nine o'clock, and time for us to separate: we took a 
parting kiss. "Go, you little rogue," said the Marchioness, "and 
amuse my husband; tomorrow, you can tell me what occurs."

I went down; a hackney-coach was at the door. As I got in, two 
young men passed; they looked very hard at me, and cracked some 
jokes, which were more gross than gallant. I was surprised at 
it: could the house from which I came be of a suspicious 
character? it belonged to one of the Marchioness' friends. My 
appearance was not that of a courtesan; why, then, did these 
gents cast their jeers at me? Perhaps it appeared strange to 
them, that a young woman of respectable appearance, and without 
a servant, should go alone in a hackney-coach at nine o'clock at 
night.

As the vehicle advanced, my reflections took another turn, and 
changed their object. I was alone; I thought of my Sophia. I had 
made her but a short visit in the forenoon, and during the 
evening I gave myself but a moment to think of her; but, if the 
reader would excuse me, let him think of the sweet enticements 
which were thrown in my way by the handsome and voluptuous femme 
de chambre; that Justine possessed very fascinating and 
luxurious charms; and, above all, let him remember that Faublas 
was scarcely sixteen when he commenced his novitiate.

I arrived at M. du Portail's. The Marquis made the most profound 
respects, and asked me if I had seen his wife. To say no, was to 
tell a lie; I must, nevertheless, resolve to do it. "No, sir;" I 
said.

"I knew it well, I was sure of it-"

M. du Portail interrupted: "You made us wait a long time for 
you, my dear; we are going to sit down to supper,"

"Without my brother?"

"He has sent word that he sups in the city."

"What! On the eve of my departure?"

"Mademoiselle, you never told me you had a brother," said the 
Marquis.

"I thought, Monsieur, that I had informed the Marchioness of 
it."

"She never mentioned it to me."

"Indeed!"

"I give you my word and honour that she has never told me of 
it."

"I believe you, sir."

"Your father thought that I played the connoisseur without being 
one."

"How?"

"How, mademoiselle! You will hardly believe what has taken 
place! When I arrived here, I recognised your brother whom I had 
never seen."

"Ha! Ha!"

"Ask your father."

"It is very true, sir, that you recognised him; but Madame the 
Marchioness-"

"She has never told me of it, I swear to you."

"Indeed!"

"I give you my word and honour of it."

"It was M. de Rosambert, then?"

"Neither"

"I think, nevertheless, I have heard you say something to that 
effect."

"Not a word of it, I protest." (The Marquis was almost angry.)

"It is I, then, who am mistaken! In that case you must be a very 
great physiognomist."

"Oh, that is true!" he replied in ecstasy; "No one is so well 
skilled in physiognomy as I am."

M. du Portail was amused with this conversation, and fearing it 
would conclude too soon, "We must agree also," he said to the 
Marquis, "that there is a great family likeness."

"I agree to it," he replied, "I agree to it; but it is precisely 
this likeness we must catch, that we must distinguish in the 
features; it is that which constitutes real judges! Between 
father, mother, brothers, and sisters, there is always a family 
resemblance."

"Always!"I cried, "always! Do you believe-?"

"If I believe! But I am sure of it. Sometimes it is enveloped in 
the deportment, in the manners, in the looks: enveloped, I tell 
you, and concealed in such a manner as 'tis not easy to perceive 
it. Well, then! An expert man seeks for it-analyses it-do you 
conceive me?"

"In short, if, after having seen me, but not having seen my 
father, you had, by chance, met him in the midst of twenty 
persons-"

"Him! Amongst a thousand I should have known him."

M. du Portail and myself burst into laughter. The Marquis rose, 
left the table, went to M. au Portail, took his head with one 
hand, and with a finger of the other traced the face of my 
pretended father, saying, "Do not laugh, sir, do not laugh. 
Here, mademoiselle, do you not see this line which rises here, 
passes along there, and comes back here? Does it come back? No, 
it does not come back; it stops there. Well! See-" (he came 
towards me.)

"Sir," I said, "I do not like to be touched." (He stopped, and 
pointed with his finger, but without putting it on my face.)

"Well! Mademoiselle, behold this same line, there, here, and 
again there. There, do you not see it!"

"How, sir, how can I see it!"

"You laugh! You must not laugh; it is serious. You see it well, 
do you not, sir?"

"Very well."

"Besides that, there is in the tout ensemble, in the 
configuration of the body, certain shadows of resemblance; 
certain secret affinities-occult-"

"Occult!" I replied, "occult!"

"Yes, yes, occult! You do not know, perhaps, what is meant by 
occult? That is not astonishing for a girl! I say, then, 
Monsieur, that there are certain secret resemblances-No, it was 
not resemblances I said-it was another word-more-better-By our 
Lady! I know not where I was, they have interrupted me so."

"You said, sir, secret affinities."

"Ah! Yes, affinities! Affinities! And I will explain it to you, 
sir, who are reasonable."

"How! Sir, do you mean to insult me!"

"No, my sweet girl, you cannot know everything your father 
knows."

"Ah! In that sense-"

"Yes, in that sense, my sweet lady; but let me beg that I may 
explain it to you, Monsieur?-Monsieur, the fathers and mothers, 
in the procreation of individuals, make beings who resemble-who 
have secret affinities to the beings who have generated them, 
because the mother, on her side, and the father on his-"

"Hush! Hush!" interrupted M. du Portail.

"Oh! She does not comprehend that," said the Marquis; "she is 
too young. It is, nevertheless, clear, and you can understand 
me. Those things, sir, are physical, and they have been 
philosophically proved by-by great physicians who understand 
such matters."

"Why, then, speak so low?" I said to the Marquis.

"I have done, mademoiselle, I have done; your father understands 
it."

"You are well skilled in physiognomy, Monsieur, but are you not 
also a judge of stuffs? What do you say to this gown? It is very 
pretty; very pretty. I think the Marchioness has one like it. 
Yes, exactly like it."

"Of the same stuff, and the same colour?"

"Of the same stuff I cannot say, but as to the colour, it is 
precisely the same. It is very pretty; it becomes you very 
much."

He then began to pay many compliments in his peculiar manner, 
and M. du Portail, who had guessed to whom the gown belonged, 
regarded me with a look of displeasure, and seemed to reproach 
me for having so soon forgot the promise I had made him.

We were rising from the table when my real father, M. de 
Faublas, who had promised to fetch me, arrived. His astonishment 
was very great at finding his son a second time disguised, and 
in company with the Marquis de B***. "Again!" he said, looking 
at me with much severity; "and you, M. du Portail, you have the 
goodness-"

"Ah! Good evening to you, my friend; do you not recognise 
Monsieur the Marquis de B***? He has done me the honour to sup 
with me, in order to take farewell of my daughter, who sets off 
tomorrow."

"Who goes tomorrow?" replied the Baron, coldly saluting the 
Marquis.

"Yes, my friend, she returns to her convent; did you not know 
it? Indeed, my friend, I tell you she goes tomorrow."

"Yes," interrupted the Marquis, "She is going; I am very sorry 
for it, and my wife will be much grieved about it."

"And I," replied my father, "am very glad of it; it is time it 
was finished," he added, looking at me. M. du Portail, fearing 
he might get into a passion, drew him on one side.

"Who, then, is that man?" said the Marquis to me: "did I not see 
him here the other day?"

"Certainly."

"I knew him at first sight; when once I have seen a countenance, 
I know it again. But this man displeases me; he always looks 
angry. Is he a relation of yours?"

"Not at all."

"Oh! I could have wagered he was not of the family! There is not 
in your countenances the slightest resemblance; yours is always 
gay, his ever gloomy; at least, but a Platonic smile; no, 
sartonic-is it sartonic or sardonic?-In short-you understand me. 
I would say, that if he did not look sideways at you, he would 
laugh in your face."

"Never mind that, he is a philosopher."

"A philosopher!" replied the Marquis, "with an air of alarm; I 
am no longer astonished. A philosopher! Ah! I must go."

M. du Portail and the Baron were conversing together, and turned 
their backs towards us. The Marquis bade adieu to M. du Portail. 
"Do not disturb yourself," he said to the Baron, who was turning 
round to salute him; "do not disturb yourself, sir; I do not 
like philosophers, not I, and am very happy you do not belong to 
this family. A philosopher! A philosopher!" repeated he, and 
flew out of the room.

When he was gone, my father and M. du Portail began to chat in a 
low tone. I went to sleep by the fireside. I had a delightful 
dream; the image of my lovely Sophia was presented to my dormant 
senses. 

"Faublas!" cried my father, "let us go."

"To see my pretty cousin?" I said, in my stupor.

"His pretty cousin! See, he has been sleeping as he sat there."

M. du Portail smiled. He said, "Go home, my friend, go and 
sleep, I think you have need of it; we will see each other 
again: I owe you some reproaches, and the continuation of my 
story: we will meet again."

When I got home, I asked for the Abbé Person. He was gone to 
bed. I did the same, and did right. Never did any one sleep 
sounder under the fraternal harangues of our freemasons; at the 
public lectures of the modern museum; under the precious 
pleadings of D***, of C***, of D'L***, and of many other great 
orators represented in the famous picture.



V.

When I rose, I rang for Jasmin, to inform him that they would 
bring home my clothes, which I had left the night before with a 
friend in the city. Afterwards, I bade him call M. Person. I 
asked him after Adelaide and Mademoiselle du Ponits.

"You saw them yesterday, he replied."

"And you also, M. Person, you have seen them, and even told them 
that I had made an acquaintance at the ball."

"Well, sir, and what evil was there in that?"

"And what necessity, sir? Tell my sister your own secrets, if 
you please; but for mine, I beg you will respect them."

"Indeed, sir, you speak in a very high tone. For some days past 
you are quite altered. I shall complain to your father, sir."

"And I, sir, to my sister;" (I saw him turn pale.) "Believe me, 
let us be friends; my father desires me to go out with you."

"Well, finish dressing yourself, and let us go to the convent."

We were going, when Rosambert arrived. As soon as he knew where 
we were going, he begged me to let him accompany us. "For these 
four months past," he said, "you have promised to introduce me 
to your amiable sister."

"I am going to keep my word, Rosambert, and you will see a girl 
whom you will be compelled to esteem."

"I am well convinced, my friend, that Mademoiselle de Faublas 
is, in this case, an exception; but I retort upon you the 
formidable argument with which you have armed yourself against 
me: an exception does not destroy the rule, but proves it."

"Just as you please. I warn you that you are going to see a lass 
of fourteen years and a half, innocent and ingenuous, even to 
simplicity; nevertheless, she is as tall as one can be at her 
age, and she wants neither understanding nor education."

No one could be more unhappy than I was: my sister came to the 
conference room; my Sophia did not come. After the first 
salutations and a few moments general conversation, I could no 
longer dissemble my uneasiness. "Where, Adelaide, is my pretty 
cousin?"

"Oh, my dear brother, her illness must be very serious, for she 
confines herself all day. I no longer recognise her: formerly, 
she was as thoughtless, gay and lively as myself; now I behold 
her gloomy, thoughtful and unhappy. We find her, it is true, 
nearly as mild and affectionate when we go to her, but she 
rarely comes to us. During our hours of recreation, she used to 
play and run in the gardens with our companions; at present, she 
seeks some retired corner, and walks by herself. Oh! She is ill; 
she is ill, indeed: she eats little, sleeps less, and never 
smiles; and I, whom she loved so much, am now shunned, as if she 
feared me! Yes, indeed, I have remarked it; she flies from 
everybody, but avoids me above all. Yesterday, I saw her enter a 
little shaded walk at the bottom of the garden; I approached her 
unperceived, and found her wiping her eyes: 'My dear friend, 
what is the matter with you?' I said. She gave me such a look; 
such a look as I never saw any one have before. At last, she 
replied, 'Adelaide, dost thou not guess? Ah! How happy thou art! 
But I am to be pitied.' And then she blushed, she sighed and 
wept. I tried to comfort her. The more I spoke to her, the more 
she grieved. I embraced her; she held me a long time, and 
appeared tranquil: all at once, she put her hand on my eyes, and 
said, 'Adelaide, hide thy face! Oh! Hide it! It is too much; it 
makes me ill. Leave me; go in a moment; leave me alone:' and she 
began to weep again. Perceiving that her illness increased, I 
said: 'Sophia!'"

At the name of Sophia, Rosambert whispered into my ear: "Sophia 
is the pretty cousin; it is this Sophia that I have blasphemed. 
Ah, pardon me." My sister continued:

"I said to her: 'Wait a moment, Sophia; I will go and fetch thy 
gouvernante.' She then recovered herself, dried her eyes, and 
begged me to say nothing. I was obliged to promise her that I 
would not. But still it was very unreasonable of her, to be ill, 
and not wish her gouvernante to know it!"

"Why did she not come here with you to-day, my dear Adelaide?"

"It is because she is so distracted, so absorbed! She loved you 
almost as much as me, formerly."

"And now?"

"I think she loves you no more. Just now I told her that you 
were here." 'My young cousin!" she cried, with an air of 
satisfaction; she was coming; but she stopped. 'No, I will not 
go, she said; I will not, I cannot! Tell him from me, that-'"

She appeared as if thinking what to say, and I waited her 
explanation. 'Do you not know what to say to him?' To which she 
added, with a little anger: 'What they say in similar cases, the 
customary compliments!' and she quitted me abruptly.

I was intoxicated with pleasure to hear my ingenuous sister 
describe, with the innocence of a child, the tender agitations 
and sweet anxieties of Sophia. Rosambert seemed struck with 
astonishment, and lent an attentive ear; and the little Abbé, 
looking at us all three, appeared at the same time both restless 
and delighted.

"You think then, Adelaide, that Sophia loves me no more?"

"I am almost sure of it, brother. Everything which relates to 
you puts her out of temper, and I am sometimes the victim of her 
ill humour."

"How?"

"Yes, the other day, Monsieur the Abbé Person informed us that 
you had passed the whole night at a ball with Madame the 
Marchioness de B***. Well! When he was gone, as soon as we were 
alone, Sophia said to me, in a very serious tone: 'Your brother 
did not sleep at home. That is not right.'"

"Your brother!"

"In general she said thee, thou, and thy. Your brother! If you 
have done anything wrong, Faublas, why should she be angry with 
me? Your brother! The next day, I believe you had been to a 
masked ball. The Abbé came to tell us, for he tells us 
everything. As soon as we were alone, Sophia said: 'Your brother 
amuses himself at the ball, whilst we pass our weary hours 
here.'"

"'Not at all,' I replied; 'one is never tired in the company of 
a dear friend.'"

"'Ah! Yes,' she added: 'Ah! Yes, with one's dear friend; that is 
true.' Nevertheless, Faublas, behold her singularity: a moment 
after, she repeats, in a melancholy manner: 'He amuses himself 
at the ball, while we weary ourselves here!'"

"We weary ourselves! And even if it was true, it was not polite; 
she ought not to say so. Oh! If she were not ill, I would not 
excuse her. I recollect also another trait. Yesterday, you told 
us that Madame de B*** was pretty. In the evening I followed 
Sophia, and made her walk with me. 'Your brother,' she said, 
(for at present it is always your brother), finds this 
Marchioness pretty, and he is, no doubt, in love with her.' I 
replied: 'That cannot be, my friend; this Madame de B*** is 
married.' She took my hand, and said: 'Ah! Adelaide, how happy 
thou art?' and there was something of disdain and pity in her 
look and smile. Is that polite? 'Ah! How happy thou art!' "Well, 
it is true, I am happy when I am in good health."

"But, Adelaide, all that you have told me is no proof that 
Sophia has ceased to love me. She may be a little angry; but it 
is common to behave thus towards those they love."

"Oh! No doubt, if that was all!"

"And what else is there, then?"

"Oh! Formerly she talked of you unceasingly; she was delighted 
to see you: at present, she but rarely mentions you, and always 
in a very serious tone. Did you not observe it yesterday? She 
never said a word, not a single word, while you were here. Do 
not deceive yourself, my dear brother; when we love people, we 
always speak to them. I assure you that my friend loves you no 
more."

Here Rosambert joined in the conversation, the subject of which 
was changed. We spoke of dancing, music, history, and geography. 
My sister, who had been prattling like a child of six years, now 
reasoned like a woman of twenty. The Count, each moment more 
surprised, did not seem aware how the time glided by, although 
several times warned of it by the Abbé Person. At last, the 
sound of a bell, which summoned the boarders to the refectory, 
obliged us to retire.

"I confess to you," said the Count, "that I can scarcely believe 
what I have seen. How can they connect ignorance and knowledge; 
modesty and beauty; the simplicity of childhood and the reason 
of maturity; in short, permit me to say, such extreme innocence 
with such precocious faculties and acquirements? I thought this 
union impossible, my friend. Your sister is the masterpiece of 
nature and education."

"This masterpiece, Rosambert, is the fruit of fourteen years of 
cares and of pleasure; it was produced by a rare concourse of 
fortunate events. The Baron de Faublas knew that the education 
of a daughter was a heavy burden for a military man: my mother, 
whom we shall always regret, my amiable and virtuous mother, was 
found worthy to be charged with it. Chance also has seconded her 
efforts, she met with servants for her daughter, who obeyed 
without disputing; a gouvernante, who neither related amorous 
stories nor read romances; with masters, who were only occupied 
with their pupil while going through her lessons; a society of 
attentive persons, who were not guilty of a suspicious gesture, 
or an equivocal word; and, which is by no means the least 
essential, a director who, in his confessional, listened, but 
put no questions. In short, my friend, it is only six months 
that Adelaide has been at the convent."

"Six months! Ah! How many young ladies, whom we call well 
educated, have acquired great intelligence in a much shorter 
time; yes, and even received certain lessons, which wonderfully 
advance young girls."

"It is in this respect, Rosambert, that we must still more 
admire the happiness of Adelaide! Lively, playful, cheerful with 
her companions, she has selected but one, as delicate, as well -
bred, as prudent as herself. One, somewhat more enlightened, 
perhaps, because within a little time, love-"

"I understand you, it is the pretty cousin."

"Yes, my friend, Sophia, not less virtuous than Adelaide, though 
susceptible a little sooner of certain impressions, is become 
the only friend of my sister. Their two hearts, so pure, are, as 
we may suppose, attracted and blended together. Adelaide, 
deprived of her mother, has not thought nor lived but in Sophia. 
Their friendship, as delicate as lively, saves them from the 
dangers of which you speak, and to which I can conceive they 
must be exposed in such a society, surrounded by so many ardent, 
restless and curious young girls, with whom the nature of the 
place is calculated to lead them into intimate connections. The 
close union of these two friends has lately been interrupted by 
myself: I flatter myself that I am become the happy object of my 
pretty cousin's most tender affections. Adelaide, on whom love" 
(I looked at the Abbé Person) "has not yet exercised his power, 
has devoted towards Sophia entire friendship, and the bitterness 
of her complaints proves to us the excess of her affection. And 
you assure yourself, in the meantime, of your happiness. Indeed, 
Faublas, I congratulate you, if Sophia is as amiable and as 
beautiful as Adelaide."

"More handsome, my friend, still more handsome! Imagine-"

"Hush! Hush! Gently! How warm he gets! Tell me then, my 
sentimental friend, since you have so charming a mistress, why 
have you choused<4> me out of mine? Since M. de Faublas loves 
the conversation room so much, why has Mademoiselle du Portail 
slept with the Marchioness? How do you reconcile this?"

"That is not difficult, Rosambert."

"Nor disagreeable, I conceive."

"You laugh: hear me then, my friend: You know how things have 
gone between the Marchioness and me?"

"Yes, yes; near the matter."

"Nay, you eternal sneerer, listen to me. Educated nearly in the 
same manner as my sister, I was scarcely less ignorant than her, 
eight days since. I have not taken Madame de B***, it is she who 
ensnared me. I am excusable."

"Go on; come to the masked ball: but, at least, you were not 
obliged to return to the house. The masked ball! Hem! What say 
you?"

"I say, that they drew me there; I am scarcely sixteen years, 
and my sensations are new to me."

"Ah, Sophia! Poor Sophia!"

"Do not pity her, I adore her! But I am sure, Rosambert, nothing 
but the lawful rites can ensure me possession of her."

"That may be, at least-"

"Well! Trusting that Hymen will unite us, I shall always respect 
my Sophia."

"That is to be seen hereafter."

"In the meantime, my celibacy will seem hard."

"I believe it."

"My high spirits will sometimes carry me too far."

"Without doubt."

"I shall, perhaps, be guilty of an occasional infidelity to my 
pretty cousin."

"That is more than probable."

"But as soon as a happy marriage-"

"Ah, yes!"

"Then, my Sophia, I will love none but thee!"

"That is not certain."

"I will love her all my life."

"That appears to me rash."

Rosambert left me. Jasmin, of whom I enquired if anyone had 
brought home my clothes, he said had not seen anyone. I waited 
until the evening, in expectation of a messenger, but none came. 
I was uneasy, because I had left a pocketbook in my pocket, 
which contained two letters; one had been sent me from the 
country by an old domestic of my father, in which the good man 
wished me a happy new year, and the customary compliments on 
such occasions. I was sorry to lose the other, it was that which 
the Marchioness had written to me some days before; it was 
addressed to Mademoiselle du Portail, and I wished to preserve 
it.

The clothes were brought me in the morning after, but I searched 
in vain in the pockets, for the pocket-book was not there. At 
this moment Madame Dutour arrived, and caused me to forget my 
uneasiness by delivering me a letter from the Marchioness. I 
opened it with eagerness, and read:"
"MY DEAR FRIEND, 
"Be at the door of my house by seven precisely, this 
evening. You may follow with confidence, the person, who, 
after having lifted up your hat with which you will cover 
your eyes, will call you 'Adonis.' I cannot write more to 
you, I have been beset ever since the morning, and fatigued 
with the details of physiognomical science, and it is not 
that in which I am anxious to become profound. Oh, my 
friend! You are so well skilled in the art of pleasing, 
that to know you is to love you-I wish to know nothing 
more."

This letter was so flattering, and the invitation it contained 
so seducing, that I could not hesitate in complying with its 
commands.

I assured Dutour that I would not fail to be at the appointed 
place. Nevertheless, when she was gone, I felt some degree of 
irresolution. Ought I not, in future, to be entirely occupied 
with Sophia, and to avoid all occasions of seeing so dangerous a 
rival? But why shall I impose upon myself this cruel 
restriction, without necessity? Have I declared my love to 
Sophia? Has Sophia avowed hers to me? Has she acquired the right 
of demanding this sacrifice of me? Besides, might not my 
refusing to indulge the Marchioness be called an infidelity? It 
is not embarking in a new intrigue! Since I have passed a night 
with the Marchioness-since I have seen her again in that 
agreeable boudoir, what harm can there be in my paying her one 
more visit? And then, my pretty cousin will know nothing of it. 
In short, my word was engaged, and the reader will agree that I 
could not dispense with going to the rendezvous.

I did not make them wait for me; neither did Justine suffer me 
to wait at the door; she lifted up my hat: "Come charming 
Adonis!" she said. I followed her with gentle steps. 
Nevertheless, the porter, although half drunk, heard some noise, 
and demanded who it was."

"It is me! It is me!" replied Justine."

"Yes, replied the other, it is you! But who is that young 
spark?"

"Who is it? Why, my cousin!"

"The porter was in good humour, and we passed without any 
trouble.

Justine conducted me to the bottom of the court, and we slipped 
up a private staircase. It may easily be conceived that the 
pretty soubrette was embraced several times before we arrived at 
the first landing-place. She then made a sign for me to be more 
prudent, and took me through a little door, which conducted me 
into the Marchioness' boudoir. "Go," said Justine, "go into the 
bedroom; you will be safer there."

She went out, and shut the door after her.

I went into the bedchamber, and my charming mistress came to me. 

"Ah! My dear mamma, I am then here for the second time."

She interrupted me; "My God! I think I hear the Marquis! And 
here he is, sure enough, come home for the evening; save 
yourself! Go!"

I flew in an instant to the boudoir, but I did not think of 
shutting the bedroom door after me; it remained ajar; and, to 
heighten my misfortune, Justine had double-locked the other 
door, which led to the private staircase. The Marchioness, who 
could not guess that my retreat was cut off, seated herself 
tranquilly. The Marquis had already entered her apartment, and 
appeared somewhat disconcerted. I trembled lest he should see me 
in the boudoir, as there was no means of getting out. What was I 
to do? I crept under the sofa, and, in a very uncomfortable 
position, I heard a very singular conversation, which terminated 
in a manner still more singular.

"You are returned in good time, Monsieur."

"Yes, Madame."

"I did not expect you so soon."
 
Illustration: I crept under the sofa, and, in a very 
uncomfortable position, I heard a very singular conversation.

"That is very possible, Madame."

"You appear agitated; what is the matter with you?"

"It is, Madame-it is-I am furious."

"Calm yourself, Monsieur; may I know what it is?"

"It is-there is no longer any morality in the world-the women!"

"The remark, Monsieur, is polite, and the application happy!"

"Madame, I like not to be trifled with! And, when I am tricked, 
I perceive it very soon!"

"What do you mean, Monsieur, by these reproaches; these insults! 
To whom are they addressed? You will explain yourself, without 
doubt?"

"Yes, Madame, I will explain myself, and then you will be 
convinced!"

"Convinced of what?"

"Of what! In a moment Madame; you do not let me have time to 
breathe! You have received into your house, lodged with you, and 
had to sleep with you, Mademoiselle du Portail!"

[The Marchioness, with great firmness:] "Well! Monsieur."

"Well! Madame; and do you know who this Mademoiselle du Portail 
is?"

"I know the same as you, Monsieur; she was introduced by M. de 
Rosambert; her father is a respectable gentleman, with whom you 
supped the night before last."

"That is not the question, Madame; do you know who this 
Mademoiselle du Portail is?"

"I repeat it to you, Monsieur, that I know, as you do, that 
Mademoiselle du Portail is a young lady of good birth and 
education, and extremely amiable."

"That is not the question, Madame."

"Well, Monsieur, and pray what is the question, then? Have you 
sworn to put my patience to the test?"

"In a moment, then, Madame, Mademoiselle du Portail is not a 
girl."

[The Marchioness, in a very lively manner:] "Is not a girl!"

"Is not a girl well born, Madame; she is a girl of a certain 
description; like those girls who-there-you understand me?"

"I assure you I do not, Monsieur."

"I have, nevertheless, sufficiently explained myself; she is a 
girl who-that-in short, you know what I mean."

"Oh! Not at all, Monsieur, I assure you."

"She is, what I would have told you without naming it; Madame, 
she is a wh-; do you understand me now?"

"Mademoiselle du Portail a wh-! Pardon me, sir, I cannot contain 
myself, I must laugh." (And the Marchioness did indeed laugh 
with all her strength.) 

"You may laugh, Madame; but stop! Do you know this letter?"

"Yes, it was what I wrote to Mademoiselle du Portail the day 
after she slept with me."

"Truly, Madame, and do you know this?"

"No, Monsieur."

"Look at it, Madame, you see the address: A Monsieur, le 
Chevalier Fabulas: and read its contents:"
"My DEAR MASTER, 
"May I take the liberty of intruding upon you, to wish that 
the year now commenced may be happy and prosperous for you, 
etc., etc. 
"I have the honour to be, with profound respect, 
"My dear Master, etc., etc."

"It is a new-year's letter from a domestic to his master, who is 
a Monsieur de Faublas."

"Well, Madame, these letters were in the pocket-book which you 
see here."

"What then, Monsieur?"

"You cannot guess where I found it?"

"Tell me; tell me, Monsieur."

"I found it in a place where-

Well, Monsieur, tell me the rest, you delight in being 
mysterious."

"Well, then, Madame, I found it in a bad place."

"In a bad place?"

"Yes, Madame, where curiosity led me; stop! I am going to 
explain that to you. A woman has lately circulated some printed 
letters, by which she informs lovers that she can accommodate 
them with some charming boudoirs, which she will let at so much 
an hour; as for myself, I only went to see them out of 
curiosity, sheer curiosity, as I told you just now."

"What day were you there, Monsieur?"

"Yesterday, After dinner, Madame; and the boudoirs were, indeed, 
charming! There is one on the first floor which is very pretty! 
There are paintings, prints, mirrors, an alcove, a bed, ah, such 
a bed! Imagine to yourself a bed with springs! Ah, 'tis very 
pleasant! One of these days I must show it to you."

"A husband and his wife go to such a place!" replied the 
Marchioness, "that would be very fine!"

I heard some noise; the Marquis was embracing his wife, and she 
was preventing him. Their conversation, which in the 
commencement rendered me very uneasy, now amused me so much, 
that it lessened the restraint of my situation. The Marquis 
continued as follows:

"But that nothing may be wanting, there is, in the boudoir on 
the first floor, a door which communicates with the house of a 
milliner, who lives adjoining: it is admirably contrived. You 
might suppose a lady of quality going to her milliner: no such 
thing; she steps upstairs, and the head of a poor husband is 
cornuted.<5> In this boudoir I opened a little closet, and there 
it was I found the pocket-book. Therefore, it is clear that 
Mademoiselle du Portail has been there with this M. de Faublas; 
and that it is very scandalous of her, and it is very bad 
conduct of M. de Rosambert, who knew it, to introduce her to us, 
and very imprudent of her father to let her come out accompanied 
only by a femme de chambre. But I was not their dupe! There is 
in her countenance-You know what a physiognomist-Her countenance 
is pretty! But there is a something in her features which 
indicates a blood-She has a warm temperament; I observed it 
particularly. Do you not recollect the evening that Rosambert 
said there were circumstances-Hem! Circumstances-did you not 
remark that? Ah! They cannot deceive me! And mind you, the same 
day-Come, come, Madame."

The Marchioness, who thought me gone, suffered him to conduct 
her into her boudoir. The Marquis continued:

"She was here, in this boudoir, there; you were reclining 
yourself on this sofa; and I arrived, Madame; she had a most 
animated and glowing complexion; her eyes sparkled, her looks 
were peculiar. Oh! I tell you this girl has a temperament of 
fire. You know I am a judge; but leave it to me, I'll set the 
matter right."

"How, Monsieur, will you put it right?"

"Yes, Madame; I shall tell Rosambert what I think of his 
proceedings. Rosambert has, perhaps, been connected with her. 
Afterwards I will see M. du Portail, and will inform him of the 
conduct of his daughter."

"What! Monsieur, will you plunge Rosambert in a disagreeable 
quarrel?"

"Madame, Madame, Rosambert knew what she was; he was jealous as 
a tiger of me."

"Of you, Monsieur?"

"Yes, Madame, of me; because the girl appeared to prefer me. She 
even made advances to me; and 'tis in that she has trifled with 
me, for she had at the same time this M. de Faublas. I will know 
who this M. de Faublas is, and I will see M. du Portail."

"What! Monsieur, could you go to tell a father?"

"Yes, Madame, it would be doing him a service; I'll go and 
acquaint him with everything."

"I hope, Monsieur, you'll do no such thing"

"I shall do it, Madame."

"If you have any consideration for me, you will leave it to take 
its chance."

"No, no, I cannot."

"I beg it as a favour of you, Monsieur."

"No, no, Madame."

"I see through you now, Monsieur; I discover the motive which 
interests you so much in what regards Mademoiselle du Portail. I 
know you too well to be the dupe of this austerity of morals 
which you put on today; you are angry, not because Mademoiselle 
du Portail has been in a suspicious place, but because she has 
been there with any other than yourself."

"Oh! Madame."

"And when I invited home a young lady, whom I thought virtuous, 
you had designs upon her."

"Madame!"

"And you dare come and complain to me of having been tricked! It 
is I, it is I alone who have been the dupe!

She threw herself upon the sofa. Her husband cried out, and then 
embraced her, saying, "If you knew how I loved you!"

"If you loved me, Monsieur, you would have had more 
consideration for me, more respect for yourself, more tenderness 
for a child who is, perhaps, more to be pitied than blamed. What 
are you doing, Monsieur? Leave me. If you love me, you will not 
go to inform an unhappy father of the errors of his child; you 
will not go and relate this adventure to M. de Rosambert, who 
will laugh at it, make a jest of you, and spread a report that I 
have received in my house a girl of intrigue! But, Monsieur, 
have done; what you would do is nothing to the purpose."

"Madame, I love you."

"It is not sufficient to say so; it must be proved."

"But for these three or four days, my love, you would not let me 
prove it."

"It is not such proofs as these which I demand of you, Monsieur. 
But Monsieur; have done then, I say."

"Come on, Madame, my love."

"Indeed, Monsieur, that is very ridiculous!"

"We are alone."

"It would be better if there were other persons here; that would 
be decent. Have done then, I say; have we not always time to do 
those things! Leave me alone. What! Married people! At your age? 
In a boudoir! On a sofa! Like lovers! And when I have something 
else to request of you."

"Well, my angel, I'll say nothing to Rosambert, nothing to M. du 
Portail."

"You can promise well."

"I'll give you my word."

"Well then! Stop a moment; give me the pocket-book; leave it 
with me."

"With all my heart; there it is."

(There was a short silence.) "Indeed, Monsieur," said the 
Marchioness, "in a voice almost extinct, you desired it; but it 
is very ridiculous."

I heard them stammer, sigh, and die away both together. One may 
imagine what I suffered under the sofa during this strange 
scene.

I could have strangled the actors with my own hands; and in the 
excess of my spite I was tempted to discover myself, to reproach 
the Marchioness for this new species of infidelity, and to repay 
the Marquis for the bitter mortification he had made me undergo, 
without knowing it.

Justine came to terminate my irresolution; she opened all at 
once, the door of the private staircase. The Marchioness 
shrieked out. The Marquis fled into the bedroom, to put himself 
in order. Justine, perceiving a husband instead of a lover, was 
struck with astonishment; nor was the Marchioness less surprised 
when she saw me come from under the sofa. I whispered my thanks 
to the femme de chambre. 

"Many thanks Justine; you have rendered me as essential service. 
I was very uncomfortable beneath, while Madame was so much at 
her ease above."

The Marchioness, alarmed and trembling, dared neither to reply 
to me nor to retain me, as her husband was so near, and probably 
would enter as soon as he was decently dressed. Justine stood on 
one side, to let me pass. I descended the private staircase 
without a light, at the risk of breaking my neck. I flew across 
the court and got out of the house, cursing its owners.

The next morning I was still in bed when Jasmin announced the 
arrival of Justine, and retired discreetly. 

"My dear girl, I dreamt of you!"

"Ah, Monsieur! Let me alone; you must not do so this time. I 
will commence by executing my commission. Do you know that I got 
a fine scolding yesterday? You put us into a terrible alarm! You 
had not reached the bottom of the staircase, when the Marquis 
entered the boudoir. 'See this fool,' she said to him, 'who 
entered here like a shot from a pistol.' As soon as he had 
quitted us, my mistress, distracted at the adventure, told me 
she could not conceive why you hid yourself under the sofa. I 
was forced to acknowledge that I had, without knowing it, 
double-locked the door. She flew into a violent passion with me, 
and this morning she sent me with this letter for you."

"Very well, my dear Justine; now your commission is done, for I 
shall not open the letter."

"You will not open it, Monsieur?"

"No, I am angry with the Marchioness."

"You are wrong."

"But I cannot be angry with thee, Justine."

"You are right."

"Well, make haste then."

"But, stop; I will, on condition that you read the letter."

"Oh! How happy a mistress is to have a girl like thee! Well; 
I'll read it."

Justine so cheerfully fulfilled the conditions of the treaty 
that it would have been perfidious on my part not to have kept 
my word. I opened the letter.
My Dear Friend, 
I am greatly distressed at our adventure yesterday. That 
scene, which would only have been strange had you not been 
a witness of it, has become, by your presence, as 
disagreeable to me as mortifying to you. What an expression 
you made use of at parting! You are ungrateful! You know 
not the pain you gave me! Let me see you again, my dear 
friend; come to her who loves you! Come at noon to the 
place you will be told of. There I shall have no trouble in 
defending myself; there, when my lover shall be well 
convinced of his injustice, he will find me ready to pardon 
his hasty remark.

"Monsieur," said Justine, as soon as I had finished the letter, 
"Madame expects you by noon at the boudoir, where you met the 
other day. You know it well, where we dressed you."

"Yes, Justine, and where you cried so much! If thou knew how I 
suffered for thee! But thou wert not content with playing her 
queer tricks, but must also say spiteful things to her."

"Do not speak to me of that, I am still ashamed of it. Have done 
then. Give me your answer for my mistress."

"My answer is, Justine, that I will not go to the rendezvous."

"You will not go?"

"No, Justine."

"What! Will you give this mortification to my mistress?"

"Yes, my dear girl."

"But you will get me scolded at."

"I'll comfort thee for that beforehand."

"Are you indeed decided, then?"

"Fully decided, Justine."

"Well, in that case there is an end of the letter." (She 
embraced me.) "Write a word for my mistress."

"No, my dear, I will not write."

"Leave me alone! But I will again, on condition that you write."

"Ah Justine! I repeat it, how happy a mistress is to have such a 
girl as thee. Well, I will write." I wrote as follows:
I know not, Madame, whether the adventure of yesterday gave 
you much pain; but, from the manner in which you fulfilled 
your employment on the sofa, I have reason to believe you 
did not think it very painful. When one has a husband who 
is amiable, gallant, and tenderly beloved, Madame, one 
ought to keep him. 
I am, with the most lively regret, etc., etc.

Oh, my pretty cousin! How much, when I think of you, do I 
applaud the generous effort I am about to make! Oh, how sweet it 
was to think that at length I had sacrificed an agreeable 
assignation on your account, and at the very hour even when the 
Marchioness thought of seeing me again at the house of her 
friend, I should enjoy the happiness of seeing and admiring you!

Alas! She did not come to the conversation-room!

"Why is your friend not with you, my dear sister?"

"I told you truly, that she was ill! Yesterday, she was crying 
again all day; in the night, she never closed her eyes, and she 
is declared to be in a fever this morning."

"A fever! Sophia in a fever! Sophia in danger!"

"Do not speak so loud, brother; I know not that she is in 
danger, but she suffers a great deal. Her complexion is pale, 
her eyes are red, her head droops, she breathes slow, her speech 
short and stammering; I have even thought her delirious at 
times. This morning, her face was inflamed all at once, her eyes 
became lively and brilliant; she spoke very quick, and very 
softly, some words which I did not understand: but presently, 
she relapsed into a lethargy: 'No, no,' she said, 'that is not 
possible; I cannot; I ought not to do it; he will never know 
it!' I saw the tears flow from her eyes. She added, in a piteous 
tone: 'How I am deceived! It will kill me! It will kill me! The 
cruel! The ungrateful!' I took her hand, she pressed mine, and 
then she said the same again, and repeated, without ceasing: 
'Adelaide! Adelaide! Oh, how happy thou art!' Her gouvernante 
entered; Sophia again conjured me to say nothing. Nevertheless, 
my dear brother, it was necessary that I should inform Madame 
Munich (which was the name of Sophia's gouvernante,) for I am 
alarmed for my dear friend. What think you?"

"Have you told her, Adelaide, that I was here?"

"Yes, but I had good reason, yesterday, to tell you she loved 
you no more, she has told me so herself."

"Sophia has told you?"

"Yes, she said so, and charged me to tell you of it. Last night, 
before supper time, I told her you brought with you a very 
amiable young gentleman. She inquired his name. I replied that 
it was the Count de Rosambert. 'Rosambert! said Sophia. 'It was 
he that introduced your brother to the Marchioness de B***. He 
is not a good young man! Your brother has made a friend of him: 
he will entirely spoil your brother! He has already begun to 
render your brother unsteady.'"

"'Ah, my dear friend! I have been reproaching him; I have even 
told him that you did not love him any more. Yes, my dear 
friend, but he would not believe me; he only laughed at me; and 
M. de Rosambert laughed also.'"

"'These gentlemen laughed, did they!' said Sophia, in an angry 
tone: 'Your brother laughed, and would not believe you! When 
will your brother come again, Adelaide?'"

"'Tomorrow.'"

"'Tell him, it is true I felt a friendship for him, but that I 
feel it no longer; and, to convince him of it, tell him I will 
not see him again as long as I live.' She left me; and, a moment 
after, she came back, and told me, laughing: 'Yes, my dear 
Adelaide, you were right; I love not your brother; I do not love 
him; do not fail to tell him so tomorrow.' She smiled; 
nevertheless, I assure you, Faublas, that she has been weeping 
ever since."

During this relation, my heart was alternately elevated with 
joy, and depressed with sorrow.

"I must tell you," continued my sister, "a singular notion which 
has occurred to me, I know not how, or why. When I saw my dear 
friend laugh and cry at the same time, I could not help 
concluding that she was a little deranged; nevertheless, there 
is a mystery about her which I cannot penetrate; surely someone 
must have done something to grieve her; I am much afraid that it 
is you, my brother. 'Why can she hate him?' I said to myself. 
'Why will she see him no more? Can it be him she called 
ungrateful and cruel?' You may judge, Faublas, that when I 
reflect a little, this idea cannot appear reasoneable. My 
brother ungrateful? Cruel? That cannot be. And then what harm 
can he have done to my dear friend? What evil could he possibly 
do to her?"

"Adelaide!" I exclaimed; "my dear Adelaide!"

"Why do you weep?" she said, "are you angry with me? I assure 
you I thought all that in spite of myself, and I did not tell it 
you to offend you."

"I know it well, my dear sister, I know it well; it is the 
malady of your dear friend that I weep for."

"Do you think, brother, that it will become serious? Do you 
think that I ought to inform her gouvernante?"

"No, Adelaide, no; do not inform her. Your fair friend has a 
fever, as you have observed; and I know a remedy which will cure 
her. I will bring you, Adelaide, the recipe tomorrow morning, 
written upon a piece of paper, and carefully sealed. You must 
not show the paper to anyone; you will give it to Sophia when 
Madame Munich is not with her. It is important that Madame 
Munich does not see the paper. You understand me well!"

"Yes, yes, make yourself easy: ah, what obligations I shall owe 
you if you cure my dear friend!"

"Adelaide, tell my pretty cousin that I think I know her malady; 
that I participate in it, and hope to restore her to 
tranquility. Be sure you tell her so, Adelaide."

"Ah, word for word: You know her malady, you participate in it, 
and will cure it. I will tell her even that you have wept. But 
do not fail to come tomorrow, to bring the recipe; and, in the 
meantime, neglect nothing that can render her cure certain. Be 
careful not to act from your judgment alone, as you know, 
brother, you are not a physician: go to-day among the most 
celebrated of them, see them, inform them, and consult them; the 
disorder is not common, for I have never seen the like, and I 
tremble lest it become more dangerous. Good God! If, in 
endeavouring to remove the complaint, you should render it 
incurable! It must be a radical cure, my brother; and 
expeditious also. Hasten then, Faublas, for Sophia, who is 
suffering and dying; and for my sake, who am unhappy on her 
account; and likewise for yourself, my dear brother; for my dear 
friend, as soon as she is well, will love you, without doubt, as 
much as she did before."

When I reached home, my mind was entirely occupied with the 
conversation of Adelaide, and the sufferings of Sophia. 
Unfortunately, my father had a party to dinner, and I was 
obliged to sit down at table, and afterwards to play a cursed 
game of cards, which detained me until midnight. How tormenting 
it is, when one loves, and believes oneself beloved, and wishes 
to write to one's mistress-how tormenting it is to be obliged to 
play! I could not hate my most cruel enemy more than I did the 
cards.

It may be guessed that I slept little during the night. The next 
day, I went into a little closet, which joined my bedroom; I had 
there some books for study, with which my accommodating tutor 
did not often tire me. The first letter I wrote did not please, 
and was torn up; a second, which was full of raptures, shared 
the same fate; and I beg the reader not to say that I ought to 
have begun again this third, which follows:
My Pretty Cousin, 
The long wished for moment is at last arrived, when I can 
freely open to you my heart, to solicit from your 
tenderness a kind of confession; and thus, perhaps, ensure 
our mutual happiness. 
Ah, Sophia! Sophia! If you knew what I experienced the 
first day that I saw you! How my eyes were confounded! How 
my heart was agitated! Since then, my love has increased 
daily, and at this moment a devouring flame circulates 
throughout my veins. Sophia, I exist but in you!

I had got thus far, when Jasmin entered abruptly, and announced 
the Viscomte de Florville. "The Viscomte de Florville! I know 
him not. Tell him I am not at home."

"He is already in your bedroom, Monsieur."

"What! Do you let all the world come there!"

"He forced the door, Monsieur."

"The devil take the Viscomte de Florville!"

Fearing that this unknown, so little ceremonious, might come 
even to my closet, and with an eye profane glance at the 
depository of my secret sentiments, I hastened into my bedroom. 
I uttered, involuntarily, an exclamation of joy and surprise. 
The pretended Viscomte was the Marchioness de B***. My first 
idea was to push Jasmin out; the second, to bolt the door; the 
third, to embrace the charming cavalier; the fourth, those who 
have penetration, have already guessed.

The Marchioness, already astonished at my vivacity, as soon as 
she had recovered her spirits, said: "You are a very singular 
young man! There is no one but yourself in the world capable of 
commencing a reconciliation, where it should finish!"

"Well, indeed; mamma takes it as if there was nothing amiss. Let 
us see; what do we dispute about?"

"To the end that we may be reconciled again: is it not true, you 
little libertine?"

"Ah! My dear mamma."

"I have not an idea, but you comprehend it immediately."

"Yesterday, though, you did not comprehend me, ungrateful as you 
are."

"Yesterday I was still sulky."

"And for what, if you please? Could I suspect that you were 
under the sofa? Was it not essential both for you and myself, to 
get the pocket-book out of the hands of the Marquis?"

"That is true, mamma; but the vexation!"

"The vexation! For whom I forget my duty, for whom I forget 
decorum, and the care of my reputation: and in what a tone did 
you reply to my most tender letter. (She drew mine out of her 
pocket.) There, ungrateful boy! Read over your letter again; 
read with sang-froid if you can. What cruel irony! What bitter 
jeering! And, notwithstanding, I pardon you; and come to seek 
you! I conduct myself with as much weakness and imprudence as a 
child of twelve years. Faublas! Faublas! The charm must be very 
great, it must; how have you bewitched me!"

"My dear mamma!"

"Well?"

"Scold me well, because we will make it up."

"What! You little wag, you merely confess that you were wrong, 
you do not ask for pardon."

"It is done."

"Oh, how lovely you are!"

"Oh! I beg your pardon."

Those who have understanding, and even those who have not, will 
guess that the Marchioness and myself were reconciled. The most 
delightful caresses and tender compliments passed between us.

My God, Florville, how fascinating you are in this pretty 
dishabille! How well this English frock becomes you!"

"I had it made yesterday on purpose."

"It is, if I am not deceived, of the same cloth and same colour 
as the charming Amazonian habit in which love, who was 
determined to ensnare me, caused you to appear before my eyes 
for the first time. Having become the chevalier of Mademoiselle 
du Portail, I thought it became me to wear her colours." 

I clasped her in my arms: and said, "And I, in future the slave 
of the Viscomte de Florville, shall always be pleased to wear 
his bonds. What delightful reciprocity is this, mamma!"

"Love, my friend, is an infant, who amuses himself with these 
metamorphoses; he made Mademoiselle du Portail a thoughtless 
virgin; he makes the Marchioness de B*** an imprudent young man. 
Ah! Could the Viscomte de Florville appear to thee as amiable as 
Mademoiselle du Portail seems pretty in my eyes!"

"As amiable? Much more so."

"Oh, no," she replied, admiring herself with complaisance, and 
looking at me with tenderness: "Oh, no; you are better, my 
friend; taller, more easy. There is something in your manner 
very bold and spirited; you have a martial air."

"Yes, Madame, and if I believed a great physiognomist, something 
more vigorous and robust."

"Faublas, do pray, leave the Marquis alone. Do we not already 
play him bad tricks enough? In short, I am not come here to 
occupy myself with him. Now, my friend, tell me, without 
flattery, how you find me."

"Charming! Whether dressed as man or woman, I defy anyone to be 
so pretty as you."

"That's the language for a lover, always enthusiastical, always 
exaggerated! What woman will be more happy than myself, if you 
always view me with the same eyes!"

"Oh, mamma, as long as I live!

I held her in my arms: she slipped from me, to take up a sword, 
which she perceived on an armchair. In adjusting the belt she 
said: I have a fine English horse, which I ride sometimes. The 
spring is coming on, and I am very fond of riding in the 
environs of Paris. Will you accompany me sometimes, Faublas? 
Wilt thou, my friend, ramble, from time to time, in the woods of 
the Viscomte de Florville?"

"But they will see us."

"No, the Marquis is often obliged to go to court."

"Well, mamma, what day?"

"Let the spring put forth its verdure first."

While speaking, she had drawn my sword, and was fencing before 
me: "Be on your guard, chevalier," she said.

"I know not if the Viscomte is redoubtable, but I know well it 
is not in that; it is not thus that I ought to combat with the 
Marchioness. Dare she accept another kind of encounter?" (She 
flew to my arms.)

"Ah, Faublas!" she said, laughing; "Ah! If there were no greater 
murderers!"

"It is not, mamma, among men that they seek for heroes."

I then placed the Marchioness in a situation which rendered her 
unable to combat with me, and she took it kindly.

My beautiful mistress stayed with me two hours, which we 
employed very agreeably. "If I listened to nothing but the 
dictates of my own heart," she said at last, "I should remain 
here all day, but the time is now come for me to meet Justine in 
one place, and my servants in another." We bade adieu; I was 
conducting the Viscomte de Florville to the door. We had already 
left my apartment, and were descending the stairs, when I 
distinguished Rosambert in the vestibule, about to come up. I 
warned the Marchioness. "Let us go back instantly," she said, 
"I'll hide myself in some corner of your apartment; you'll come 
back quickly." Having said this, and without giving me time for 
reflection, she re-entered, and crossing my bed-room, shut 
herself in the closet.

Rosambert came up. "Good day, my friend; how is Adelaide? How 
does the pretty cousin?"

"Hush! Hush! Do not speak of that, my father is there."

"Where?"

"In that closet."

"In that closet! Your father?"

"Yes."

"And what does he there?"

"He examines my books."

"How! Your books?"

"No; he is not in the closet; for see, he comes here."

"There is something of the Marchioness in all this; and why not 
tell me at once that you were engaged? Adieu, Faublas, until 
tomorrow."

"He passed before my father, and saluted him: You have something 
to say to your son, Monsieur, and I'll leave you."

In the meantime, the Baron regarded me with much severity, and 
walked up and down with long strides. Impatient to know what 
this suspicious commencement announced, I asked him respectfully 
why he had done me the honour to come up to me.

"You will know it presently Monsieur."

A servant appeared. Tell him to come" said the Baron.

"Here he is, Monsieur."

"And my dear tutor entered. The Baron said to him: Have I not, 
sir, charged you with the conduct and education of my son?"

"Yes, undoubtedly."

"The one is very much neglected, and the other very bad."

"It is not my fault, Monsieur; your son does not love study."

"That is the least evil, interrupted the Baron; but how is it 
that I am not informed of what passes in my own house? Why have 
you not warned me of my son's disorderly conduct?"

"As to what passes here, sir, I can only speak of what I see; 
and as to what passes elsewhere, I can say nothing. Your son, 
when he goes out, rarely suffers me to accompany him; and-" (a 
look which I gave M. Person convinced him he had said enough.)

The Baron replied: "Monsieur, I have but one word to say to you; 
if this young man continues to conduct himself so badly, I shall 
be forced to choose another tutor. I would thank you to leave 
us."

When the Abbé was gone, the Baron sat down in an armchair, and 
motioned me to do the same.

"Excuse me, father, I have business."

"I know it, Monsieur, it is precisely because that business 
should not be finished that I come to speak to you."

"Excuse me this time, father, I must go out."

"No, Monsieur, you will remain; sit you down."

I was obliged to sit; I was upon thorns all the time. The Baron 
continued: "Is it possible that Faublas can meditate such 
horrors? Can he wish to abuse innocence and simplicity, and lay 
snares for virtue."

"Me, father?"

"Yes, you! I come from the convent; I know everything. If my son 
is still too young to see that the more easy a conquest is, the 
less it is flattering; he must take care not to confound an 
intrigue with a passion, and do not mistake a love of pleasure 
for the passion of love."

"Pray, father, speak a little lower."

"If my son, too much intoxicated with what they call good 
fortune-"

"Not so loud, I beg, father"

"Too much delighted in the discovery of a new sense, and the 
possession of a woman who is certainly not without attractions; 
if my son, in the arms of the Marchioness de B*** -"

"It is too much! I beg, father-"

"Had forgot his father, his rank, and his duty, I should have 
complained of it, but I should have excused it; I should have 
given him the advice of a friend, I should have said to him, 
'The more handsome the-'"

"Father, if you knew-"

"The more handsome the Marchioness is, the more dangerous she 
is. Examine with me the conduct of this woman with whom thou art 
so much taken. At the first glance, your countenance decided 
her; she takes you for a night-"

"I conjure you to drop this at present."

"To satisfy her wild passion, she exposes both your life and her 
own. How lively, ardent, and passionate she must be to sacrifice 
her tranquillity, her honour, and public estimation to a thirst 
for pleasure!"

"Oh, father! Oh, sir!"

"I repeat it, my friend, the more handsome the Marchioness is, 
the more dangerous she is! Thou thinkest, that in her arms, the 
resources of nature will be inexhaustible."

Mortified at not being able to explain myself, and well 
convinced that the Baron would not hold his tongue, I determined 
to wait patiently the end of this remonstrance, which, on 
another occasion, I might not have found too long. I sat with my 
left elbow on the arm of my chair, biting my hand out of 
vexation, and my right foot always in motion, kept beating time 
upon the floor. My father, in the meantime, continued: "Thou 
wilt become enervated; nature, at the critical period when 
youths arrive at the age of puberty, is working for the 
development of the organs, and requires all their strength, in 
order to finish her work. I am well aware that excess of 
pleasure will produce satiety, but the disgust, perhaps, will 
come too late, and thou wilt have to lament thy health 
destroyed, thy memory lost, thy imagination faded, and all thy 
faculties impaired. Thou wilt become a prey to the most bitter 
mortifications and repulsing infirmities even in the very flower 
of youth; and, in the horrors of a premature old age, thou wilt 
groan to be obliged to support the burden of life. Oh, my 
friend! Have a care of these evils, which are more common than 
you are aware of; enjoy the present, but think of the future; 
enjoy thy youth, but preserve some consolation for thy riper 
years."

"Nevertheless," added the Baron, "my son, little affected by my 
paternal representations, listens to me with a thousand signs of 
impatience, and sits fidgetting on his chair, and interrupts me 
continually. More alarmed at his danger than sensible of my own 
injuries, I have borne it tranquilly; I would tell him; the 
Marchioness de B*** -"

It may be conceived what I suffered during a quarter of an hour; 
I could no longer constrain my impatience: "Well, father," cried 
I, "could you not have told me all this another day?"

The Baron was naturally violent: he rose with fury. Fearing the 
effort of his first transport, I fled into the closet, and shut 
the door after me.

I found the Marchioness in a very painful situation. Her arms 
resting on my desk, stopping her ears with her hands, and 
reading and sobbing over a paper placed before her. I approached 
my lovely mistress.

"Oh, Madame! How I am distressed on your account!" The 
Marchioness looked at me in a wild manner. "Cruel child! What 
faults hast thou made me commit!"

"Speak lower."

"But what punishment do I receive!"

"Do pray speak lower."

"Thy father; thy unworthy father; he dares-"

"My dear Madame, will you expose yourself?"

"But thou art a hundred times more cruel than he is. Here, look 
at this unfortunate writing! Behold these perfidious characters! 
My tears have effaced them!" (She showed me the letter commenced 
for Sophia.

"Faublas," cried the Baron, "open the door; you are not alone in 
this closet."

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur."

"I hear someone speak; open the door."

"I cannot, father."

"I will have it open; do not suffer me to call the servants."

"The Marchioness rose briskly: "Faublas, tell him that you are 
with one of your friends, who wishes to go out."

"To go out!"

"Oh, yes!" She replied in despair; "whatever shame there is in. 
going out, there will not be less in remaining."

"I am with one of my friends, father, who wishes to go out"

"With one of your friends?"

"Yes, father."

"And why did you not tell me sooner that you had someone in the 
closet? Open it, open it; fear nothing; I am tranquil; your 
friend can go."

"Conduct me," said the Marchioness. She covered her face with 
her hands: I opened the door, which led to the stairs. My 
father, astonished at the precautions the unknown took to 
conceal himself, threw himself in our way, and said to my 
unfortunate friend: "Monsieur, I do not ask you who you are, but 
let me at least have the pleasure of seeing you."

"I conjure you father, not to require it."

"What means this mystery then?" interrupted the Baron. "Who is 
this young man, who conceals himself with you, and who fears to 
show his face? I must know immediately."

"I will tell you, father, I give you my word of honour, I will 
tell you."

"No, no, the gentleman shall not go out until I know."

The Marchioness threw herself on a chair, keeping her face still 
covered with her hands: "You have, Monsieur, a right over your 
son, but, I believe, not over me."

The Baron, hearing the soft sound of a feminine voice, at length 
suspected the truth: "What, he cried, can it be? Oh! How sorry I 
am; how I regret!-You ought, my son, to feel that your father, 
anxious to restore you to your duty, has dropped some 
expressions concerning the Marchioness de B***, which are too 
strong, and which the Baron de Faublas disavows. See your friend 
down, my son."

As soon as we were on the staircase, the Marchioness gave free 
course to her tears. "How cruelly I am punished for my 
imprudence," she said. I was endeavouring to console her.

"Leave me! Leave me! Your barbarous father is less cruel than 
you."

We reached the vestibule. I ordered them instantly to get a 
hackney coach; and while waiting for it, I made the Marchioness 
step into the porter's lodge. We had not been there a moment, 
when a man, looking into the porter's window, which was half 
open, asked if the Baron was at home. The marchioness concealed 
her face with her hands, and I stood before her to hide her with 
my body; but all this was not done soon enough. M. du Portail 
(for it was him) had time to cast a glance at the Marchioness.

"The Baron is in my room; if you will take the trouble to go up, 
I will join you in a moment."

"Yes, yes," replied M. du Portail, smiling.

They came to tell us that the coach was at the door. The 
Marchioness got in immediately; I wished to sit by her for a 
moment: "No, no, Monsieur, I will not suffer it."

The grief with which I perceived her heart was oppressed, 
affected mine. Some tears escaped me, and fell upon her hand, 
which I held within my own, and which she did not withdraw: "Ah! 
You think that you are near Sophia!"

I still wished to get into the coach; she withdrew her hand, and 
repulsed me. "If, Monsieur, in spite of the discourses of your 
father, you have still any esteem for me, I beg you will get 
down and leave me."

"Alas! Shall I then see you no more?"

She replied: "No more," but her tears began to flow in great 
abundance. 

"My dear mamma, when shall I see you again? In what place will 
you permit me-"

"Ungrateful wretch! I am too sure you do not love, but you ought 
to pity me at least. Leave me. Go up stairs to the Baron, who 
expects you." She told the coachman to drive her to Madame Le 
Clerq's, the milliner, in **** street. I was compelled to leave 
her.

I found M. du Portail on the staircase, waiting for me: "Ah! My 
good friend," he said, "if I am as good a physiognomist as the 
Marquis de B***, this pretty youth who just left you is his 
beautiful half. But what is the matter with you? You have been 
crying?" I knew not where M. de Person had stuck himself, but we 
saw him all at once behind us. He said to me, in a tone 
sufficiently loud: "I was sure, Monsieur, that all this would 
terminate badly: you paid no attention to my advice."

"Thy advice! Do me the favour, Monsieur, to-"

"Indeed, he is precisely the schoolmaster of Fontaine: I get 
into the dirt, and he scolds me!"

"But what is this all about?" replied M. du Portail.

"Go up; go up into my room, and you will know all; my father is 
giving me a lecture."

On entering, M. du Portail asked my father what was the matter.

"What is the matter?" replied my father."

"I interrupted him: stop, M. du Portail; Madame de B*** was in 
this closet, my father entered here, he sat down there, and made 
some observations to me which were undoubtedly very just, and 
very paternal, but the Marchioness heard all, and my father 
treated her-ah, you have no idea! I, for fear of exposing an 
amiable woman, did not explain myself; but my father knows the 
profound respect I have for him; I have never swerved from it. 
Well, he was witness how I suffered; that I was racked with 
impatience; that I could not attend to him; he did not perceive, 
Monsieur, that there was a something uncommon about me; he 
continued his discourse; and would not guess at anything!"

"Young man," replied the Baron, "your excuse is in your tears, I 
pardon the reproaches you make me, on acount of the grief with 
which you appear to be oppressed; but the more you seem to love 
the Marchioness."

"My father-"

"Monsieur, Madame de B*** is no longer there, why then interrupt 
me? The more you seem to love the Marchioness, the more I am 
displeased with you. If your heart is preoccupied with this 
passion, it is in cold blood that you have meditated the ruin of 
a virtuous girl, of a respectable child."

"Of Sophia!"Between Sophia and me, father, there is no other 
seducer than love."

"You do not love the Marchioness, then?"

"Father!"

"Are you, or are you not, seriously attached to Madame de B***? 
You know I must have some care about it, but what concerns me 
most is, that my son should not be worthy of me."

"Ah, Baron!" interrupted M. du Portail.

"I say nothing too strong, my friend: I shall tell you things 
which will astonish you. I went to the convent this morning; I 
found Adelaide in tears; my daughter, my dear daughter, whose 
amiable candour you so well know, informed me her good friend 
was sick, and that her brother was very slow in bringing the 
infallible remedy he had promised for Sophia. I pressed her to 
explain herself to me; she gave me a most exact account of the 
symptoms and effects of this malady, which you can guess, and 
which my son knows that he has caused, has been pleased to 
nourish, and would willingly augment. My son abuses his natural 
gifts to seduce a too susceptible girl; he obtains an absolute 
empire over her mind; and prepares, by degrees, her dishonour."

"Her dishonour! The dishonour of Sophia!"

"Yes, young madman; I know the passions."

"If you know them, father, you know that you make my heart 
bleed."

"Moderate this impetuosity, my son, it only offends me. Yes, I 
know the passions; yes, this child, which you respect to-day, 
tomorrow, perhaps, you will dishonour, if she has the weakeness 
to consent."

He addressed himself to M. du Portail. "The recipe which my son 
destines for his pretty cousin will be enclosed in a paper, 
carefully sealed, and which Madame Munich must not see! You 
understand, my friend? Thus, all is ready; the correspondence 
will make the first impression; Sophia, poor Sophia! Already 
seduced through the eyes, will presently be so through the 
heart. She was deceived by a fine countenance, the common sign 
of a good heart, she is going to be still further deceived by 
the no less perfidious charms of a borrowed eloquence; he will, 
in his studied letters, affect the language of feeling: Sophia, 
attacked on all sides at once, will fall, without defence, into 
the snares he will spread for her. And, nevertheless, her 
seducer is not seventeen! At an age still so tender, he evinces 
the most shocking propensities, he employs the odious talents of 
those men, who, as cowardly as depraved, shrink not from 
carrying discord and desolation into the bosom of families; who 
experience a barbarous pleasure in listening to the bewailings 
of unfortunate beauty; contemplating, with self-applause, the 
opprobrium and the anxieties of degrading innocence. This is the 
result of those natural gifts which I have been pleased to see 
him possess, and which, perhaps, I was secretly proud of; this 
is the manner in which the great expectations I had entertained 
of him have been realised!"

"I assure you, father, that I adore Sophia."

The Baron, without listening to me, and still adedressing 
himself to M. du Portail: "And who do you think was to convey 
these insidious letters? To whom did he intend to confide the 
execution of his detestable projects? To the most pure and 
unsuspecting virtue, to my daughter, and his sister, the 
innocent Adelaide!"

"Do not condemn me, father, without hearing me. Do you doubt my 
sentiments regarding Sophia? I am ready to marry her if you will 
deign to unite us."

"And is it thus that you would dispose of Sophia and yourself? 
Do the relations of Mademoiselle de Pontis know you? Are they 
known to you? Do you know if the marriage would be agreeable to 
them? Do you know if it would be agreeable to me? Do you think I 
would marry you at your age? You have scarcely left childhood, 
and you aspire to the honour of being the father of a family!"

"Yes I and I feel that it is as easy for you to consent to my 
marriage, as it is impossible for me to renounce my love for 
Sophia."

"You will renounce it, nevertheless: I forbid you to go to the 
convent without me, or without my express permission; and I 
declare, that if you do not change your conduct I will put you 
in a place of confinement."

"Ah, father! If instead of marrying the young persons who are 
attached to each other, they are put into prison! I shall not be 
in the world, and you will be in prison."

The Baron either did not, or pretended not to hear me answer. He 
went out; I detained M. du Portail, who was going to follow him; 
I begged him to be a mediator between my father and me; and, 
above all, to prevail on the Baron to revoke his cruel order 
which forbade me to visit the convent.

He observed, that the precautions which my father had taken were 
very reasonable.

"Reasonable! That is the way all those talk who are indifferent! 
Reason is their watchword! When you, Monsieur, adored Lodoiska, 
when the unjust Pulauski deprived you of the happiness of seeing 
her, you did not find his precautions very reasonable."

"But, my young friend, consider the difference."

"There is none, Monsieur; there is none: in France, as in 
Poland, a lover, who is worthy of the name, neither sees, feels, 
or breathes, but in the object of his love; the greatest evil he 
can imagine, is that of being separated from the idol of his 
affections. The precautions of my father appear to you 
reasonable; to me they seem cruel, and I shall do everything in 
my power to render them abortive. Sophia shall know my love; she 
shall know it, in spite of my father; she will be glad of it; 
and in spite of him, in spite of you, and all the world, we will 
finish by being married. I declare this to you, Monsieur, and 
you can tell the Baron."

"I shall do no such thing, my friend; I will not irritate your 
father, nor would I mortify yourself. At present, your notions 
are too arbitrary; I will leave you to reflect seriously about 
it, and I have no doubt you will be more reasonable tomorrow."

"Reasonable!

"Yes, reasonable!

"I expected as much!"

I remained alone, and thought of nothing but the means of 
eluding the vigilance of the Baron's precautions, or of 
rendering them nugatory. Should some austere censor blame my 
ungovernable disposition, I pity him; and tell him, if his first 
or most cherished mistress never caused him to commit faults, it 
was because his love for her was not very strong.



VI.

Upon more mature reflection, I found that my situation, however 
painful, was not desperate. Rosambert, having compassion for the 
troubles of his friend, would no doubt assist me; Jasmin was 
entirely devoted to me, and I thought I knew enough of my little 
tutor to be certain that, by the aid of gold, I could do as I 
pleased with him. M. du Portail appeared desirous of remaining 
neuter, therefore I had only to combat with my father, who was 
much occupied with his pretty opera girl, and went out every 
evening, so that he could not be always watcheing me. These, 
then, are the serious reflections I made, though they were not 
such as M. du Portail recommended.

Nevertheless, it would not do for me openly to oppose the Baron, 
in the first instance; I ought, in prudence, to avoid going to 
the convent for some time; but how was I to get a letter to 
Sophia? This letter was so important and so necessary! Who would 
take it to my pretty cousin? I could think of no expedient to 
relieve me from this embarrassment. It never occurred to me what 
a resource I had in the friendship of Adelaide.

An old lady brought me a letter, which I opened immediately; it 
was signed "De Faublas." 'Twas from my dear sister! I kissed the 
writing, and read:
My DEAR BROTHER, 
"I am greatly afraid that I have recently committed an 
indiscretion; I informed my father that you had promised me 
a remedy which would cure my dear friend; he was angry; he  
said it was poison that you would prepare for Sophia. 
Poison! Indeed, brother, I did not believe it, although it 
was the Baron who accused you. 
I related everything to my good friend, who was waiting 
impatiently for the recipe in question. "Adelaide," said 
she, "you have done wrong to mention it to the Baron. This 
remedy of your brother's may not, perhaps, be very good, 
but we might, at least, have seen what it was." Therefore, 
my dear brother, make yourself easy; she cannot believe, 
any more than myself, that you intended to poison her. As I 
see her dying with the desire to have this recipe, I 
advised her to send and request it. She again repeated 
those words with which I have already been so mortified: 
"Adelaide! Adelaide! Oh, how happy you are!" Nevertheless I 
am sure she will be very happy to have this recipe. Send it 
me immeditely, my brother, I will give it to her; and I 
will not mention it to anyone. Give the man who brings this 
letter three livres; she tells me she never tattles when 
they give her half-a-crown. 
Your sister, etc., 
ADELAIDE DE FAUBLAS.
P.S. Endeavour to come and see me.

Transported with joy, I went to the old woman. Here are six 
francs for you, Madame, because I will trouble you with an 
answer, which I beg you will wait for.

I went into my closet and sat down at my desk. The letter I had 
began for Sophia was before me; it was still wet with tears. 
Alas! It was the Marchioness that shed them! What a conversation 
she overheard! What a letter has she read! Poor Viscomte de 
Florville! What mortification my father and myself must have 
given you! In saying this, I kissed the paper over which the 
Marchioness had wept so much; and the feeling I then 
experienced, if less intense than that of love, was, 
nevertheless, more tender than pity.

I came to myself, and I thought of Sophia. The paper, stained 
and rendered illegible in several places, was not fit to send. I 
thought of beginning again the letter which I had written a 
third time. And why begin it again? At the name, the bare name 
of my pretty cousin, the tears came into my eyes; I sobbed as I 
wrote! Would Sophia know that two persons had wept over the same 
paper? Could even I distinguish between the mingled tears, those 
of the Marchioness, from what belonged to myself? These 
reflections determined me not to commence again, but to continue 
what I had written:
Sophia, I exist but for thee! Nevertheless, thou 
complainest, and accusest me of ingratitude and cruelty! 
Dost thou think, canst thou believe, that there exists in 
the world a woman that can be compared with thee?-a woman 
that one can love who knows Sophia? 
Oh, my pretty cousin, with what transport have I received 
the news of thy tenderness for me! But what grief have I 
felt on hearing that thy days are clouded with corroding 
cares, thy growing charms impaired, and thy life 
enedangered! Thy life! Ah, Sophia! If Faublas loses thee, 
he will follow thee to the tomb! 
My sister, who has disclosed to me, without thy consent, 
the most secret sentiment of thy soul, my sister has 
announced to me on thy part an eternal separation. She 
tells me that thou wilt not see me again. If this be true, 
Sophia, my life, which is become insupportable, will not 
last me long; and thyself-thyself! 
But let us indulge in more pleasant ideas; we shall 
certainly be more happy hereafter. Let me be permitted to 
hope that my pretty cousin will shortly be my wife, and 
that when united we shall not cease to be lovers. 
I am, with as much respect as love, 
Thy young cousin, 
THE CHEVALIER DE FAUBLAS."

This letter being sealed, it was necessary that I should write 
another.
My DEAR ADELAIDE. 
You have done well to write to me, for I am deprived of the 
happiness of seeing you. The Baron has forbidden me to go 
out; he has quarrelled with me, and I must not speak to him 
of Sophia. 
Let my pretty cousin have the enclosed letter as soon as 
possible; deliver it to her when alone, and, above all, be 
sure you tell no one of it. 
Adieu, my dear sister, etc."

I put these two letters under one envelope, and confided them to 
the discretion of the old woman.

From that evening, I laboured to form the grand confederation 
which I had meditated. My father went out. I enquired for the 
Abbé Person; he also was gone out. It was rather late when he 
came home, and entered my apartment with an air of triumph: "You 
heard, Monsieur, what your father said this morning: he has 
given me an absolute power over you."

"You see, Monsieur Person, that I am delighted at it. I am too 
happy in having a governor like you, a governor so complaisant, 
so honest, and, above all so indulgent."

"I knew, Monsieur, you would one day do me justice."

"A governor full of politeness and urbanity."

"You flatter me, Monsieur."

"A governor who feels that a youth of sixteen cannot be as 
reasonable as a man of thirty-five."

"Most assuredly."

"A governor who knows the human heart."

"That is true."

"And who excuses in his pupil a tender passion which he is 
susceptible of himself."

"I do not comprehend."

"Sit down, Monsieur Person; we must now discourse together upon 
a very delicate subject, which deserves your whole attention. 
Among the numerous brilliant qualities which are conspicuous in 
you, and of which I could make a long enumeration, if I did not 
fear to wound your modesty; among so many qualities, I must tell 
you frankly, that you want one, which some consider very 
important, but which I look upon as useless; I mean the art of 
drawing-"

"But, Monsieur-"

"I do not say this to mortify you. I am persuaded you do not 
want learning; but we see every day persons as unfortunate as 
clever, who teach very badly what they know very well. You are 
in this predicament, Monsieur Person, and on this point, to use 
the words of the celebrated Cardinal de Retz, in speaking of the 
great Condé, you do not make the most of your abilities."

"Oh, Monsieur, the quotation-is not quite correct; I know it 
well. You are not a conqueror; you have no armies to conduct. 
But to form the heart of a youth, to study his propensities, in 
order to oppose or direct them; to smother or to modify his 
passions, when one cannot eradicate them; to polish his awkward 
manners, and instruct his uncultivated mind; is that, think you, 
an easy task?"

"Most assuredly it is not."

"I am aware that my profession presents great difficulties."

"Well, Monsieur, the parents do not know that. They seek a tutor 
who possesses every talent and every virtue; and they think they 
have found him. He is a man whom they pay, and it is a god that 
they require! But let us come to what concerns ourselves: I have 
also remarked, Monsieur Person, that your attachment to all who 
bear the name of Faublas has carried you too far."

"How?"

"Yes; this extreme affection which you bear towards the family 
in general, has not been equally apportioned to each of its 
members."

"I do not understand."

"You have a certain predilection for my sister; the Baron will 
call it love. The difficulty you experience in teaching, he will 
call incapacity. What I tell you is fact: were I to inform the 
Baron of these little details, you would not remain here four-
and-twenty hours. That would be a great misfortune for me, 
Monsieur Person, and a still greater for yourself. I am well 
aware that they would quickly procure me another tutor, but, as 
we said just now, a perfect man is not to be found. Suppose a 
new tutor arrives, who is found more capable of instructing me 
than yourself; at first, he will give me, with great pains, 
lessons which I shall receive with inquietude, and wish the 
books at the devil. Neveretheless, my new mentor will 
participate in the weakness of humanity; he will have faults or 
passions, which I shall speedily discover, because I shall be 
interested in studying them. Prompted by similar motives, he 
will develop my propensities with the same discernment. In the 
course of a week we shall be observed like two friends, equally 
interested in pleasing each other. In the meantime, Monsieur 
Person, you will not, perhaps, find employ. I know a great many 
little Abbés, who have less merit than yourself, who obtain 
pupils, and even keep them; but I also know as many others who 
vegetate without occupation. You, perhaps, may be reduced to 
recommence the rudiments and the grammar with the spoiled 
children of a churchwarden, of a sheriff, or some such beings, 
who may be too proud to send their sons to the university. And 
be on your guard; for people of business, who know how to 
calculate, are always desirous of making their interest and 
their vanity agree, they will tell you that the whole of Restaut 
is not worth a single page of Barrême<6>; and if you teach your 
young citizen but to speak their own language; if you are 
unacquainted with the science of figures; the teacher of 
arithmetic will be much better paid than yourself. I would spare 
you these disagreeables, Monsieur. I feel that it would be hard 
for the governor of a nobleman's son to become tutor in the 
family of a cook. I do not pretend to change your condition, but 
to render it better: instead of diminishing your emoluments, I 
am about to augment them."

"I am very sensible, sir, I have always been right when I spoke 
of the qualities of your heart."

"Oh! The qualities of the heart! Yes, my dear governor, I have a 
very good heart, very feeling. You know that I adore Sophia! My 
father would prevent me from seeing her."

"But, all things considered, is he wrong in so doing?"

"How; Monsieur, if he is wrong? You ask me if he is wrong; but 
you have not understood what I said."

"Not very well."

"I will explain myself clearly. If you oppose me, I shall inform 
the Baron of all that I know concerning you; they will dismiss 
you, and give me a new governor. If you are inclined to serve 
me-You know, Monsieur Person, what sum the Baron allows me for 
pocket money; I shall divide with you, and here is some on 
account." (I presented him with six Louis d'or.)

"Money, Monsieur! Do you take me for a valet then?"

"Do not be angry; I did not mean to offend you; I thought-" (I 
put the money back into my purse.)

"I have a great friendship for you, Monsieur, but I am not 
interested. You are, then, I perceive, much attached to 
Mademoiselle de Pontis."

"More than I can describe to you."

"And what would you that I should do in this affair?"

"I only wish that you would take as much pains in diverting the 
attention of the Baron as you have taken in tormenting me."

"Your views, Monsieur, with regard to Mademoiselle de Pontis, 
are, I presume, honourable, legitimate?"

"I should be a monster if I had any others! Upon the word of a 
gentleman, Sophia shall be my wife."

"In that case, I see no inconvenience.

"There is none!"

"I see none. And yet for a thing so simple, Monsieur proposes to 
give me money!"

"I hope you will excuse me."

"I could not think of taking money; some presents will suffice. 
I lived two years with M. L***; he gave me, from time to time, 
some trinkets, jewels, etc.; and his children did the same on 
their part. All that was very well. A present is acceptable."

"And now, Monsieur Person, we understand each other, I shall 
depend upon you."

"Most assuredly."

"Listen then, my dear governor; I have an observation to make. 
If what you feel towards Adelaide is love, do not think that I 
can approve it. That with which I burn for Sophia is innocent 
and pure as herself. That which you feel for my sister-Be 
cautious of it, Monsieur Person! I am well convinced that the 
virtue of Adelaide will defend her against the enterprises of a 
seducer; but the attempt would, of itself, be an affront; an 
affront which the blood of the offender would scarcely expiate."

"Make yourself easy, Monsieur."

"I am so. You may depend upon me, Monsieur."

"My dear governor, I shall confide in you."

The Abbé went out; he came back to tell me that in the afternoon 
he had been to the conevent, by desire of the Baron.

"To the convent for what?"

"Expressly to forbid Mademoiselle Adelaide to come to the 
conversation room, when you came by yourself to see her."

"You have seen Adelaide?"

"Yes, Monsieur.

"Did she say nothing to you?"

"She was much hurt at this prohibition."

"Nothing more?"

"Not a word."

"And Sophia? Did you enquire after her health?"

"Much better since noon."

"And at what hour were you at the convent?

"About five o'clock."

"Good, very good." (The Abbé retired.)

Much better since noon: that was near about the time she 
received my letter. Sophia, my dear Sophia! Why dost thou not 
hasten to reply to me! Adelaide! Thou shouldst be happy, thy 
dear friend is already cured! And in the transport of joy, which 
the news of this speedy cure had given me, I made such leaps, 
and cut such capers, that the noise brought Jasmin to my room. I 
had finished a sublime exclamation, when he opened the door: "I 
beg your pardon, Monsieur, but I heard a great confusion, and 
was alarmed."

"Go, Jasmin, immediately to the Count de Rosambert, and beg him 
to call on me tomorrow morning without fail."

Rosambert came as I wished. Of all the events of the preceding 
day, I only informed him of those which related to Sophia. He 
reminded me with a smile, that it was not the pretty cousin that 
was in my closet. I wished to elude this subject; the Count 
pressed me so closely, and in so lively a manner, that I was 
obliged to confess all. 

"This Marchioness de B*** is a very astonishing woman," he said. 
"No one knows better than her, how to commence an intrigue 
agreeably, to carry it on with spirit, to hasten its 
consummation, which instead of displeasing her, seems necessary 
to her constitution. No one knows better than her the grand art 
of retaining a happy lover, and of supplanting a dangerous 
rival; or when that is impossible, at least to hold the balance 
uncertain. This woman knows how to vary the pleasures of love in 
such a manner, that with her, an amour of six months, is still a 
new amour. An amour of six months at court! You will say it must 
be decrepit with age; but no, the Marchioness gives it the 
freshness of youth; though she has quitted me abruptly, I will 
do her justice; she is not volatile: I think I have even 
discovered in her some flashes of sensibility. At bottom it is 
possible that she may have a tender heart. Her genius for 
intrigue is developed at court in every possible manner. Perhaps 
if she had been born a simple citizen, instead of a lady of 
quality, she might have been a steady, sensible woman. I repeat 
it to you, that she is not what they call volatile. I have had 
her for six months, I might perhaps have kept her three months 
longer; but your disguise has deranged everything. To instruct a 
novice: to correct a puppy, (pointing to himself and laughing;) 
to dupe an almost jealous husband so agreeably: to surmount all 
kinds of obstacles:-she could not resist the execution of things 
so flattering to her turn of mind. Yes! Although you have a 
striking countenance, I would wager that it was the difficulty 
of the enterprise, more than all, which determined Madame de 
B***. Besides the Marchioness has taken the pains not to follow 
a beaten track. To take this week with enthusiasm, a lover, who 
is received the next with indifference; to form and break 
engagements with equal facility, is the eternal occupation of 
our ladies of quality! The person changes, but not the conduct 
of the intrigue: they say, they do unceasingly the same things: 
there is always a declaration to receive, an avowal to make, 
some letters to write, two or three tête-à-têtes to arrange, and 
a rupture to be consummated. This is their dull monotonous 
circle. The Marchioness, on the contrary, is not displeased if 
the same cavalier continues, provided that the intrigue is 
varied in its conduct. It is not by the number of lovers that 
she is gratified, but by the singularity of her adventures. A 
scene does not appear piquant to her, except when it is 
uncommon, and she will venture anything to bring it about; she 
prides herself in braving dangers, and combatting with 
disagreeable events. Thus the idea of her own power sometimes 
carries her too far. Sometimes it happens that all her address 
will not shield her from the consequences of her rash 
enterprises. In her adventures with us, for instance, what 
mortifying scenes she underwent: In the first, it was I who 
tormented her, and in conscience I owed it her. Yesterday she 
came here to seek a second; and chance perhaps has a third ready 
for her. But what matters it. The Marchioness, always superior 
to little mortifications, and accustomed to treat the most 
disagreeable events with indifference, will derive even from her 
misfortunes an advantage over her enemies, over her rival, over 
you."

"Over her rival! Ah! Rosambert, Sophia will always be preferred! 
But what say you of my pretty cousin, who has not answered my 
letter?"

"Do you think that she has slept? Do you not recollect that it 
is eight days since she has closed her eyes? Your letter has 
been sweetly cradled, but let it enjoy its happiness. Do you 
know with what we ought to occupy ourselves?"

"No."

"We must go and buy some presents for the dear governor. He told 
you that a present would be acceptable."

"That is true indeed; but if I go out, and a letter should come 
from Sophia in the meantime?"

"They can make the old woman who brings it wait for you."

"Well, let us go quickly then."

"You have forgot your hat."

"You are right," I replied, with an air of distraction, and went 
to sit down.  Rosambert took me by the arm: "What the devil are 
you about? What are you dreaming of?" I said.

"I was thinking of the poor Viscount de Florville"

"How the Marchioness must be affected! Do you think, Rosambert, 
that she will write to me. Must we talk of the Marchioness at 
present?"

"Yes, my friend"

"Do not laugh, but answer me."

"Well then, my dear Faublas, I think she will not write to you."

"Do you think so."

"It is very probable. The Marchioness has already reflected on 
your situation and her own. As a well-informed woman, she has, I 
doubt not, already considered that you could not dispense with 
coming to her; she will not go to you; she expects you; be sure 
that she expects you."

I rang for Jasmin, and said, "Thou knowest the residence of the 
Marchioness de B***, and thou knowest Justine: put on the dress 
of a citizen, go and ask for Justine, tell her you come from me, 
to enquire after the health of the Marchioness."

Rosambert laughed with all his might, and said: "Ah! Do you 
think it will be impolite to make her wait too long? But answer 
me, do you not expect a letter from Sophia?"

"Without doubt. Jasmin, we are only stepping out for a few 
minutes; thou wilt not go until we return. Be discreet, for I 
put great confidence in thee: we are at war; the enemy is 
yonder, my friend, on the watch!"

"Oh! Monsieur, in all my places, I have always taken the side of 
the children against their fathers."

"That's right, my friend; rest assured that I shall recompense 
thee when I am married to her."

"Married to Madame the Marchioness!"

Rosambert laughed: "Come, come, my friend," he said, "you forget 
yourself."

I bought a very fine ring; but when it was time for us to 
return, I could not get Rosamhert from the shop, he was so much 
attracted with the beauty of the jewelry.

When I returned, Jasmin gave me a letter. The old woman merely 
wished to sit down, because they had forbidden her to wait for 
an answer.

One may judge my grief on reading what follows:
MONSIEUR, 
If I had not seen my name repeated twenty times in your 
letter, I should not have thought it addressed to myself. 
How could I imagine that some words which escaped me 
without any meaning, and caught up by chance by my dear 
friend, could be interpreted by her brother in so 
astonishing a manner. I could not have conceived, that my 
young cousin, who always called me his friend, would have 
treated me so injuriously. 
Who told you that I loved you Monsieur? Adelaide? She knows 
nothing of it. Who told you that the words, cruel-
ungrateful-I will never see him again, were addressed to 
you? Who told you that I was dying with mortification, 
because you did not love me? If that had been the case, no 
one but myself could have known it; and should I have told 
it, Monsieur? 
You write with an air of great confidence! You love 
someone, and you tell me you love me, because you think 
that I love you! You think then to do me a favour when you 
demand my heart and my hand! If I am so unhappy, Monsieur, 
as only to inspire compassion, I shall at least have 
prudence enough not to love, or discretion enough to 
conceal it; and certainly the lover of another, shall never 
be mine. 
At present, it is to you and for you that I say those 
words: "I will never see you again." My family is as good 
as yours, Monsieur, and you ought to know enough of me, not 
to push the resentment, which the outrage you have so 
fearlessly done me, deserves.

This fatal letter was not signed. The pain it gave me can more 
easily be imagined than described. Sophia loves me no more! 
Sophia will see me no more! I fell into a profound reverie, from 
which I was only recovered by a torrent of tears. If Rosambert 
had been with me, he would at least have assisted me with his 
advice, and have given me some consolation.

I rose abruptly, wiped my eyes, and flew to the jeweller's. The 
lady who had served us was no longer at the counter, and 
Rosambert was gone. I appeared so hurt at the disappointment, 
that a girl in the shop had compassion for me. She said, if I 
would step to the Cafe de la Regence, which she showed me at a 
little distance, she would go and tell the Count, who was not 
far off, and would not fail to be with me in half an hour, or a 
little more.

I entered this "Regency Coffee-House." I could see only 
gentlemen profoundly occupied at the game of chess. Alas, they 
were less reserved, less thoughtful and less gloomy than myself. 
I sat down immediately near to a table, but the agitation I 
felt, did not permit me to remain in one place; presently also 
one of the chess players, raising his voice, lifting up his head 
and rubbing his hands, said in an exulting tone: "Check to the 
King." "Great gods," cried the other, "the queen is forced! The 
game is lost!"

"Yes, yes, Monsieur, rub your hands! You think yourself a 
Turenne!<7> Do you know to whom you are indebted for this fine 
stroke." (He looked round at me,) "to that gentleman, yes, to 
that gentleman. Curse these love-sick blades!"

Astonished at the lively manner in which they apostrophised me, 
I observed to the disconetented player, that I did not 
comprehend him.

"You do not understand!"

"Look here! See that check-mate!"

"Well! Monsieur, and what is the matter with that check?"

"How! What is the matter! For this hour past, Monsieur, you have 
been turning about me: and 'My dear Sophia,' it was one time, 
'My pretty cousin,' another. I could not help hearing this 
nonsense, and made the blunders of a learner. When people are in 
love, Monsieur, they do not come to the Cafe de la Regence." (I 
was going to reply, but he continued with violence) "a check-
mate! I ought to have covered my king; there was no other means 
of saving him! He profited by the distraction which Monsieur 
occasioned! A wretched stroke of a novice! A man like me!" (He 
again looked towards me.) Once for all, Monsieur, remember that 
all the cousins in the world are not worth the queen which he 
forced from me! There is no resource! The devil take the jilt 
and her affected lover!"

Of all the exclamations the last was that which piqued me the 
most. Carried away by my vivacity, I was rushing hastily to the 
speaker, and ran against a chess player at an adjoining table; 
my buttons caught hold of him and he fell, and the pieces rolled 
on all sides. Here then were two new adversaries for me. One 
said to me, "Monsieur should take care what he does sometimes." 
The other cried out; "Monsieur, you have balked me of a game."

"You! You have lost, interrupted his adversary. I had gained, 
Monsieur. That game! I could have played it against Verdoni!"

"And I against Philidor!"<8>

"Well, messieurs, do not break my head, I will pay your loss.

"Pay it! You are not rich enough."

"What do you play for, then?"

"Honour! Yes, Monsieur, honour. I am come post expressly to take 
up the challenge of Monsieur-of Monsieur, who thinks he has no 
equal!"

"If it had not been for you, I should have given him a lesson!"

"A lesson! Why you may think yourself very happy that this 
gentleman's blunder has saved you; I had forced the queen 
eighteen times!"

"And you did not even the eleventh. In less than ten you were 
check-mate. It nevertheless, you, Monsieur, who are the cause of 
my discomfiture-learn, Monsieur, that in the Café de la Regence, 
one ought not to run." Then another player rose: "Gentlemen, 
gentlemen, in the Cafe de la Regence, they ought not to cry out, 
they ought not to talk. What a noise you are making."

There were others present, who also joined in the quarrel; and, 
as I was the author of all the evil, each of them grumbled at me 
in his turn; I could no longer tell who to reply to, when 
Rosambert entered; he had much trouble to get me away; we 
retired to the Palais Royal.

I took Rosambert aside, and showed him Sophia's letter.

"And is this what you afflict yourself about?" he said, after 
having read it: "Why, you ought to kiss that letter a hundred 
times!"

"Ah, Rosambert! This is not a time to joke."

"I do not joke, my friend; you are adored!"

"But you have not read it then?"

"I have read it, and I repeat to you that you are adored."

"We are not comfortable here, Rosambert, come home with me."

On the road, the Count said: "Sophia discontinued her visits to 
the conversation-room from the epoch of your connection with 
Madame de B***. It was from this period also that her reveries 
commenced. It was from that time that she had what your sister 
calls a fever. She desires the recipe; she asked for it 
indirectly; and more than all this, the remedy has had the most 
excellent effect; since yesterday, at noon, Mademoiselle de 
Pontis has become better; we must then conclude, from all this, 
that in the afternoon of yesterday something extraordinary took 
place at the convent. There is no doubt, my friend, that this 
letter is the effect of a trick of the Baron, of the liveliness 
of your sister, or the indiscretion of M. Person. The tone of 
this letter proves that you are loved; she has even suffered a 
tacit avowal to escape her; she has made you terrible 
reproaches. You thought that she loved you. She cannot bear the 
idea; but in no part of her letter does she say that she loves 
you not."

All that Rosambert had said appeared to me very reasonable; 
nevertheless, my heart was oppressed; the hopes and fears of 
lovers are equally foolish.

"Are you aware," said the Count, "that this sweet letter of hers 
is very well framed? Oh! Thy pretty cousin will not have written 
to you ten times before you will find her style entirely 
formed!"

"You are rather cruel with your gaiety, Rosambert!

Jasmin arrived at the same time as ourselves. He told me he came 
from the house of the Marchioness.

"Well!"

"I have spoken with Justine, Monsieur; she made me wait a long 
time, at last she came to tell me that Madame was very sensible 
of your attention, that she felt very ill on returning home 
yesterday, and the doctor had found her a little feverish this 
morning."

"There, Rosambert, see how unfortunate I am. They have both a 
fever at the same time! She whom I adore will see me no more!

"And I shall not see to-day the one who amuses me," said the 
Count, mimicking me: "Poor young man! How I pity him! Be 
comforted, my dear Faublas; you alone are better capable of 
curing the ills you have caused than all the doctors of the 
faculty. But although the malady of thy pretty cousin is 
something like that of the amiable Marchioness, I foresee, 
nevertheless, that there will be some difference in the 
treatment; you will look in the eyes of the pretty damsel to see 
if there are not some remains of emotion; you will take her by 
the hand, and feel her pulse, which may be rather high; perhaps 
it may be necessary to examine whether her mouth has lost any of 
its freshness. But for the fine lady; oh! The examination will 
be longer and more serious! You will be obliged to consider her 
more closely and more generally from the head to the feet! My 
friend. I even think the method of M. Mesmer<9>-yes, chevalier, 
yes, a little magnetism!"

"For God's sake drop your pleasantry, Rosambert, and talk to me 
of Sophia. Let us endeavour, in the first place, to ascertain 
the value of this cruel letter; and then let us consider by what 
means I can obtain an interview and an explanation with my 
pretty cousin."

"With all my heart, my dear Faublas; let us commence by calling 
the Abbé Person."

My father entered as Rosambert rang the bell. He replied coldly 
to the salutations of the Count, and announced to me, in a very 
abrupt manner, that I must go out with him. "The horses are to," 
he added; and, (turning to Rosambert) "excuse me, sir, but I am 
pressed for time."

"Tomorrow morning, early," said the Count to me as he left us. I 
followed the Baron with much dissatisfaction.

He conducted me to M. du Portail's. Lovinski expected me so that 
he might finish the recital of the most secret adventures of his 
life; and for fear the Marquis de B***, or anyone else, should 
again interrupt us, he ordered himself to be refused to 
everybody. As soon as we had dined, he continued with the 
narrative of his misfortunes.



VII.

M. du Portail continued with the narrative of his misfortunes.

"You must, my dear Faublas, be struck with horror at my 
situation. The fire became more violent, was now communicating 
with the chamber in which we were shut up, and already the 
flames had reached the foot of Lodoiska's tower. I heard the 
deep groans of Lodoiska, which were answered by my furious 
cries. Boleslas ran about our prison like a madman; he howled 
most frightfully, and endeavoured to break the door with his 
hands and feet; and I, leaning out of the window, shook the bars 
with all my might, but could not move them.

"Those who had mounted, descended all at once with 
precipitation, and we heard the gates open. Dourlinski himself 
demanded quarter; the victors threw themselves into the 
building, although in flames: attracted by our cries, they came 
and broke open our door with the blows of an axe. I recognised 
them to be Tartars, by their costume and their arms. Their chief 
arrived, and in him I beheld Titsikan.

"'Ah!' he said, 'it is my brave man!'

"I threw myself at his feet; 'Titsikan! Lodoiska! A woman! The 
most beautiful of women, is in that tower! She will be burnt 
alive.'

"The Tartar said a word to his soldiers, they flew to the tower, 
I flew with them, and Boleslas followed. They stormed the doors: 
beside an old pillar, we discovered a winding staircase, filled 
with thick smoke. The Tartars were alarmed at it, and stopped. I 
was determined to mount.

"'Alas! What are you going to do?' said Boleslas.

"'To live or die with Lodoiska,' cried I.

"'To live or die with my master!' replied my generous servant.

"I darted up, and he rushed after me. We ascended about forty 
steps, at the risk of being suffocated. By the glimmering of the 
flames we discovered Lodoiska in a corner of her prison. She 
groaned out feebly with her dying voice: 'Who comes to me? she 
said.'

"'It is Lovinski! It is thy lover!'

"Her joy gave her strength; she rose up, and flew into my arms: 
we carried her, and descended some steps: a thicker vapour of 
smoke than we had as yet encountered came up the staircase, and 
compelled us to remount with precipitation; at that moment, a 
part of the tower gave way: Boleslas uttered a terrible cry, and 
Lodoiska fainted. That which would have destroyed us, Faublas, 
was the means of saving us; the fire, which had previously been 
confined, now reached the exterior, and spread rapidly on every 
side, but the smoke was dissipated. Loaded with our precious 
burden, Boleslas and myself descended instantly. I do not 
exaggerate, my friend, when I tell you, that each step tottered 
under our feet, for the walls were burning! At length we arrived 
at the door of the tower; Titsikan, trembling for us, had ran 
there: 'Well done, brave men,' he said on seeing us appear. I 
laid Lodoiska at his feet, and fell insensible by her side.

"I remained in this state nearly an hour. They were alarmed for 
my life, and Boleslas wept. I recovered myself at the voice of 
Lodoiska, who, having come to herself, hailed me as her 
liberator. Everything was changed throughout the castle; the 
tower had entirely fallen; the Tartars had arrested the progress 
of the flames, and had pulled down one part of the building in 
order to save the other; after which they conveyed us into a 
large hall, where we found Titsikan himself, with some of his 
soldiers. The rest, who had been occupied in plunder, brought to 
their chief the gold, silver, jewels, plate, and all the 
valuable effects which the flames had spared. Close by was 
Dourlinski, loaded with fetters, who groaned as he looked on the 
heap of riches which they had pillaged from him. Rage, terror, 
despair, and everything which can tear the heart of a wicked 
man, might be read in his wandering eyes. He stamped on the 
ground with wrath, raised his clenched fists to his forehead, 
poured forth the most horrid blasphemies, and reproached heaven 
for its just vengeance.

"In the meantime, my fair mistress pressed my hands within her 
own: 'Alas!' she said, sobbing, 'thou hast saved my life, and 
thine own is still in danger; and even should we escape death, 
slavery will be our lot.'

"'No, no, Lodoiska, be assured Titsikan is not my enemy; 
Titsikan will terminate our grievances.'

"'Without doubt, if I can,' interrupted the Tartar; 'thou 
speakest well, brave man! Oh! I see thou art not dead, and I am 
very happy; thou sayest and dost nothing but good things! And 
there,' he added, pointing to Boleslas, 'is a friend, by whom 
thou art well seconded.'

"I embraced Boleslas: 'Yes, Titsikan, yes, I have a friend, and 
he shall always bear that name.'

"The Tartar interrupted me: Tell me, he said, were you not both 
in a chamber on the ground floor, and she in a tower? Why was 
that? I would wager that you wags were desirous of bearing away 
this lass from that booby there, (pointing to Dourlinski:) and 
you were right; he is a villain, and she is pretty! Let us know: 
tell me how it is.

I informed Titsikan of my name and that of Lodoiska's father, 
and of everything which had happened to me up to that period. 
'It is for Lodoiska,' I said afterwards, 'to tell what she has 
suffered from the infamous Dourlinski, since she has been shut 
up in his castle.'

"'You know,' replied Lodoiska, immediately, 'that my father made 
me leave Warsaw the very day on which the Diet was opened. He 
conducted me to the estate of the Palatine de G***, only twenty 
leagues from the capital, where he returned to assist at the 
deliberations.'

"'The day that M. de P*** was proclaimed king, Pulauski came and 
took me from the residence of the Palatine, and brought me here, 
that I should be more secure from all researches. He charged 
Dourlinski to keep me with care, and above all, to be careful 
that Lovinski did not discover my retreat. He left me, he said, 
to go and gather together the good citizens, and stimulate them 
to defend their country, and to punish traitors. Alas; these 
important cares have made him forget his daughter, for I have 
not seen him since.'

"'Some days after the departure of my father, I began to 
perceive that the visits of Dourlinski became longer and more 
frequent; and in a little time, he hardly left the apartment 
they had assigned me for a prison. He took from me, under some 
pretence, the only woman my father had left to serve me; and in 
order, he said, that no one should know I was with him, he 
brought me himself what was necessary for my subsistence, and 
passed the day entirely near me.'

"'You know not, my dear Lovinski, how I suffered from the 
continual presence of a man who was so odious to me, and whom I 
suspected of infamous designs. One day he ventured to unfold 
them to me; I assured him that my hatred would always be the 
price of his tenderness, and that his unworthy conduct had 
excited my profound contempt. He answered coldly, that, in time, 
I should be accustomed to see him, to permit his attentions, and 
even to desire them. He did not change his general conduct. He 
came to me in the morning, and did not leave me until the 
evening. Separated from all that I loved, always under 
constraint from my tyrant, I had not even the little consolation 
of delivering myself up to reflections on past happiness. 
Dourlinski witnessed my uneasiness, and amused himself in 
augmenting it. Pulauski, he told me, commanded a corps of Poles; 
Lovinski, having betrayed his country, which he did not love, 
and a woman that he cared little about, had entered into the 
Russian service, and it was not doubted but there would shortly 
be a bloody combat between them. And, finally, that it was very 
certain nothing could hereafter reconcile my father to Lovinski. 
Some days after this, he came to announce to me that Pulauski 
had attacked the Russian camp in the middle of the night, and 
that in the affray my lover met his death, by wounds received 
from my father. The monster made me read these details in a kind 
of public paper, which, without doubt, he had procured to be 
printed on purpose; and from the barbarous joy which he 
affected, I thought the news too true. "Implacable tyrant!" 
cried I, "thou delightest in my tears and my despair! But cease 
to persecute, or thou presently shall find that the daughter of 
Pulauski can, even by herself, revenge her injuries."'

"'One evening, when he had quitted me sooner than usual, I heard 
him open my door gently about midnight. By the glare of a lamp 
which I always left burning, I saw my tyrant advance towards my 
bed. As there was no crime but I deemed him capable of, I had 
foreseen this, and well assured myself of preventing it. I armed 
myself with a knife, which I had the precaution to conceal under 
my pillow: I loaded the wretch with the reproaches he merited, 
and vowed that if he dared to approach me I would poinard him 
with my own hands. He stood aghast with surprise and fear. "I am 
tired of receiving nothing but contempt," he said, as he went 
out; "If I did not fear being heard, you should see what a 
female hand could do against me! But I have other means of 
overcoming your pride. Shortly you will think yourself too happy 
if you can obtain my favour by the most humble submissions."'

"'Some minutes after he was gone, his confidant entered with a 
pistol in his hand. I must do him the justice to say he wept 
when he announced his master's orders to me. "Dress yourself, 
Madame, you must follow me." This was all he could say. He 
conducted me into that tower, where, had it not been for you, I 
should have perished this day; it is there that I have 
languished for more than a month, without fire or light, and 
almost without clothes; with bread and water for my subsistence, 
and a straw mattress for my bed: such was the state to which the 
daughter of a Polish nobleman was reduced! You shudder, brave 
stranger, and well you may, but I have related only part of my 
grievances. One thing, at least, rendered my misery less 
insupportable, I no longer saw my tyrant. While he was quietly 
waiting for my solicitation of pardon, I passed the days in 
calling upon my father, and weeping for my lover. Lovinski, with 
what astonishment was I seized, with what joy was my soul 
penetrated, the day that I recognised you in the gardens of 
Dourlinski!'

"Titsikan listened with attention to the history of our 
misfortunes, which appeared to affect him greatly, when his 
advanced guard gave the alarm. He left us abruptly to run to the 
drawbridge. We heard a great tumult. 'Lovinski! Lovinski! You 
base and perfidious couple!' cried Dourlinski, who could not 
contain his joy; 'so you thought you had escaped me! Tremble! 
For you will fall again into my power; the news of my misfortune 
has, no doubt, roused the neighbouring gentlemen, and they are 
coming to succour me.'

"'They will but bring vengeance on thee, thou wicked wretch!' 
interrupted Boleslas, seizing a bar of iron, with which he was 
going to knock him down. Titsikan re-entered at this moment. 'It 
was only a false alarm,' he said; 'it is a little troop which I 
detached yesterday to forage the country: it was to join me 
here; it brings me some prisoners; everything else is tranquil, 
and nothing appears as yet in the neighbourhood.'

"While Titsikan spoke to me, they brought before him the 
unfortunate persons whose hard fate had delivered them up to the 
Tartars. Five of them at first came before us. 'They say that 
this one had given them a great deal of trouble, and that is why 
they have thus bound him,' said Titsikan, pointing to a sixth. 
'Oh, God! It is my father!' cried Lodoiska, running to him. I 
threw myself at the feet of Pulauski. 'Thou art Pulauski, art 
thou?' continued the Tartar; 'Well, the rencontre is not 
unlucky. Stay, my friend, it is not more than a quarter of an 
hour since I have known thee; I know that thou art fierce and 
obstinate; but never mind, I esteem thee, thou hast courage and 
head-piece; thy daughter is handsome, and does not want wit: 
Lovinski is brave; more brave, I think, than myself.' Pulauski, 
rendered motionless with astonishment, scarcely listened to the 
Tartar; and struck with the strange spectacle which was 
presented before his eyes, conceived the most frightful 
suspicions. He repulsed me with horror. 'Unhappy wretch! Thou 
hast betrayed thy country, a woman who loved thee, and a man who 
would have been pleased to call thee a kinsman; there was 
nothing wanting to you but an alliance with robbers.' Titsikan 
interrupted him. 'With robbers, if you will have it so; but 
robbers are, occasionally, good for something: without me, your 
daughter, from tomorrow, would no longer have been a maid. Be 
not afraid,' he added, turning to me; 'I know he is fierce, and 
I will not offend him.'

"We had placed Pulauski in an armchair; his daughter and myself 
were bathing his bound hands with our tears, but he continued to 
repulse me and load me with reproaches. 'What the devil is the 
matter with him?' replied Titsikan. 'I tell thee myself that 
Lovinski is a brave man, and I wish to marry him and your 
daughter. Dourlinski is a scoundrel whom I mean to hang. I 
repeat it to thee, that thou alone art more obstinate than all 
three of us. Listen to me, then, and let us conclude, for I must 
go. Thou belongest to me by the most incontestible right-that of 
the sword. Well, if thou givest me thy word to be sincerely 
reconciled to Lovinski, and to give him thy daughter, I will set 
thee at liberty."

"'We who can brave death, know how to endure slavery; my 
daughter shall never be the wife of a traitor.'

"'Wouldst thou prefer that she were the mistress of a Tartar? If 
thou dost not promise me to marry her within eight days to this 
brave man, I marry her this night myself. When I shall be tired 
of thee and her, I will sell you to the Turks; thy daughter is 
handsome enough for the seraglio of a bashaw; and as for thee, 
thou canst be cook to some janisary.'

"'My life is in thy hands; do as thou pleasest with it. If 
Pulauski falls by the blows of a Tartar, he will be pitied; they 
will say that he merited a better fate; but I cannot consent. 
No; I had rather die!'

"'Ah! I do not wish you to die! I wish that Lovinski may espouse 
Lodoiska. But is it for my prisoner to lay down the law for me? 
What a dog of a man! It is nothing but obstinacy! He reasons 
badly.'

"I saw the anger kindle in the eyes of the Tartar, and I 
reminded him that he had promised me not to be passionate.

"'Certainly: but this man would tire the patience of one of the 
prophet's favourites! I am nothing but a robber, aye! Pulauski, 
I repeat it to you, I wish that Lovinski may marry your 
daughter. By my sword, he has well earned her: if it had not 
been for him, she would have been burnt this evening.

"'How?'

"'Ah! Yes: look at these ruins: there was a tower, this tower 
was in flames, no one dared to enter; he and Boleslas ascended; 
they have saved thy daughter.'

"'My daughter has been in that tower?'

"'Yes, she was there; this scoundrel had placed her there, and 
wished to violate her. Come on, tell him the whole, and make 
haste, that he may decide; I have business elsewhere; I do not 
wish the quartuaires<10> to surprise me here: in fact, I have 
something else to do, for I laugh at them.'

"Whilst Titsikan was superintending some carriages, which were 
loaded with the considerable booty he had made, Lodoiska 
informed her father of the treachery of Dourlinski, and mingled 
so adroitly the recital of our tenderness with the history of 
her misfortunes, that nature and gratitude appealed at the same 
time to the heart of Pulauski. Most sensibly affected with the 
sufferings of his daughter, conscious of the important service I 
had rendered him, he embraced Lodoiska; and looking at me 
without animosity, seemed to wait with patience for me to 
finish, by deciding him in my favour.

"'Oh, Pulauski!' I said; Oh, thou whom heaven hath left to 
console me for the loss of the best of fathers! Oh! Thou for 
whom I feel a friendship equal to my respect, why hast thou 
condemned thy children without hearing them? Why hast thou 
suspected a man who adores thy daughter, of the most horrible 
treason? When my voice placed on the throne the man who now 
fills it, I swear, Pulauski, by her whom I love, that I thought 
I was doing good for my country. The evils which my youth did 
not foresee, thy experience foresaw; but because I have failed 
in prudence, dost thou accuse me of perfidy? Canst thou reproach 
me for having esteemed my friend? Canst thou consider it a crime 
in me still to esteem him? For three months I have seen, like 
thee, the misery of my country; like thee I have bemoaned it; 
but I am sure that the king is ignorant of it; I will go and 
inform him at Warsaw.'

"Pulauski interrupted me: 'It is not there that thou must go. 
Thou sayst that M. du P*** is ignorant of the sufferings of his 
country, I am willing to believe it; but whether he knows them 
or not it is of little consequence now. Insolent strangers 
cantoned in our provinces will endeavour to establish themselves 
there, even in spite of the king whom they elected. It is not a 
weak or bad-intentioned monarch who will drive the Russians from 
my country. Let us expect nothing but from ourselves Lovinski; 
let us avenge our country or die for her. I have assembled in 
the Palatinate of Lublin, a band of gentlemen, who wait but the 
return of their general to march against the Russians. Follow 
me, come into my camp-on this condition: I am free, and my 
daughter is thine.'

"'Pulauski, I am ready, I swear to follow thy fortune and to 
partake of thy dangers. And think not that 'tis Lodoiska alone 
for whom I make these oaths! I love my country as much as I 
adore thy daughter: I swear by her, and before thee, that the 
enemies of the state have always been and will never cease to be 
mine: I swear that I will shed even the last drop of my blood, 
to drive from Poland the strangers who govern it under the name 
of its king. Embrace me, Lovinski, I acknowledge thee, I 
acknowledge my kinsman. Come on, my children, all our griefs are 
at an end.'

Pulauski told me to unite my hands with those of Lodoiska. We 
were embracing our father as Titsikan re-entered. 'Good! Good!' 
he cried, 'that is right; that is what I wished. Come, father, I 
will have thee unbound. By my sword!' continued the Tartar, 
while the soldiers cut the cords with which Pulauski had been 
tied, 'I am here doing a fine action, when I think of it! But it 
will cost me a great deal of money.'

"'Great Gods of Poland! That beautiful girl would have paid me a 
large ransom.'

"'Titsikan, that will not matter,' interrupted Pulauski.

"'Ah! No, no,' replied the Tartar; 'it was but a simple 
reflection, and one of those ideas of which a robber is not the 
master! My brave fellows, I want nothing from you, and what is 
more, you shall not go on foot, for I have got horses at your 
service. And for this lady, if you will have it, I will give you 
a litter, in which they have carried me for ten or twelve days. 
That youth there thrashed me so well, that I could not sit on my 
horse. The litter is very homely, being made of the branches of 
trees; I have but that, or a little covered carriage, to offer 
you; you will therefore make your choice.'

"In the mean time Dourlinski had not dared to speak a single 
word, but held down his head in consternation; 'Unworthy 
friend!' said Pulauski to him, 'could you abuse my confidence to 
such an extent, and are you not afraid of exposing yourself to 
my resentment! What demon has blinded you?'

"'Love,' replied Dourlinski, 'an insane love. Thou knowest not 
to what excess the passions may carry a man who is born violent 
and jealous! Let this frightful example teach thee, at least, 
that a daughter as charming and as beautiful as thine, is a rare 
treasure, the care of which you should not trust to anyone. 
Pulauski, I have merited thy hatred, yet you owe me 
notwithstanding some pity. I acknowledge myself highly culpable; 
but you see me cruelly punished. I lose, in a single day, my 
rank, my riches, my honour and my liberty; nay, I lose more than 
all that, I lose thy daughter! Oh! Lodoiska, whom I have so much 
outraged, will you condescend to forget my persecutions, your 
dangers and your misfortunes; will you condescend to grant me a 
generous pardon? Ah! If there is not a crime which a true 
repentance cannot expiate, Lodoiska, I am no longer criminal. I 
wish I could at the price of my own blood, redeem the tears 
which you have shed. Shall Dourlinski, in the horrible slavery 
to which he will be reduced, carry the consoling remembrance of 
having heard you say, he was odious to you? Too amiable girl, 
and up to the present time, too unfortunate, how great soever my 
wrongs towards you, I can repair them by a single word. Come 
here, I have a secret of importance to reveal to you.'

Lodoiska approached without fear. At that moment I saw a poinard 
glitter in the hands of Dourlinski. I threw myself upon him. It 
was too late, I could only parry the second blow; my mistress, 
struck beneath her left breast, had already fallen at the feet 
of Titsikan.

"The furious Pulauski wished to revenge his child; 'No, no,' 
cried Titsikan, 'You will give this monster too soft a death.'

"'Well,' said the infamous assassin as he contemplated his 
victim with a malicious joy: 'Lovinski, thou appearest so 
anxious to be united to Lodoiska, why not follow her? Go, my 
happy rival, and join thy mistress in the tomb. They are 
preparing my punishment, which will appear to me mild, because I 
leave thee delivered up to torments, longer and more cruel than 
mine.'

"Dourlinski could not say more, the Tartars dragged him away and 
threw him among the flaming ruins of his castle.

"What a night, my dear Faublas, what various cares, what 
conflicting sensations agitated me in their turn! How often I 
experienced in succession, fear and hope, grief and joy! After 
so many anxieties and dangers, Lodoiska was restored to me by 
her father, I was intoxicated with the delightful thoughts of 
possessing her. Then a barbarian assassinates her before my 
eyes! This moment was the most cruel of my life!"

"But be assured, my friend, that my happiness so rapidly 
eclipsed was not long in reappearing. Among the soldiers of 
Titsikan, there was one who knew something of surgery; we went 
for him; he examined the wound, and asserted that it was but 
very slight: the wretch Dourlinski, confined by his chains, and 
blinded by his despair, had given but a badly aimed blow.

"As soon as Titsikan ascertained that there was nothing to fear 
for the life of Lodoiska, he bade us adieu. 'I leave you, he 
said, the five domestics which Pulauski brought, some provision 
for several days, six good horses, two close carriages, and all 
Dourlinski's people, well chained. Their villainous master is 
dead. The day begins to break, and I must go. Do not leave here 
until tomorrow; tomorrow I shall go to visit other cantons. 
Adieu, my brave fellows; you will tell your countrymen, that 
Titsikan is not always a mischievous devil; and that he gives 
sometimes with one hand what he takes with the other. Adieu.'

"He gave the signal for departure; the Tartars raised the 
drawbridge and galloped away.

"They were not gone two hours, when several neighbouring 
gentlemen, supported by some Quartuaires<10>, came to invest the 
castle of Dourlinski. Pulauski himself went to receive them. He 
gave them an account of all that had passed; and some of them 
brought over by his arguments, determined to follow us into the 
Palatinate of Lublin. They only asked two days to make the 
necessary preparations for their departure. They did indeed join 
us on the next day to the number of sixty. Lodoiska having 
assured us that she felt herself in a condition to sustain the 
fatigues of the journey, was placed in a convenient carriage, 
which we had time to procure. After having set the servants of 
Dourlinski at liberty, we left them the two carriages which 
Titsikan's singular generosity had left as a part of the booty, 
which they divided amongst them.

"We arrived without any accident at Polowisk, in the Palatinate 
of Lublin, which Pulauski had named as the general rendezvous. 
The news of his return being spread abroad, a crowd of the 
discontented came in the space of a month, to enlarge our army, 
which was then about ten thousand men. Lodoiska entirely cured 
of her wound, and perfectly recovered from her fatigues, had 
acquired her usual appearance, and all her charms shone forth 
with their former brilliance. Pulauski called me to his tent. He 
said to me: 'Three thousand Russians have appeared on the 
heights within three-quarters of a league hence, take this 
evening, four thousand chosen men, and drive the enemy from the 
advantageous post which they occupy: remember that on the 
success of the first combat almost always depends the success of 
the campaign; and remember that thou must revenge thy country. 
Tomorrow, my friend, when I hear of thy victory, tomorrow thou 
espousest Lodoiska.'

"I marched about ten o'clock in the evening: at midnight we 
surprised our enemy in their camp. Never was a defeat more 
complete: we killed seven hundred of their men, we made nine 
hundred prisoners, we took all their cannon, military chest, and 
camp equipage.

"At break of day, Pulauski came to join me with the rest of the 
troops. He brought Lodoiska with him. We were married in the 
tent of Pulauski. The whole camp rung with shouts of joy. Valour 
and beauty were celebrated in their verses; it was the fête of 
Love and of Mars; they have said, that every soldier had my 
soul, and partook of my happiness.

"After devoting to love, the first days of so cherished a union, 
I thought of recompensing the heroic fidelity of Boleslas. My 
father-in-law made him a present of one of his chateaux, 
situated some leagues from the capital. Lodoiska and myself 
added to that, a considerable sum of money, to secure him a 
tranquil independence. He would not leave us; we ordered him to 
go and take possession of his castle, and live peaceably and 
honourably in the retreat which he had merited. The day he left 
us, I took him aside: 'Thou wilt go to our monarch at Warsaw: 
thou wilt inform him that Hymen has united me to the daughter of 
Pulauski: thou wilt tell him, that I am armed to drive from his 
realm the foreigners who devastate it: thou wilt tell him, above 
all, Lovinski is the enemy of the Russians, but not the enemy of 
his king.'

"I will not fatigue you, my dear Faublas, with the recital of 
our operations, during eight years of a bloody war. Sometimes 
beaten, but more frequently the victor, as great in his defeats, 
as redoubtable after victories, and always superior to events, 
Pulauski excited the attention of Europe, and astonished it by 
his long resistance. Obliged to abandon one province, he went to 
fight fresh battles in another; and it was thus, that 
overrunning all the Palatinates he signalized in each of them, 
by sonic glorious exploits, the hatred he bore to the enemy of 
Poland.

"The wife of a warrior, and daughter of a hero, accustomed to 
the tumult of camps, Lodoiska followed us everywhere. Of five 
children that she bore me, one daughter only was left me, aged 
eighteen months. One day, after an obstinate battle, the 
Russians being victorious, rushed into my tent for plunder. 
Pulauski and myself, followed by some gentlemen, flew to the 
defence of Lodoiska, and saved her, but my daughter was carried 
away. The child, by a wise precaution which her mother had not 
neglected in those unsettled times, bears, marked under the arm-
pit, the arms of our family, but I have hitherto sought her in 
vain. Alas! Dorliska, my dear Dorliska groans in slavery, or 
exists no more.

"This loss made me grieve excessively. Pulauski appeared almost 
insensible, either because already occupied with grand projects 
which he was not slow in communicating to me, or that the evils 
of his country alone had a right to touch his stoic heart. He 
gathered together the rest of his army, made an advantageous 
encampment, which he employed several days in fortifying, and 
maintained himself three months against all the efforts of the 
Russians. He was obliged, nevertheless, to think of abandoning 
it, for our provisions began to fail. Pulauski came to my tent, 
ordered those present to retire, and as soon as we were alone, 
'Lovinski,' he said, 'I have reason to complain of thee. 
Formerly, thou supported with me the burden of command, and I 
could rest upon my kinsman a portion of my painful cares. For 
these three months past thou hast done nothing but weep; thou 
groanest like a woman! Thou abandonest me in the critical moment 
when thy aid is most necessary! Thou seest that I am pressed in 
all parts. I fear not for myself, it is not my life which 
renders me uneasy; but if we perish, the state has no more 
defenders. Rouse thyself, Lovinski. Thou hast partaken so nobly 
of my labours, do not now remain a useless looker-on. We have 
bathed ourselves in the blood of Russians; our fellow citizens 
are avenged, but they are not saved; presently perhaps we may 
not be in a condition to defend them.'

"'I am astonished, Pulauski, at what thou sayest; from whence 
came those gloomy presentiments!'

"'I do not alarm myself without reason; consider our actual 
position: I am forced to awaken in their hearts the love of 
country; I have found almost everywhere degraded men, born for 
slavery, or weak men sensible of their misfortunes, but 
contented with making useless complaints. A small number of true 
citizens are arranged under my banners; but eight campaigns have 
almost destroyed them. I am weakened by my victories, but our 
enemies appear more numerous after their defeats.'"

"'I repeat it to thee, Pulauski I am astonished! In 
circumstances equally pressing, I have seen thee sustain thyself 
with courage.'

"'Dost thou think it abandons me? Valour does not consist in 
being blind to danger, but in braving it when we meet it. Our 
enemies are preparing to defeat me; nevertheless, if thou art 
willing, Lovinski, the day which they have marked for their 
triumph shall, perhaps, be that of their loss, and the salvation 
of our fellow citizens.'

"'If I am willing! Dost thou doubt it? Speak; what wouldst thou 
say? What must I do?'

"'Strike a bolder stroke than I have even meditated. Forty 
chosen men are assembled at Czenstochow with Kaluvski, whose 
bravery is well known. They must have an adroit, firm, and 
intrepid chief: it is thee I have chosen.'

"'Pulauski, I am ready.

"'I will not dissemble from you the danger of the enterprise; 
the uncertainty of its success; and that if thou dost not 
succeed, thy loss is infallible.'

"'I tell thee I am ready; explain thyself.

"'Thou canst not be ignorant that I have now scarcely four 
thousand men. I can still, without doubt, harass the enemy a 
great deal; but ought I to hope, with such a small force, to 
drive them from our provinces? All our gentlemen would flock to 
my standard, if the king was in my camp.'

"'What sayest thou, Pulauski? Dost thou think the king will ever 
consent to come here?"

"'No, but we must bring him.'

"'By force?'

"'Yes: I know that an early friendship binds thee to M. de P***; 
but since thou sustainest with Pulauski the cause of liberty, 
thou knowest also that everything ought to be sacrificed to the 
good of thy country, that an interest as sacred-'

"'I know my duties, and I will fulfil them: but what dost thou 
propose to me? The king never leaves Warsaw.'

"'Well! It is at Warsaw we must go and seek him; it is from the 
bosom of the capital we must snatch him.'

"'What hast thou prepared for this grand enterprise?'

"'Thou seest this Russian army, three times as strong as mine, 
encamped for these three months before me. Its general, 
remaining tranquil in its entrenchments, expects that, compelled 
by famine, I shall surrender at discretion. At the back of my 
camp are some dangerous morasses; as soon as it is night we will 
cross them. I have disposed everything in such a manner, that 
the enemy, being deceived, will discover our retreat when too 
late. I hope to steal more than one march upon them. If fortune 
favours me, I can gain a day upon them. I will advance directly 
upon Warsaw, by the high road that leads to the capital, and 
through the little corps of Russians who hover in its environs. 
I reckon on beating them separately, or should they unite to 
stop me, I will at least occupy them sufficiently to prevent 
them incommoding thee. Thou, in the meantime, Lovinski, wilt 
push on. Thy forty men, disguised, armed only with sabres, 
pistols, and daggers, concealed under their clothes, will enter 
Warsaw by different roads. Thou wilt wait for the king coming 
out of his palaces; thou wilt seize him and bring him to my 
camp. The enterprise is rash and unheard of, I agree; the 
entrance is difficult, the stay dangerous, and the return of 
extreme peril. If thou sinkest under it, if they arrest thee, 
thou wilt perish, Lovinski; but thou wilt perish a martyr to 
liberty; Pulauski, jealous of a death so glorious, will mourn to 
be obliged to survive thee, and some Russians yet will follow 
thee to the tomb. If, on the contrary, Almighty God, the 
protector of Poland, inspires me with this bold project in order 
to terminate its troubles; if his goodness gives a success equal 
to thy courage, think what prosperity will be the fruit of thy 
noble temerity! M. de P*** will see in my camp none but 
soldiers, and citizens, inimical to foreigners, and faithful to 
their king. Under my patriotic tents he will breathe, as I may 
say, the air of liberty, the love of his country: the enemies of 
the state will become his; our brave nobility, roused from its 
langour, will fight under the banner of their king, for the 
common cause; the Russians will be cut in pieces, or will repass 
the frontiers; and then, my friend, thou wilt have saved thy 
country.'

"Pulauski had my word. As soon as it was night, we happily 
accomplished our retreat; the morass was crossed in silence. 'My 
friend,' said my father-in-law to me, 'it is time for us to 
part: I am well aware that my daughter has more courage than 
another woman; but she is a tender wife and an unhappy mother; 
her tears will weaken thee; thou wilt lose in her embraces that 
spirit, that fierceness of soul, which becomes more necessary 
for you at present than ever. I recommend you to leave without 
taking farewell.' Pulauski advised me in vain; I could not 
determine to do it. When Lodoiska knew that I set out alone, and 
found us decided not to tell where I was going, she shed a 
torrent of tears, and endeavoured to detain me. I began to 
waver. 'Come on,' cried my father-in-law, 'thou must be gone; 
father, wife, children, and everything else must be sacrificed 
when our country is at stake.'

"I left immediately. I made such haste, that I arrived about the 
middle of the following day at Czenstochow. I found there forty 
gentlemen determined to act. 'Messieurs,' I said, 'we are 
required to seize a king in his capital. Men capable of 
attempting so daring an enterprise, are alone capable of 
accomplishing it: success or death awaits us.' After this short 
harangue, we prepared for our journey. Kaluvski had in readiness 
twelve wagons loaded with hay and straw, each drawn by four good 
horses; we disguised ourselves as countrymen, and concealed our 
clothes, our sabres, our pistols, and the saddles of our horses, 
in the hay with which our wagons were filled. We agreed upon 
several signs, and on a word for rallying. Twelve of our 
comrades, commanded by Kaluvski, were to go into Warsaw with the 
twelve wagons, which they would drive themselves. I divided the 
rest of my little troop into several brigades. To avoid all 
suspicion, each was to march at some distance, and to enter the 
capital by different gates.

"We set out; on Saturday, November 2, 1771, we arrived at 
Warsaw, and took up our lodgings among the Dominicans.

"The next day, Sunday, a day ever memorable in the annals of 
Poland, Stavinski, covered with rags, placed himself near the 
college, and begged alms from thence, even unto the door of the 
royal palace, and noticed everything that passed. Several of our 
comrades prowled about the city; and even in the six narrow 
streets which terminate at the great palace, where I walked with 
Kaluvski. We continued in ambuscade the whole of the morning and 
part of the afternoon. At six in the evening, the king came out 
of his palace; we followed him, and saw him enter that of his 
uncle P***, the arch-chancellor of Lithuania.

All the conspirators were informed; they stripped off their 
disguises, saddled their horses, and prepared their arms. In the 
extensive establishment of the Dominicans our motions were not 
noticed. We came out, one after the other, under the shelter of 
night. Being too well known in Warsaw to appear without 
disguise, I retained my rustic habits; I mounted an excellent 
charger, but it was covered with a common horse-cloth, and 
shabbily harnessed. Our comrades took the various posts I had 
assigned them in the suburbs, in order that all the avenues to 
the arch-chancellor's palace might be guarded.

"Between nine and ten o'clock the king came out, and we observed 
that his suite was but small. The carriage was preceded by two 
men who carried flambeaux, followed by some officers of 
artillery, two knights, and an esquire. I knew not the lord who 
was in the carriage with the king. He had two pages at each 
door, two Hungarian soldiers, and two valets on foot behind. The 
carriage moved slowly; our comrades assembled at a little 
distance; twelve of the most resolute detached themselves; I 
headed them, and we advanced at a gentle pace. As Warsaw was 
garrisoned by Russians, we affected to speak the language of 
these foreigners; that our troop might be taken for one of their 
patrols, we came up to the carriage about a hundred and fifty 
paces from the palace of the arch-chancellor, between those of 
the Bishop of Cracow and the late commander-in-chief of the 
Polish army. All at once, we placed ourselves before the horses 
of the carriage, and divided the retinue in such a manner, that 
those who preceded it found themselves separated from those who 
surrounded it.

"I gave the signal. Kaluvski came up with the rest of the 
conspirators: I presented a pistol to the postillion, who 
stopped. They fired on the coachman, and attacked the two pages. 
The two Hungarians defended themselves; one of then fell, 
pierced through by balls; the other was knocked down by a blow 
of a sabre on the head. The esquire's horse sunk with his 
wounds; one of the pages was dismounted and his horse taken; the 
balls were whistling on all sides. The attack was so hot, the 
firing so violent, that I trembled for the life of the king. He, 
however, having preserved the greatest tranquility during the 
danger, descended from his carriage, and sought to regain the 
palace of his uncle. Kaluvski arrested him, and seized him by 
the hair; seven or eight of the conspirators surrounded and 
disarmed him; they kept him running between their horses, who 
galloped on his right and his left to the end of the street. At 
this moment, I must confess that I thought Pulauski had 
unworthily deceived me, that the death of the king had been 
resolved on, and this scheme formed for his assassination. In an 
inestant I was decided how to act, and flew to join those who 
had advanced before me: I cried out to them to stop, and that I 
would kill him who disobeyed me. God, the protector of kings, 
watched over the safety of M. de P***. Kaluvski and his comrade 
recognised my voice, and halted. We put the king on a horse, and 
followed our course, at full speed up to the moat which 
surrounds the city, which the monarch was obliged to leap with 
us.

"After this a panic of terror ran through my troop. At fifty 
paces from the ditch there were but seven of us near the king. 
The night was dark, and the rain came down in torrents; we were 
obliged every minute to descend from our horses to feel our way 
over a miry morass. The king's horse fell twice, and broke a leg 
in the second fall. By these accidents, the king lost his 
pelisse and one of his boots. 'If you wish me to follow you,' he 
said, 'give me a horse and a boot.' We remounted him, and with a 
view to gain the road in which Pulauski had promised to meet me, 
we made for the village of Burakow. The king with great 
tranquility, said, 'Do not go this way, there are Russians.' I 
believed it, and changed the route. In proportion as we advanced 
in the Wood of Beliany, our number diminished. Presently, I 
could only perceive Kaluvski and Stravinski; and shortly well 
heard the call of a Russian sentinel. We stopped in great alarm. 
'Kill the king,' said Kaluvski. I was struck with horror at such 
a proposition, and expressed it in an unguarded manner. 'Well 
then, said this ferocious man, you must take upon yourself the 
charge of conducting him!' He plunged into the wood, and 
Stravinski followed him, leaving me alone with the king.

"'Lovinski,' he said, 'it is you, I can no longer doubt it. It 
is you; I recognised your voice.' I answered not a word. He 
continued with mildness: 'It is you! Who would have thought this 
ten years back?' We found ourselves then near the Convent of 
Beliany, about one league distant from Warsaw. 'Lovinski,' said 
the king, 'let me enter this convent, and save yourself.' 'You 
must follow me,' was all my answer.

"'It is in vain,' said the monarch, 'that you are disguised; it 
is in vain that you now try to alter your voice: I have 
recognised you; I am sure that you are Lovinski. Ah! Who would 
have thought this ten years ago? Ten years since you would have 
risked your own life to preserve that of your friend.'

"He was silent. We advanced for a while without speaking. At 
length he said, 'I am overcome with fatigue: if you would take 
me alive, let me have a moment's rest.' I helped him to 
dismount. He sat down upon the grass, and making me sit down 
beside him, he took one of my hands within his own: 'Lovinski, 
you whom I have loved so much, you who know better than anyone 
the purity of my intentions, how is it that you are armed 
against me? Oh, how ungrateful! Do I not find you with my most 
cruel enemies? Do you see me again but to sacrifice me?' He 
then, in a most affecting manner, recounted the pleasures of our 
youth, the tender friendship we had sworn, and the confidence 
which he had ever since reposed in me. He spoke of the honours 
he could have loaded me with during his reign, if I had been 
desirous of meriting them. He reproached me, above all, for the 
unworthy enterprise of which I appeared to be the chief, but of 
which he well knew I was only the principal instrument. He threw 
all the horror of the design on Pulauski, but nevertheless, he 
said, the author of such an outrage was not alone to be blamed, 
and that I was not without crime in undertaking its execution. 
That my compliance with such views, already so punishable in a 
subject, was still more inexcusable in a friend. He concluded by 
begging me to set him at liberty. 'Fly,' he said to me, 'and if 
they come to me for information, I shall direct them a contrary 
road to that which you shall take.'

"The king entreated me in so agreeable a manner, his natural 
eloquence, enforced by the danger, carried persuasion to my 
heart, and awakened in it the most tender sentiments. I was 
shaken: I began to waver; but Pulauski triumphed. I thought I 
heard the fierce republican reproach me for my weakness. My dear 
Faublas, the love of country may, perhaps, have its fanaticism 
and its superstition, but if I was culpable, I am so still. I am 
still more than ever persuaded, that in forcing the monarch to 
remount his horse, I did both a brave and a good action. 'So, he 
cried,' in a melancholy tone, 'you reject the prayer which a 
friend has addressed to you! You refuse the pardon which your 
king offers you! Well, let us go; I deliver myself to my evil 
destiny, or you abandon yourself to yours.'

"We recommenced our march; but the reproaches of the monarch, 
his entreaties, and even his menaces, and the internal struggles 
which I experienced, had so far affected me, that I could no 
longer see my road. Wandering in the country, I took no certain 
road. After proceeding half an hour, we found ourselves at 
Marimont.<11> I had gone astray, and we had to retrace our 
steps. A quarter of a league from there we fell among a party of 
Russians. The king made himself known to their commander; after 
which he added, 'I have lost my way this evening, while hunting; 
this good countryman whom you see, wished, before he guided me 
home, to give me a frugal repast in his cottage; but as I 
thought I had seen some of the soldiers of Pulauski roving about 
in the neighbourhood, I wished to return as quick as possible to 
Warsaw, and you will do me a pleasure to accompany me there. As 
for thee, my friend, I am sorry thou hast taken so useless a 
trouble, for I would rather return to my capital with these 
gentlemen, than go any further with thee. Nevertheless, it would 
be singular if I was to leave thee without some recompense. What 
wouldst thou? Speak; I will grant thee the favour thou 
demandest.'

"You may easily conceive, Faublas, how much I was embarrassed. I 
still doubted the intentions of the king, and endeavoured to 
penetrate the real meaning of an equivocal discourse, which was 
either full of the most bitter irony, or remarkable for its 
magnanimity. M. de P*** left me some time in this painful 
unceretainty.

"'I see thou art much embarrassed,' he replied at last, with an 
air of goodness which touched me to the heart; 'thou dost not 
know what to choose! Come, my friend, embrace me; there is more 
honour than profit in the embrace of a king,' he added, 
laughing: 'nevertheless, we must agree that at the present day 
few monarchs are so generous as myself.'

"Having said this, he went out, leaving me confounded at so much 
greatness of soul.

"In the meantime, the danger which the king was so generously 
going to save me from, began at every moment to threaten me. It 
was more than probable that a great number of couriers, 
dispatched from Warsaw, had spread in every quarter the 
astonishing news of the king being carried away. A warm pursuit 
had no doubt already commenced after the ravishers; my 
remarkable equipage might betray me in my flight; and if I fell 
again into the hands of the Russians, who might be better 
informed, all the efforts of the king could not save me. 
Supposing that Pulauski had obtained all the success he could 
wish, he would still be at some distance; ten leagues, at least, 
remained for me to get over, and my horse had given in. I 
endeavoured to spur him on; he had not run fifty paces before he 
dropped down under me. A well-mounted cavalier who passed on the 
road at this moment, saw the animal fall, and thinking he could 
amuse himself at the expense of a poor peasant, said to me: 'My 
friend, I can inform thee that thy good horse is no longer worth 
anything.'

"Piqued at the buffoonery, I immediately resolved to punish the 
joker, and at the same time ensure my flight. I very abruptly 
presented a pistol at him, and compelled him to deliver up his 
horse; and I will even confess that, pressed by circumstances, I 
plundered him of a good cloak, as large as it was light, under 
which I concealed my rustic habit, which might have led to my 
discovery. I threw my purse, full of gold, at the feet of the 
dismounted traveller, and left him as swiftly as my new horse 
could carry me.

"He was fresh and vigorous; I rode twelve leagues without 
stopping; at length I thought I heard the noise of cannon, by 
which I conjectured that my father-in-law was not far off, and 
was combatting the Russians. I was not deceived; I arrived on 
the field of battle at the moment when one of our regiments gave 
way. I reconnoitred them, and having rallied them behind a 
neighbouring hill, I came to attack the enemy in the flank, 
while Pulauski opposed them in front with the rest of his troop. 
We charged so à propos, and with so much vigour, that the 
Russians were put to the rout, after suffering a great slaughter 
among their men. Pulauski deigned to attribute to me the honour 
of the victory."

"'Ah,' he said, embracing me, after having heard the details of 
our expedition, 'if thy forty men had equalled thee in courage, 
the king would now be in my camp; but it was not the will of 
heaven; I am thankful that thou at least art saved to us; I 
return thee thanks for the important service thou hast rendered 
me, for without thee, Kaluvski would have assassinated the 
monarch, and my name would have been covered with eternal 
infamy. I could,' he added, 'have advanced two miles further, 
but I preferred fixing my camp in this respectable position. 
Yesterday, on the road, I surprised and cut in pieces a party of 
Russians; I beat, this morning, two of their detachments; 
another considerable corps having gathered the remains of the 
former, has taken advantage of the night to attack me. My 
soldiers, fatigued with a long march, and three successive 
combats, began to fail, when victory entered my camp with thee. 
Let us entrench ourselves here: let us here wait the Russian 
army, and let us fight while we have breath.'

In the meantime, the camp re-echoed with shouts of joy: our 
victorious soldiers mingled my praises with those of Pulauski. 
At the sound of my name, which a thousand voices repeated, 
Lodoiska ran to the tent of her father. She proved to me the 
excess of her tenderness by the excess of her joy. I was obliged 
to recommence the recital of the dangers I had undergone. She 
could not withhold shedding tears, on hearing of our monarch's 
rare generosity. 'How great he is!' she cried with transport: 
'How worthy is he to be king who has pardoned thee! What tears 
has he spared to a wife whom thou hadst forsaken, to a lover 
whom thou didst not fear to sacrifice! How cruel it was! Wert 
thou not exposed to sufficient dangers every day?'

"'Pulauski, interrupting his daughter with much severity, said: 
Thou weak and indiscreet woman! Is it before me that thou darest 
to hold such discourse?'

"'Alas! Must I be unceasingly trembling for the life of a father 
and a husband?'

"It was thus my Lodoiska addressed to me her affecting 
complaints, and sighed for a happier future, while fortune 
prepared for us a more frightful reverse.

"Our Cossacks came from all quarters to inform us that the 
Russian army approached. Pulauski reckoned that he should be 
attacked at break of day: he was not, but in the middle of the 
following night, we were informed that the Russians were 
preparing to force our entrenchments. Pulauski, always ready, 
had already defended them. He did, during this fatal night, all 
that could be expected from his experience and his valour. We 
repulsed the assailants, five times, but they always returned to 
the charge with fresh troops, and their last attack was so 
concerted, that they penetrated into our camp by three places at 
the same time. Zaremba was killed by my side: a crowd of nobles 
perished in this bloody action, for the enemies gave no quarter. 
Furious at seeing all my friends perish, I wished to throw 
myself among the Russian battalions: 'Madman!' said Pulauski, 
'what blind fury carries thee away? My army is entirely 
destroyed, but my courage remains. Why should we die uselessly 
here? Come, I will conduct you into those climates where we can 
excite new enemies against the Russians. Let us live, since we 
can still serve our country: let us save ourselves, let us save 
Lodoiska.'

"Lodoiska! I was going to abandon her! We ran to her tent-we 
were in time-we carried her away, and plunged into the 
neighbouring wood, and early in the morning we ventured out of 
it, to present ourselves at the door of a castle, with which we 
thought we were acquainted. It was, indeed, that of a gentleman 
named Micislas, who had served sometime in our army. He 
recognised us, and offered us an asylum, which he advised us to 
accept but for a few hours. He told a very astonishing piece of 
news, which was circulated the night before, and appeared to be 
confirmed, that someone had dared to seize even the king in 
Warsaw, and carry him away; that the Russians had pursued the 
ravishers, brought the king back into his capital, and it was 
thought a price would be set upon the head of Pulauski, who was 
suspected to be the author of the conspiracy. 'Believe me,' he 
added, 'whether you have had a hand in this bold plot, or not, I 
would have you fly: leave here your uniforms, which will betray 
you, I will give you some clothes which are less remarkable; and 
as to Lodoiska, I will undertake to conduct her myself to the 
place you may choose for your retreat.'

"Lodoiska interrupted Micislas: 'The place of my retreat will be 
that of their flight! I will accompany them everywhere!'

"Pulauski represented to his daughter that she could not sustain 
the fatigues of a long route, and that moreover we should be 
perpetually exposed to danger."

"'The more danger there is,' she replied, 'the more I ought to 
partake it with you. You have repeat to me a hundred times that 
the daughter of Pulauski ought not to be a common woman! For the 
last eight years, I have lived in the midst of alarms. I have 
seen nothing but scenes of carnage and horror: death surrounded 
me everywhere, and menaced me every instant: you would not 
permit me to brave it by your sides: does not the life of 
Lodoiska depend on that of her father? Lovinski! The shock you 
have given me will hurry me to the tomb! And since I am no 
longer worthy-'

"I interrupted Lodoiska, and joined her father in detailing the 
reasons which determined us to leave her in Poland. She listened 
to me with impatience: 'Ungrateful that you are! Will you go 
without me?'

"'Yes, replied Pulauski, you will remain with the sisters of 
Lovinski, and I forbid him-'

"His daughter, quite distracted, would not let him finish: 'I 
know thy rights, and I respect them; they have always been 
sacred to me; but thou hast not the right to take a wife away 
from her husband! Ah! Pardon me, I offend thee, I forget myself, 
but pity my sufferings, excuse my despair. Father! Lovinski! 
Listen both of you; I wish to accompany you everywhere'

"'Everywhere?'

"'Yes, I will follow you, cruel as you are, I will follow you in 
spite of you! Lovinski! If thy wife has lost all the right she 
had over thy heart, remember at least thy lover: recollect that 
frightful night when I was about to perish in the flames!-that 
terrible moment when you mounted the burning tower, crying, "To 
live or die with Lodoiska!" Well! What thou felt then, I feel at 
this moment. I know no greater evil than that of being separated 
from thee!"

"I said, in my turn, 'To live and die with my father and my 
wife!'

"'Wretch that I am! What is to become of me when thou quittest 
me? When I have to weep for you both, where can I find comfort 
in my affliction? Can my children console me? Alas! In two 
years, death has snatched four from me, and the Russians, 
implacable as death, have torn from me the last! I have none in 
the world but you, and you would abandon me! Oh, my father! Oh, 
my husband! Let not two names so dear find you insensible! Have 
pity on Lodoiska!

"Her grief stopped her utterance. Micislas wept, and my heart 
was torn in pieces.

"'Thou dost wish it, my child, well! I consent,' said Pulauski, 
'but may heaven not punish me for my compliance!' Lodoiska 
embraced us both with as much joy as if our troubles were at an 
end.

"I left with Micislas two letters, which he undertook to 
forward; one was addressed to my sisters, the other to Boleslas.

"I bade them farewell, and entreated them to neglect nothing in 
order to find my dear Dorliska. It was necessary to disguise my 
wife, so she put on the dress of a man: we exchanged ours, and 
employed all possible means to alter our appearance. Thus 
disguised, armed with pistols and sabres, provided with a 
considerable sum of money in gold, some jewels, and all the 
diamonds of Lodoiska, we took our leave of Micislas, and 
hastened to regain the wood.

"Pulauski communicated to us the design he had formed of taking 
refuge in Turkey. He hoped to obtain some appointment in the 
armies of the Grand Seignior, who, for two years, had carried on 
an unsuccessful war against the Russians. Lodoiska did not seem 
dismayed at the long journey we had to make. As she could 
neither be recognised nor sought after, she undertook the charge 
of going before us, and conducting our provisions. As soon as 
day appeared, we retired into the woods; concealed in the trunks 
of trees, or tufts of thorns, we waited the return of night to 
continue our march. It was thus that, during several days, we 
escaped the searches of the Russians, who were eagerly pursuing 
us.

"One evening, as Lodoiska, always disguised as a peasant, was 
coming from a neighbouring hamlet, where she had been to buy 
some provisions, two Russian marauders attacked her at the 
entrance of the forest in which we were hid. After having robbed 
her, they prepared to strip her of her clothes. At the cries 
which she made, we came out of our retreat; the two robbers fled 
as soon as they saw us, but we feared lest they might recount 
their adventure to the party they belonged to, and that this 
singular rencontre might excite their suspicions, and cause them 
to drag us from our asylum. We resolved to change our route, and 
that they might not suspect the one we had taken, it was 
determined that, instead of going direct for the frontiers of 
Turkey, we should proceed, by a circuitous route, for 
Polesia,<12> afterwards for the Crimea, from whence we could 
pass to Constantinople.

"After some very troublesome marches, we entered into Polesia. 
Pulauski wept on quitting his native land. 'I have, at least,' 
he said, 'done everything in my power to serve it, and I only 
leave it with a view of continuing my exertions in its cause.'

"So many trials and fatigues had exhausted the strength of 
Lodoiska, when we arrived at Novogorod, where we rested, on her 
account. Our design was to let her repose there for some days, 
but the country people, who were inquisitive and communicative, 
as is usual, happened to tell us that troops were scouring the 
neighbourhood, in search of one Pulauski, who had conspired 
against the King of Poland. Necessarily alarmed, we remained but 
a few hours in this town, where we bought horses. We passed the 
Desna, above Czernicove, and following the banks of the Sula, we 
crossed to Perevoloczua, where we learned that Pulauski had been 
recognised at Novogorod, had only left Nezin a few hours before 
they came after him, and that he was still closely pursued. We, 
therefore, found it necessary to fly, and change our route once 
more. We penetrated the immense forests which covered the 
country between the Sula and the Sem.

"We arrived at a cavern in which we wished to establish 
ourselves. Our entrance into this asylum, as frightful as it was 
solitary, was disputed by a bear. We killed it and ate its young 
ones. Pulauski was wounded; Lodoiska exhausted, supported 
herself with difficulty, and the cold was become severe. Pursued 
by the Russians in all places that were inhabited, and 
threatened by ferocious animals in this vast desert, without any 
arms but our swords, and shortly reduced to eat our horses, what 
was to become of us? The danger of my father-in-law and my wife 
was so pressing, that I thought of no other. I resolved to 
procure them, at whatever price, the assistance their situation 
reequired, as it was still more deplorable than my own, and left 
them, promising to come back speedily. I took with me some of 
Lodoiska's diamonds, and followed the banks of the Warsklo. You 
will observe, my dear Faublas, that a traveller, wandering in 
these extensive countries, and reduced to proceed without either 
guide or compass, is obliged to follow the rivers, because it is 
on their banks that he generally meets with habitations. I 
wished to reach, as soon as possible, some mercantile city; I 
followed then the course of the Warsklo, and walked day and 
night, I found myself at Pultawa at the end of the fourth day. I 
there passed for a merchant of Belgorod. I knew that they sought 
for Pulauski, that the Empress of Russia had sent his 
description into all quarters, with orders to take him, dead or 
alive, wherever he might be found. I hastened to sell my 
diamonds, and to buy powder, arms, all kinds of provision, 
various tools, some necessary furniture, and everything which I 
thought we should stand in need of to alleviate our misery. I 
packed the whole into one wagon, drawn by four horses, of which 
I was the only conductor. My return was as difficult as 
fatiguing, and eight days passed before I arrived at the forest.

"It was there that my painful and dangerous journey terminated: 
I went to relieve my father-in-law and my wife: I went to see 
again what was most dear to me in the world, and nevertheless, 
my dear Faublas, I could not deliver myself up to joy. Your 
philosophers think nothing of presentiments; but I can assure 
you, my friend, that I experienced an involuntary uneasiness; my 
soul was dismayed: I felt a kind of warning that the most 
unhappy moment of my life was approaching.

"I had, at starting, placed some flints here and there, by which 
to recognise my road, but could not find them; I had notched 
with my sabre the bark of several trees, but I could not 
discover them. I entered the forest, and called out with all my 
strength; from time to time I discharged my musket, but no one 
replied to me. I dared not go too far, for fear of losing 
myself: I dared not go far from my wagon, the contents of which 
were so necessary to Pulauski, his daughter, and myself.

The night, which overtook me, obliged me to cease my researches. 
I passed that as the preceding ones, wrapped up in my cloak, 
under my wagon, with some of my heaviest commodities piled round 
me to protect me from beasts of prey. I could not sleep; I felt 
the cold very much, and the snow fell in abundance; at break of 
day the ground was covered with it. This greatly discouraged me; 
my flints, which would have directed my road, were all buried, 
and it appeared impossible for me to find Pulauski and my wife.

"Could the horse which I had left them at my departure have 
supported them till then? Might not hunger, dreadful hunger, 
have compelled them to leave their retreat? Were they still in 
these frightful deserts? If they were not, where could I find 
them? Where drag out my miserable existence? But could I think 
that Pulauski had abandoned his kinsman, that Lodoiska had 
consented to be separated from her husband? No, certainly not. 
They were then in this dreadful solitude, and if I abandoned 
them, they would die of hunger and of cold. This despairing 
reflection determined me: I no longer considered that in going a 
distance from my wagon I should run a risk of not finding it 
again; to take some provisions for my father-in-law and my wife, 
was the object which pressed most upon me.

"I took my musket and some powder; I loaded a horse with 
provisions, and went much further into the forest than I had 
gone the night before. I continued to cry out, and to discharge 
my gun. The most solemn silence reigned around me.

"I found myself in a part of the forest that was so very thick, 
that my horse could no longer pass; I tied him to a tree, and my 
despair, absorbing all other considerations, I advanced with my 
gun and a part of my provisions. I wandered for two hours 
longer, and my misery kept accumulating, when, at last, I 
perceived the steps of a human being imprinted on the snow.

"Hope inspired me with fresh vigour. I followed the traces, and 
presently I saw Pulauski, almost naked, emaciated by hunger, and 
scarcely recognisable by my own eyes. He was endeavouring to 
draw himself towards me, and to answer my calls. The moment I 
reached him, he seized with avidity the aliments which I offered 
him, and eagerly devoured them. I asked where was Lodoiska. 
'Alas!' he said, 'thou shalt go and see her. The tone in which 
he pronounced these words made me tremble. I arrived at the 
cavern, in some respect prepared for the spectacle which awaited 
me. Lodoiska, wrapped up in her clothes, and covered with those 
of her father, was stretched on a bed of leaves, which were half 
rotten. She made an effort to raise her head, which she could 
scarcely hold up, and refusing the food which I offered her: 'I 
am not hungry,' she said, 'the death of my children, the loss of 
Dorliska, the length and difficulty of our marches, and thy 
dangers continually increasing, have killed me. I have not been 
proof against fatigue and grief. I am dying, my dear Lovinski. I 
heard thy voice, and my soul was arrested in its progress. I see 
thee again! Lodoiska ought to die in the arms of the husband she 
adores! Support my father! Let him live! Live both of you! 
Cherish yourselves, and forget me! Search everywhere for my 
dear-' She could not pronounce the name of her daughter-she 
expired.

"Her father dug her a grave a few steps from the cavern, and I 
saw the earth receive all that I loved. What a moment! Pulauski 
watched over my despair: he compelled me to survive Lodoiska."

Lovinski would have continued, but his grief interrupted him. He 
begged to be excused for a moment, and went into his private 
closet; he returned presently with a miniature in his hand: 
"Behold," he said, "the portrait of my little Dorliska, see how 
handsome she was even at that age! In her features, which are 
scarcely developed, I recognise all the features of her mother. 
Ah! If at least-"

I interrupted Lovinski: "That charming countenance, cried I, 
resembles my pretty cousin!"

"That is just the speech of a lover," he replied, "the object 
which he adores is always in his imagination, and he thinks he 
sees her everywhere. Ah! My friend! If only Dorliska was 
restored to me! But I ought not to expect it."

His eyes were again filled with tears, which he endeavoured to 
restrain. He resumed, in a faltering tone, the history of his 
misfortunes.

"Pulauski, whose courage never abandoned him, and whose strength 
was reinforced, obliged me to assist him in looking after our 
subsistence. By following my own footsteps on the snow, we 
arrived at the place where I had left the wagon, which we 
immediately unloaded, and afterwards burnt, so that our enemies 
might have no index to our retreat. By the aid of our horses, 
for whom we found a passage by making several turnings, we 
conveyed to our cavern the provisions and other things, which 
would have enabled us, if we were willing, to continue a long 
time in this solitude. We killed our horses, as we could not 
support them, and lived upon their flesh, which, though the 
rigour of the season preserved for several days, became 
corrupted at last, and the chase procuring us but a slender 
support, we were obliged to begin upon our provisions, which 
were entirely consumed at the end of three months.

"We still had some pieces of gold, and the greater part of 
Lodoiska's diamonds. Was I to make a second journey to Pultawa, 
or were we to risk the quitting of our retreat? We had already 
suffered so cruelly in this solitude, that we determined on the 
latter.

"We left the forest, we passed the Sem, near to Rylks. We bought 
a boat, disguised ourselves as fishermen, and went down the Sem. 
Our boat was visited at Czernicova. Misfortune had so changed 
Pulauski, that it was impossible to recognise him. We entered 
the Dnieper, we passed Kiev to Krylow. There we were obliged to 
receive into our boat, and to carry to the other side, some 
Russian soldiers, who were going to join a little army employed 
against Pugatchew. We learnt at Zaporizhzhia the taking of 
Bender and of Oczacow, the conquest of the Crimea, and the 
defeat and death of the Vizier Oglon. Pulauski in despair would 
have crossed the vast countries which separated him from 
Pugatchev, and have joined himself to that enemy of the 
Russians, but our fatigues compelled us to remain at 
Zaporizhzhia. The peace which was concluded shortly after, 
between the Porte and Russia, enabled us to enter Turkey.

"We crossed, (on foot, and always disguised) Budsiac, parts of 
Moldavia, and Walachia; and, after the most excessive fatigues, 
we arrived at Adrianople. We were arrested and accused before 
the Cadi, of having offered for sale, on our journey, some 
diamonds which we had apparently stolen. The humble garments in 
which we were clothed excited this suspicion. Pulauski 
discovered himself to the Cadi, who sent us, under a strong 
escort, to Constantinople.

"We were admitted to an audience of the Grand Seignior. He gave 
us a lodging, and ordered his treasurer to provide a suitable 
revenue for us. I then wrote to my sisters, and to Boleslas. We 
learned, by their answers, that all the property of Pulauski was 
confiscated; that he was degraded, and condemned to lose his 
head.

"My father-in-law was dismayed; he was indignant that they had 
accused him of being a regicide. He wrote in his justification. 
Always occupied by the love of his country, and stimulated by 
his mortal hatred to its enemies, he did not cease, during the 
four years we remained in Turkey, to make every exertion in 
order to embroil the Porte in a new war with the Russians. In 
1774, he received, with transports of rage, the news of the 
triple invasion,<13> which plundered the republic of a third of 
her possessions.

"It was in the spring of 1776 that the [American] insurgents 
determined to take up arms in defence of their violated rights: 
'My country has lost its liberty,' said Pulauski, 'let us at 
least fight for the liberty of a new country!'

"We passed into Spain, and embarked in a vessel about to sail 
for Havana, from whence we transported ourselves to 
Philadelphia. The Congress employed us in the army of General 
Washington. Pulauski, a prey to melancholy, exposed his life 
like a man to whom it had become insupportable: he was always to 
be found on the most dangerous post. Towards the end of the 
fourth campaign, he was wounded by my side. They carried him to 
his tent.

"'I feel that my end approaches,' he said; 'It is true, then, 
that I shall never see my country! What a cruel caprice of 
destiny! Pulauski falls a martyr for American liberty, and the 
Poles are slaves! My death would be horrible, Lovinski, if I did 
not cherish a ray of hope. Ah! Can I be mistaken? No, I do not 
deceive myself,' continued he in a stronger voice. 'A god of 
consolation has lifted the veil of a happy futurity to me before 
I close my eyes; I perceive one of the first nations in the 
world awaking out of a long sleep, and demanding its honour, its 
ancient privileges, and the sacred and imprescriptible rights of 
humanity from its oppressors. I see, in an immense capital, long 
degraded and dishonoured by every species of servitude, a crowd 
of soldiers prove themselves citizens, and thousands of citizens 
become soldiers. Under their redoubtable strokes the Bastille 
crumbles into dust; the signal is given from one extremity of 
the empire to the other; the reign of tyranny is finished; a 
neighbouring people, sometimes enemies, but always generous, 
always capable of great actions, applaud these unexpected 
efforts, crowned with such prompt success. Ah! May a reciprocal 
esteem commence and strengthen between the two nations an 
unalterable friendship. May that horrible science of fraud and 
treachery which courts call policy present no obstacle to this 
fraternal union! Noble rivals in talent, and in philosophy! 
French, and English, cease at last, cease forever those bloody 
discords, the fury of which has too often extended itself over 
both hemispheres! Let the empires of the universe be no longer 
divided, but by the force of your example, and the asecendancy 
of your genius, instead of terrifying and enslaving mankind, 
dispute the glory of enlightening their ignorance, and of 
breaking their chains.'

"'Approach,' added Pulauski, 'and observe, at some paces from 
us, in the midst of the slaughter, among so many famous 
warriors, one celebrated by them all for his heroic courage, his 
truly republican virtues and his premature talents. He is the 
heir of a house long illustrious, but he has no need of the 
glory of ancestors to aggrandise his name: it is the young La 
Fayette, already honoured by France and dreaded by tyrants; 
nevertheless, he has scarcely comemenced his immortal labours. 
Envy his lot, Lovinski, and endeavour to imitate his virtues; 
tread, as near as thou canst, in the steps of this great man. 
The worthy pupil of Washington will presently be the Washington 
of his country. It is nearly at the same time, my friend, it is 
at this memorable epoch of the regeneration of the people, that 
eternal justice will also bring back the days of vengeance and 
liberty for our fellow citizens; then, Lovinski, in whatever 
place thou mayst be, let thy hatred awake! Thou hast fought so 
gloriously for Poland! Let the remembrance of our injuries and 
our exploits stimulate thy courage! Let thy sword, so often wet 
with the enemy's blood, be again turned upon the oppressors! Let 
them tremble in again recognising thee! Let them tremble at the 
remembrance of Pulauski! They have plundered us of our property, 
they have assassinated thy wife, they have torn away thy 
daughter, they have tarnished my name! The barbarians have 
divided our provinces amongst themselves! Lovinski, this is what 
thou must never forget. When our persecutors are those of our 
country, vengeance becomes indispensable and sacred. Thou owest 
the Russians an eternal hatred, thou owest to thy country the 
last drop of thy blood.'

"Having said this, he expired.<14> Death, striking him, snatched 
from me my last consolation.

"I fought for the United States up to the happy period which 
secured their independence. M. de C***, who had long served in 
America, in the corps commanded by the Marquis de la Fayette, 
gave me a letter of recommendation to the Baron de Faublas. He 
took a lively interest in my fate, and we soon became bound in 
the closest friendship. I only quitted his neighbourhood in the 
country to establish myself at Paris, where I knew he would not 
be long in following me. In the meantime, my sisters had 
collected some small relics of my fortune, formerly immense. 
They, informed of my arrival here, and of the name I have taken, 
write to me, that in a few months they will come and console, by 
their presence, the unfortunate du Portail."


VIII.

Lovinski, having concluded the recital of his eventful history, 
remained for some time absorbed in painful reflections. At 
length, he he said had placed his fondest hopes in me; that my 
father designed me to travel next year. I interrupted M. du 
Portail, to assure him that I should pass some months in Poland, 
and that I would neglect nothing that might throw a light on the 
fate of Dorliska.

It was late when I quitted M. du Portail. Nevertheless, my first 
care, when I got home, was to call the Abbé Person. He accepted, 
with gratitude, the ring I had bought him; and, without much 
pressing, he acknowledged that he had, the night before, 
informed Adelaide of the strange visit which Madame de B*** had 
made me. "I noticed that pretty gentleman," he said, "and, if 
you recollect, you found me on the staircase when M. du Portail 
said it was the Marchioness de B***." I begged the Abbé to be 
more reserved for the future, and he left me with fresh 
assurances of his disinterestedness and discretion. Rosambert 
was then right! Sophia loves me! An indiscretion of the Abbé had 
done all the mischief. Sophia was jealous; but how was I to 
appease her? How dissipate her fears? How contrive to see her? I 
could have dispensed with going to bed; my uneasiness drove 
sleep from my eyelids. I was occupied all night with my troubles 
about Sophia. It must be confessed, nevertheless, that I thought 
sometimes of the Vicomte de Florville; but the Marchioness was 
so unhappy! The moments which I gave myself to think of her were 
so few! The ideas arising from such thoughts were so different! 
Those must be very severe who could not excuse me. I had not yet 
determined what course to pursue, when daylight appeared. My 
counsellor at length arrived to decide me. "Monsieur l'Abbé has 
done all the mischief," said Rosambert; "and it is for him to 
repair it. Write a letter for Mademoiselle de Pontis; enclose it 
in one to Mademoiselle de Faublas, who will not fail to deliver 
it, and dispatch the Abbé with them immediately." I wrote 
them.<15> M. Person became the most complaisant of men, and 
accepted, without hesitation, the delicate commission which I 
entrusted to his zeal. He executed it with promptness, and 
brought me an answer from my pretty cousin. It was short, and 
soon read: Rosambert, leap for joy, kiss these two lines, and 
listen: 

You say that you do not love the Marchioness: ah! If I 
could be sure of that!


In the excess of my joy I sprung upon the neck of M. Person. 
"You are satisfied with this answer," he said: "Well! I have 
some still better news to inform you of."

"Tell it, my dear governor, tell it quickly."

"Mademoiselle your sister, in the first place, inquired after 
you with a great deal of interest. When I begged her to forward 
the enclosure to Mademoiselle de Pontis, she blushed: 'You will 
tell my brother that since yesterday Sophia, in her grief, has 
told me everything. You will tell him that I am now better 
acquainted than he is with his cousin's malady, and that I have 
even read the recipe he sent her. I am no longer astonished that 
the Baron was angry. Wait a moment, Monsieur, and I will fetch a 
letter. It is, perhaps, intruding too much on your goodness, but 
my brother is grieved my friend is unhappy, and I shall not 
stand upon ceremonies.'

"She returned a few moments after with this letter. In giving it 
me, she asked, with some degree of ebarrassment, if they were 
never to see you. I informed her that the Baron had expressly 
forbade it. She observed, blushing very much, that Madame Munich 
seldom rose before ten o'clock, nor was the Baron stirring 
before that time, and the door of the convent was open by eight 
precisely. 'Well, mademoiselle,' said. I, 'tomorrow morning your 
brother-'

"She interrupted me: 'Yes, tomorrow morning. Let him not fail.'"

How slowly did the day pass away! and what a tedious night 
followed! I was tempted a hundred times to stop my watch, and 
move on the hands. At length I heard the long-wished hour 
strike. I flew to the convent. Adelaide came to the 
conversation-room, accompanied by Sophia.

"Sister! Ah, mademoiselle!"

I pressed their pretty hands, and kissed them by turns. Sophia 
was so much affected as to be obliged to sit down. "You have 
given us much uneasiness," she said: and I observed her eyes 
filled with tears. I cannot express the tenderness of those 
which I shed!

"You are hurt," said Adelaide.

"No, my dear sister: I never experienced happier moments!"

"Except those which you pass with the Marchioness!" interrupted 
Sophia, and trembled as she spoke.

"My pretty cousin! My dear Sophia! Do you think that I can love 
her?"

"Why then see her so often?"

"I will see her no more! I promise you I will see her no more."

"Ah! If you deceive me!"

"Why should he deceive thee, my dear friend? Since he loves 
thee, it is clear he cannot love this Madame de B***."

"Adelaide, thou dost not know what I feel."

"Oh, yes! I know what jealousy is. Thou hast told me yesterday 
but it is a feeling which does mischief, and which is not 
reasonable. Why should my brother tell thee that he loves thee, 
if he does not?"

"And why did he tell the Marchioness so?"

"Sophia, I swear to you that I adored you from the first moment 
that I saw you. You alone have caused me to experience that 
tender and respectful sentiment which is inspired by innocence 
and beauty, that true love with which one must burn for Sophia. 
It is you, it is you alone, who have made me feel that I have a 
heart, and I shall never love any other than yourself.

"Oh, that you knew the pleasure I feel in believing you!" said 
my pretty cousin. Sophia reclined her head upon the bosom of 
Adelaide, whom she embraced. "How much thy brother resembles 
thee, she said, he has thy eyes, thy complexion, thy mouth, thy 
forehead!"

She embraced her a second time. "Indeed," replied Adelaide, 
pretending to look serious, you seem now to love me only on his 
account, and formerly you loved me for myself. This, then, is 
what they call love! I confess, that though I found it very sad 
yesterday, it appears very seducing to-day when will you marry 
my dear friend, Faublas?"

"The Baron pretends that I am too young; but if mademoiselle is 
willing-"

"Why do you call me mademoiselle? Am I not pretty cousin."

"Ah, pretty! More pretty than ever! More than pretty! If you 
will permit me, I will go and speak to M. de Pontis, I will tell 
him that I adore his daughter, and that she has chosen me; I 
will tell him he must give me my wife, he must unite me to 
Sophia. My father is not at Paris-family affairs-I will tell you 
all about it-but I must leave you."

"What! Already?"

"Yes, I must go in before Madame Munich wakes."

"Shall I then have the pleasure of seeing you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Every day?"

"No, that cannot be," said Adelaide, "they will observe us. Once 
a week, brother."

"Oh!" replied Sophia, but thou knowest that Madame Munich sleeps 
long when she has taken her cups, and you know she drinks very 
often.

"What! My pretty cousin, your gouvernante-"

"Loves wine and strong liquors, she is from Germany."

"Well in that case, I can come here."

"In three or four days," interrupted my sister again. "It will 
expose us if you come oftener. Sophia, I know, will sigh."

"Ah! yes," she said, "if they are going to separate us! Adieu! 
My dear cousin." (She retired, and then came back.) "Ah! I beg 
you will not go near the Marchioness."

"Do not go there, my dear brother," said Adelaide, "do not go 
there: do you hear me! And if she comes to you, send her away."

I would address myself to such of my readers as have reached 
their seventieth year, and are afflicted with gout. Age and its 
infirmities have not always stiffened your limbs and cooled your 
hearts. There was a time when you also had your appointments: 
you then started as light and swift as the winds, and came back 
the same. You remember it, without doubt; and consequently you 
can judge that my father was still asleep when I reached home. 
My good fortune occupied my mind the rest of the day, and the 
night was as short as the one before had appeared long; the most 
delightful dreams embellished my tranquil sleep; Sophia was 
present in them; and what perhaps may be difficult to believe, 
they were graced by Sophia alone, to the exclusion of all other 
objects. It was near noon when I rung for Jasmin: "You gave me 
no answer yesterday. How is Madame de B***?"

"Yesterday, Monsieur, you never told me to go."

"What, Jasmin, have you not been there? You know she is ill! Run 
then quickly."

To send to the Marchioness, was not to go there, it was not 
breaking my word with Sophia. Besides, there are duties to 
society, which a man of gallantry cannot dispense with 
fulfilling. Jasmin returned an hour after. "Mademoiselle Justine 
told me, Monsieur, that Madame was worse, and it was feared that 
her fever was more violent."

"They fear that her fever is more violent?"

"Yes, Monsieur, Mademoiselle Justine told me in a whisper, to 
inform you from her that the Marquis set out this morning for 
Versailles, where he will stay three days."

"That's good, Jasmin, you may go." The fever becomes more 
violent! Poor Vicomte de Florville! This is the Baron's doing; 
it is my ingratitude, for at the bottom she has reason to 
complain of me: I have deceived her, I should have told her that 
I loved another. She is getting worse! And if the danger becomes 
still greater, if the Marchioness perishes in the prime of her 
life, perishes by a slow and wasting malady, I shall eternally 
reproach myself with her death. This idea is insupportable! Oh, 
my Sophia! Thou art very dear to me; but must I, on thy account, 
leave the Marchioness to die of grief?

I called Jasmin: "Return to Justine, and ask her if I cannot see 
Madame de B*** in the absence of the Marquis, and soothe her and 
console her a little. If it can be done, Jasmin, thou wilt 
inform thyself of the hour, and of the door by which I must 
enter-in short, thou wilt arrange all that with Justine."

"Yes, Monsieur."

"Make haste."

He was soon back. Justine told him she did not believe the 
Marchioness was in a state to receive any one-that she knew not 
whether Madame would be pleased to see Monsieur, but she had 
only a scolding to risk. I knew the way. This evening, about 
nine o'clock, I had only to slip in at the great gate, go 
directly to the private staircase, and open the door of the 
boudoir with the key which she had given me. As to the rest, if 
Madame was angry, Justine need take nothing upon her, it should 
be my own affair. Precisely at nine o'clock I rapped at the door 
of the Marquis. "What do you want?" cried the porter. "Justine, 
"I said, and passed on with rapidity. I found Justine standing 
sentinel in the boudoir:

"How is she?"

"Speak gently."

"She is there then, in the bed-room?"

"Certainly, and in bed."

"Confined to her bed?"

"Yes, Monsieur."

"That thoughtless Jasmin never told me of it."

"Is she alone? Her maids-"

"She is alone, Monsieur, but I dare not announce you," she 
added, putting on a sanctified and hypocritical countenance.

I embraced her: "Stay, do you see that cursed sofa? I shall 
never forget it while I live;" and I pushed Justine upon it. She 
appeared sincerely alarmed.

"My God! Madame will hear, she does not sleep." And, indeed, the 
Marchioness, exerting her faint voice, demanded who was there. 
Justine opened the chamber door. "It is, Madame-"

I approached the side of the bed I took hold of the charming 
hand which held the curtains apart. "It is I, it is your lover, 
who, full of uneasiness-"

"What! Monsieur, who opened the door to you? Who suffered you to 
come in?"

"I thought that you would excuse me."

"Well sir, and what do you want? To insult my misfortunes, to 
double my griefs, and to augment my sickness?"

"I come to relieve it."

"To relieve it! Monsieur, do you think I did not hear what your 
father said, and that I did not read what you had written?" (She 
made an effort to conceal her tears.)

"Ought you, Madame, to impute the Baron's faults to me? And as 
to the letter-"

"I do not ask for any explanation, Monsieur, I do not wish for 
any."

"At least tell me if you feel a little better since yesterday.

"Worse, Monsieur, worse. But what matters it to you? What kind 
of interest do you take in what concerns me?"

"Can you ask such a question?"

"Without doubt I am injured. I ought to be sufficiently 
convinced that you do not love me."

"My dear mamma-"

"Cease to use that name, which only reminds me of my faults, and 
my happiness, alas! Too short! That name which reminds me of a 
too amiable and much loved child! A child whose false candour 
seduced me, whose uncommon charms bewildered my reason! I 
flattered myself at least that his tenderness was the price of 
mine. Alas! He has coldly betrayed me! Oh, thou cruel one! Young 
as thou art, thou possessest such astonishing powers of 
deception!"

"No, I do not deceive you."

"Begone, ungrateful as thou art! Go to your Sophia, and make a 
merit of my sufferings, tell her that the Marchioness, 
unworthily sacrificed, curses the hour that she knew you, and 
that nothing may be wanting to my humiliation, go and find your 
father, your father, who dared to make a crime of my tenderness 
for you. Inform him how cruelly his worthy son has punished me. 
But, Faublas, remember, at least, that this woman, whom they 
have told you was lively, ardent, passionate, and completely 
absorbed by a thirst for pleasure, that this woman could not 
resist the mortification of having been so cruelly treated, and 
could never be consoled for the loss of you."

"My dear mamma, is it possible that you could mistake the 
feeling which brings me here?"

"Yes, the pity which you could not refuse to my sufferings-
offensive pity!"

"No, love, the most tender love." I took one of her hands, which 
she no longer withdrew. No one can conceive how much I was 
affected by her complaints, or how much I suffered in the 
situation I found myself.

"Ah!" she said, "how well you know my weakness and my credulity. 
Come, Faublas, sit you down there." (I placed myself on the edge 
of her bed.) "But if any one should enter! If any one should see 
you! Be kind enough to call Justine, she is in the boudoir. 
Justine, let my door be shut to everyone. Tell my maids that I 
am asleep, and put them well on their guard in the antechamber 
to let no one in. You will sup here, my friend?"

"With all my heart."

"Order a fowl, Justine. You can tell them that I am drowsy and 
fatigued, but that before I give myself up to sleep, I wish to 
have the first cut of a wing; and, above all, I wish to be 
tranquil. Thou, Justine, wilt have an excessive appetite; thou 
understandest me well?"

"Yes, Madame," replied the Abigail, laughing, "yes, I must eat 
as much as two this evening."

As soon as Justine was gone, I pressed the Marchioness in my 
arms, and after having preluded by little caresses, I was about 
to push my enterprises still further. I was opposed with a 
resistance which I little expected; and Justine, who came in 
with a pullet, obliged me to suspend the attack. The Marchioness 
would not eat. While I was carving the fowl, I surveyed the 
apartment with an attention which my fair mistress observed.

"What are you looking at so?"

"This chamber, which I recognise with pleasure. I think it was 
here-"

The Marchioness comprehended me: "Yes, it was here that the 
countenance of Mademoiselle du Portail played me so villainous a 
turn."

"Why villainous?"

"Why? Because Faublas is a deceiver!"

"Ah, you are going to begin the quarrel again! Indeed, mamma, 
you are very odd this evening. You wish to dispute, and are 
unwilling that we should be reconciled."

"And justly so, you ungrateful libertine. You have good reason 
for wishing the contrary. It is to the reconciliation that you 
look, and for that you would avoid dispute. Since we are upon 
that subject, ask the Baron if you may-"

"What! Mamma, is it that which prevents it?"

"Whether it is that or anything else, it is certain, Monsieur, 
that this evening there will be no reconciliation in that 
sense."

"Ah, my dear mamma, it is precisely in that sense that there 
must be one."

"By no means, I assure you."

"I protest that it must be." The determined air in which I said 
this, appeared to frighten the Marchioness. I perceived her 
arrange herself in a manner which she deemed most proper to 
oppose me. "Yes, yes, you may fortify yourself as much as you 
please but as soon as I have supped and Justine is gone, you 
shall see."

"Justine shall not go. Justine, do not leave the room. 
Chevalier, sit you down here; a little nearer to us; that will 
do, I have something to say to you." She put one of her arms 
round me, and rested her head on my shoulder, and after having 
given me a kiss: "Do you love me, Faublas?" she said, dropping 
her voice.

"Does my mamma any longer doubt it?"

"I demand a proof of it."

"What is that?" cried I, with great anxiety.

"Not to insist this evening upon an entire reconciliation."

"Why not?"

"I have a fever, my friend, and you will catch it."

"Well, and of what consequence is that?"

"Of what consequence?" she replied, embracing me, "I love that 
answer, though it is not so wise, as it is flattering to me. My 
good friend, my dear Faublas, I would not have a happiness which 
might cost you your health! What woman could be so indelicate as 
to buy, at such a price, a few moments of fleeting pleasure, 
which loses its zest in proportion as it is often repeated. What 
woman is so blind, so insensible, as to give herself up to thee, 
without yielding to the attractions of pleasure. What! I 
enervate thy youth! I exhaust thy strength! I impair one of the 
finest works of nature! Destroy one of its most fascinating 
master-pieces! No, my dear Faubals, no; to spare thy regrets, I 
will combat thy desires and my own weakness: thou shalt find me 
ever ready to sacrifice myself for thy happiness, and, far from 
preparing sadness and misery for you, I will yield, if it were 
necessary, my life, to prolong and embellish thine! Oh, most 
amiable and most valued of lovers! it is not for myself alone 
that I cherish thee; it is thyself that I adore in thee! My good 
friend, promise me that thou wilt not insist upon it this 
evening. I will send away Justine; thou shalt be there, I will 
see thee, I will hear thee, I will sleep perhaps on thy bosom: I 
shall be too happy. Give me thy word of honour, my dear friend. 
Answer me, Chevalier. See how he reflects about so simple a 
thing!"

The Marchioness was right, I did reflect. I thought of Sophia: I 
was dedicating to my pretty cousin the honour of the self-denial 
about to be imposed on me; and this idea, inspiring me with the 
courage to support the privation, I promised her rival to be 
prudent. Justine was immediately ordered to retire.

"Faublas, I am pleased with you," replied the Marchioness, with 
an air of satisfaction. "Let us have a tranquil conversation, it 
is a pleasure less intense than the other, but more durable. 
What do you laugh at?"

"At an idea which is perhaps rather singular"

"Tell me, my friend, tell me."

"If they should impose upon a lady who expects her lover, the 
condition of staying with him two hours, to be occupied in 
nothing but conversation, or to have him sent away at the end of 
five minutes, which she might employ according to her taste."

"Many fine ladies, my friend, would find the alternative 
embarrassing. It is said there are some with whom the pleasure 
of sentimental conversation is the ne plus ultra of love, and 
that all the other functions of a mistress are performed merely 
through their complaisance to their lovers. Upon my honour, I 
think if any such do exist, they are in very small numbers. On 
the contrary, I assure you, that there are a great many to whom 
these two hours' chat and inaction would appear very ridiculous. 
I know some who would rather remain silent all their lives."

"It is not you, mamma."

"Me, I should be of the party who agreed to the two hours."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, my friend. The two hours' conversation shall be for to-
day, we will suppose, and the five minutes of rapture be kept 
for tomorrow."

"For tomorrow? Be sure you keep them in mind then."

"Remember, you have said it."

"Yes, but it was only a supposition."

The Marchioness entered heartily into the conversation which we 
had together; and I discovered a thousand perfections in her 
which I had not perceived before. She astonished me by her 
numerous satirical, ingenious, and brilliant remarks-some of 
them were even philosophical, but not encumbered by a single 
moral reflection. What I admired in her above all was, that easy 
and graceful elocution which is sometimes acquired by an 
intercourse with the higher orders and that natural wit and 
shrewdness which is never acquired; a purity of taste, which is 
much wanted by many of our literati, whom I shall not name, and 
more general knowledge than usually falls to the lot of a woman 
who is either pretty or handsome. I thought I had not been with 
her above a quarter of an hour when the clock struck twelve.

"That's a signal for retreat," she said: "Justine must conduct 
you herself to the gate, because my porter will not hear 
reason." (The attentive Abigail ran at the first sound of the 
bell.) "Justine, you will conduct your swain to the gate."

"How, her swain?"

"Certainly, do you not comprehend that Justine had a young man 
come to see her this evening, and let him out at midnight, as if 
he were her sweetheart? I am sure they will talk about it 
tomorrow in the hall, but Justine knows that I will amply 
recompense her for what she suffers on my account. Adieu! My 
dear Faublas, let me see you tomorrow evening about eight 
o'clock."

"At latest."

"I shall be sick to all the world. Go, Justine, see him down, 
for we must have some regard to thy reputation; the later he 
stays, the more they joke at thy expense. Go without a light, 
that they may not see you on the private staircase; and go 
gently, that you may not hurt yourselves."

Justine and I entered the boudoir. I took care to shut the door 
which communicated with the bed-room, whilst Justine was feeling 
for that which led to the private staircase. Instead of 
following my conductress, who held her hand out to me, I drew 
her gently towards myself. "You remember, my dear," I said, in a 
whisper, "the scene which took place on the sofa, I wish to 
revenge myself, you must assist me, say not a word." Justine, at 
all times willing to serve me, seconded me so cordially on the 
sofa, that the Marchioness herself could not have done better, I 
never had a greater proof how right he was who first wrote, 
"Revenge is the pleasure of the gods."

If any one would penetrate my feelings on this occasion, let 
them consider my age, and the situation in which I was placed, 
and they will easily calculate that I could not fail of 
attending to the appointment for the next evening. The 
Marchioness expected me with impatience, she addressed me by the 
most tender appellations, and caressed me in a very flattering 
manner. She even satisfied my curiosity, always on the alert, by 
a complaisance from which I augured most favourably; but, as on 
the preceding night, she damped my transports at the moment I 
thought they would be crowned; and pretending still to have the 
cursed fever, she continued resolutely to refuse me the most 
certain proof of a mistress's tenderness, that proof so dear to 
all young persons, and so necessary to the most ardent of all! I 
supported my mortification very patiently, in hopes that the 
less fascinating Justine would have pity on me at the moment of 
my departure. But no; the Marchioness, who was no longer 
confined to her bed, conducted me herself to the private 
staircase. I could plainly perceive that Justine participated in 
my pain and disappointment, but the kind soul could give no 
consolation to me in the court-yard, and I went home very chaste 
and much vexed.

Rosambert, whom I informed of my fair mistress's rigour, did not 
appear at all astonished at it. He said: "I have already told 
you that Madame de B*** 's conduct is regulated according to 
circumstances and events. Whatever may be the physical qualities 
and moral faculties of Mademoiselle de Pontis, since the 
Chevalier loves her, she is, in his eyes, both witty and pretty. 
This passion is legitimate, honourable and virtuous; 'tis a 
first amour. It has sprung from sympathy, it lives by 
privations, it increases by obstacles, and is cherished by hope. 
Mademoiselle de Pontis is then, a dangerous rival. And such, 
without doubt, the Marchioness thinks her. But after having 
examined the means of her enemy, she calculates on her own 
strength, and the weakness of the young Adonis, whose 
irresolution is the object of contention."

"Irresolute, Rosambert?"

"Yes, I say irresolute, at present. You adore one, but you 
cannot resolve to give up the other. At your age the attractions 
of pleasure have an irresistible power: you know to what 
pleasure I allude. Sophia cannot yield it you: it is Madame B*** 
who is the interested dispensatrix of it. Well, my friend, her 
plan is to irritate unceasingly your desires, satisfying them 
sometimes, but never to exhaust them. It is to render her 
favours more precious that she will be hereafter more sparing of 
them. You must not think that she will suffer like you from the 
deprivations she is about to impose on you; but whatever it 
costs her, she has sworn to keep you."

It is now time to return to Sophia. The third day at length 
arrived, and I could go to the convent to see my pretty cousin. 
Oh! How much handsomer she had grown within the last three days. 
During two months I had the happiness of speaking with her 
regularly twice a week. Oh, the wonderful power of virtue and 
beauty united! Whenever I quitted Sophia, I always thought it 
was impossible for me to love her better than I did; and every 
time I saw her, I felt my love increased. It must be 
acknowledged, nevertheless, that in the course of these two 
months I often saw the beautiful Marchioness, who, still 
attached to the plan of reform which she had adopted, economised 
our pleasures to such a degree as to refuse me sometimes even 
what was necessary. It must also be confessed that my good-
natured Justine came to me sometimes, incognito, in order to 
secure the savings of her mistress. M. du Portail, impatient to 
recover his dear daughter, had set out, about six weeks past, 
for Russia, in hopes of procuring some information as to the 
fate of Dorliska. One evening, as I was with Rosambert at the 
opera, we met the Marquis de B*** there. His salutation to the 
Count was coldly polite, but he addressed himself to me in the 
most flattering manner. He complained that, for the last two 
months, he had not had the pleasure of meeting with me, and 
inquired after the health of my father.

"He is well, Monsieur, he is in Russia."

"Ah! It is true, then?"

"Most assuredly. And how is Mademoiselle du Portail?"

"My sister retains her health wonderfully."

"Is she always at Soissons?"

"Always."

"And when will she come back here?"

"At the next carnival," replied Rosambert immediately. To turn 
aside this pleasantry, of which I feared the result, I assured 
the Marquis that my sister was coming to pass the winter at 
Paris.

"But, replied M. de B***, you will no longer reside at the 
Arsenal?"

"Always, Monsieur."

"In that case, recommend your servants to be a little more civil 
and attentive. They have indeed told me that your father was 
gone to Russia, but when I enquired after yourself and your 
sister, they answered me, abruptly, that M. du Portail had no 
children."

"It is because his father is very strict," interrupted 
Rosambert, "he does not suffer them to receive any one.

"Yes, Monsieur, the answer you received is no doubt the result 
of orders given by my father."

"Well, indeed, I thought your father had been more reasonable, a 
young man ought to have a little liberty. A young lady is very 
different, one cannot watch the girls too closely! And I know 
some young ladies, very well bred, who are not kept 
sufficiently, who have been suffered to form bad connections. 
(In saying this, he gave a malicious glance at M. de Rosambert.) 
But for you it is too rigorous. But, hear me! I wish to procure 
you some pleasure, some relaxation. The Marchioness is here: I 
will introduce you to her."

"I cannot, Monsieur."

"Come, come; she will receive you well."

"I do not doubt it, if presented by you, but, Monsieur-"

"But wherefore all these scruples," said Rosambert, "the 
Marchioness is very amiable."

"Is it not true?" replied the Marquis, addressing himself first 
to the Count, and afterwards to me, "is it not true that my wife 
is very amiable? She has a great deal of wit, or I should not 
have married her."

"It is true that the Marchioness possesses great wit, and 
Monsieur knows it well," cried Rosambert.

"Monsieur knows it well!" replied the Marquis.

"Yes, mademoiselle my sister has told me so."

"Ah, mademoiselle your sister! Yes, I assure you, Monsieur, that 
my wife is only wanting in a little more physiognomical 
knowledge. But that will come, that will come; I have already 
observed that she has a natural taste for fine countenances. 
Yours, Monsieur du Portail, is very prepossessing, and then you 
have a very singular resemblance to your sister, whom the 
Marchioness loves very much. Come, follow me; I will go and 
present you to the Marchioness."

"Indeed, Monsieur, I am much hurt that I cannot accept your 
polite offers; but I am come from home by stealth; I am going to 
hide myself, in the pit; I cannot appear in a box, if any of my 
father's friends should see me, they will surely write to him, 
and you can have no idea of the noise he will make about it on 
his return."

"Some parents are very ridiculous. I knew I had something to ask 
of you, Monsieur, do you know one M. de Faublas?"

"No," answered I drily.

"But the Count, perhaps, knows him," continued the Marquis.

"De Faublas?" replied Rosambert: "Yes, I think I have heard that 
name, I have seen it somewhere!" (He took the Marquis by the 
hand, and pretending to speak lower:) "Never speak of Faublas 
before the Du Portails, the two families are inimical to each 
other. There will be blood spilt the first opportunity."

"Everything is discovered, then," replied the Marquis in a low 
voice.

"What do you mean by everything?" replied Rosambert.

"Good! You understand the rest."

"No, the devil a bit."

"Oh yes!" but you are right; situated as you are, I should be 
equally discreet as yourself."

"Upon my honour I do not comprehend a word."

"Come, let us drop it," said the Marquis. (Then elevating his 
voice:) "But tell me, Rosambert, for I am a good devil, and know 
not how to bear malice, tell me why you have not been to see us 
for these six weeks?"

"Business."

"Good! Business! Mistresses! I am not to be caught; it won't do! 
I hope, at least, you are willing to come and say 'How d'ye do' 
to the Marchioness."

"Most assuredly."

"Chevalier, you will prefer waiting here a moment for me."

The Marquis, on leaving me, regretted very much that he could 
not have the pleasure of introducing me to his wife. Rosambert 
came to me, laughing, in about a quarter of an hour.

"Madame de B*** did not appear displeased at seeing me," he 
said, "she received me politely, and we behaved reciprocally as 
acquaintances who recollected to have met each other often in 
company. She was, nevertheles, much astonished when the Marquis 
told her I was here with M. du Portail, junior, who did not dare 
come and present his respects. You can conceive that all being 
finished between Madame de B*** and me, I did not try to augment 
the embarrassment of her situation; on the contrary, I have 
charitably aided her to deceive myself, and I entered into all 
her ideas as kindly as her dear husband. What is very singular, 
I have from time to time found great obscurities in this 
pleasant affair, which, in other respects, has greatly amused 
me. You will explain that to me, Faublas. For, although M. de 
B*** spoke in a low tone on those points, I have, nevertheless, 
heard all he said to the Marchioness: 'Madame, I told you truly 
that Mademoiselle du Portail was not a prudent girl. It is all 
discovered! The Du Portails are furious, and if they meet this 
M. de Faublas they will punish him. I am sure that the journey 
of the daughter to Soissons, and of M. du Portail to Russia, are 
only pretences. The father, however, has well merited it; he is 
horribly strict with his son, and lets his daughter do as she 
pleases.' This is as near as possible," continued the Count, 
"what the Marquis said. You must know what he means, Faublas, do 
me the honour to explain it." I recounted to Rosambert how the 
Marquis found my pocket book in a bad house, how he had proved 
to his wife that Mademoiselle du Portail was a w--, how the 
Marchioness made him give her the letters on the sofa when I was 
present. The Count gave free course to his gaiety, and concluded 
by wishing to know why I refused to be introduced to the 
Marchioness. "My friend, if I was foolishly smitten by Madame de 
B***, and had no other means of seeing her, I should have 
embraced that chance, but since we meet so easily, sometimes at 
one place and sometimes at another, and since we are never at a 
loss for a rendezvous, why should I again court danger under 
this new character?"

"Why, it would have produced some agreeable scenes. Had the 
Marchioness been in your place she would not have hesitated."

After the performance was over I followed Rosambert to the box 
of Mademoiselle -- with whom he was particularly acquainted. A 
female dancer was with the princess.  "He is pretty, said one of 
them, after having measured me with her eye in a dignified 
manner. "It is Love", replied the other, "or it is the Chevalier 
de Faublas!" I returned my warmest thanks to the polite person 
who addressed, me so flattering a compliment. 

"Chevalier," she said, "I have seen you somewhere before, and 
for some months past have heard you spoken of almost every day. 
You may make a very handsome girl, but, for my part, I prefer a 
pretty youth."

I turned towards the Count: "Rosambert, it seems that you have 
exposed me." He declared, upon his honour, he had not. In the 
meantime the ladies whispered in each others' ears, and Coralie 
(which was the name of the dancer) Coralie laughed as if she was 
mad. Need I say that a party of four was immediately formed, 
that we supped at the house of the goddess, that I saw the nymph 
home, and partook of her bed? Who knows not, that at the opera, 
the divinities are but weak mortals; that, of all places in the 
world, passions are managed in the most clever manner; that it 
is there, above all, an affair of the heart commences and 
finishes on the same evening? Coralie was neither handsome nor 
pretty, but she had a vivacity which pleased, and graces which 
attracted; one listened with pleasure to somewhat impudent, 
provoked desire; as to the her agreeable jargon; gaiety was 
stamped upon her forward countenance; and her deportment, 
somewhat impudent, provoked desire, as to the rest, tall and 
well made, delicate hands, small feet, and a skin most 
beautifully fine.

Coralie was, besides, complete mistress of all the secrets in 
the art of Cyprian pleasure. She called into action, with great 
discernment, all the resources of her trade. In short, both 
Justine and Madame de B*** were forgotten in the arms of 
Coralie. But, by a singularity which I cannot explain, the image 
of the most pure virtue presented itself to my mind, while I was 
reclining on the bosom of libertinism; and, what is not less 
worthy of remark, that I endeavoured to speak in one of those 
moments when the most thoughtless men, who are exempt from all 
distractions, let but the shortest monosyllables or stifled 
sighs escape. "Ah, Sophia!" cried I; "I should have said, Ah, 
Coralie!"

"Sophia!" Repeated the nymph, "do you know her? She is a fool! A 
ninny! A stupid creature, who has never been pretty, but is now 
a wrinkled hag, and to whom it happened last week-"

She could say no more, but though she had spoken so prodigiously 
quick, she had so well employed her time, that I knew not 
whether most to admire the astonishing agility of her pliant 
body, or the extreme volubility of her nimble tongue. It was ten 
in the morning when I left Coralie. The Baron, informed of my 
absence, had waited impatiently for my return. He reminded me, 
in a severe tone, that he had begged I would never sleep from 
home. I went up into my own room; the Abbé was waiting for me, I 
was going to reproach him for betraying me, but he prevented me, 
by observing that it was impossible the Baron should remain 
ignorant of this nocturnal slip: that in such cases it was the 
duty of the governor to inform the father, and that to let the 
porter or some other servant anticipate him in his duty, would 
risk the discovery of our mutual understanding. I had no reply 
to make to such good reasons, and my mind was fully occupied 
with other matters. Jasmin came to bring me a letter, which had 
been left above an hour. I was surprised to see it addressed to 
Mademoiselle du Portail. I broke the seal immediately, and read:
A person who starts this evening for Versailles assures me 
that Mademoiselle du Portail is not at Soissons, and that 
there is no doubt but she conceals herself in the environs 
of Paris. If that is the case, that charming girl, who 
ought to remember me, will put on her English riding-habit, 
and mount her horse tomorrow morning to meet me in the Wood 
of Boulogne, at eight o'clock precisely. She will come with 
only one servant, disguised as a citizen, to the Gate of 
Boulogne. 
I am, if it may be believed, 
Him whom she still loves, &c. 
Le Vicomte De Florville.

"Indeed," cried I, "I have promised the Vicomte de Florville 
this meeting a long time since. Jasmin, thou must go with me." I 
went to buy a fine set of china, and sent Jasmin with it as a 
present to Coralie, who resided in La Rue Melée, Port St. 
Martin. When my servant returned, I asked what Mademoiselle 
Coralie said: "She made me Monsieur, repeat your name several 
times. 'Is it from the Chevalier de Faublas? A young man? Quite 
young? Who is not above seventeen?' 'But, Mademoiselle,' I 
replied, 'do you not know him?' She answered: 'Yes, but he had 
better explain himself. You will tell the Chevalier de Faublas I 
expect to sup with him tomorrow."' 

"To sup tomorrow, Jasmin? That is badly arranged: I shall pass 
the day with the Vicomte de Florville. Well, never mind, I will 
not disoblige Coralie." 

Jasmin left me, and I became absorbed in reflection."Oh, my 
pretty cousin, how I wrong thee! How unfaithful I am to thee! 
Unfaithful! No. I yield to my mistress but an impure sacrifice, 
which my virtuous lover would reject, which would profane the 
charms of Sophia. But Madame de B***, Justine, Coralie, at the 
same time! Three at once! Well, if they were a hundred, what 
matters it? If Madame de B*** was beloved, should I give her 
rivals? Would the Marchioness occupy me if I had a serious 
attachment for Justine or Coralie? No, no. These three intrigues 
are of no consequence, they are but whims of the day, the 
effervescence of youth. The Marchioness, it is true, appears 
more amiable to me than the other two, but it is only my pretty 
cousin who inspires me with a pure and disinterested love. Yes, 
my Sophia, my dear Sophia, it is clear I love none but thee!"

The next morning, Jasmin and myself were at the gate of Boulogne 
by eight o'clock precisely. I had on my English Amazonian dress, 
and the white beaver hat. The country people stopped to look at 
me. Some cried out: "There is a pretty woman!" "That 
Englishwoman sits her horse well," said others, and my pride was 
flattered by these frequent exclamations. The Vicomte de 
Florville had not waited long for me: he was mounted on a very 
pretty horse, which he managed with more grace than strength.

"We will go, fair lady, if it is agreeable to you, and breakfast 
at St. Cloud."

"Most willingly, Monsieur: but where do we alight? At an inn?

"No, no, my good friend."

"How? Your good friend! Do you forget that you are speaking to 
Mademoiselle du Portail?"

"Yes, my friend, I forgot it, and I even forget that I am for 
to-day the Vicomte de Florville. Myself a rash young man, and 
you a mad-brained girl! Faublas, do you not think that is very 
singular? "

"Very singular. But I shall consider you all this day as the 
Vicomte de Florville, and myself Mademoiselle du Portail. Let us 
keep that well in mind. Whichever of the two makes a mistake, 
shall give a kiss to the other."

"I consent to that, Mademoiselle du Portail, with all my heart."

When we arrived at St. Cloud, we were mutually indebted, to the 
amount of fifty kisses at least. The Vicomte invited me to get 
down about a musket's shot from the bridge. We entered a pretty 
little house, but I saw no one in it. It was but one story high. 
The apartment which the Vicomte opened was more convenient than 
elegant. "Excuse me, mademoiselle, but I must go and put the 
horses in the stable." He returned immediately, and told me he 
had ordered Jasmin to get his breakfast where he pleased, and to 
come to us in an hour. He then showed me, in a closet, some cold 
meats, some dessert, and good wines.

"We shall have but poor cheer, mademoiselle, but we shall not be 
troubled with our servants."

"Very good, Vicomte; let us begin by paying our debts."

"Fie, for shame! A young lady talk so! Besides, I wish to eat a 
bit."

The Vicomte de Florville, like a fine lady, only picked a wing. 
Mademoiselle du Portail, very badly educated, ate like a 
lawyer's clerk. Those fines, which ought to have been 
discharged, I was shuffled out of. I wished to kiss the Vicomte: 
"Mademoiselle," he said, "the attack belongs to me."

He took me by the hand, led me from the table, and wished to 
embrace me. I repulsed him in a very lively manner: "Let me 
alone, Monsieur, you are very impertinent."

The Vicomte, more obstinate than enterprising, seemed only 
desirous of stealing a kiss, and laughed heartily at the 
resistance with which he was opposed. Apparently more accustomed 
to resist than to pursue, he employed in the attack a great deal 
of address and little strength. Mademoiselle du Portail, on the 
contrary, reversed the general custom, and exhibited in her 
defence very little grace and much strength. The Vicomte, 
presently exhausted, fell upon a couch:

"That girl is a dragon," he cried, "it would take a Hercules to 
subdue her. How wise dame Nature is! She has made other women 
mild and weak! I see plainly that all is for the best, in this 
best of all possible worlds! Come on, let everything take its 
proper order, and be appeased, thou spiteful girl. I am no more 
than the Marchioness de B***; the Vicomte de Florville yields to 
you all his rights."

For this once, I made use of the permission without abusing it, 
and we presently replaced ourselves at table.

"You will think, perhaps, Faublas, that I have singular fancies, 
but I beg you will not refuse."

"Can I do it? What is it?"

"I wish for your portrait, my dear friend."

"Does my dear mamma call that a singular fancy? It is a very 
natural wish, in which I participate. Would it be an 
indiscretion to ask for yours?"

"No, my friend, but it is for that of Mademoiselle du Portail 
that I wish."

"Ah! I understand you; and it is that of Vicomte de Florville 
which you shall give me."

"Precisely."

"I will get it executed tomorrow; we will see which of the two 
will be first done."

"Yours, most assuredly: you are not constrained, Faublas: as for 
me, I can only give the painter a few moments by stealth. You 
can easily guess that it is not at home that this miniature will 
be taken."

"Where, then, mamma?"

"At the house of that milliner, in the boudoir, which you know. 
I always leave these clothes in a closet there, of which I keep 
the key."

"What, was it there where you dressed this morning?"

"Undoubtedly, my friend. Under pretence of taking the air in the 
Champs Elysées, I came out in my morning gown with Justine. We 
went immediately to the milliner's, where the metamorphosis was 
effected, and from thence I was conducted in a hackney chariot 
to a livery stable, where I hired my horse: thus, out of a 
Marchioness I was made a Vicomte. Justine is at liberty for the 
whole day; she will meet me about seven in the evening at the 
milliner's, when I go to put on my gown. When I arrive at home, 
I shall say, without affectation, that I met the Countess de -- 
in the Champs Elysées-but I think I hear Jasmin. Let us take a 
ride, my dear Faublas, and we will come back here to dinner. We 
remounted our horses. After several long circuits, we found 
ourselves, towards noon, at the Bridge of Sèvres, which we 
passed, to go on the high road which leads to Paris. A splendid 
carriage, drawn by four horses, and preceded by a servant on 
horseback, was coming towards us. The brilliant equipage was not 
more than ten paces from us, when the Marchioness turned her 
horse and repassed the bridge at full gallop. I thought that her 
horse had been frightened and had run away. At the moment I had 
given a stroke of the spur to follow her, I saw a person thrust 
his head out of the window, and address me as Mademoiselle du 
Portail, when, hearing it was the Marquis de B***, I started 
full stretch after the Marchioness, who had left the main road, 
and crossed the fields. Justin galloped behind me, and cried out 
that we were pursued. Presently I heard our enemy, already very 
near us, urging still faster the excellent horse on which he was 
mounted. I turned round suddenly and riding directly against the 
zealous courier, saluted him with a severe stroke of my whip. 
Jasmin, burning to imitate his master, had his arm already 
lifted up. The poor servant, astonished that a young lady could 
strike him so hard, and restrained, without doubt, by the 
respect he thought he owed to my sex, as well as my rank; or 
perhaps by the idea of an unequal combat, since Jasmin held 
himself ready to assist me, and not knowing whether to defend 
himself or fly, looked at me with an air of stupefaction. I 
determined his resolutions by this fierce harangue, pronounced, 
nevertheless, in a tone sufficiently feminine.

"You rascal, I will cut you in the face if you follow me, if you 
turn back, there is wherewithal to drink my health."

He took my crown, and praising, after his manner, my strength 
and my generosity, returned as quickly as he came. Thus 
disembarrassed of my enemy, I looked around to discover the 
Marchioness. She had either greatly moderated the speed of her 
horse or she had stopped, for I perceived that she was not 
advanced far before us. We joined her in a few minutes, and I 
gave her an account of the manner in which I had received the 
envoy of the Marquis. "It was time for me to start," she said, 
"for I did not recognise the coachman and the horses until it 
was almost too late.2

"But why, my dear mamma, did you leave me without warning me?"

"Because it was too late, and we were pressed upon too closely. 
That riding-habit, which the Marquis knew, had betrayed you. I 
was willing that he should be all at once sure of his prey."

"I do not comprehend your reason."

"It is, nevertheless, very simple. It was of little consequence 
the Marquis seeing you, provided he did not see me. I calculated 
that, from the moment he recognised Mademoiselle du Portail, he 
would no longer concern himself about anything else. In leaving 
you there, I secured my retreat."

"Ah, well contrived. But what will the Marquis say?"

(The Marchioness came close to me, and whispered with a smile.) 
"He will say that Mademoiselle du Portail is a w-. He will 
positively announce to me that she is in the environs of Paris, 
and that he met her with that M. de Faublas, and the pleasure of 
having guessed all that will console him for the little 
mortification caused by the happiness of his rival. But," she 
added in a more serious tone, "my tender spouse repays me well 
for the infidelities I lend him."

"How so?"

"Do you not see that? He set out last night for Versailles, 
where he is only now going; consequently, he slept in Paris. He 
has deceived me!" she continued, laughing with all her might; 
"he has been even with me!"

"Be sure you do not pardon him for this offence, mamma. Come and 
revenge yourself at St. Cloud."

"At St. Cloud? No, indeed, no; it would he hazarding too much, 
we should be as thoughtless as children to do so. By this time 
M. de B*** is, perhaps, at Sèvres: the poor La Jeunesse-

"Mamma, is the man that I thrashed called La Jeunesse?"

"Yes, my friend, if it was him who preceded the carriage, he is 
called La Jeunesse."

"But since you have seen him near enough to know him, perhaps he 
has also recognised you."

"Impossible, my friend, in this male attire, with my hat 
slouched over my eyes: no, I am easy. I presume, then, that this 
poor La Jeunesse, already returned, will relate to the Marquis 
the unhappy adventure that he met with. At present my 
penetrating husband reflects, comments, guesses; he concludes, I 
am sure, that you reside at Sèvres, or not far from it. I would 
wager that, curious to discover your retreat, he will order La 
Jeunesse to scour the environs, to search, to wait, and examine 
well every face he meets with. No, my friend, it is not to St. 
Cloud we must go: let us return to Paris. I will take the 
nearest road to arrive at the milliner's where you will not 
delay to join me. It is in the boudoir that we will dine, it is 
there that you will keep me company until the return of 
Justine."

We separated about a quarter of a league from the capital. I 
wished Jasmin to follow the Marchioness, but she observed that a 
young cavalier could travel alone, but that it would not be 
becoming for a pretty girl, and particularly one in my equipage, 
to travel without at least one domestic. Madame de B*** entered 
by the Gate de la Conference; Jasmin and myself by the Barrière 
du Roule, and went direct to the milliner's, at whose door we 
found a country lad, holding a horse by the bridle, and who put 
into the hands of Jasmin a little bit of paper with these words 
on it: "Jasmin, take my horse to M. Farrante's livery stables, 
and tell him it came from the Vicomte de Florville."

I did not leave the boudoir until eight in the evening. The 
Marchioness, still faithful to her economical principles, sent 
me away in such a condition as still left me hopes of behaving 
in a manner sufficiently gallant to Coralie. I went home in the 
first place, to change my female attire, and was at the lodging 
of the opera dancer before ten o'clock.

"Good evening to you, my little Chevalier, let us sit down to 
supper immediately."

"Most willingly."

"I have been waiting above half an hour on purpose to scold 
you."

"For what?"

"Because you use me ill. I have always a middle-aged man who 
pays me for being loved, and a fancy youth, whom I love without 
being paid. Some ladies of my profession go still further; for 
in addition to their keeper and their fancy-man, they have a 
tall footman, as robust as Hercules, whom they pay for loving 
them. As to myself, I have not such extraordinary wants, I do 
not wish for a satyr; I can be satisfied with my fancy-man."

"Well, Coralie, what has that to do with the scolding you were 
to give me?"

"You shall hear: The gentleman who pays, I have, but must not 
tell you his name, for very sufficient reasons; now you are a 
pretty youth who loves me: is it not true?"

"After the scolding-"

"You shall see; I have taken you because you please me: I shall 
quit you, when you please me no longer. Well, to the point. Why, 
I do not expect presents from you, you have made me one which I 
will not have.2

"What, the set of china?"

"Yes."

"But I'll not take it back. Besides, Coralie, your arrangements 
do not suit me; I wish to be independent, and to pay."

"You are too young, Chevalier, and you are not rich enough. And 
then you will make a bad market. You are handsome and witty: 
yet, as soon as you pay, I should love you no longer. I cannot 
tell how it happens, but it is so with all of us! A bank note 
is, for him that gives it, a sure pledge of infidelity."

"I have given you no money, it was but a small present."

"I do not desire it.	

"I repeat it, that I will not take it back."

"In that case, I will throw it out of the window."

"If it amuses you."

We disputed some time, when Coralie's servant ran in, greatly 
alarmed, and cried out: "It is he!"

"Indeed!" repeated the mistress. The two women seized me by the 
arms, dragged me into the bedroom, opened a little door at the 
extremity, and passed me through it. I found myself in a narrow 
passage which went all round the apartments. I was angry, and I 
laughed at the same time: one pulled me by the arms, the other 
pushed me by the shoulders, and proceeded so rapidly that I was 
soon at the outer door. I went home, and slept comfortably. The 
Baron was still out.

The next morning I sent for a skilful painter, and devoted the 
day to Mademoiselle du Portail. When the artist left me, I 
received an invitation from Coralie for the same evening. The 
adventure of the previous night was very disagreeable, but let 
it be recollected that I was only seventeen, and, at that age, 
who ever refuses to pass a night with an agreeable girl? Does 
any young man pretend that he would have resisted had he been in 
my place? Let him be produced! If he is not ill, I'll tell him 
he is a liar. The most robust man is not indefatigable. In the 
middle of the night I fell asleep in the arms of the dancer; the 
noise of a bell, very loudly rung, woke me about seven in the 
morning.

"I'd wager," said Coralie, "that those two fools there, have 
gone out at the same time without their keys, though I remind 
them of it every day! Have the goodness, chevalier, to open the 
door for me. I ran in my shirt, and even without any slippers, I 
opened the door, and beheld a man! I see-I think I am deceived; 
I rub my eyes, I look again, and cry out: "What!" Can it be him? 
"What! Is it you, my father?"
 
Illustration: What! Is it you, my father?"

The Baron started back with surprise on recognising me; 
addressed to me, with great violence, a very useless question: 
"What do you here, sir?" What could I reply? I kept a profound 
silence. In the meanwhile, at the sound of his voice, which she 
thought she knew, Coralie ran to us in her chemise, intending, 
however, to put on her slippers; but to much in a hurry to be 
particular, she had thrust her little feet into my shoes. The 
nymph, on arriving at the spot, was struck with the comic effect 
of so unexpected a rencontre. She admired the mute astonishment 
of the father, motionless with rage, and leaning on the rail of 
the stairs; and the son, almost naked, standing like an image in 
the middle of the antechamber. Her proceeding in this case was 
singular; she threw her arms on my neck, and leaning her head 
against mine, one would have thought she was embracing me, she 
did nothing, however, but laugh, and laughed so loud, that all 
the neighbours might have heard her. The Baron blushed and 
turned pale by turns. He came in, shut the door, and bolted it. 
Coralie ran in, continued laughing, and I followed her. My 
father rushed after us into the bed-room. He made a menacing 
gesture, and was going to break the furniture. I seized his 
cane, already raised up: "Ah, father, do you forget that your 
son is here?"

This exclamation, perhaps a little bold, produced all the effect 
I had expected from it. The Baron, somewhat calmed, though still 
greatly affected, threw himself into an armchair, and ordered me 
to dress myself. Coralie had shut herself up in her dressing-
room, where she laughed at her ease; she partly opened her door, 
to give me my shoes, and take her own. I was soon dressed, and 
we came away. The Baron had arrived there on foot, and without 
servants, therefore we got into a hackney coach. Though the 
distance was great, my father, gloomy and pensive, said not a 
word to me on the road, but when we reached our house, and the 
door was opened to us, he bade me follow him. It happened to be 
one of the mornings which I had marked for a visit to the 
convent; and, as I saw the hour at which Sophia expected me, 
swiftly gliding by, I pretended to have urgent business. My 
father insisted on my remaining in a manner which seemed more 
like a request. We went up into his apartment, where he ordered 
that no one should intrude upon us. He told me to sit down, and 
placed himself near, continuing silent for some time, but at 
length addressed me as follows:

"Faublas, forget for a moment that I am your father, and answer 
me as your friend. Were you with Coralie the night before last, 
between ten and eleven o'clock?"

"Yes, father."

"It was you, then, who were supping with her when I arrived. It 
is true. The noise which you made in going out gave me 
suspicion, which I dissembled; I pretended a journey into the 
country, that I might surprise my happier rival, but I did not 
imagine that it was the Chevalier de Faublas."

"The Baron does not wrong me so much as to think I was aware of 
the rivalship?"

"No, my friend, no. I know that, amidst all the errors of your 
age, you have seldom failed in the respect you owe to a father 
who loves you; I do not suppose you capable of coolly 
contemplating to mortify me. There remain now, Faublas, but few 
questions to ask. Is it long that you have known Coralie?"

"Within these four days. And you have passed with her-"

"Two nights."

"Two nights in four days! Two whole nights! What a thoughtless 
youth! And how have you recompensed her favours?"

"I have made her but a very small present."

"What! Can it be you who gave her the Sèvres china which I saw 
there the day before yesterday, I believe?"

"Yes, father."

"When a young man like you has the misfortune to be attracted by 
an opera girl, he ought to pay more generously. Stay here, and I 
will return to you presently."

He made me wait long enough, and came back at length with some 
paper in his hand.

"Take it, Faublas, and read-"
Coralie, I leave you; and I think that the furniture, 
jewellery, and diamonds, which I have given you, will be a 
sufficient acquittance on my part towards you.

When I had finished reading this short epistle, my father sealed 
it. He then presented me a fresh sheet of paper, and I wrote, 
under his dictation, as follows:
Coralie, I have done with you; and, as I value the two 
nights I passed with you at five and twenty Louis, I send 
you three bank-notes for two hundred francs each.

"You see, my son," he said, "that I profit by the lesson you 
have given me. Why should you be less docile than myself, and 
continue to reject my advice? You went out again the day before 
yesterday in that Amazonian habit which I forbade you to re-
assume: you see the Marchioness every day: you have Coralie at 
the same time: and you have still another, perhaps, of which I 
am ignorant: be prudent then, and husband your health. You know 
not how precious is this blessing of which you are so lavish! 
And besides, since we have been at Paris, your studies have been 
shamefully neglected. It is not sufficient to be expert in 
corporeal exercises; it is also necessary to cultivate the mind. 
If you are clever in the use of arms, it is all very well, 
because it is necessary that a gentleman should know how to 
fight; but evil be to him who loves to shed blood! But the 
passion for the chase, the rage for dancing, and the love of 
horses, will last but for a time. You love music, it is true, 
and that may fill agreeably a few leisure hours; but that will 
not suffice. If you attain your fortieth year without knowing 
anything but the use of a gun, the management of a horse, and 
the arts of dancing and singing, you will find the autumn of 
your life very dull and tiresome: you will find the days drag 
listlessly along, and regret that your youth was spent in empty 
pleasures! You want not understanding, Faublas: make the best of 
your time hereafter in the study of belles-lettres and 
philosophy, those all-powerful and respectable resources 
embellish our riper years, and alleviate our old age; they 
occupy the leisure of the rich, and lighten the labours of the 
poor, they console us in our misfortunes, and aggrandise us in 
our prosperity. Commence, my friend, by going less frequently to 
see the Marchioness de B***, you will find a double advantage in 
it; you will have more time to employ in useful pursuits, and in 
less dangerous pleasures; you will improve your morals, and not 
exhaust your constitution. As to your passion at the convent, I 
will not speak about it, I know you are already reasonable on 
that very essential point. Madame Munich, with whom I was 
speaking the other day, told me she had not seen you these two 
months. I am satisfied with you, Faublas. Should you deceive the 
Marchioness, or some other fool, they cannot complain of an evil 
they have sought for. And if any inconveniences should happen to 
yourself from such a connection, it cannot affect your honour. 
But, to take advantage of youthful innocence!-I should never 
have pardoned you."

Whilst the Baron was congratulating me on my indifference for 
Mademoiselle de Pontis, I could scarcely contain myself, and 
groaned with impatience to see the appointed hour slip by.

The messenger, who was sent to the opera girl, returned. 
"Coralie," he said, "laughed very much at the name of Faublas. 
She thanked the Baron; and, as to the Chevalier, 'I accept what 
he has sent me,' she said, 'but, indeed, he has had nothing for 
it.'"

I went up to my own room, stung with vexation at having been 
baulked in my visit to the convent. The artist was waiting to 
finish the portrait, which was much advanced the day before. It 
was necessary to put on the Amazonian habit to represent 
Mademoiselle du Portail, and afterwards to become the Chevalier 
de Faublas again in order to dine with the Baron. 

When I retired from the table to my own apartment, I found the 
old woman who brought the letters from my sister, waiting for 
me. She said, "Adelaide was surprised at not having seen me this 
morning, and begged I would come to the convent immediately." I 
ran there instantly, and Adelaide brought her dear friend, 
accompanied by Madame Munich, who did not appear angry.at seeing 
me again after so long an absence.

I was obliged to hear several long stories, to which I pretended 
to listen; and as it behoved me, at all events, to gain the 
interest of the gouvernante, with whose propensities I was 
acquainted, I promised to send her a bottle of excellent brandy 
which had been presented to me. This was an unlucky day. On 
leaving the conversation-room, I met my father, who was just 
entering it.

"It is thus, then, that I am obeyed!" he said in a low voice: 
"it is thus they trifle with me! If you will not renounce this 
foolish amour, you will compel me to use rigorous measures."

When I returned home, I wrapped up my portrait, which was just 
finished, with great care, and told Jasmin to take the little 
packet, early the next morning, to Justine, who would deliver it 
to Madame de B***, and the bottle of brandy to Madame Munich, at 
the Convent de --. My very punctual servant started early, and 
came home late. He had drank so much, that I could not collect 
from him any satisfactory answer; but the manner in which he 
executed my double commission, produced, in the evening, a 
letter and a message. The letter from Madame de B*** thanked me 
very much for my charming present, and asked me what I wished 
her to do with it. I told Madame Dutour that I did not 
comprehend what the Marchioness meant.

"It is not in my power to tell you, sir, but she will no doubt 
explain it to you herself tomorrow morning, at her milliner's; 
do not fail to be there by eight o'clock, precisely, because at 
ten she sets out for Versailles."

"You may assure her, Madame Dutour, that I will be punctual." 
About an hour after came the old woman, to whom I never gave 
half-a-crown without making her dance for joy. She informed me 
that Mademoiselle de Pontis had something very particular to 
communicate, and begged me to come to the conference-room the 
next morning by eight, or a little after.

"Ah, my good lady! I would rather pass the night at the door of 
the convent than make Mademoiselle de Pontis wait a quarter of 
an hour."

As soon as the old woman received her money, she made her 
obeisance, and departed. Tomorrow, by eight precisely, at the 
convent! Tomorrow, at the boudoir, by eight precisely! Oh, this 
time, Madame de B***, you will be neglected. If you wish that I 
should attend to your appointments, you must never make them at 
that hour which Mademoiselle de Pontis chooses for hers. A look, 
a single look of my pretty cousin, is more precious to me than 
the last favour of the most beautiful woman! Even of a woman so 
fascinating as yourself, and all the Marchionesses in the 
universe are not worth a hair of my Sophia's head. As soon as 
the doors of the convent were open, I enquired for Adelaide. She 
came down to the hall, and her fair friend was not long in 
following her.

"Good morning to you, Monsieur," said Sophia.

"Monsieur!" cried I.

"Look here, Monsieur," said Adelaide, presenting me with a 
packet.

"And do you also, my dear, address me as 'Monsieur?'"

"Take it, then. Your servant, Jasmin, was tipsy yesterday; he 
delivered that portrait to Madame Munich. And the bottle of 
brandy," said Sophia, "he has taken to the Marchioness de B***. 
Yes, brother, yes, you abuse my friendship, you deceive the 
tenderness of Sophia, who exposes herself to trouble every day 
on your account! and I had a terrible scolding yesterday from 
the Baron. It is not handsome, Monsieur."

"When he has caused us to die with grief," added Sophia, 
sobbing, "he will regret his cousin and his sister." (I wished 
to take her hand, but she drew it away.)

"Have done with your caresses, Monsieur, they are agreeable, but 
they are deceitful!"

"Yes, Monsieur! yes; they resemble yourself," cried Adelaide, 
"my friend is right." She put her handkerchief to the eyes of 
Sophia, and then embraced her.

"Be comforted, Sophia," she said; "do not weep so: I love thee, 
I will always love thee, I will never deceive thee, I never 
deceive any one."

"Let us see, Adelaide, if he will attempt to justify himself."

"Ah, Sophia! My agitation, my tears, and even my silence-does 
not everything evince the remorse which tears my heart? Yes, I 
confess that this fatal portrait was for Madame de B***."

"You acknowledge it because we know it," said Adelaide. 

"It was for Madame de B***," repeated Sophia, in a sorrowful 
tone.

"But will not my pretty cousin excuse the error of a moment?"

"The error of a moment! He has deceived me ever since he has 
known me! And calls it a momentary error! Adelaide! It is not 
more than two months, that every time he saw me, and whenever he 
wrote to me, he declared that he loved none but me!

"The error of a moment, aye! Sophia, my pretty cousin!"

"And I have the weakness to believe him, and the misfortune to 
love him! And he knows it, alas! He knows it. But tell me, my 
dear Adelaide, what does he expect from this treachery? What can 
he expect? What can he hope? Oh, thou ungrateful one! I did not 
ask for your love! Why proffer your vows to me!"

"Ah, mademoiselle! Ah, my pretty cousin! You do not know how 
dear you are to me. Your image haunts me by day, and at night 
embellishes my dreams! You are my life, Sophia! My soul! My 
divinity! I exist but by you! I adore none but you!"

"Oh! Adelaide! Thou hearest how he delights in augmenting my 
agitation and my uncertainty! His words are always the same, but 
his conduct-he desires my death!-he desires my death!" (I threw 
myself on my knees before her.)

"What are you doing, brother? Suppose any of the nuns were to 
pass and see you!"

Sophia rose from her seat in alarm. "If you do not sit down, 
Monsieur, I must go."

I resumed my seat, and wept bitterly. "My dear friend," said 
Adelaide, "what he says appears to be sincere nevertheless, and 
he speaks without affectation!"

"You do not know him: when he leaves here he will fly to the 
Marchioness, and say the same things to her. The Marchioness!

"I swear that I never will again! Never!"

"Upon the word of a gentleman, brother?"

"Upon the word of a gentleman, sister! Upon the word of a 
gentleman, Sophia!"

"My God," she said in a feeble voice, and putting her hand upon 
her heart, "my God!"

Her head sank upon her bosom, she fell against a chair, and her 
sobs became so violent that her utterance was stopped.

"She is unwell, my dear Adelaide!"

"No, no," said Sophia. Adelaide wiped the tears from the face of 
her dear friend. "Let them flow," continued Sophia, let them 
flow, they are tears of pleasure; they are tears of joy! Oh, 
God! Oh, God! What a heavy burden I had at my heart! And how I 
feel relieved!"

I took her hand, upon which I pressed my burning lips. The cloud 
of grief with which her charms had been veiled, was all at once 
dissipated. Her beautiful countenance was animated with joy, her 
eyes sparkled so with pleasure; and she gave me a look of 
inexpressible tenderness! Oh! With what ardour did I renew my 
vows of eternal fidelity, when she gave me hopes of a happy 
union at a future period! Adelaide, in the meanwhile, held the 
portrait of Mademoiselle du Portail: "Madame Munich, brother, 
recommended me to send this back to you. You put her in a fine 
rage, I assure you. 'See what a fool he is,' she said 'to send 
me his portrait. Am I of an age for such nonsense? But it is, 
without doubt, for Mademoiselle de Pontis, he loves her: the 
Baron was right. Ah! Let M. le Chevalier come here again; let 
him come here again!"

"Here, brother, take back the villainous portrait!-

"Villainous? No, no," said my pretty cousin, taking it from the 
hands of Adelaide; "it is pretty, they say it is thine.

"Well then, my dear friend, keep it," said Adelaide."

"Yes, keep it, my pretty cousin," I said. 

"The portrait of M. de Faublas? Oh, no! It will make me ill! it 
will always call to mind this Madame de B***. I will not have 
it. I will not have it. Besides, it is in female dress. It is a 
portrait that resembles you, but it is not yours! But if my 
Sophia will-"

"What?"

"My artist is clever and discreet, he shall take both our 
likenesses."

"And mine also," she replied, with an air of uncertainty, and 
looking at Adelaide, who relieved her suspense by saying: "Yes, 
my dear friend, thine, and even mine, and perhaps a copy of 
each, that we might exchange. Well, my young cousin, when shall 
your painter go to work?"

"Tomorrow, from eight to ten o'clock, and every day at the same 
time, until he has finished them."

"Every day! But my gouvernante-"

"It is true she sleeps, and to this moment she has discovered 
nothing."

"Yes," interrupted Adelaide, "she sleeps; but the Baron, take 
care of him, brother."

"As for the Baron, my dear Adelaide, if he happens to rise 
earlier than usual, some day, it will baulk me very much, but I 
must put the sitting off until next morning."

"Tomorrow then, my dear cousin. Without fail."

At the moment when I bade her adieu, at the moment when she 
seemed to read in my countenance the lively pleasure I felt, at 
this moment a nun came abruptly into the hall. She eyed me with 
a curious but rapid glance from head to foot, and then with a 
mildness, blended with firmness: "It seems a long time, 
Adelaide, that you have been talking with your brother, and you 
Mademoiselle de Pontis, how is it that you did not perceive I 
ought to have commenced your lesson a quarter of an hour since? 
I return to the harpsichord, where I shall expect you. The 
scholars would have made some excuse, but the mistress retired 
without listening to them.

"My God!" said Sophia, trembling, "did she not see you kiss my 
hand?"

"I do not know; do you, sister?"

"I do not know, any more than you; but would you have me ask 
her?"

I could not help smiling at this reply. Adelaide appeared 
offended at first; but having reflected a little: "How simple I 
am!" she cried. "Go, go, make yourself tranquil, I will not ask 
her. Is that nun your music mistress, my pretty cousin?"

"Yes, my dear cousin: they call her Dorothea."

"Is she clever on the harpsichord? Very clever.

"But, nevertheless, someone has told her that you give it a much 
finer touch than herself. But she is very young?"

"Yes, very young."

"And she seems to me very pretty."

"It seems to me," she replied, with an air of mortification, 
"that amidst the most unpleasant circumstances you can readily 
make many curious remarks, and interesting discoveries, and put 
questions which are afflicting."

At these words she left me, weeping, without deigning to hear 
me. Adelaide, entirely occupied with the grief of her friend, 
did not observe me, but flew after Sophia. I remained less 
surprised at my own blunders, than afflicted at the prompt 
departure which punished them. The manner in which my pretty 
cousin was affected, afforded me, without doubt, some degree of 
consolation. Nevertheless, I went home in despair. On my return, 
I interrogated Jasmin, who acknowledged that he had not been 
able to resist the temptation to taste the brandy committed to 
his care. It was so good that he took several draughts, filled 
the bottle up with water, and then executed my commissions. I 
was no longer astonished at his delivering them wrong, and 
pardoned his infidelity, on account of the sincerity of his 
confession. In the meantime, the mortification of Sophia did not 
suffer me to forget the promises I had made to her: it was 
probable that the Marchioness, astonished at not having seen me, 
would send to me. I called Jasmin back, and told him that no one 
was to be admitted to me but my father, Rosambert, and my 
governor. "But, Monsieur, suppose Mademoiselle Justine comes?"

"You will tell her that I am not at home."

"And if it is Madame Dutour, or the Vicomte de Florville?"

"You will tell them the same."

"Ah! Ah!"

"Remain in the antechamber, to prevent any one coming, and send 
to the artist, to beg him to come here immediately."

 The artist came in the afternoon, and began my portrait, he 
came with me the next day to begin that of my pretty cousin. 
Need I say that in this interview the conversation commenced by 
an explanation regarding Dorothea? Sophia could not conceive 
that a lover, in the presence of his mistress, could look on any 
other woman and think her pretty. I told her that a nun, in my 
eyes, had no more sex than a beautiful statue, and that I 
justified myself by such an observation. But Adelaide openly 
declared against me: the cruel Adelaide immediately remarked, 
that she, who had broke in upon and disturbed our agreeable 
interview, ought to have appeared to me ugly and disagreeable. 
It required more than common ingenuity to overthrow so solid an 
objection. In fact, I only obtained pardon by representing, with 
tears in my eyes, that a blunder was not a crime, and moreover, 
that a flattering remark regarding Dorothea, ought not, by any 
means, to displease Sophia, whose charms were like the passion 
they had inspired, above all comparison. My pretty cousin, thus 
consoled, resumed her former tenderness towards me; and my 
sister, to testify the return of her confidence, said, "I assure 
you, brother, that you were not observed to kiss my dear 
friend's hand, since our music mistress was chatting with us in 
the course of yesterday, and we were even talking of you two or 
three times, yet nothing transpired which could the least 
indicate that she had perceived anything in the morning."

Thus all three reconciled, we occupied ourselves about the 
portrait of Sophia, which continued in hand for several 
succeeding days; and sure the artists had need be armed with 
great patience against lovers. At first, I grumbled at the 
painter, because the charming miniature was not done quick 
enough, and afterwards I complained that it was almost finished. 
My portrait was finished first, and I did not obtain that of my 
pretty cousin for a week after. In the meanwhile, Justine and 
Madame Dutour presented themselves successively at my door every 
day, and always received the unsatisfactory answer, "He is not 
at home." The Count, who learnt with astonishment what he called 
my sudden conversion, contended it would not last long.

"Rosambert," I said, "upon the word of a gentleman."

"Yes, but do you think that Madame de B*** will remain tranquil? 
At present she has only taken cautious steps-her measures are 
not decisive. Do not trust this deceitful calm; some secret 
designs are brewing. The Marchioness meditates in silence some 
bold stroke: she will be, you may rely on it, like a roused 
lion."

One morning, when I went to the convent, as usual, I thought I 
perceived that I was followed. A man, sufficiently disguised, 
kept himself at some distance, regulated his steps by mine, and 
seemed fearful of losing sight of me. When I came out of the 
convent, I saw him again tracing my steps. Rosambert, to whom I 
had imparted my suspicions, sent two of his servants to 
accompany me. I ordered them to guard each end of the street in 
which the Convent de -- was situated. A secret presentiment 
seemed to warn me that some misfortune attended our loves. On 
this day, in particular, I pressed Sophia to inform me what 
important business kept her father abroad, and what period was 
fixed for the return of M. de Pontis, and what means I must 
employ to obtain his consent to our union.

Sophia, after some moments' hesitation, took both my sister's 
hand and mine: "My dear Adelaide, thou, in whom I have found a 
tender sister, a true friend and you, my dear cousin, you who 
have made me love the exile in which I languish, it is time that 
you should know an important secret, which is known but to 
Madame Munich, and which must remain a secret between you and 
myself. I am not French: the name which I bear is feigned; my 
father, the Baron de Gorlitz, possesses considerable wealth in 
Germany, his native country, where my family is powerful and 
respected. I know not why they have deprived me of the happiness 
of living with him, but it is eight years since I came to 
France. It was the Baron who brought me. A French domestic, 
grown old in his service, has at length assumed the equipage of 
a person of quality. He is called M. de Pontis; he has said that 
he is my father; he left me under the care of Madame Munich, in 
this convent; since which, he has been here punctually every six 
months, to enquire after me, and pay for my board and education. 
For eight years I have only twice enjoyed the happiness of 
embracing my father. When I ask Madame Munich why he has 
educated me in France, why the Baron de Gorlitz refuses me his 
name, and why he comes so rarely to see his daughter she 
replies, calmly, that these precautions are necessary, and that 
I shall, one day, bless the wisdom of a father who loves me 
tenderly. For some months past, she frequently tells me, that 
the period of my return to Germany approaches. Alas! I know not 
whether my heart any longer desires it! It would be agreeable to 
see my country, my family, and my father! But Adelaide, Faublas, 
it would be cruel to me to be separated from you!"

"Separated! Never, Sophia, never! Were you to set out tomorrow 
for Germany, tomorrow I should follow you there. I will go and 
demand you of the Baron. If he loves his daughter, he will not 
oppose our happiness."

How delightfully the conversation was prolonged by the 
interesting confidence which Sophia reposed in me! Adelaide, 
tired of having twenty times repeated to us that it was past ten 
o'clock, and that Madame Munich would surprise us, Adelaide 
forced my pretty cousin to leave me. I felt my heart recoil when 
I embraced my sister! And felt it groan when I bade adieu to 
Sophia! On leaving the convent, I perceived my Argus standing 
sentinel in a neighbouring alley. When he saw me, at some 
distance, he quitted his retreat, apparently to watch me home. I 
let him approach a few steps, and then turned upon him all at 
once. I took him by surprise he ran well, but I ran better. On 
turning the corner of a street, I caught him by the leg at the 
instant when one of my guards seized him by the collar. The 
runaway lost his equilibrium, fell to the ground, cried out 
terribly, and attracted the notice of the populace, who were 
immediately interested by such a spectacle. Already some of them 
cried out for vengeance, and were preparing to handle me 
roughly, when I cried out: "Gentlemen, he is a spy." At this 
word of proscription, my enemy, abandoned by all his defenders, 
saw that there remained no other method of sparing himself the 
blows of the stick with which I menaced him, than to confess who 
it was that paid him to watch me. He mentioned Madame Dutour. I 
sent him home with a recommendation not to come again on such an 
errand.



IX.

The next day, at an early hour, my father took me eight leagues 
from Paris to see a country-house which he had bought above a 
month before. We looked over the garden, which appeared to be 
very pretty, and I found the apartments both convenient and 
cheerful. I distinguished, above all, a very handsome and 
pleasant chamber, with bars to the windows. I remarked it to the 
Baron, who replied, with great sang-froid, that the windows were 
grated because that apartment was hereafter to be mine.

"Mine, father!"

"Yes, Monsieur. I had bought this house to enjoy the fine season 
of the year, but you have compelled me to make a prison of a 
place intended for pleasure."

"A prison!"

"You have deceived me, Monsieur. It is neither the lover of the 
Marchioness, nor that of Coralie that I lock up; it is the 
seducer of Sophia. When I congratulated myself on your 
obedience, you abused my confidence, you went to the convent 
every day. Someone, who apparently interests themselves in your 
proceedings, has given me private intelligence. Read this 
anonymous writing: 

'Monsieur the Baron de Faublas is informed that Monsieur 
his son visits Mademoiselle de Faublas and Mademoiselle de 
Pontis at the convent, every morning, from eight to ten 
o'clock.'

"I know, Monsieur," continued my father, "the little faith that 
an anonymous letter deserves. I have not condemned you on such 
contemptible grounds. But, in affairs of this nature, nothing 
ought to be neglected, therefore I have informed myself; I have 
learned that they wrote me the truth. If you do not love Sophia, 
Monsieur, you are a perjured seducer, and this domestic 
imprisonment is too mild a punishment for you if, on the 
contrary, you do love her, I ought to exert myself to cure you 
of a passion which I do not approve. You will not quit this 
chamber, Monsieur. I leave here three men, who will be both your 
servants and your keepers; they know what persons I permit, and 
you may receive."

The astonishment into which this discourse threw me, can only be 
compared to the grief which it caused. I listened to it at first 
without being able to utter a single word. At length I made an 
effort to reply, with some moderation: "May I venture to ask, 
father, why, you disapprove my love for Sophia?"

"Because the father of that young lady is ignorant of it and 
because, if he would, he could not give you his daughter, as I 
have destined you for another."

"And who, then, is this unfortunate girl that you have chosen, 
father?

"M. du Portail is my intimate friend; he esteems you."

"Ah, 'tis Dorliska that I am to marry! A child who is lost, and 
perhaps dead!"

"Why dead? I think my friend will recover his daughter. Heaven 
owes this consolation to the most wretched of fathers. Lovinski 
makes fresh researches, and when absence and time, which wear 
out all the foolish passions, shall have destroyed yours, you 
will begin your travels, you will pass into Poland."

"Yes, and there, like the knights errant, I am to go from door 
to door, to search for a girl to marry!"

"You forget, Monsieur, that your answers are disrespectful."

"I beg your pardon, father, twenty times! The excess of my 
grief-"

"I have only one word more to say to you, my son. Prepare 
yourself to repair the innumerable misfortunes of a gentleman, 
to whom my friendship ought not to be useless."

"I will pledge my word, father, to Lovinski, to go even to the 
end of the world, if necessary, in search of Dorliska."

"And you will renounce Mademoiselle de Pontis?"

"I'd sooner die a thousand times!"

"Young man!"

"I will not set out for Poland, father, until I have obtained 
the hand of Sophia. I swear it by yourself, by her, and by 
everything that is sacred.
"	Respect my authority, or dread-"

"Ah, what have I to fear, Monsieur? You will separate me from 
Sophia! And pray what greater evil can you do me? Take my life, 
if you are so cruel, take it, and you will do me a service."

The Baron, either worked up to a paroxysm of rage, or softened 
by the emotions of pity, went out abruptly, shut the door, and 
left me in my prison. What painful reflections agitated me in 
this frightful moment! The loss of liberty had been a trifle; 
but to lose Sophia! Sophia! My absence would awaken her 
jealousy! She would think me unfaithful and perjured. And if her 
father comes to fetch her, if she hastens to quit a country 
which my perfidy has made her detest, if Mademoiselle de 
Gorlitz, appearing at the court of Vienna, in all the splendour 
of her beauty, should choose a husband from among the young 
lords, who would be immediately attracted by her charms, under 
the idea of revenging herself of me? Mademoiselle de Pontis in 
the arms of another! Oh! No, never! Sophia, even in despair, 
will remain faithful to me! But her barbarous father may, 
perhaps, compel her to contract so odious a marriage, while 
mine, not less implacable, retained his son, dying with anxiety 
and grief, a close prisoner in an unknown village! Cruel 
Marchioness! It is through thee, without doubt, that my father 
has discovered my happy love! It was thy jealous rage that 
dictated the perfidious letter. How dear thou hast made me pay 
for the fleeting pleasures thou hast given me! Oh! That thy 
vengeance had only reached myself!

It is true that I have sacrificed Madame de B*** : and if my 
conduct does not justify her hatred, at least I ought not to be 
surprised at her resentment. But I am at a loss to account for 
the injustice of the Baron! He requires me to sacrifice my 
happiness to his friendship for M. du Portail. He punishes a 
legitimate and virtuous inclination as a most detestable crime! 
He cuts me off from everything that is dear to me, he tears me 
from Sophia. He shuts me up like a criminal! He certainly 
desires my death! Well, I will not hesitate to satisfy him. It 
is apparently to prolong my torture that they have removed from 
me everything with which I could rid myself of the burden of 
existence, but if they prevent me from attempting my life, they 
cannot oblige me to take any pains for its preservation. Let 
them bring something to eat! Let them bring it me! I will throw 
the dishes out of the window, everything shall go into the 
garden through these infamous bars!

I persisted in this violent resolution until a very lively 
appetite, the result of five hours' fasting, had made me look at 
things in a more rational manner. And let not this be taken for 
a joke! At all ages, in all countries, in whatever situation we 
are placed, the stomach has a prodigious influence on the brain. 
An unfortunate person, who fasts, never reasons like the 
unfortunate one who comes from a hearty repast. I helped myself 
then, without being pressed, to the meats which they brought me 
for my dinner, and I said to myself, while devouring it, Truly, 
I was going to do a very foolish thing! And who would comfort my 
pretty cousin, if I was dead? Who would tell her that the last 
palpitation of my heart was a sigh for the love of her? I must 
eat to live; I must live to see again, to adore, and to marry 
Sophia.

On the third day of my imprisonment, the Baron sent me my books, 
mathematical instruments and pianoforte. My first care was to 
return thanks for his paternal clemency, in affording some 
occupation in my retirement, but when I came to reflect that the 
care evinced in alleviating my captivity, was a proof that it 
would be of long duration, I felt a most ardent desire to 
terminate it immediately. While they were furnishing my room 
with the effects which had just arrived, I made an attempt to 
escape, which the vigilance of my guards rendered abortive, and 
I remained convinced, after having examined the situation of my 
prison, and the regime established for its security, that far 
from neglecting the necessary precautions, they had taken some 
that were quite useless. I had still in my pocket three pieces 
of that all-powerful metal which opens doors and breaks bars. I 
offered my seventy-two livres to my gaolers, whom I endeavoured 
to address in the most flattering terms. They refused my gold 
and rejected my promises. I know not how my father had effected 
it, but he had found three servants who were incorruptible.

I was shortly honoured with the visits of those whom the Baron 
permitted me to receive. Shall I mention a retired shop-keeper, 
who pledged everything he said upon his conscience! A gentleman 
of the village, who repeated a hundred times the names of his 
dogs and the age of his mare, before he told me that he had a 
wife and children! A red-nosed monk, who drank heartily of a 
middling sort of wine, though he preferred a better; his bloated 
companion, celebrated for his skill in cutting up a fowl, and 
who served everyone with such address that the best morsel was 
uniformly forgot, I know not how, and remained for himself! Let 
us, however leave this kind of gentry, who are to be found 
everywhere, to distinguish four very extraordinary men, which 
chance had assembled in this village of de la B--. It was a 
curate who had wit, a master of a college who was never pedantic 
but through forgetfulness, nor impolite but by caprice! And an 
old military officer who frequently spoke without an oath, and 
an old lawyer who sometimes spoke the truth.

What a society for the friend of Rosambert! The pupil of Madame 
de B*** ! And the lover of Sophia! I suffered much less when I 
remained alone, then, my pretty cousin, I was with you; my eyes 
fixed on your portrait. I could believe you spoke while I was 
admiring your image. What consolation did I derive from the 
contemplation of thy revered image! And how often did I water it 
with my tears! What kisses have I printed on it! And when 
pressed against my heart, how often has it felt the pulsations 
of impatience and love!

I ought, nevertheless, to confess, that the belles-lettres also 
contributed to charm the listlessness of my solitude. But, oh! 
My Sophia! To escape sometimes from the mournful pleasures of 
thy remembrance, required nothing less than the most estimable 
talents and the brightest genius our modern literature could 
boast of. I read Moncrief and Florian, Lemonier and Imbert, 
Deshouliers and Beauharnais, La Fayette and Riccoboni, Colardeau 
and Leonard, Dorat and Bernis, De Belloy and Chenier, 
Crebillion, the son, and De la Clos,<16> Sainte-Foix and 
Beaumarchais, Duclos and Marmontel, Destouches and De Bievre, 
Gresset and Colin, Cochin and Linguet, Helvetius and Cerutti, 
Vertot and Raynal, Mably and Mirabeau, Jean Baptist and Lebrun, 
Gessner<17> and Delille, Voltaire and Philoctete et Melanie<18> 
his pupils; Jean-Jacques<19> above all-Jean-Jacques and 
Bernardin de Saint Pierre.

But, when at the end of a day so happily abridged, my heart and 
my mind had equal need of repose, when I was obliged all at once 
to break the double charm, and endeavour to forget both letters 
and love: when that was necessary, our literature, which had 
done the evil, was there to repair it. I went and demanded of 
other writers the sleep which I stood in need of, and I ought to 
tell it to their glory; yes, it was of my contemporaries that I 
generally obtained the most violent narcotics. Good God! How 
rich is the present generation in this class of writers! What 
Scuderis! What Cotins, what Pradons she has resuscitated! What 
writers, famous for a day! Alas! Alas! How many reputations have 
been still longer usurped! What, even in the sanctuary, even in 
the bosom of the academy! Ah, Monsieur S--, who can they receive 
after you? Nevertheless, I owe you many thanks: your writings, 
so flat and so barbarous, are all-powerful against wakefulness. 
For eight successive nights, they made me sleep, for eight days, 
when not occupied in reading or sleeping, I languished in my 
prison. All communication was cut off from without. I neither 
received letters, nor was I permitted to write any. The Baron 
came to see me, and I endeavoured to bend him, for he was 
inexorable.

Four days had passed after this visit of my father and, in the 
middle of the fifth night, I was disturbed from my sleep by a 
noise in the garden. I flew to the window, and perceived a 
ladder planted under it. I distinguished four men, who seemed to 
be concerting operations. One of them mounted boldly with an 
iron bar in his hand.

"Are you the Chevalier de Faublas?" he said.

"Yes, Monsieur."

"Dress yourself quickly, while I labour, as gently as I can, to 
raise a bar. If your keepers hear me, if they come to you, here, 
are two pistols, which you will show them: that will be 
sufficient to silence them. Make haste, your friend waits in a 
postchaise at the little garden-gate."

"My friend?"

"Yes, Monsieur, the Count de Rosambert."

"Oh, what friendship!

"Hush! Dress yourself."

He had not to repeat it a third time. My room was quite dark, 
but I felt for my clothes. Never was the business of my toilette 
so soon completed. In the meantime, my liberator redoubled his 
gentle strokes. When a bar was raised, I thought I saw the 
heavens open. I passed first one leg, next the other, and rested 
my feet on the ladder. Thin, however, as my body was, I had 
great difficulty in squeezing it through so narrow an opening. 
As soon as I found myself outside, and arrived at the middle of 
the ladder, I did not amuse myself in counting how many rails I 
had to descend, but leaped from it to the ground, which had been 
newly turned up. We ran to the little garden-gate, which my 
liberators had opened, I know not how. A small ditch remained to 
cross; I sprang over it, and jumped into the post-chaise. I 
expected to fall into the arms of Rosambert, but it was the 
Vicomte de Florville who embraced me!

While I remained dumb with surprise, the postillion started. My 
four liberators mounted their horses, and followed, at full 
stretch, the rapid vehicle which conveyed us. I made no reply to 
the questions with which the Marchioness overwhelmed me.

"Chevalier," she said to me at last, "is it to the excess of 
your gratitude I must attribute this painful silence?"

"Madame"

"Ah! I know it well that I am no more to you than Madame! And, 
nevertheless, I expose myself to everything, in order to 
terminate your captivity!"

"My captivity! It is you who caused it."

"If you still love me, Faublas, what I have just done will be 
sufficient for my justification, but, listen to me, for I will 
not suffer the slightest pretext for your ingratitude. I have 
wept for your inconstancy, I wished to regain my lover, and I 
caused his proceedings to be watched. These are my crimes. The 
woman Dutour, who was charged with my orders, has surpassed 
them. I discovered, too late, that an anonymous letter had 
informed the Baron of your cruel amour. I presently learnt that 
your absence was no longer a sham, and that they kept you locked 
up, but I could not conceive where. Those who had followed the 
son, followed the father in his turn. During four whole days, 
the Baron never made a step of which I was not instantly 
informed: at length, he came to visit you last Sunday. They 
examined the neighbourhood, the garden, and house. Your grated 
windows were remarked. I profited by the first journey of the 
Marquis under the guise of the Vicomte de Florville, and under 
the name of the Count de Rosambert, I have risked everything to 
deliver you. Faublas, if you hold me accountable for the faults 
committed by the people you compelled me to employ, you will 
agree, at least, that the lucky intrepidity of the Vicomte de 
Florville has amply made amends for the fatal imprudence of the 
woman, Dutour."

"Do you think, Madame, I shall ever forget the service?"

"Oh, you cruel one! Your protestations, so coldly polite, 
convince me that I am sacrificed. Thus, then, what another woman 
would scarcely conceive, I have undertaken and executed, to put 
into the arms of my rival the most amiable and the most 
ungrateful of men. Alas! If there are no other means left of 
preserving at least his friendship, I must, I will be 
sacrificed! Faublas! I have the courage! I renounce you, 
Monsieur! I restore you to Sophia! Deprived of everything that 
was dear to me, I shall, perhaps, be happy in your happiness: 
perhaps the poignant regret occasioned by your loss will be 
alleviated by the consoling idea that I have contributed to 
ensure your felicity. Where, Monsieur, are you willing that we 
should conduct you?"

She waited my answer to this question, which was very 
embarrassing to me. After a moment's silence, she resumed:

"To return to your father would be seeking fresh captivity, M. 
du Portail is still in Russia; there is no one but M. de 
Rosambert, and he, they say, is gone, some days since, to one of 
his estates in the country. As for myself, I think he will 
search my house for you. Where, Monsieur, shall we conduct you?"

Penetrated by the generosity of the Marchioness, and affected by 
her attachment, at once so noble and so tender, I could hardly 
resist the desire to comfort her. I felt her hand tremble under 
my lips, which in the meantime I had gently pressed upon it.

"Answer me, then," she said, in a voice almost extinct. "Alas! 
my anxious tenderness has already prepared an asylum for you, as 
safe as agreeable, and you will not come!" she continued, in a 
more animated tone: "I shall lose you for ever! You will live 
for another! And shall I witness it with tranquillity? No, 
Faublas! My grief has made me wild! I may have said it, but 
never, never will I consent to it! I give you up to a rival! Do 
not hope for it my friend: that effort is too much for a mortal! 
It is too much for me!"

The feeble rays of trembling twilight began to leave the objects 
distinct. For fifteen days, I had seen nothing but plump village 
lasses, whose sunburnt charms, impaired by hard labour, were 
little calculated to tempt me; I had also only seen them through 
a grating, and more than fifty feet distant. Then, on the 
contrary, I found myself close to the Vicomte de Florville! The 
ruddy tints with which Aurora was decking the sky exhibited him 
to me more beautiful than ever Adonis appeared to the longing 
eyes of the enchanted Venus; and then the Marchioness wept! What 
can be more interesting than a woman in tears? I wished to wipe 
them: I know not how it was, but our glances met; my mouth 
touched hers, a fatal curiosity caused my hands to stray, Oh, my 
pretty cousin! I became perjured without knowing it, and I ought 
here to confess, that if thy guilty lover did not then 
consummate his infidelity, it was because thy cautious rival 
would not permit him to attempt certain enterprises, which, in a 
carriage so narrow, inconvenient and jumbling, over an uneven 
pavement, could not be accomplished with complete success.

"We return then to Paris, mamma?"

"Yes, my friend, because they will never imagine that you are 
returned there; besides, I have taken precautions so safe, that 
you will escape all researches. While they were purchasing me 
the services of these four men, who only knew me by the name of 
Rosambert, I occupied myself in seeking a commodious lodging for 
a young widow of my acquaintance, who comes to Paris to 
institute a lawsuit of considerable importance. She is called 
Ducange, and this Madame Ducange, my friend, is yourself, but as 
it would not have been decent for you to have come to Paris 
alone, the woman Dutour, impatient to make a reparation for the 
fault she has committed, has been practising for these four days 
to perform the important personage of Madame de Verbourg; as 
that is the name we shall give, if you are willing, to the 
respectable mother of Madame Ducange. Already decked out in a 
style of antiquated splendour, as might be expected in an old 
lady from a distant province, Madame de Verbourg gives herself 
airs of quality which will make you die with laughter. As to the 
rest, she will not play her part badly, when she has overcome 
certain energetic expressions, which occasionally escape her. 
She has naturally the awkward and clumsy manners of those 
village dames who have never quitted their provincial chateaux. 
You will have for your footman the nephew of Madame your mother, 
and they will easily procure you a cook and femme de chambre. I 
have hired and furnished an apartment, which our loves will 
embellish, at the Hôtel de --, which is situated about two 
hundred paces beyond mine. If you will be ruled by me, you will 
never descend into the garden, which I reserve for my own 
pleasure. It has a door which opens into the Champs-Elysèes; it 
is by that I shall come to you, almost every day. My doctor, 
understanding that I did not go into the country this year, has 
ordered me to take the air early every morning. The men who 
escort us, will leave us at the Barrier of the Throne."

The Vicomte de Florville and myself alighted at the milliner's, 
where we expected my mother, Justine, and my new footman. La 
Dutour commenced by acknowledging her fault, which she begged me 
to excuse; and Justine, delighted to see me again, could not 
finish dressing my head without playing me some waggish tricks. 
The Vicomte de Florville had provided for all my wants. I 
dressed myself in the simple dishabille of a pretty female 
traveller. They packed my luggage behind the chaise in which 
Madame de Verbourg placed herself beside me, and we drove to our 
lodging in the Street of the Faubourg Saint-Honore. Two hours 
after, Madame the Marchioness de B***, followed by her femme de 
chambre, came to know if Madame Ducange was arrived, we embraced 
like two women who loved each other, when they have been a long 
time absent. My mother, who knew how to conduct herself, left us 
alone. Love entered my bed-room the moment Madame de Verbourg 
quitted it, and the little god remained with us for two hours. 

"Twelve o'clock is soon come," said the Marchioness, "and I must 
leave you. They know at home that I was to sup and sleep in the 
country, but they expect me to dinner-a propos, you are 
gallant!-Tell me what that bottle meant."

"A blunder of Jasmin, mamma."

"And when will you give me the portrait of Mademoiselle du 
Portail?"

"Presently, it is in a waistcoat pocket of the Chevalier de 
Faublas. See, my dear Madame, here it is."

"Tomorrow I will bring you that of the Vicomte de Florville."

"Has not the Marquis spoken to my dear mamma of Mademoiselle du 
Portail?"

"Assuredly, my friend. He says you live with that M. de Faublas, 
and that your relations search you at a great distance, while 
you are very near! He is very angry too at the manner in which 
you treated his courier, La Jeunesse. 'What, Madame!' he said to 
me, 'a stroke of a whip across the arm! Is that to be done? Is 
it fit that a young woman should thrash servants in that 
fashion? Recollect, Madame, the day that I received the blow on 
my forehead, when she thumped the piece of money on it, how she 
made me cry out! You thought that I was tender, and played the 
woman, but I can assure you, Madame, she has a fist fit for a 
devil, and made me suffer like a damned soul! You can see it in 
her physiognomy.'"

As soon as Madame B*** was gone, Madame de Verbourg entered. I 
begged her to send La Fleur to the house of M. de Rosambert.

"The Count is not at Paris, my daughter."

"Madame, my mother, I think he ought to be, and if he be not, I 
wish, at least, to be certain of it.

"But, Monsieur, Madame the Marchioness has given me no orders."

"Madame the Marchioness has not ordered! Surely you are mad! Do 
you imagine that I receive wages from the Marchioness like you? 
Learn, Madame Dutour, and forget it not that I am here in my own 
house. If La Fleur does not instantly go to M. de Rosambert's, I 
shall go there myself. Hear me, Madame Dutour, here are three 
Louis; they are yours if the Count comes to see me to-day."

"But if he is in the country?"

"I shall be very sorry, but the three Louis will be saved. You 
know how to write, take a pen and some paper." Madame de 
Verbourg wrote under my dictation: 

Madame Ducange wishes to have a quarter of an hour's 
conversation with Monsieur the Count de Rosambert. If he 
will accept a humble dinner, she will be happy of his 
company. What she has to communicate is very pressing.

I called Le Fleur: "Take this letter, my friend, to M. de 
Rosambert. If he asks you any questions, you will only answer 
that my mistress is pretty, and lives in the Faubourg Saint 
Honoré, at the Hôtel of --. If the Count does not happen to be 
at Paris, you will enquire to which of his estates he is gone. 
Madame Dutour, think of the three Louis."

My servant, on his return, announced to me that M. de Rosambert 
had followed him. Some moments after, Rosambert entered, with an 
easy and gallant air.

"Fair lady-" He stopped all at once, and burst into a fit of 
laughter: "The devil take me," he said, "if I have not run here 
in triumph! But I will not regret my pretended good fortune, 
since I embrace my friend."

I addressed myself to Madame de Verbourg: "Madame, my mother, 
will you have the goodness to leave us?"

"Madame, my mother," repeated Rosambert. "Ah! Let us see Madame, 
your mother! (He danced round her several times, and made her 
turn round him.) Madame, my mother, you are charming, you have a 
noble countenance, a dignified air, and a most elegant dress; 
but your daughter wishes you to leave us for the present. My 
dear Faublas, what means this masquerade?"

Rosambert could not listen to the details of my imprisonment and 
new metamorphosis, without interrupting me several times by his 
jokes. At length, he said, when I had finished, "The marchioness 
had done well, she has you hereafter in her power."

"Yes, Rosambert, my Sophia!"

"Your Sophia! Well, what would you that she should do to your 
Sophia? She is still in the convent."

"You know it?"

"Yes, I know it, and I know also that mademoiselle your sister 
is no longer with her."

"The Baron-"

Has taken her from that convent to place her in another, and he 
has discharged the honest Abbé Person."

"But, Rosambert, if I remain here, how can I see my pretty 
cousin?"

"I would willingly, my dear Faublas, offer you my house, but 
that asylum will not be respected; Madame de B*** would pursue 
you there."

"If you abandon me, my friend, I am lost."

"Do you doubt my friendship, Chevalier?"

"No, but I am afraid I shall stand too much in need of it."

"How! If I was in your place, and you were in mine, should you 
fear to render me the services which you are afraid of asking 
from me?"

"Most certainly not."

"Then speak boldly."

"Although, Rosambert, I am much better off here than in the 
village of La Brie, although I enjoy the pleasure of seeing, 
with perfect freedom, a charming woman, to whom I confess I am 
still attached, I assure you, nevertheless, that I have only 
changed my prison if I do not see my Sophia again. Could you not 
conceal me in the environs of Sophia's convent?"

"I understand you: the Marchioness has stolen you from the 
Baron, and I must ravish you from the Marchioness. I see no 
inconvenience in that. I could not prevent her from 
appropriating Mademoiselle du Portail to herself; Well! I will 
deprive her of Madame Ducange! It will be all fair, and there is 
something consolatory in the idea. Besides, I shall not be sorry 
to see how she who exposed me to the rigour of celibacy will 
support the ennui of widowhood. You may depend on me, Faublas, 
you may depend on me."

It was time for us to sit down to table. During our dinner, 
which was long, the Count amused himself very much at the 
expense of Madame de Verbourg. We were taking our dessert, when 
the proprietor of the house, M. de Villartur, who had lately 
become a financier, curious to see his new lodgers, entered 
without knowing if his visit was agreeable. If one were to 
imagine ignorance and folly personified, one would still have 
too favourable an idea of M. de Villartur. He found that they 
had not deceived him when they told him I was pretty. One may 
conceive that this dull personage would have been very tiresome 
to me, if the tone of pretended gallantry which he assumed had 
not afforded me the resource of mocking him. My mischievous 
companion very charitably assisted me in ridiculing the poor 
man, who promised, on retiring, to come and see me again very 
soon.

Rosambert had business to attend to; on leaving me, he said, 
"While waiting until I have found what you desire, I hope, my 
friend, that you will borrow some money, for which I have no 
occasion to-day, and which I shall be glad of at some other 
time." The same evening he sent me two hundred Louis.

Madame Dutour gave me the exact account of the expenses 
occasioned by my delivery from prison, and of those incurred in 
the house which I occupied.

The next day, when the Marchioness arrived, I begged her to let 
me reimburse what she had laid out. "Many women," said my 
beautiful mistress, "pretend, that between lovers, an affair of 
interest ought to be forgotten; as for me, my friend, I receive 
back my money without requiring to be pressed, and even think I 
ought to justify myself for the silence I have kept on this 
delicate article. I did not believe that you could so soon 
return what I had advanced, and therefore did not dare mention 
it for fear of giving you some mortification: nevertheless, I 
felt, that, in refraining to mention it, I was offending your 
delicacy I would, however, rather deserve the reproaches of the 
Chevalier, than run the risk of mortifying my friend. Here, 
Faublas, keep this little case, it will be a treasure to you, as 
you are to me."

It was the portrait of the Vicomte de Florville, for which I 
returned the Marchioness my warmest thanks. At first, she 
participated in my transports of gratitude, which she presently 
thought herself obliged to moderate. It was no longer permitted 
me to speak when they announced M. de Villartur. Madame de B*** 
was anxious to see this original. He divided his foolish homage 
between the Marchioness and myself, and we paid the flatterer in 
his own coin. In the course of a conversation, which became 
extremely comic by the silly things with which the bulky 
financier seasoned it, we remarked that this gentleman believed 
in astrology. He was acquainted with magicians he had even seen 
vampires and apparitions. He concluded by telling us that he 
would bring one of his friends, who was half a sorcerer, and 
could recount to us our past, present, and future adventures, if 
we would only show him our hands and our faces.

"By God!" said Madame de Verbourg, who had just entered, "do you 
think that Madame, my daughter, would show him-"

"I stamped so rudely upon the foot of my dear mother, that she 
could not finish. The Marchioness laughed with all her strength. 
M. de Villartur enchanted, went out, telling us he would bring 
the astrologer tomorrow.

I did not see Rosambert that day. The Marchioness came early the 
next morning, and presided at my toilette, which I had executed 
in a superior manner on account of the astrologer, at whose 
expense we thought to amuse ourselves.

A little before noon, M. de Villartur arrived, and cried out 
that he had brought the sorcerer. I thought I should have fallen 
to the ground when, behind the financier, I perceived the 
Marquis de B***.

He saw his wife, and was astonished; he recognised Madame du 
Portail, and stood motionless and stupefied. "What?" he cried, 
"is that Mademoiselle Ducange!"

"Yes," replied Villartur.

M. de B***, with his arms hanging down, his look fixed, his 
mouth half open, seemed as if his little eyes were not large 
enough to examine me.

"Oh, how he looks at you!" said Villartur, "Your physiognomy 
strikes him! See how he is at work already."

The Marchioness, who always preserved an admirable sang-froid on 
pressing occasions, went up to her husband, took him by the arm, 
and drew him near to me.

"Your friend is more eager than you," continued the financier; 
"but it is you he looks at most! Your physiognomy struck him! It 
struck him! Oh, she has struck him!" repeated he, laughing in 
the most gross and vulgar manner.

In the meanwhile, I lent my attention to what passed behind me; 
and the Marchioness, as if she did not wish me to hear, 
recommended her husband to speak lower. "Did I not guess it, 
Madame?" said the Marquis. "Ah, she is, then, pregnant?"

"Have you not perceived it," replied the Marchioness.

"I? Aye, immediately. She is not far advanced. Four or five 
months, perhaps."

"As much, or more. I see it well. How I shall be revenged!"

"But, Monsieur, do not mortify her."

"Oh, I will not break the glasses!"

M. de Villartur, who had done laughing, began to speak to me, 
and prevented my hearing the rest.

"Are you aware," said the Marquis, coming towards me, "that I 
find you somewhat changed?"

"Ah! Ah!" interrupted Villartur, "do you know her?"

"Yes, when I knew Madame," she was a maid.

"Ah! But you were married soon after?"

"Yes, Monsieur."

"And here you are, a widow already! But why, then, are you not 
in mourning?"

"For reasons which she can tell you," replied the Marchioness. 
"For my part, I think the poor husband is forgotten!"

"Why so, sir?"

"Because your grief did not prevent your going on a country 
excursion."

"I, Monsieur?"

"You will deny it, perhaps? Did I not meet you on the road to 
Versailles, at the bridge of Sèvres?"

"Yes."

"But, Monsieur-."

"Do not speak of that, Monsieur," whispered the Marchioness to 
him, "do you not see that it vexes her?"

"Madame Ducange," continued the Marquis, charmed with the 
embarrassment which I affected, "do you not know that it is 
imprudent to mount a horse in your situation? You should guard 
against miscarriages."

"You think then, sir, that I am pregnant?"

"I am sure of it. But, stop; I first perceived it at the last 
carnival. The marriage, perhaps, was already made; it was kept 
secret, was it not?"

"But, Monsieur-"

"All I can tell you, my fair lady, is that at that epoch there 
was already something in your eyes! I have never spoken to you 
of my talent for astrology, because I was studying, and was not 
then sufficiently expert, but you know I am skilled in 
physiognomy. Well! At the last carnival, I remarked in your 
countenance a something which announced a blood!"

"Ask Madame, for I mentioned it to her at the time; upon my 
honour I knew of the marriage. As to the pregnancy, I could not 
entirely divine that: besides, it was then early! But, at 
present, it is very different! One can no longer mistake! Your 
countenance, fair lady, is always very pretty, your height most 
becoming; but you appear a little fatigued, and see here, you 
have a greater protuberance than usual; it begins to be very 
conspicuous."

M. de B***, encouraged by the laughter which the Marchioness 
could not stifle under her fan, asked me who was to be the 
godfather of the little poppet! "Your father, no doubt!"

I endeavoured to blush; and, speaking in a humiliated tone: "My 
father is ignorant of my marriage, Monsieur."

"I was right, then. If, by chance, Monsieur, you should meet my 
father, or my brother, I beg you will not tell them you have 
seen me."

"Fear nothing."

"But Monsieur de Villartur-"

"Villartur! My sweet lady, he knows not your maiden name, and 
your relations will not know you under your name by marriage. 
Besides, Villartur is discreet."

"Certainly!" interrupted the latter. "Besides, I never meddle 
with or talk about things I do not know. Oh! But Monsieur the 
Marquis, I brought you here to tell the fortunes of these 
ladies; you know one of them, but does that prevent it?"

"No, no, you are right, I am going to tell their fortunes."

He approached his wife. "Come on, Madame, let us begin with 
you."

The Marchioness yielded him her hand, of which he counted the 
lines-long, short, direct, and transverse; next he examined her 
countenance, and after having looked at her tenderly: "Madame," 
he said, in a tone which evinced how perfectly he was satisfied 
with himself: "You have a husband who amuses you very much by 
his sallies, and who loves you to a foible."

"Very true, Monsieur," replied the Marchioness, drawing her hand 
from his, "I wish not to know more, I see you are a great 
magician."

"Now for you, fair lady," he said, and considering me with the 
same attention, demanded if my husband had not two names. He has 
but one, Monsieur, he is only called Ducange.

"That is singular.

"Why so, Monsieur?"

"Because it would appear that the poor defunct was-"

"Was what, Monsieur?"

"Ah, you are angry! How shall I tell you that? Stop, my dear 
lady, I will employ a figure. It appears that the fruit which is 
now upon the tree of your love, was grafted there by by one 
named Faublas, since we must tell it you."

"You insult me, Monsieur."

"Oh, how droll she is when she is in a rage!" cried the bulky 
financier, laughing so heartily that all his frame appeared 
agitated by convulsive motions, and the powder from his wig fell 
on the ground in clouds. "It appears even," replied the Marquis, 
"that the affair happened in a boudoir hired at the house of a 
milliner, in -- Street.

"What you are telling me, Monsieur, is very impertinent."

Madame de Verbourg, who had been to put on her fine gown, 
entered at this moment. She was greatly disconcerted on seeing 
the Marquis de B***.

After having made her obedience in a very comic manner, she came 
to me; I told her in a whisper what was the subject of 
discourse. I know not what question the Marquis put to his wife 
at this instant, but I heard him reply to her: "It is a 
pretended mother." The Marquis saluted Madame de Verbourg, whom 
he viewed very keenly.

"It is Madame your mother: but I believe in truth, I have had 
the honour to see you somewhere before."

"That is very possible, Monsieur," replied Dutour, who lost her 
presence of mind, "that is very possible, I go there sometimes.

"Where, Madame?" 

"At what place did you say, Monsieur?"

"How, Madame, have you never heard talk of the boudoir? It was a 
joke."

"What boudoir? What do you twit me about your boudoir for, 
Monsieur?"

"Nothing, nothing, Madame. We do not understand each other."

"Nor I neither," interrupted Villartur; "I no longer comprehend 
anything they say."

My charming mistress laughed heartily; and I, tired of being 
restrained, embraced the opportunity of giving free course to my 
gaiety.

"See how she laughs!" observed the Marquis. "Madame, Madame, 
your daughter is rather flighty. Take care she does not 
miscarry."

"A miscarriage!" replied Madame de Verbourg, "a miscarriage! 
She! By G-d, I would as soon see-"

"Take care, Madame, I say, your daughter rides on horseback, and 
that is dangerous."

"Without doubt," interrupted Villartur, "one might fall; I did 
myself the other day."

"Fall!" replied the Marquis, "that is not what I fear from her. 
And why should she not tumble? I have had many falls myself."

"Why?"

"Because she sits a horse better than you. You cannot imagine 
how strong she is. Although you are very fat and big, my friend, 
I would advise you not to fight with her."

"Good! Do you hear that?" said the financier, coming towards me.

"Monsieur," I said, "are you mad?" He wished to take me round 
the waist. I seized him by the right arm.

"What is the man going to do with Madame my daughter," said 
Dutour, and she seized the left arm of Villartur. We swung him 
round with such violence, that he continued spinning like a 
schoolboy's top for a moment, and having become quite giddy, 
fell with a tremendous crash upon the floor. The noise caused 
the servants to run in. The financier rose up with shame and 
mortification, and left the room without saying a word. The 
Marquis followed him to comfort him, and Madame de B***, who was 
going to dine at home, was not long before she left me.

I was astonished at not having heard from the Count. He called, 
however, the same evening a little before it was dark. While 
embracing me, he said, "I congratulate you on your happiness, my 
friend, everything has succeeded to your wish, everything is 
ready, follow me."

"What, directly?"

"At this instant."

I threw my arms round his neck. "Oh, my friend, what thanks do I 
not owe you! But tell me, Rosambert-"

"I will tell all about it below; my carriage is waiting for you; 
we have not a moment to lose; follow me."

"Must I then abandon the Marchioness?"

"Yes, in order to see your Sophia again."

"To see Sophia! Let us go, Rosambert, let us be off."

"Wait while I get the portrait of my pretty cousin." I rang for 
Dutour, and told her to get the supper while the Count and 
myself took a walk in the garden.

Instead of going into the garden, we got into the Count's 
carriage. "Drive by the Boulevards," he said to the coachman, 
"full gallop to the Gate of Saint Antoine, and gently from there 
to the La Place Maubert." As soon as the blinds were closed, 
Rosambert informed me, that since our last interview, he had 
found out, taken, and furnished for me, a little lodging, 
situated so near Sophia's convent, that I could see everything 
that passed there from my window. He warned me that Mademoiselle 
du Portail, lately become Madame Ducange, would be hereafter 
Madame Firmin.

All at once the carriage, which had gone with the greatest 
velocity over the pavement, now moved gently along. Rosambert 
said: "See, we are already near the Bastille; now, my fair lady, 
I must inform you that this elegant dress, which becomes a 
person of quality well enough, will not be so proper for a city 
dame. We must then recommence the offices of the toilette. In 
the first place, let us take off this showy hat; confine these 
flowing ringlets in a modest plait, hide your side curls under 
this simple cap, and for your elegant robe, let us substitute 
this plain white gown. Then, sweet nymph, I would have you 
boldly put on this petticoat in my presence; do not blush, for I 
will not be rash; I love you much, but I respect you more. Very 
well; now let us cover your bosom with this muslin kerchief, 
throw this black cloak over your shoulders, and hide your face 
with this large hood. There, it is done; you are disguised, but 
still genteel! As to myself, my dear Faublas, my metamorphosis 
will be performed still sooner." He took off his coat, and 
wrapped himself in a large surtout.

We got out at La Place Maubert, and walked on foot to -- Street. 
Arrived at the house of my new landlord, we went through a long 
court and a large garden, at the bottom of which I perceived a 
little pavilion, built against a wall which did not appear to me 
above ten feet high. I could see that from the window of my 
first floor, it would be very easy to descend by the aid of a 
cord, into the neighbouring garden. Rosambert overwhelmed me 
with joy, when he informed me that the adjoining garden belonged 
to the convent; he afterwards showed me, that in seeking for 
what was useful, he had not neglected what was agreeable. A 
pianoforte was near my window; the instrument was placed in such 
a manner, that while playing upon it, I could see everything 
which was done in the garden of the convent. I was greatly 
afflicted at the departure of Rosambert, when he told me that we 
should be deprived of the pleasure of seeing each other, while I 
remained concealed in this house. He convinced me that the 
Marchioness would plant her people to watch all his motions, and 
that my retreat would be quickly discovered, if he had the 
imprudence to visit me. We agreed, however, to correspond, 
through the medium of the post office, and that to prevent 
discovery, I would direct to M. de St. Aubin, one of his 
particular friends.

Those who guess that I could sleep during this night, will be 
greatly deceived, if they attribute it to anything but the 
impatience, at the same time both painful and pleasant, caused 
by my contiguity to Sophia. I thought of my dear Adelaide, who 
for more than a month had been separated from her fair friend, 
and had not the consolation to see her brother. Alas! I thought 
of the Baron, to whom my flight would cause the most rankling 
inquietude, of the Baron who might accuse me of indifference and 
cruelty but love, love, more powerful than nature, stifled my 
remorse. Could I renounce the happiness of again seeing my 
pretty cousin? Could I return to an angry father, to expose my 
fair mistress to the danger of an eternal separation?

At day-break, I went and stood sentinel at my window, and 
arranged the Venetian blinds so that I could see without being 
seen. It was necessary that I should avoid the sight of Madame 
Munich, who, having formerly admired me in my Amazonian habit, 
might perhaps recognise me in spite of my new disguise. A range 
of chambers were before me at about fifty paces distant. Out of 
so many rooms, which could be the one occupied by my Sophia? My 
eyes wandered, without ceasing, from one end of the building to 
the other, and knew not where to fix.

At seven in the morning I was obliged to quit my post. My hosts 
came to visit their new lodger, and brought with them their 
gardener's wife, who took upon herself the charge of Madame 
Firmin's domestic affairs. As to my cooking, the keeper of a 
neighbouring public-house, which was dignified with the name of 
"tavern," undertook to supply me regularly with three repasts 
for six francs per day. Mons. Fremont, the proprietor of the 
little pavilion which I occupied, was astonished at the 
arrangements which I took to be always alone. He very gallantly 
observed to me, that a young and handsome female ought not to 
pass her best days in retirement, that a servant of some 
understanding would answer my purpose better than the publican, 
at less expense, and be some company at the same time.

To these very just observations of Monsieur Fremont I replied 
that, disgusted with the world, I had chosen a detached 
residence in a retired place on purpose to live absolutely 
alone.

My hosts left me, much hurt, they said, that so amiable a young 
person had taken the violent resolution of burying herself 
alive. In the meantime, the gardener's wife began to perform her 
domestic offices, but not having finished them when I wanted her 
absent, I sent her into my chamber, to put everything in order, 
and leave me quiet.

As soon as I was alone, I seated myself behind the Venetian 
blinds, and perceived several young ladies walking in the 
garden, but Sophia was not with them. I saw them run, dance, and 
amuse themselves with the little sports which are invented by 
peaceful innocence.

"How pretty are these young girls!" I said to myself; but, alas! 
My Sophia was not amongst them. If I could attract them towards 
my window, might not my Sophia be induced to join her 
companions. Soft music has a wonderful effect on an amorous 
heart! Sophia will come! No doubt I shall see her! She will 
recognise the voice of her lover!
I sat down at the piano, and sung, to an ancient air, these 
couplets, which my love inspired:

Young beauties, I crave 
Your sports you would leave; 
Haste-haste on the wing, 
My charmer to bring!

The most lovely and fair, 
Who has sworn to be mine, 
Where is she? Where does she repair? 
Young beauties! Ah, show me the maiden divine!

Show me the one on whom I call, 
The one my eyes now seek in vain 
I cannot speak my cruel pain! 
The fears that this sad heart appal!

The modestest-the fairest she- 
That one who gave to me her vow! 
Where is she?-Let me see her now! 
Young beauties!-bring my fair to me!

I accompanied the words with my pianoforte, at the first sounds 
of which the lasses ran under my window. I had finished the 
second couplet, when I saw two women approach, whose costume 
alarmed me. One of them, who was old, grumbled at the amiable 
young folks who were listening to my song. "Oh, let us leave 
these children to amuse themselves!" said the younger one. I 
thought I recognised her; she was both young and handsome.

"There," she said, "the music has ceased at our approach, it 
seems as if our very look was terrific to pleasure. Let us go 
in, sister, and leave the children to play, as their time for 
recreation is so short, and, besides, they have not the 
satisfaction to hear it every day. These airs are out of my line 
and, as to the execution, I should fall very far below it. Let 
them amuse themselves."

When the two ladies were at a sufficient distance, I continued:"

The rapture of a nuptial vow 
Ye also in your turn shall prove; 
Shall know what 'tis to fondly love, 
And suffer as I suffer now!

The tend'rest and the prettiest she- 
That one who gave to me her vow! 
Young beauties!-fly and seek her now, 
And deign to speak to her of me!

Tell, that till her again I view, 
My life is but one scene of grief; 
That I shall die without relief, 
Without I find-and find her true!

Most pleasing -most adored is she, 
That maid who gave to me her vow! 
Young beauties! -fly and seek her now, 
And deign, oh, deign to speak of me!

They listened to me with attention, and applauded me with 
transport; but, alas! Sophia, my Sophia was not with them! 
Despairing to see her, I quitted the instrument, and stood up, 
sad and pensive, behind the blinds. At length I perceived-I 
thought I had a glimpse-A young lady was walking alone in a 
shaded path, which reached under my windows. I sung this last 
couplet:

Within those shades is that my love, 
Who walks along so sadly sighing? 
When from pursuit her love is flying, 
So mourns the turtle dove.

My heart assures me it is she, 
Who gave, and always kept her vow; 
Young beauties!-fly and seek her now, 
And bring-restore her back to me!

I could only see the back of the young lady. That charming 
figure must be hers! That retired and shaded path must be the 
one where I have heard Adelaide say she went to bemoan the first 
impulses of her unhappy love. Ah, Sophia! It is thee! It is 
thee, without doubt! Oh, come a little nearer! Thou goest 
farther from me! Come back! Come by here! Turn towards thy 
lover! Show me thy much-loved countenance!

At this moment, a cursed bell sounded the signal for retreat; 
all the young ladies left the garden, and my cherished hopes 
were thus ravished from me.

At seven in the evening of the following day, the same young 
lady came to the same place, and I, concealed behind the blinds, 
watched her with great anxiety. Her slow and measured steps 
announced the melancholy of her mind; she seemed to dislike the 
light and open parts of the garden, and sought this solitary 
walk, which was the most shady in the place. Oh! Thou who 
inspirest me with so tender an interest, my heart tells me that 
I behold in thee the object of its adoration! But if my feelings 
deceive me! If it is possible that thou art not my Sophia! I am 
at least sure that thou lowest, and art separated from the 
object of thine affections!

I again sung the same couplet, and the lasses ran towards the 
window as before; but she whom I called heard me not. What was I 
to do to attract Sophia, and remove her companions? If I 
continued singing, the young girls would remain, and my pretty 
cousin, whose mind was pre-occupied, would not come. I must be 
silent; I must watch with an impatient eye the steps of my 
charming pensive maid, and must wait in expectation.

As soon as I was silent, the young girls dispersed in the 
garden. Concealed by my blinds, and kneeling down in the 
balcony, I never lost sight of the interesting young lady, who 
continued the same melancholy step.-At length she came near. I 
saw her-'twas she!-rather pale, somewhat changed, but still so 
lovely! She was yet too far off for me to risk making any sign; 
but I indulged myself in the pleasing intoxication the sight 
afforded, until the bell sounded, and gave the cursed signal for 
retreat.

The boarders had already left the garden; Sophia followed them 
in her slow and pensive manner. I was rendered desperate at 
seeing the opportunity escape without speaking to her, I could 
no longer restrain my impatience; I pulled my blind back with 
one hand, and with the other, threw her portrait at my pretty 
cousin; it fell upon her shoulder. She recognised the miniature, 
and in the excess of her surprise, stopped and cast a 
scrutinising eye around her; this moment appeared decisive. Too 
much infatuated to be prudent, I lifted my blind. Sophia beheld 
a woman at the window of the pavilion, whose features struck 
her; she advanced some steps, pronounced my name, and fainted.

At this critical instant, my purveyor rapped at the door; I 
cried out that I was not hungry, and without considering the 
serious consequences which might follow my rashness, and 
impelled by an involuntary paroxysm, I sprung from the window 
into the garden of the convent. Happily for me there was no one 
in it but Sophia, and although a little stunned by my perilous 
leap, I ran to the shaded path, and threw myself at her feet. My 
kisses soon brought her to her senses.

"Ah, my dear Faublas, what a moment is this! But alas! What have 
you done? You have jumped from the window, are you not hurt?

"No, my Sophia! No."

"But if they should see you-How can you re-enter the pavilion? 
We are both lost! Tell me sincerely, Faublas, are you not hurt?

"No, my Sophia! No!-I will find some means of getting to my 
chamber."

"Will you quit me already?"

"Oh, my pretty cousin, if you knew how I have suffered!"

"And, Oh, Faublas, you have no idea what I have gone through."

As she spoke to me, we heard the air ring with the name of de 
Pontis, which several women repeated in a squeaking voice. I 
confess that I was alarmed; I threw myself flat upon my belly 
behind a bush. Sophia, to whom fear had given strength, flew 
towards those who came to seek her.

"Did you not hear the bell, mademoiselle? Must one run after you 
every evening?" said Madame Munich to her, in an angry tone. 
Some nuns, who had accompanied the gouvernante, grumbled also at 
my pretty cousin, and followed her out of the garden, shutting 
the gate after them. I found myself entirely alone, but much 
embarrassed.

When Sophia was gone, I found myself in pain all over, in 
consequence, no doubt, of the violent shock I had given myself. 
But this was not what rendered me the most uneasy; it was the 
question of regaining my chamber. I could not attempt to scale 
the wall until it was completely dark, and everyone in the 
convent asleep; which circumstances requiring me to wait for the 
proper time of escaping, I took the precaution of hiding myself. 
An old chestnut tree, whose branches came down low, and whose 
leaves were very thick, afforded me a more secure than 
convenient asylum; but how was I to mount the tree in the 
equipage with which I was encumbered? I resolved to take off my 
petticoats and roll them tight together, then slipping behind 
the trees towards my window, I threw them into my chamber. After 
that, I returned to the chestnut tree, which I presently climbed 
up, but its rough bark made long rents in the slight drawers 
with which my thighs were rather incommoded than covered.

I remained there three hours, in hopes that the moon, already 
shaded by some thick clouds, would withdraw from me her 
troublesome light. Nevertheless, about nine o'clock, the 
profound calm which reigned around, emboldened me to descend. It 
was in vain that I endeavoured to scale the wall of my pavilion, 
as it had been recently rough-cast, and no places were left to 
afford me a hold. When I had climbed a few inches, and wished, 
with my hands painfully grappling, to reach still further, my 
feet remained hanging; I no longer found a place to catch them 
in, and was obliged to fall down.

I devoted more than half-an-hour to this rough exercise, but at 
length my courage abandoned me with my strength. With my fingers 
bleeding and my body scratched, I laid down on the ground, and 
gave myself up to the most uncomfortable reflections. What 
should I do when the morning, which would quickly arrive, should 
exhibit to the nuns a man in their garden? A man; for I had no 
longer any petticoats, and my slender drawers were so torn that 
my sex would be betrayed, and the women, in their fright, would 
go and fetch assistance; Madame Munich would recognise me, and I 
should fall into the hands of a father, severe and jealous of 
his authority; the Baron would again shut me up, and snatch me 
for ever from Sophia, from Sophia cruelly compromised, and 
perhaps dishonoured disgraced! This horrible idea redoubled my 
despair, when I heard a creaking noise, similar to what is 
produced when one is opening a gate by gentle degrees.

I retreated to my protecting chestnut tree, and reached its top 
at the expense of my poor drawers, which hung in shreds. After 
some minutes' silence, a slight noise struck my ear; a female, 
whose remarkable costume I was enabled to distinguish by the 
light of the moon, advanced with cautious steps under the shaded 
walk, looking around on every side. At the same instant I 
perceived a young man on the coping of the wall, from which he 
descended with an agility which surprised me. He glided behind 
the trees, towards the retired path, and joined her who was 
waiting for him. They both sat down at the foot of the chestnut 
tree, where I continued motionless and attentive. I heard them 
mutually congratulate each other on the success of their daring 
enterprise, make the most tender protestations, mingle their 
sighs, and accompany, by those soft epithets which are sacred to 
love, their names, which they repeated several times. I 
recognised in the lover the only heir of an illustrious house. 
For his real name, which I must keep sacred, permit me to 
substitute that of Derneval. The fair one was not one of the 
boarders! She was not merely a lady who lodged in the convent! 
It was-shall I say it? It was a nun! It was Dorothea! Oh, love! 
What noble families hast thou united in these two persons! But 
what a time and what a place hast thou chosen! It is true then, 
that thou penetratest sometimes those mansions of peace, wherein 
they have sworn an eternal hatred towards thee! It is true then, 
that thou hast altars everywhere! I saw the pious and happy 
couple, warmed with ardent zeal in thy service, prepare for 
their devotions, and offer to thy divinity, beneath the shade of 
a tree, the most fervent and heartfelt sacrifice.

Since Derneval had entered voluntarily into the garden, and 
testified no uneasiness as to the means of getting out, he must 
have a sure retreat, and I could compel him to let me depart 
with him. This reflection, so simple, presented itself all at 
once to my mind; and I waited for no other. I seized the 
extremity of that which appeared to me the longest and most 
flexible branch; I sprung with it, the branch bent, and though 
it bore me within a little distance of the ground, I fell with 
some weight. At the noise of my fall, and the sudden apparition 
of so grotesque a figure as mine, Dorothea shrieked out; 
Derneval jumped up abruptly, seized me by the arm, and instantly 
presented the mouth of a pistol to my breast.

"Oh! Do not kill him!" cried Dorothea, in a faltering voice. I 
looked tranquilly in the face of my assailant, and said to him 
in a calm tone: "I fear nothing, Monsieur; I am certain that 
Derneval is not an assassin; but be you also tranquil, I will 
not betray your fortunate loves."

While I spoke, Derneval looked close at me, at first he was 
deceived by my female head dress and little white jacket, but my 
tattered drawers attracted also his attention, they being of 
fine cloth, and setting tight to certain parts of my body, 
excited in him the most terrible suspicions.

"Is this a woman?" he cried, and with a rapid stroke of his hand 
he satisfied his doubts; and as soon as he was certain of my 
sex: "Amphibious creature! You shall tell me who you are!!
`	"I am a lover like yourself, Derneval."

"A lover of whom?"

"Of the most charming and virtuous girl in the convent."

"What is her name, Monsieur?"

I looked stedfastly at both of them. "I know your names, but I 
have not asked them. Let it suffice you, Derneval, to know I am 
a gentlemen."

"You are a gentleman!"

"I ask but a moment, Monsieur."

He returned his pistol into his pocket, and while he was 
rectifying a certain part of his dress, which was very much out 
of order, Dorothea, who had hitherto been occupied in adjusting 
herself, regarded me with such a fixed attention, that I thought 
it was boldness. Her lover returned to me, saying, "Monsieur, 
whoever may be your mistress, you love her apparently, as much 
as I adore mine: the death of one of us must ensure the other an 
eternal secrecy."

"Let us go out together, Derneval, I am ready to satisfy you."

"And do you think I will suffer it?" interrupted Dorothea, 
throwing her arms round the neck of her lover. "My dear 
Derneval, and you, M. de Faublas-"

"De Faublas! Who told you so?"

"I recognise you; you are the Chevalier de Faublas! You are the 
living portrait of Adelaide! I have seen you sometimes in the 
conference room; you came there to inquire after your sister; 
your sister never went there without that pretty girl, 
Mademoiselle de Pontis. One day I surprised you kissing her 
hand. Ah, it's Mademoiselle de Pontis that you love! It was you 
who sung yesterday that air, of which I recollect the burden:

La plus modest et la plus belle, 
Celle-la m' a donne sa foi.
The modestest, the fairest she, 
The one whose faith is pledged to me.

"Do you remember yesterday, one of your ladies passed with me 
near your pavilion; you must have heard her scold our young 
ladies, who were listening to you, you must have heard me excuse 
them. It was you, Chevalier, who sang that rondeau! It was 
Mademoiselle de Pontis to whom you sang?-Derneval! Faublas!" she 
continued, uniting our hands in her own, "the similarity of your 
adventures should inspire you with equal confidence, you ought 
to find in each other a discreet companion, a faithful friend, 
yet you are going to destroy each other, and Sophia and Dorothea 
will presently be reduced to weep their lovers."

"Monsieur de Faubias, swear to me an inviolable secrecy."

"I swear by Sophia."

"And I by Dorothea," cried Derneval. We flew into each other's 
arms, and this reciprocal embrace was the pledge of the 
fraternity we promised ourselves.

The two lovers listened patiently to a recital of the events 
which had brought me into the place where I had surprised them; 
after which, Derneval said to me: the moon is gradually 
retiring, we will leave here the moment the storm, which is now 
gathering, shall break forth: permit Dorothea and myself to 
leave you alone for a moment.

The moment was long. Tired of waiting, I fell asleep at the foot 
of the tree where I had fallen. When I awoke, the clouds were 
rent by rapid lightning, the thunder rolled most dreadfully, and 
the rain poured down in torrents. I rose and was surprised at 
seeing nothing of Derneval. I advanced with anxiety under the 
shaded path on the side they had taken to retire. How abstracted 
are the minds of lovers! How pre-occupied with their passion! 
Whilst the elements appeared ready to come in contact, Derneval 
and Dorothea were amusing themselves with trifles.

"The heavens are on fire," said Derneval to me; "they may 
discover us perhaps by the flashes of lightning, we must not go 
yet."

"You appear at your ease, Derneval! I am almost naked!"

"Well, my friend, the rain has soaked me also!"

"Ah! Dorothea is with you."

I retired, overwhelmed with melancholy. Half an hour after, I 
returned to remind him that the thunder had ceased, and that the 
profound darkness favoured our retreat. He at length bade adieu 
to Dorothea.

"Happy lovers," I said to them, "have pity on a loving couple! 
Ah Dorothea! Ah! You, who know how sweet it is to see one's 
love, you are ignorant, without doubt, how dreadful it is to be 
separated! Ah show me my Sophia, 'tis in your power to do it."

Derneval took me by the hand: "Dorothea esteems you, she loves 
Mademoiselle de Pontis, we are brothers: you shall see Sophia, 
you shall see her."

"The next night, my dear companion?"

"No; our imprudence this happy night must not be repeated. I 
tremble lest I should expose Dorothea; you would not injure 
Sophia, Chevalier; we only see each other about twice in each 
week, and we always choose either a dark or rainy night for our 
rendezvous. We have agreed upon a signal, by which we can never 
be deceived; and as to yourself, it will not be difficult to 
inform you, since you live in this pavilion. Therefore, make 
yourself easy; in three days or better, you shall see 
Mademoiselle de Pontis. Let us separate."

He conducted me to the part of the wall where his rope ladder 
was attached. We perceived, that from thence I could easily gain 
my pavilion, but could not reach my window. Derneval being very 
tall, made me mount his shoulders, and afterwards, supporting my 
feet with his hands, he pushed me vigorously, and enabled me to 
seize the cord of my blinds. As soon as he saw me safe into my 
chamber, he returned to his ladder, and scaled the wall in an 
instant.



X.

I was fatigued: I was hungry, and slept profoundly, in 
expectation of my breakfast, which arrived at six in the 
morning. They brought me at the same time a letter by the post, 
from Rosambert. He informed me, that on the evening of my 
elopement, my dear mother had dared to come to him, to enquire 
what had become of Madame Ducange. To console this disconsolate 
mother, and at the same time make her believe he had never known 
her daughter, he employed one of his victorious arguments, which 
never failed of their effect upon Dutour. He recommended me 
never to leave my pavilion, and to keep absolutely incognito. 
Madame de B*** had sought everywhere for me; her scouts were on 
the look out from morn till night in the neighbourhood of the 
convent: my father could not stir a step without being observed, 
and the Count's own house was invested even during the night.

"Unfortunate Marchioness!" cried I, "how have I deserted you! 
With what ingratitude have I repaid your generous and tender 
cares? Can I deem you criminal for your efforts to discover my 
retreat? If you did not seek me, you would love me less!" 

I drew from my pocket the portrait of the Vicomte de Florville 
and kissed it: I will not undertake to justify these 
reflections, which are, perhaps, misplaced, though just; and 
these emotions surely ought to be condemned, although 
involuntary: all I can say to the reader, to engage him to 
continue his indulgence towards me, is, that the moment after, 
my whole thoughts were devoted to Sophia.

She made her appearance about seven in the evening, accompanied 
by a woman whose dress at first alarmed me, but whom I soon 
recognised to be Dorothea. They both passed under my window. 
Could Dorothea look handsome by the side of Sophia, who shone 
superior to all her companions, like a rose among other flowers? 
I could not moderate my eagerness on seeing them so near me. 
They heard the rattling of my blinds, which I drew up: their 
prompt retreat checked my imprudence, and made me repent it. 
They had, however, the kindness to seat themselves in the 
covered walk, at a little distance, but opposite my pavilion. I 
could not doubt but they were talking of me, for my pretty 
cousin spoke with great animation, and continually looked 
towards my window. Presently I could perceive by the gestures of 
Dorothea, that she was pointing out to Sophia the part of the 
wall over which Derneval came into the garden. My heart was 
penetrated by the most lively sensations.

The next day, the same promenade, the same imprudence, the same 
chastisement, and the same pleasure.

In the meantime the sky was calm and serene. More impatient than 
a farmer, when two dry months have burned up his lands which 
have been sown to no purpose, I invoked the southern winds, and 
watched unceasingly the index of the barometer. On the third day 
some large clouds obscured the rays of the setting sun

 "We shall have rain to-night," said Dorothea, when passing 
under my window, and, "I think it will be fine," said my pretty 
cousin.

"Ah! Yes, very fine!" cried I, loud enough for them to hear me. 
The two friends, who were always afraid of my vivacity, made a 
prompt retreat. At twelve o'clock, precisely, Derneval was at 
the foot of my pavilion; he threw me a rope ladder, which I 
fixed to my window, and I quickly embraced my brother. We went 
to the covered walk; where my pretty cousin and her dear friend 
were waiting for us.

"There she is!" said Dorothea to me, "I deliver her to you with 
confidence, Monsieur de Faublas; she would not love you so much 
if you were not worthy of her! Ah! Believe me, have a respect 
for her timid youth; and prolong this delightful period of pure 
and virtuous love. May your union be innocent, since it can be 
so as yet, and may you be one day happily married-Alas! That 
hope is permitted you, my charming Sophia, for these odious 
walls have not enclosed you for ever-those frightful vows-" her 
sighs stopped her speech. Derneval, impatient to comfort her, 
led her away, and left me with Sophia.

May it be permitted me to repeat here what has been said a 
thousand times; true love is timid and respectful. To pass whole 
hours with an adored mistress; to hold on one's knees the most 
lovely of girls; to inhale her breath; to feel the palpitation 
of her heart, and to content oneself with quietly pressing her 
hand, nor take, without trembling, a kiss of her lips, or dare 
to solicit the more precious favours which seem reserved for a 
chosen lover: this is what young Faublas never believed 
possible; but it was a truth of which his pretty cousin 
convinced him. In the first rendezvous, when I approached 
Sophia, her soul purified mine.

C'est avec cette ardeur et ces voeux épurés, 
Que sans doute les dieux veulent être adorés. 
VOLTAIRE, Semiramis.
'Tis with such ardour, and with vows so pure, 
The Gods no doubt would have us them adore.

And Derneval, to whom the tenderness of Dorothea left nothing to 
desire, Derneval was, perhaps, less happy than myself. It was he 
this time who came to warn me that it was time to depart, for 
Aurora would not delay her appearance.

"Aurora! Why we have not been here an hour!"

"Come on, Chevalier, take courage, we shall see each other again 
in three days"

"Ah, Sophia! I always tremble lest Madame Munich-"

"My dear cousin, when my gouvernante has drank a few glasses of 
ratifia after supper, she thinks of nothing but sleep; I, who 
have the care of shutting the door of our little apartment-"

"Come on, the time flies," interrupted Dorothea, "we must not 
let the dawn of day surprise us here. Derneval, in three days; 
perhaps a little sooner-Alas! Perhaps a little later." 
	"Adieu, my Sophia! In three days; a little sooner, if it 
can be; but I entreat you never let it be longer. Adieu, my 
Sophia!"

For this time heaven listened to the vows of a lover. The 
weather being overcast, made me think, on the second day, that 
the rendezvous was come. My pretty cousin passed under my window 
at the usual time, and confirmed my hopes.

"The night will be rainy," she said.

"Oh, my Sophia!"

"She did not wait the end of my answer."

An hour after my purveyor rapped at the door. I was at supper, 
when a stranger delivered me a letter, and he said was ordered 
to wait for an answer. See what Rosambert wrote to me:

I fear I am going to be ill, my friend; I am this night in 
great grief! I really have not laughed for these two hours, 
so affected is my soul with what I have seen. Imagine that 
while waiting for the performance commencing at the 
theatre, I took a stroll in the gardens of the Luxembourg. 
A female, whose person was by no means disagreeable, was 
walking alone in a retired path. I happened to follow the 
pretty solitary. I passed behind two men, seated on a 
detached bench. One of them had a handkerchief in his hand: 
"Ah! The cruel one," he cried, "he has given me up 
voluntarily to the most mortal anxieties!" The voice of 
this man struck me. I had left, for a moment, the female, 
and retraced my steps to watch the two friends, who were 
too much occupied to perceive me. Him, Faublas, whom I 
heard complain, wept bitterly, it was your father! The 
other I think I have seen sometimes at your house: if it is 
not M. du Portail, it is very much like him. The Baron 
wept, my friend, and affected me so much, that I thought no 
more of the game I was in pursuit of, and ran away. I am 
come home to write to you. I have naturally, Faublas, a 
great friendship for pretty women, and I occasionally 
sacrifice a thousand little scruples to have the one I 
desire, but there are duties! I agree that Sophia merits 
that one should be guilty of some faults on her account; 
but your father wept! Reflect on that, Chevalier."

I bethought myself a moment, and then calling the stranger: 
"Monsieur, you will tell him who sent you, that I will give him 
an answer tomorrow."

I waited but for the striking of twelve to descend into the 
garden; my impatience, however, could not hasten the clock of 
the convent.

The two charming fair ones did not come until the appointed 
hour. As soon as Derneval was heard, Dorothea ran towards him. I 
was astonished to see them both return half-an-hour after.

"Chevalier," said Dorothea to me, "you have the secret of my 
life, I owe you the detailed history of my long and unfortunate 
amours." She commenced the affecting recital of them, which she 
could not finish without shedding a flood of tears.

"Console yourself, my dear Dorothea, you have not much longer to 
suffer in this prison; I shall shortly rescue you from this 
bondage, and thy unworthy parents shall groan at thy happiness, 
which they will not be able to prevent."

"And you, Chevalier," he continued with some warmth, "you have 
been so much affected by our misfortunes, you shall assist me in 
terminating them. I am thankful for the chance which gave me a 
friend, a brother in arms, and a companion like yourself. 
Animated by the same motives, exposed nearly to the same 
dangers, we found a mutual security in our intimate union. The 
enemies of Dorothea are yours; and I swear an eternal hatred to 
those of Sophia; evil be to those who hereafter interfere in our 
amours, thus mutually protected!"

"Derneval, I agree to it most cheerfully."

I embraced Dorothea, and Derneval embraced my lovely Sophia.

It was not four in the morning when I reentered my pavilion; 
nevertheless I went and rapped at the apartment of my landlord, 
to ask him for a proper key to admit me through all his gates, 
as I had business in the country, that my absence might perhaps 
be long, but that I should always keep the pavilion, in order, 
under all circumstances, to have a home at Paris.

I was at the door of Rosambert before five o'clock, but the 
servants would not disturb their master, who was still in bed. I 
made so much noise, that the boldest of them ventured to tell 
his master that a lady wished to speak to him.

"At this time in the morning?" he said; "let her go to the 
devil!-But stop-stop- is she pretty?"

"Yes, Monsieur."

"That is a different case! It is not too early! Let her come 
in!"

"Ah! It is Madame Firmin! And that is still better." He embraced 
me. "It appears that my letter-"

"Let me have some male attire, Rosambert, and I will go 
instantly to M. du Portail."

"I think you will find him, my friend. He is certainly returned, 
for it was him whom I saw with the Baron at Luxembourg. Indeed, 
the Baron has greatly affected me. He has been here ten times, 
but never found me at home, for I gave positive orders to be 
denied."

"Let me have some clothes, Rosambert."

He selected, from amongst his, those which were shortest, and I 
flew to M. du Portail, who was as much delighted as surprised to 
see me.

"Lovinski," I said, "I come to bring back the son of your 
friend. I deliver him into your hands unconditionally, deign 
only to be the mediator between my father and me. Will you have 
the goodness to conduct me to the Baron?"

"Instantly, my friend. What pleasure we shall give him! How 
happy my dear Baron will be!"

On the road, Lovinski told me that in consequence of wrong 
information he had made a useless journey to St. Petersburg. 
Though I felt for his misfortune, I could not help saying to 
myself: "As long as Dorliska is lost, they cannot make me marry 
her."

We arrived at my father's house. M. du Portail begged me to wait 
in the saloon, and to let him go alone to the Baron's bedroom. 
He told me it was a precaution he ought to take, not so much to 
engage the Baron to pardon me, as to prepare him by degrees for 
the pleasure of my return.

I was immediately surrounded by all the servants of the house, 
who were enraptured to see their young master returned; Jasmin, 
above all, could not contain his joy.

It was not two minutes that M. du Portail had been with the 
Baron, when I heard him cry out: "He is there, my friend!"

"Are you sure he is there? Let him come in then."

 I advanced towards the door, which opened with violence. My 
father, almost naked, rushed into the saloon; the servants 
retired out of respect. The Baron took me in his arms, and 
embraced me tenderly. I had not power to say a word. All at 
once, my father, as if he repented him of his tenderness, pushed 
me from him in an irresolute manner. I threw myself at his feet, 
and showed him a purse still full of gold: "You see, father, it 
is not through necessity that I am come back to you," I said. He 
again threw himself into my arms, and pressed me to his breast, 
embracing me twenty times, and watering my face with his tears.

"That was all I feared," he said, "my good friend! My dear son! 
Is it, then, true that thou lovest me? I could hardly believe it 
was thee, my dear Faublas; my dear son, thou knowest not what I 
have suffered! Thou wilt one day be a father thyself, and may 
thy children spare thee the grief thou hast caused me."

My father could easily perceive that my heart was full, and that 
my sobs stifled my voice. He wiped away my tears, which were 
blended with his own upon my face. "Be comforted, my dear 
child," he said; "thou hast left me, it is true, but the 
circumstances excuse thee. Thou hast left me several days in 
anxiety, but thou hast at length returned voluntarily. I was 
more uneasy than mistrustful; I have never doubted the goodness 
of thy heart. I love thee, perhaps, still more than I loved thee 
before! Who does not commit a fault at thy age? What young man 
has ever made amends for them better than thee? And what father 
is more happy than thine, or can boast of having a better son; 
Come on, my friend, the past is forgotten resume thy apartments, 
and enjoy all thy rights."

M. du Portail was sitting in an armchair, and beheld us with 
mingled sensations of pleasure and pain; we heard him repeat to 
himself the name of his daughter. The Baron, transported with 
joy, went to his friend, took him by the hand, and said: "She 
will be found! She will be found! And my son-" He did not finish 
his sentence, but turning towards me:

"Faublas, you will renounce Sophia!

"Sophia, father?"

"Yes, I require it of you, upon that point I am inflexible; you 
must not go to the convent!"

"To go no more to the convent!-"

"I repeat it to you, my son, you must promise me."

"Well, father, since you earnestly require it, I assure you I 
will go no more to the conference room."

"That is what I asked."

"Go, my friend, and repose yourself."

"But Adelaide!"

"Yes, she is in great anxiety." (He wrote for a moment.) Here, 
this is the name of the convent where she is now, run, run there 
directly, you have no idea of the pleasure it will give her."

I stepped up into my room to change my clothes, and went to see 
my sister, who lamented very much for her dear friend, of whose 
happiness she was ignorant.

After that, I went to Derneval, to whom I imparted my change of 
residence, and the reasons which had determined me. He praised 
my wise precautions, in preserving at all events, an asylum in 
the pavilion, and he promised me, that Dorothea should be 
instructed of it before the evening, and that she would not fail 
to inform Sophia.

"We will stop until the night after tomorrow, when we will go to 
the convent if it is fair. They know that rainy nights or dark 
nights are fine ones for us, on this point, lovers and 
travellers are never agreed."

The same evening, Justine came to me.

"Ah! How do you do, my dear Justine, it is a long time since we 
met alone!"

"Oh! Monsieur, it is fifty years since, but I beg you will first 
listen to what Madame the Marchioness.-"

Thou art always very pretty, my dear!"

"My mistress sent me, Monsieur."

"Does thy mistress already know that I am here?"

"Yes, this morning you entered by the great gate, and they came 
to tell her immediately but, Monsieur, do you remember our 
agreement?"

"What agreement do you mean?"

"You always forget; it is a long time since we determined, that 
whenever I came here on the business of my mistress, I should 
commence with my commission." 
	"Well! Make haste, despatch it then, Justine."

"My mistress was greatly surprised, and greatly afflicted at 
your flight-"

"But finish it then."

"Hey dey! Finish it yourself."

"What long prefaces you make, your mistress was greatly 
surprised! Do you think I have not guessed all that?"

"Stop a moment, Monsieur"

"Exordiums tire me at all times, but particularly just now. To 
the point, to the point, Justine."

"My mistress has charged me to announce that your secret amours-
"

"My secret amours! What does she mean? But my amours with her 
are not public-are not public, I hope?"

"You are right, yes, yes. She says that your amours are likely 
to produce serious consequences, she foresees a disagreeable 
event, which may discover to the Marquis the secret of your 
disguise."

"The secret of my disguise?"

"Then my fair mistress will be lost. Therefore she is 
disconsolate, and weeps and mourns. 'I should not care,' cries 
she sometimes, 'if I could but see him.'"

"Well! Where is she? Where must I go to her?"

"There! See how it is! Just now I could not finish business too 
soon! And now you want to quit me directly!"

"Ah! Justine! Excuse me; you told me that your mistress was 
unhappy! What then is this dreadful event which she fears?"

"I do not know, Monsieur, she will tell you herself at six 
tomorrow morning, at her milliner's; will you not come there?"

"Most certainly; I will not abandon the Marchioness in so 
critical a situation. Well, my dear, now your commission is 
ended."

It was so long that I had been deprived of the pleasure of 
seeing my pretty femme de chambre, that no one must be surprised 
at her remaining with me a quarter of an hour.

The situation of her mistress being so critical, it will be no 
matter of astonishment that I flew with eagerness to the 
appointed rendezvous at six the next morning.

As soon as I entered the boudoir, the Marchioness endeavoured to 
hide the handkerchief with which she was drying her eyes. 

"Monsieur," she said, "I hope you will excuse my importunities, 
I will not abuse your politeness, I beg but a moment's 
attention. I do not wish to remind you, Monsieur, of the 
important services I rendered you a few days since; I shall not 
speak of the extreme ingratitude with which you have repaid me. 
I will not ask you where you have spent the time which has 
passed from your flight up to your return to the Baron; I feel 
that it will no longer be satisfactory for me to enquire into 
your conduct; I perceive that my complaints, my reproaches, and 
my questions, will be equally useless. I have lost all my 
influence over your heart, but I still wish to preserve your 
esteem; we are both in danger, and I wish to convince you of it. 
Cast your eye with me over the past, for I mean to justify 
myself for my tenderness to you; and, provided that you still 
feel any friendship, do not interrupt me. Provided that you 
still retain any friendship for me, provided your life is safe, 
I shall behold with tranquility the danger to which my honour, 
and perhaps, my life, are exposed. You remember, without doubt, 
how accident seconded your address, and placed you in my bed. 
Alas! You have not forgotten at what a price your audacity was 
recompensed! But you will excuse my weakness, when you reflect 
that in my place no woman had been stronger than myself. The 
next day, however, when I came to reflect that a young man, whom 
I scarcely knew, possessed my heart and my person, I was much 
troubled. But a thousand brilliant qualities were united in this 
young man; his beauty astonished me, and I was charmed with his 
wit: he was not sixteen, and seemed to possess so much 
sensibility, that I flattered myself that I should captivate his 
tender youth, and model his docile heart; I even conceived an 
idea of attaching him eternally to myself. I spared nothing 
which might strengthen the bonds too precipitately formed, and I 
wished to render them indissoluble. All my hopes were cruelly 
deceived; I had a rival; I discovered it, unfortunately, too 
late; and made but useless efforts to bring back my unfaithful 
lover. Nevertheless, when he groaned in bondage I formed a 
design to deliver him. The excess of my imprudence proved the 
excess of my love; my rashness might, perhaps, restore me my 
lover: I examined no further; I executed the most daring 
enterprise ever attempted by woman! Alas! I executed it for the 
happiness of my rival, whom, without doubt, my perfidious lover 
has seen, and for whom he has ungratefully betrayed me? Ah! 
Pardon me, Monsieur, my grief distracts me: these are not the 
expressions-this is not what I wished to say. You have quitted 
me, Monsieur: another, in my place, would perhaps have hated 
you; but I request your esteem and your friendship. Oh! My 
friend!"

I threw myself at her knees, and wished to seize her hand, but 
she withdrew it.

"Your friendship, Monsieur, is very necessary to me. Get up, I 
pray, get up, and condescend to hear me out. Your first 
disguise, Monsieur, rendered new disguises necessary, and a 
thousand imprudences have followed the first. Some precautions 
have hitherto saved us; but we cannot long deceive a curious and 
malicious public. The accidents which have served us, will lose 
us; it requires but an indiscretion in our servants, an 
unforeseen interview, or a slip of the tongue. These are the 
reflections which I ought to have made long before this; but I 
have not been wise, because I thought myself happy. As long as I 
listened to the fond delusions of hope, I was proof against 
danger; my eyes were never open until the astonishing flight of 
Madame Ducange penetrated my heart with the frightful truth that 
I was not loved. Ah! Had I still remained in my error, I should 
have been exposed to the most imminent danger, without having 
perceived it."

The Marchioness shed a torrent of tears; I again threw myself at 
her knees: "Oh, my tender friend, I love you! I love you!"

"No, no, I will believe it no more, I cannot believe it. Get up, 
Monsieur, I pray you will get up, let me entreat you to listen 
to me. I foresee that our connection will be discovered, the 
multitude will call my amour a gallant adventure; and this 
adventure, if the details are found piquant, will make a 
terrible noise; it will be the talk of the day; the Marquis will 
know how he has been treated, he will know the-I ask a favour of 
you, Chevalier, one only favour. Study, from this time, to guard 
yourself against the vengeance of the Marquis; I shall await it 
courageously, when I alone am exposed to it. Go, Faublas, go, 
take my rival; may you be as happy as I am wretched!"

"What! Would you have me be guilty of a double baseness, to fly 
from the Marquis, and leave the most generous of women exposed 
to his fury? But wherefore these cruel alarms, my dear mamma?"

"They are too well founded, Monsieur. You shall know how I am 
embarrassed: A very simple event will shortly awaken the 
suspicions of the Marquis, and induce him to seek for an 
explanation, the result of which will be most unfortunate. You 
cannot forget, any more than myself the fatal adventure of the 
sofa; that odd scene which so mortified us both at the time. You 
appeared then to see me with pain in the power of another, and I 
was hurt to be obliged to share a benefit which seemed to me 
only due to a person beloved. I even refused the Marquis the 
exercise of his most incontestible right. My husband, who was 
too pressing, frequently quarrelled on that account. At this 
epoch our appointments were more frequent, and I did not always 
preserve, when in your arms, that presence of mind so necessary 
in a wife who does not cohabit with her husband. Indeed, 
Monsieur, it is more than three months since the Marquis has 
slept in my chamber, yet, nevertheless, I am I am enceinte.<20>

"Enceinte!" repeated I with a shout of joy; "Enceinte! Then I am 
a father! And shall I abandon you! My dear, dear mamma, I have 
always loved you, but you are now become more dear to me than 
ever."

"I am enceinte," repeated also the Marchioness, but in a tone so 
piteous that it cut me to the heart; unhappy mother, more 
unhappy child!

At these words she fell back beneath the alcove under which she 
was seated her eyes were closed, her head sunk gently on her 
breast but the regular pulsation of her bosom, the colour of her 
lips which still retained their vermilion hue, the freshness of 
her complexion which indicated the neglected toilette of the 
morning, and which, far from fading, was heightened by a 
peculiar glow; all announced to me that the state of weakness in 
which I saw her, would not be productive of fatal consequences. 
Not being able to restore her to life by my burning kisses, I 
precipitated myself into her arms: she started, but the most 
lively sensations were the result, and her lethargy was entirely 
relieved. She appeared at first to repulse me, but quickly 
returned my embraces, partook of my transports, and lavished on 
me the most endearing epithets.

"Behold me, exposed to fresh perfidies!" she said, as soon as 
she had recovered her senses. I reassured her by reiterated 
protestations of an eternal attachment. She testified, 
nevertheless, some distrust, when I told her that Madame 
[Ducange i.e. Faublas in disguise TN] took refuge in the house 
of Rosambert, but at length she appeared to believe me.

She told me, while loading me with the most tender caresses, 
that she thought herself in the second month of her progress 
towards multiplication, and I did not leave the boudoir without 
having fixed the day for seeing her there again.

For the two last hours I thought myself quite another man. What 
news the Marchioness had given me! How the idea of being a 
father flatters the self-love of youth! Faublas is no longer the 
idle boy, who plays with some trifling toy; who amuses himself 
with a new song, who elbows the men, and stares the women in the 
face; who dashes his curricle along, and passes like lightning 
by two old women gossiping at the corner of a street, frightens 
some coxcombs who are admiring a mountebank, and overturns some 
booby, whose attention is rivetted to a quack doctor's puff, 
posted on the wall; laughing all the time at the ridiculous 
accidents produced by his folly! No, the grave deportment of the 
Chevalier now announces a reasonable man; the noble boldness of 
his countenance is tempered with the joy which mantles on his 
cheek; and his dignified look, informs the passers by of the 
respect which they owe him; an air of dignity is spread over all 
his person, which seems to tell them they must respect the 
father of a family!

I hoped to find Rosambert at our house, because I longed to 
acquaint him with my happiness. Jasmin informed me that the 
Count had called, but could not wait long enough to see me. One 
of his uncles, to whom he was sole heir, had been attacked with 
a dangerous illness, and obliged him immediately to repair to an 
old castle in Normandy, of which this uncle was the lord. 
Rosambert could not tell Jasmin how soon he would return, but he 
begged me in case he should be detained, to come and spend a few 
days with him, if I had the courage, and my amours would permit 
me.

Oh, my pretty cousin! Thy remembrance occupied me the remainder 
of this day: and during the whole of that which followed it, a 
cloudy sky announced the night of rendezvous. I supped with the 
Baron; and then instead of retiring to my chamber, went out at 
the great gate. The porter at length gained by my liberality, 
did not see me go. I repaired to a by-street, at the back of the 
convent, where Derneval, accompanied by two faithful domestics, 
was already waiting for me. The rope-ladders were presently 
fixed, and I was soon in presence of her I adored.

I must acknowledge that she had to sustain severe trials. I 
dared not aspire to the entire possession of a mistress, as much 
honoured as loved, but I was desirous of obtaining more delicate 
favours than those I had hitherto received. It required all the 
virtue of Sophia to repel my enterprises, which were continually 
renewed. At four in the morning we took a parting kiss. Jasmin, 
provided with the key, waited my return, and gently opened the 
gate when he heard the appointed signal.

In this manner, for three months, I eluded the vigilance of the 
Baron, who slept soundly; while Sophia, having to combat with 
her own weakness and my increasing desires, astonished me by her 
long resistance, and compelled me to admire the happy effects of 
that virtue she unceasingly exercised, and which sent me home 
each morning dissatisfied, and rendered me every night more 
amorous of her; she doubled my punishment by confessing that so 
many privations would not appear to her less distressing than to 
me, were she not indemnified by the testimony of a pure 
conscience, and the esteem of a lover.

It was thus that during three months, I deceived the jealousy of 
Madame de B***, to whom my days were consecrated. The 
Marchioness met me very often at her milliner's, sometimes at 
her little house at Saint Cloud, and sometimes also, but seldom, 
at her own house.

My beautiful mistress, charmed with my zeal in her service, and 
perhaps astonished at my constancy, seemed ever fearful of 
exhausting my love. Her situation, which required so much 
management, furnished a variety of pretences for the refusals 
with which she sharpened my desires. It was weakness of stomach, 
megrims, sickness at heart, and a thousand other indispositions, 
all of which reminded me that she was a mother, and rendered her 
more interesting in my eyes. Astonished, nevertheless, to see 
her figure, always so slender, keep the same proportions, I 
waited impatiently the appearance of that prominence and 
rotundity which would insure my paternal character. To the 
pressing questions which I put to her from time to time, she 
replied that she might be deceived in a month; that many women 
attained the fourth and fifth before their pregnancy was 
visible; in fact, that her ill health, and other signs more 
certain, did not permit her to doubt of her situation.

Rosambert returned in the beginning of October. The death of his 
uncle had embarrassed him with riches; the Normans, naturally 
litigious, had cheated him, but the pretty girls of Caux had 
consoled him.

At the news of the Marchioness' pregnancy, the Count, in the 
first place, congratulated me; but when I detailed the singular 
circumstances which had accompanied the reluctant confidence she 
placed in me, he smiled and shook his head with an air of 
mistrust.

"My friend," he said, "all that is not entirely clear; I think 
the alarms of the Marchioness ought not to make you very uneasy, 
as her situation appears, at least, problematical. In the first 
place, if it is true, at the period of the adventure on the 
sofa, she had renounced M. de B***, and I think her very capable 
of such an effort, it is still less doubtful, but on the first 
signs of a treacherous fecundity, she would have arranged 
matters in such a manner, that her happy husband might attribute 
to himself all the honour of the master-piece, which should come 
to light eight months after. Thus you may conceive she has 
affected to be uneasy in order to appeal more forcibly to your 
compassionate heart. I do not think, my dear Faublas, that you 
have as yet become a father. How was it, I pray, that you were 
not informed of this germination until the end of two months. 
Did this circumstance, whether happy or unhappy, not interest 
you sufficiently for you to have been informed of it at the end 
of the first month? And then three months have fled since the 
confidence was reposed; three and two make five-five months 
revolved, and nothing appears yet! No trace of protuberance or 
rotundity! These are things, my friend, concerning which they 
cannot deceive a lover. I assure you, my dear Faublas, that the 
little chevalier is a child of the imagination. This fecundity 
is a hoax to bring you back, to retain you, and to interest you. 
The trick, however, is not a bad one, as is proved by the good 
success it has had."

Rosambert's observations appeared to have some weight in them, 
but it cost me a great deal to renounce the pleasing delusion in 
which I had indulged for three months. I promised I would 
neglect nothing which could develop the fact, even that night.

Justine came to tell me that I could call on her mistress at 
dusk, and I did not fail to be there. I had no need to knock at 
the gates, for they were open; the porter saw me, I mentioned 
Justine, and slipped behind a carriage just entering, and 
reached the private staircase.

Arrived at the boudoir, I opened the door, entered abruptly, and 
was not a little surprised to hear M. de B*** talking very loud 
in the Marchioness' bedroom. At that instant, Justine, 
frightened at the noise I had made in opening the door, rushed 
from the bedchamber into the boudoir.

"He will be gone in a moment," she said, pushing me out of the 
door. I instantly descended a few steps.

"See how this fool runs away when I speak," cried M. de B***, 
who pursued Justine. He entered the boudoir at the moment, when 
she held in one hand the candle, with which she lighted me, and 
having the other on the door, which was partly open. The artful 
wench, without replying a single word, shut the door, which she 
double locked; and then made a sign for me to wait for her. 

"Do not be afraid," she said, as soon as she was near to me, "he 
cannot come to us; the boudoir is, however, very unlucky for 
you."

At this moment Justine could not help laughing, and the Marquis 
heard her. "The impertinent hussy," he said, "is laughing at her 
own folly, and has shut the door in my face!" I did not hear the 
rest, for Justine, who had made some useless efforts to repress 
her gravity, began to laugh louder than before.

I took her in my arms: "You little rogue, you shall pay for your 
mistress!" I blew out the light, and seated her gently on the 
stairs. 

"Oh, Monsieur, what are you going to do? What, on the 
staircase?" Instead of replying, I wished to make the most of 
the fortunate moment but Justine, a little too lively, made a 
movement so sudden and unfortunate, that the candlestick, which 
was beside her, rolled from the top to the bottom of the stairs, 
making a great noise.

"What is that?" cried the Marquis, through the door. "Have you 
made a false step, Justine?"

"Oh, that is nothing, nothing at all," she cried, in a tremulous 
voice.

"Oh, nothing? he replied, "and you can scarcely speak!" During 
this short dialogue, Justine endeavoured to drive me from the 
post which I had occupied, but I considered the position I had 
taken so advantageous, that I was resolved to keep it. Although 
it appeared very hard to quit the field before I gained the 
victory, I was obliged, nevertheless, to do it.

The Marquis, having rung for his servants, ordered them to go 
and assist Justine, who had made a faux pas on the private 
stair. I had not a moment to lose. At the risk of breaking my 
neck twenty times, I descended the staircase in extreme 
disorder, and perceived a coach-house: I ran under it to hide 
myself, and put myself in order. I was preparing to leave my 
retreat and cross the yard, when the servants appeared at the 
foot of the grand staircase. They ran with their lights, and I 
had only time to open the door of a carriage and jump into it.

From whence I perceived that Justine spared those who came to 
seek her the half of their journey. She was carried back in 
triumph by the footmen, pleased to have found her safe and 
sound, after so terrible a fall as they supposed her to have 
had.

They ascended the grand staircase with shouts of joy, and I 
prepared to profit by this opportunity of escaping, but I was 
this evening destined to go through the most distressing yet 
ridiculous adventures. A sturdy groom all at once detached 
himself from the main body, and making his way towards the 
carriage in which I was concealed, placed his candle on the 
footboard. He then examined a carriage which stood next to mine, 
which was apparently the one the Marquis had come home in. After 
having looked about him he came back, took the candle from the 
footboard, blew it out, and seated himself in its place. "It 
cannot be long before she comes," he said to himself. As soon as 
the light, which mortified me most cruelly, was put out, I felt 
myself at ease. The night was so dark, and the fog was so thick, 
that nothing could be distinguished at four paces distant.

A quarter of an hour had gone by, and the person desired had not 
arrived. I was as impatient in my prison, as was my jailor, who 
sat whispering curses on the footboard.

At length I heard some noise in the yard; the groom heard it 
also, for he rose up and coughed gently; he was answered in the 
same manner, and someone advanced towards him and spoke in a low 
tone, "That is right," repeated he so loud that I could hear 
him: "it shall be in that," he added, striking the carriage I 
was in. After this, the intelligent groom who was left alone 
came and locked the door of my carriage, and that of the one 
which stood next to it. "Now," he said to himself, "I will light 
the reflector," and, as if he had been employed to torment me, 
he went in front of the carriage to light a very large lamp, 
which, at the bottom of this yard, more wide than deep, threw, 
in spite of the fog, a sufficient light to distinguish everyone 
who passed. This operation performed, he went away whistling.

You who read this perplexing adventure, if you love Faublas, 
have pity on him. They drove him from a boudoir; they disturbed 
him on the stairs; they pursued him under a coach house, they 
imprisoned him in a carriage; he is unhappy, he is disappointed, 
and, to heighten the evil, is supperless.

The agreeable savour of cooking reached me from the kitchen, and 
I was most feelingly convinced what a grievous thing it 
sometimes is to have a good appetite. My situation, however, was 
so critical, that even hunger was not the greatest evil I 
dreaded. The words, it shall be in that, caused me to make the 
most disagreeable reflections. Had I been discovered? Was the 
Marquis at length informed and preparing for vengeance?

O, my tutelary angel! O, my Sophia! It was to thee that I looked 
in this moment of peril. It is true that always operated upon by 
the object which is present, I have forgot thee for some hours; 
it is true that I was in misfortune when I offered thee my tardy 
homage; but do we honour those gods the less in our hearts, 
whose worship we sometimes neglect? and is it not uniformly when 
men are in tribulation, that they think of imploring their 
deities?

I had now plenty of time to think of my pretty cousin. I should 
soon have run away from such thoughts, perhaps, but I dared not 
attempt it, because the servants were continually crossing the 
yard, and the fatal reflector would have discovered all my 
motions, and because the fear that I bad been discovered and 
waylaid, made me prefer waiting for, rather than seeking my 
enemy.

The enemy did not come, and I ultimately went to sleep at my 
post. The noise of the great gate, which creaked on its hinges, 
waked me in the middle of the night. The porter, with a bunch of 
keys in his hand, fastened all the doors. It was this moment 
that I dreaded; it was now, without doubt, they would come and 
besiege me. I was presently eased of my fears, for the porter 
entered quietly into his lodge, a servant put out the lamp, and 
everyone went to bed.

The profound silence which now reigned throughout the mansion, 
gave me great confidence. It was clear they had no idea of me, 
and the words, "It shall be in that," merely alluded to a 
nocturnal adventure, of which I was to be the witness. 
Nevertheless, it was but being relieved of one embarrassment to 
fall into another. My prison would be the probable stage for the 
scene which was preparing. In so narrow a space, a third person 
would but incommode the actors, and I was, moreover, interested 
that those, whoever they might be, should not discover me. I 
would not, therefore, come out of the carriage too soon. I still 
perceived lights in some of the apartments, but there was no 
longer any in the yard, and the fog continued very thick. I 
could get out of the carriage without fearing to be perceived, 
and I effected it successfully. What pleasure I experienced when 
I felt my feet on the pavement of the court-yard! The young 
Parisian, who makes his first voyage at sea, does not feel more 
agreeable sensations on returning into harbour.

The intoxication of this first transport was soon dissipated. 
Since everything was fast, I had only procured myself a more 
extensive prison. I was cold, hungry, and overwhelmed with 
ennui; a clock kept sounding quarters, when I wished to be 
counting hours, fatiguing me with its monotonous noise, and 
promised me the longest of nights. The candles were put out by 
degrees in the apartments; everything remained in profound 
darkness, and yet no one appeared! My impatience was equal to my 
curiosity.

At length, about three o'clock, I heard some noise in the yard; 
a man, whose features I could not distinguish, advanced gently, 
and I as cautiously receded; he opened the door and mounted the 
carriage, and I, goaded by curiosity, seated myself modestly 
behind it.

After a quarter of an hour's silence, the unknown rapped his 
feet together, and, apostrophising all at once the night, the 
cold, the fog, and someone he called chienne,<21> got out of the 
carriage, and walked under the coach-house, and came near to me 
to perform a very impolite office. In a little time, he began to 
evince fresh signs of impatience. The chienne, he cried at each 
instant, and accompanied this exclamation with others more 
energetic. At length he added: "Why did this wench appoint to 
meet me here, and not let me go to her chamber as formerly. She 
pretends that Madame heard a noise in her room, and that her 
honour would be in danger. Her honour! That may be all very 
well; but is it a reason why I should stay here two hours 
swallowing the fog? Does not the hussy know that when a man is 
frozen-"

The complaint of the lover, and it may be easily guessed that he 
was one, was interrupted by a slight rustling, which attracted 
both his attention and mine. He rose and met the expected 
person, and reproached her delay. She justified herself by a 
kiss, imprinted with energy. The mode of reply gave apparent 
satisfaction to the lover, and he rejoined in the same manner, 
continuing the amusement for some time.

To the fear lest I should be discovered, I joined an anxious 
desire to know who the kind fair one was, whose language was at 
the same time, both soft and energetic; but the profound 
darkness, which had protected me against the lover, concealed 
the mistress from my curious eyes.

The happy couple, who understood each other so well without 
speaking, mounted the carriage.

Il en partit aussitôt des soupirs étoffés, des gemissments 
tendres, et la caisse, violemment poussée, fit en une minute 
vingt soubresauts, qui m' apprirent assez à quelle espece 
d'exercise se livraient ceux qui étaient dedans. Etrangement 
cahoté derriere, je songeais à quitter ma place, quand la 
voiture, remise par degres dans son parfait équilibre, 
m'announça que les athletes reprenaient haleine.

[From it came deep sighs and tender murmurings; and the 
carriage, violently agitated, rocked twenty times in a minute, 
that made it obvious to me what was happening inside. Jerked 
about behind it, I was about to move away, when the carriage 
gradually coming to rest, told me that that the athletes had got 
their breath back.]

"My dear La Jeunesse!" said a voice, whose soft accents I 
recognised.-Alas! And so deceitful-"my dear La Jeunesse!"

"My dear Justine," replied the booby; and I felt the carriage 
resume its motion.

I endeavoured to get down, a grain of sand under my foot made a 
crash. "My God," said Justine, "I hear a noise-look into the 
yard-we are surprised."

La Jeunesse descended with amazement, walked at random in the 
court, and pretended to feel about. Justine, more dead than 
alive, remained motionless in the carriage. I stepped in at the 
door: "It is I, my dear girl, I have heard everything; send La 
Jeunesse away presently, recollect that I want a lodging, and 
have had no supper."

"What, Monsieur de Faublas, are you there?"

"Yes, I was there, but send away La Jeunesse, get me a chamber, 
and give me some supper. I will tell you afterwards what has 
happened to me, what I have heard, and what you have done."

Having said this, I resumed my post. Jeunesse came back, and 
assured Justine she was deceived. She contended that she had 
heard a noise, and that someone had risen in the house. She had 
the cruelty to send her lover away, but he did not leave until 
he had embraced her several times, and made her give her word to 
meet him in a more convenient place the next night.

As soon as he was gone, Justine declared she knew not where to 
conduct me. "Monsieur," she said, "passes the night with the 
Marchioness."

"What, the Marquis?"

"He would not be refused."

"Ah, ah, but you have a chamber, Justine?"

"Yes, Monsieur, quite close to the chamber of Madame."

"Well, my dear, conduct me to your chamber. I have been fasting 
in the cold these seven hours, would you leave me to perish?"

"Oh, no, Monsieur de Faublas! Oh, surely not, but it is-if my 
mistress hears any noise?"

"Good! I will not make so much as La Jeunesse did the last 
time."

Justine took me by the hand, and we both went on tip-toe, 
listening and feeling, until we reached her chamber. Justine 
lighted a lamp, and hastened to make a fire. She did not dare to 
look me in the face, but her timid glances seemed to ask pardon, 
and I thought I could perceive on the arch-looking features of 
the fille de chambre, a certain confused air, which rendered her 
more interesting than ever. Oh, how often was I tempted to 
forgive her! What youth of seventeen is capable of bearing 
malice to a pretty girl of his own age? I could not doubt but La 
Jeunesse had been happy, but I had been so also; the question, 
then, was, which of us she esteemed the most. Yes, but to have a 
rival in the stables! To divide my pleasures with a groom! 
Nothing, in truth, but an idea equally distressing with the 
present, could enable me to refrain from committing an 
additional infidelity, in regard to the poor Marchioness, and a 
fresh injury to my Sophia.

The moment these delicate reflections had stifled my rising 
desires, I felt my hunger increase:

"Give me some supper, Justine."

"I have nothing, Monsieur de Faublas."

"What, nothing at all?"

"Nothing but two pots of sweetmeats in my closet."

"But two, Justine?"

"Here they are, I have preserved them for my best friends."

"In that case, it is La Jeunesse who has had the first of this. 
I regret I did not thrash him that day when he galloped after me 
over the bridge at Sevres."

"Ah, you gave him a stroke with a whip, which made his arm quite 
black!"

"I am no longer astonished at the interest you took about him at 
the time of that affair. But give me some bread, child."

"I have none-Not a mouthful."

"Not a crumb? And some drink?"

"Oh! I have plenty; here is a jugful of water."

Two pots of sweetmeats! 'twas a supper for a nun; 'twas healthy, 
but so light, that my stomach was not satisfied, and, by way of 
adding to my comfort, I was obliged to swallow a tumbler full of 
water, so cold, that it froze the palate of my mouth, and my 
inside. Justine appeared to feel for my distress. The fire did 
not burn well; she stirred it, and coaxed it continually. I was 
still cold. She buttoned my coat. My hat was not sufficient to 
keep my head warm; I was, therefore, obliged to entreat her to 
let me put on one of her night-caps. The wind came in through 
the crevices of the door; and she stuffed them with paper to 
protect me from it. She was indefatigable, not only in relieving 
my present wants, but in guarding against those which I might 
have; in fact, she lavished on me that minute and agreeable 
attention those little delicate cares and tender caresses with 
which a woman always loads you when she really intends to 
deceive you.

"Monsieur," at length said the artful Abigail, curious to know 
how I liked being on the watch at three in the morning, "I 
thought you would have had time to get out at the great gate, as 
I know you are so light and nimble! I forgot that the disorder 
you were in at the time would require a few minutes-"

I interrupted her, to detail everything which had happened to me 
from the moment I entered the house. When I mentioned the 
boudoir, she with difficulty restrained herself from laughing; 
the remembrance of her fall down the stairs was nearly making 
her blush; and a pretended look of pity appeared on her 
malicious countenance when I described my imprisonment in the 
carriage. But, when I came to the close of my recital, which I 
attempted to render poignant by some sarcasms, a sudden change 
took place in every feature: the poor girl cast down her eyes, 
turned aside her head, looked pale, and with her right hand 
counting one after another the fingers of her left, she 
ventured, with timidity, a few words in her own justification.

"I beg," Monsieur de Faublas, "you will lay no stress on what 
was done in the carriage; I know I was there."

"Then you were perfectly pleased with what passed there?"

"Certainly; but I committed no infidelity towards you."

"How! Are you sure of that, my dear?"

"To be sure; because I never left you for La Jeunesse: it was to 
him, on the contrary, that I was unfaithful, when I submitted to 
your embraces."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, Monsieur de Faublas, for you have only loved me a few 
months."

"And La Jeunesse?"

"More than two years; but I have preferred you from the moment I 
saw you. That was no reason, however, why I should break with 
him, because I can make him marry me."

"You have done right!"

"You laugh, Monsieur, but you may rest assured that he will 
marry me."

"I do not doubt it, Justine; he married you half an hour ago."

"I am wretched, Monsieur; I see you are angry with me, and my 
mistress, perhaps, will turn me away tomorrow."

"What! Do you think, Justine, that I shall tell her?"

"No, Monsieur, it is not that, but Madame is not satisfied with 
my fall downstairs; she is not to be duped. When I went in, the 
Marquis seemed to pity me; but the Marchioness looked cross at 
me. 'It serves her right,' she said dryly, 'she should have gone 
down at once, instead of amusing herself on the stairs.' She has 
said no more to me, because the Marquis has not left her, but 
she received what I did for her with a bad grace, and I am 
fearful that tomorrow-"

"If she turns you away, Justine, come to me, and I will find you 
a place, upon a certain condition. It is now five months that 
the Marchioness has pretended to be with child."

"Ah, Monsieur! I assure you-"

"Yes, what you have assured me several times; but you must not 
be in such a hurry to answer me: I shall know the truth sooner 
or later, and if you have not told it me, I shall abandon you."

"But if I tell you the truth?"

"Then you will have nothing to fear, I will not desert you. So, 
it is true, then, that your mistress is not pregnant?"

"She told you so, Monsieur, in order to work upon your feelings, 
and effect a reconciliation, and it seemed to give you so much 
pleasure, she could never make up her mind to undeceive you, and 
you would be wrong to desire it. All she has done was to please 
you."

"Yes, yes, Justine, if she turns you away, I will get you a 
place, and, in the meantime, take this."

I made her take the ten crowns which I presented her. "You had 
better lie down on my bed," she said.

"I can rest very well on this armchair, my dear."

Justine, however, insisted, but my unlucky stars prevailed. I 
refused, observing to her that she must be more fatigued than 
myself; that it was necessary for her to go to bed; and that the 
mattress would do for me, if she could dispense with it for a 
few hours.

The obliging Justine dragged her palliasse towards the 
fireplace, and put a mattress upon it: then, without undressing 
herself, laid down on her bed, which was greatly reduced by the 
division. She bade me good night, darted a tender glance at me, 
and heaved a deep sigh. I know not how it was, but I sighed too, 
in spite of myself. My imagination, always so lively, caused my 
feeble reason to stray. I should have yielded to the impulse of 
desire, but I all at once thought of Sophia. It is true that I 
remembered also the motion of the carriage! And, whatever the 
reason, instead of sharing Justine's bed, and reposing on her 
bosom, I threw myself on the mattress prepared for me. I put my 
head upon my arm, which served me for a pillow, and sunk into a 
profound sleep. I shall leave the reader to determine whether it 
was disgust which stifled desire or, for this once, whether the 
tender passion of love triumphed over my libertine inclinations.

I had not enjoyed the sweets of so necessary a repose above two 
hours, when I was awakened by the dreadful cry of "Fire!"I found 
myself in flames. I rose, rubbed my eyes, and it was Justine who 
cried out with all her strength. To bid her hold her tongue; to 
stifle with my hands, already cruelly burnt, the fire, which had 
already consumed the left skirt of my coat; to throw back into 
the chimney the flaming coals which had rolled to the mattress, 
and kindled that also, to snatch a jug of water from Justine's 
toilette; to throw the almost frozen contents on the paliasse 
and mattress; by a single stroke, to tear away the counterpane 
and sheets from Justine; toss the feather bed on one side, the 
mattress on the other, and to overturn the bedstead with my 
feet. All this was the affair of a moment: I did it quicker than 
you can read it.

In the meanwhile several persons, drawn by the cries of Justine, 
ran towards her chamber, and begged her to open the door. I was 
almost distracted on hearing the voice of my charming mistress 
and her spouse. Where could I hide myself? -There was no bed! No 
closet! I could see nothing but the chimney, and ran into that! 
And Justine brought a chair to assist me in climbing up.

"Open the door, Justine," cried the Marquis. She, holding the 
chair, answered that the fire was extinguished. "Never mind, 
open the door," replied the Marchioness, "or I will thrust it 
in."

Let me dress first", said Justine, still holding the chair "You 
shall dress yourself tomorrow," replied the furious master.

All the domestics had arrived. They were ordered to break open 
the door. At that instant I made a leap, and caught hold of a 
bar which crossed the chimney. Justine took away the chair, 
quickly flew to the door, opened it, and in they all rushed.

The chamber was filled with people, who, all in a breath, 
questioned, answered, commented, were frightened, comforted and 
congratulated each other, without understanding the merits of 
the case. The shrill voice of the Marquis was presently 
distinguished amidst the confusion:

"What an impertinent baggage to set my house on fire, to alarm 
us in this manner, and disturb the rest both of myself and her 
mistress."

While the Marquis was scolding, the Marchioness caused the 
mattress and paliasse, which had done all the mischief, to be 
thrown out of the window, and examined the room to see if there 
was further danger. "Let everyone retire," she said. The men 
obeyed immediately; but some of the women, more curious, 
perhaps, than zealous, offered their services to my charming 
mistress, who ordered them a second time to retire.

"How have you set this place on fire!" cried the Marquis, still 
in a rage.

"Stop a moment," said the Marchioness, "wait till they are 
gone."

"Zounds! Madame! And if they hear it, is it such a great 
mystery?"

"Well, Monsieur, but do you not see that she is trembling? And 
do you think that she would burn herself on purpose?"

"Ah, Madame! I see how it is with you and your Justine! You 
overlook everything! I tell you she is a fool; a hare-brained 
hussy; and, take my word for it, she will come to a bad end. 
Look at her! I have always observed in her physiognomy that she 
was somewhat deranged. Look at her countenance! Is there not 
something wild in it?"

"Come, Justine," interrupted the Marchioness, "inform us by what 
accident-"

"I was reading, Madame."

"A fine time of night to be reading!" cried the Marquis: "Must 
she not have been out of her senses?"

"I fell asleep, Madame," replied Justine, and the light, which I 
had not put out, was too near the mattress-"

"-And set it on fire," interrupted the Marquis: "a great 
miracle, truly! And, pray, what were you reading so late at 
night, miss?"

"I was reading, Monsieur, replied the subtle fille de chambre, a 
book called The Complete Physiognomist."

The Marquis seemed all at once appeased, and began to laugh: "It 
is The Perfect Physiognomist. Well, Justine, is it not a very 
amusing book?"

"Yes, Monsieur, very amusing; it is on that account I-"

"And where is the book?" demanded the Marquis.

After some moments' silence, Justine replied: "I cannot find it; 
it appears to be burnt."

"What! Burnt?" cried the Marquis: "My book burnt! Have you burnt 
my book!"

"Monsieur!"

"And how dared you take my books, miss? Who suffered you to take 
my books and burn them?"

"Monsieur," said the Marchioness, "you rave loud enough to 
distract my head?"

"And pray, Madame, is the impertinent slut to burn my books?

"And pray, Monsieur, cannot you buy another?"

"Buy another? Buy another, aye! What! You think, then, Madame, 
they are to be got like romances? There is not, perhaps, another 
copy in the world! And this fool has burnt it."

"Well, Monsieur," rejoined the Marchioness in a very lively 
manner, "if this book is burnt, and no other is to be found, you 
must overlook it, I see no great evil in it."

"Indeed! Madame Ignorance-Stop! For I must go-for I will tell 
you-and you, mademoiselle, I repeat to you, you are a fool! A 
thoughtless slut! An idiot! And it is long that I have 
discovered all that in your physiognomy!" said the Marquis, and 
left the room in a rage.

Squeezed into a chimney, which was both narrow and foul, forced 
to thrust my head and shoulders against one side, to stiffen my 
legs against the other, and for the greater safety, to strain my 
hands also firmly on each side, I found myself in the most 
uncomfortable situation, and began to be greatly fatigued. 
Nevertheless, I was obliged to have patience, as it was 
necessary that I should hear the matter finished, I therefore 
summoned up my strength, and continued to listen.

The Marchioness began: "You see he is gone! That is what I 
wished; and now we are left alone, I hope, mademoiselle, you 
will explain to me, satisfactorily, the reason of your fall 
downstairs in the evening; and also for the noise I have heard 
in your room for these two hours; and how do you think I am to 
believe this story about burning the book? I hope you will 
condescend to acquaint me why a fire was kindled in your 
bedroom."

"Madame!"

"Answer me, mademoiselle, you were not alone here!"

"Madame, I assure you-"

"Justine, you are going to tell me a falsehood."

"I was reading, as I told you."

"Tis false! Mademoiselle, the book you speak of is in my 
cabinet."

"Then I was at needlework, Madame, and talking to myself-but you 
cough, Madame; you are catching cold.

"Yes, I am catching cold, that is very true. I see that I cannot 
come at the truth to-night."

"I shall leave you, mademoiselle; tomorrow, I have no doubt, I 
shall succeed better." She was going out, but returned. "We 
must, for fear of a fresh accident, extinguish this fire 
entirely," she said.

She took, at the same time, a pot of water, and emptied it on 
the few embers remaining in the chimney. My mouth, my nose, and 
my eyes, were immediately asailed by a thick smoke, and I was 
nearly suffocated. My strength failed me, and I fell upon my 
feet. The Marchioness recoiled with terror. I came out of the 
chimney immediately; her fright gave way to astonishment, and we 
regarded each other in silence.
 
Illustration: Her fright gave way to astonishment, and we 
regarded each other in silence

"Mademoiselle," said the Marchioness, at length to Justine, 
"with a look which betrayed the violence of her anger, there was 
no one with you! And then, turning towards me, in a reproachful 
manner: Faublas! Faublas!"

"Justine threw herself on her knees before her mistress: Madame, 
I assure you-"

"What, mademoiselle, do you dare again-"

Whilst poor Justine was endeavouring to appease her mistress, I 
was occupied in contemplating her person, which was so agreeably 
exhibited. A single petticoat, scarcely fastened to her slender 
waist, afforded but a slight covering to those luxuriant charms 
which had so often fired my youthful imagination. They now 
delighted my ravished eyes, and called to mind the raptures I 
had experienced while embracing them. Her cap had fallen off, 
and the beautiful flowing honours of her head were scattered 
over her shoulders, which were whiter than alabaster, and fully 
exposed by the falling down of her chemise. Some of her silken 
tresses fell in wanton ringlets, and by their glossy hue of 
raven jet, forming a delightful contrast upon her ivory bosom, 
heightened its fascination. Oh, how charming she appeared! I 
gazed on her with ecstasy, and forgot the pretended pregnancy. I 
seized one of her hands, kissed it, and said:

"My dear mamma, appearances are often deceitful."

"Ah, Faublas! To whom have you sacrificed me!"

"To no one: I can explain everything in a word. Justine wished 
to assist me with her evidence."

"You are very audacious," said her mistress.

"Yes, you are right," she is very audacious, cried the Marquis 
de B***, who, tired of waiting for his wife, had come to fetch 
her.

The Marchioness blew out the light, and giving me a kiss on the 
forehead, said in a whisper: "Have a little patience, Faublas, 
and I will come back in an instant;" then, elevating her voice, 
and addressing herself to Justine: "Come, mademoiselle, come 
along with me." Justine obeyed with alacrity; the Marchioness 
opened the door, repulsed her husband, who was coming in, locked 
the door after her, and took away the key, leaving me once more 
in prison.

My slavery, however, appeared now more supportable, as I was at 
least permitted to indulge some agreeable expectations. My droll 
tribulations, so strangely varied, so cruelly prolonged during 
the whole night, were, without doubt, I thought, to be 
terminated; and the Marchioness, who would shortly return, could 
not refuse me the just indemnification for so many evils 
suffered on her account. This consolatory idea reanimated my 
spirits; I took a chair, the back of which I placed against the 
door, and, like a hunter on the watch, I waited for my prey.

Presently I heard a noise in the apartment of Monsieur and 
Madame de B***. She spoke quick and loud, and disputed in anger. 
I suspected that the Marchioness could not disembarrass herself 
of her husband, and had therefore determined to quarrel. I made 
sure that she would succeed in irritating him to such a degree 
as to oblige him to retire; but it turned out otherwise. After 
considerable debate, the Marchioness ran out of her chamber, and 
came towards the one I was in. "It is a very scandalous thing," 
she cried, in a rage; "do not follow me, Monsieur! Do not follow 
me!"

She had reached the end of the corridor, and was near to my 
prison, when her foot slipped, and she fell with such violence, 
that the key of Justine's room flew out of her hand and bounced 
against my door. My unfortunate mistress uttered a terrible cry. 
Her husband, who was at her heels, raised her up; several of her 
women ran to her assistance, and carried her to her chamber. A 
moment after I heard the Marquis exclaim that she was wounded. 
The servants were ordered to rise, the porter to open the gates, 
and a surgeon to be sent for.



XI.

Oh! How my heart beat at this awful moment! What uneasiness did 
the misfortune of Madame de B*** cause me! How mortifying to be 
thus shut up and unable to ascertain if her wound was dangerous, 
and her life threatened! These reflections only increased my 
impatience. In the midst of the flurry which such an accident 
must cause, in such a moment of trouble and agitation, would 
Justine be able to leave her mistress? Would she think of 
delivering me? The time was precious, for daylight began to 
appear. If I effected my escape, if I could return home, Jasmin 
could come here and bring me intelligence of her. It was, 
therefore, necessary that I should try all possible means to 
procure my liberty. The noise which they made in opening the 
large gate, informed me that one of the greatest obstacles was 
removed, and gave me hopes of surmounting all the rest. I 
attempted, but in vain, to draw the key, which laid in the 
passage, under the door. I then tried to remove the lock, and 
draw the screws which fastened it, but found that they were 
rivetted on the other side.

I examined the lock minutely, and was endeavouring to open it 
with my knife, when La Jeunesse, whose voice I recognised, said, 
in a gentle tone: "Is it you, Justine? I thought that you were 
with your mistress. Let me in, then." The opportunity was too 
good to be suffered to escape. I immediately determined what 
part to take, and to run some risk for the sake of liberty. I 
spoke very low, and counterfeiting as well as I could the voice 
of Justine, said, through the key-hole: "Is it you, La Jeunesse? 
Can you tell me how your mistress is?"

"Thy mistress is well, her skin was scarcely scratched; Monsieur 
came and told us that the surgeon said it was nothing. But how 
is it you did not know this? Let me in."

"I cannot, my dear friend; Madame has locked me in-Yes, you will 
find the key in the passage; look for it."

La Jeunesse looked and found the key; he opened the door and 
beheld me: "Ah! Mon Dieu! It is the devil!" he cried. I 
attempted to pass; he levelled a tremendous blow at me; I 
parried it, and returned it. The blow told well, and sent him 
reeling to the ground, with a great gash over his eye. I leaped 
over his carcass and rushed down the staircase; my enemy rose 
and pursued me, but I was the nimblest, because unhurt, and 
stimulated by a more urgent motive. I flew rapidly across the 
court, and had already escaped out of the gateway, when La 
Jeunesse, rendered more furious as he despaired of reaching me, 
roared out with all his might, "Stop thief!"

I had shot through one street, and fear gave me wings. La 
Jeunesse, followed by some other domestics, was still pursuing 
me, but at a great distance. I thought myself saved, when all at 
once, on turning a corner, I found myself among a patrol of the 
guard of Paris. The sergeant arrested me on the spot, as my 
appearance was suspicious. Indeed, it is impossible to imagine a 
stranger figure than I presented. I had been occupied by so many 
cares during the latter part of this night, that I did not, 
until this moment, reflect upon the grotesque sight I must have 
been when running through the streets. A part of my coat was 
burnt, another blackened with soot, my whole person disfigured 
with smoke, and lastly, my head wrapped up in Justine's night 
cap; therefore, I could be no longer astonished that La Jeunesse 
took me for the devil.

Notwithstanding the surprise which my curious costume 
occasioned, even in myself, I assured the sergeant that I was an 
honest man. He appeared very little disposed to take my word, 
and La Jeunesse arrived, panting for breath. All the other 
servants surrounded me, and cried, "Stop him! He is a villain! A 
robber! Bring him to our house." I demanded that they would take 
me before the commissary of the district, and my request was so 
just that it was immediately complied with.

The commissary expected it was some business of profit, but when 
he found it was only a criminal affair, was angry at being 
awakened so early in the morning.

"Who are you, my friend?" he said.

"I am the Chevalier de Faublas, your humble servant, Monsieur."

"Ah, pardon me, Monsieur, where do you live?"

"With my father, the Baron de Faublas, Rue de l'Université."

"And what is your occupation?"

"Like many other young men of family, I have none."

"From whence do you come?"

"Can you not dispense with my answering that question?"

"I cannot. Where do you come from?"

"Out of a chimney."

"These are improper jokes, Monsieur, for which you will pay 
dear."

"No, Monsieur, they are truths, confirmed by my clothes: look at 
them."

"Where were you going?"

"To bed."

"A fine answer indeed! Where are the complainants?"

La Jeunesse immediately presented himself.

"What is your name, my friend?" said the magistrate.

I replied for him, "La Jeunesse."

"Pardon me, Monsieur," said the man of law, "I spoke to this 
youth. Where do you lodge, my friend?"

"In the heart of one of the Marchioness' maids," I replied 
immediately.

"It is not you whom I interrogate, Monsieur!" Then turning 
towards La Jeunesse, "What is your employment, my friend?"

"He kisses young women in carriages," I replied.

The commissary stamped his foot on the ground with anger, La 
Jeunesse looked at me with astonishment: the poor youth was so 
confounded, that he knew not how to reply to the questions with 
which our city judge overwhelmed him. He deposed, however, that 
he found me locked up with Mademoiselle Justine in a bedroom, in 
the house of the Marquis de B***; that I broke open a lock, and 
in coming out I had apostrophised him, the complainant, with a 
terrible blow on the eye.

The man of law, seeing the case assume a serious aspect, bade me 
sit down a moment. After speaking to his clerk in a low tone for 
a little time, I saw the Marquis de B*** enter the office. He 
came, he said, to inform him that a robber- "Ah! It is M. du 
Portail!"

COMMISSARY. Monsieur du Portail! That is not the name the 
gentleman bade us write down.

MARQUIS (laughing.) Pardon me, Monsieur du Portail? But what a 
condition do I see you in-how is it? What's the matter?

FAUBLAS (whispering in the ear of the Marquis.) I have had a 
singular adventure, which I will relate to you with pleasure, 
but this is not a proper time.

MARQUIS (staring very hard at him.) Yes, Yes, but how the devil 
came you dressed in this manner?

COMMISSARY. Monsieur the Marquis, I will read you the 
deposition.

FAUBLAS. It is unnecessary (Then, in a whisper to the Marquis,) 
I will tell you all that.

MARQUIS (looking at him with an air of uncertainty.) Yes, yes, 
but let us see the deposition.

The Commissary began to read, and I drew the Marquis into a 
corner of the office, and pretending to speak very low. "Pray 
take me from this place immediately," I said, "you know how my 
father confines me! If he should ever know!-if the Commissary 
should send for him!"

MARQUIS (aloud.) What, is your father at length returned from 
Russia?

FAUBLAS. Yes.

MARQUIS. Zounds! It is very singular that he is never to be 
found, I have been twenty times to the Arsenal.

COMMISSARY. But Monsieur does not reside at the Arsenal.

MARQUIS. Monsieur du Portail not live at the Arsenal?

COMMISSARY. Monsieur does not call himself du Portail.

MARQUIS. Does not call himself du Portail? That is very 
singular! Ha! Ha!

COMMISSARY. You may laugh, sir, as much as you please, but 
Monsieur declared to us that he lived in Rue de l'Université, 
and calls himself de Faublas.

MARQUIS (recoiling with astonishment.) What! How! De Faublas?

FAUBLAS (in the ear of the Marquis.) Hush! Hush! I have given 
that name, as 'tis very disagreeable to expose one's own before 
a magistrate.

MARQUIS. I understand you. Pray how is mademoiselle your sister, 
Monsieur?

FAUBLAS (in a tone as if hurt by mention of her name.) Very 
well, sir.

MARQUIS. When I met you at the opera one evening, you told me 
you did not know this M. de Faublas.

FAUBLAS. Oh! That was because you spoke of the son! Who is a bad 
subject-but the father is a good man.

MARQUIS. But tell me how it is that my people have been in 
pursuit of you.

COMMISSARY. Monsieur the Marquis, hear the deposition, it is 
very serious.

MARQUIS. Read on, I am listening to you.

FAUBLAS (to the Marquis.) Much time will be lost.

MARQUIS. It will not be long.

FAUBLAS. But I will relate the whole to you myself.

MARQUIS. Undoubtedly, but let us see what my servants have 
deposed You may make yourself easy, I am well aware you are not 
a thief.

The Commissary read the deposition all through, the Marquis 
ordered La Jeunesse, who was without along with the other 
servants, to be called in. He confirmed everything he had said, 
and entered into fresh details necessary to clear up certain 
facts which I could not deny.

MARQUIS. Monsieur shut up in Justine's chamber! How the devil 
could that be! I went in there myself and did not see him.

FAUBLAS. You can prove that I was not there, Monsieur the 
Marquis.

MARQUIS. And my wife entered there also, and even remained there 
a considerable time! She did not see you either, Monsieur.

FAUBLAS. Another proof that I was not there! (to the commissary) 
You see, Monsieur, how vague this accusation is; will you permit 
me to retire?
COMMISSARY. No, Monsieur! No; sentinel, bar the door.

FAUBLAS. What, sir!-can you-

COMMISSARY. I am very sorry, Monsieur, but you entered into a 
house, they know not how, or when; they find you shut up in the 
maid's bed-chamber! It is not clear to me that a complaint might 
not be lodged against you for seduction.

FAUBLAS. Monsieur, as a justice of the peace, you are to receive 
depositions, examine witnesses, listen to proofs, and, always 
faithful to the spirit of the law, you should reject perfidious 
probabilities. What you call a conjecture, is no more than an 
uncertainty, particularly when it affects the honour, I will not 
say of a nobleman, but of a citizen, or of a man, let his rank 
be what it may.

MARQUIS. Permit me to ask Monsieur where he has known Justine!

FAUBLAS. I might dispense with answering that question, 
Monsieur, but to convince you of my complaisance, I will readily 
acknowledge that I knew Justine through the medium of a woman 
named Dutour, who was her friend, and who waited on my sister.

MARQUIS (with an air of satisfaction.) Yes, who served 
Mademoiselle du Portail.

FAUBLAS. Yes, Monsieur.

COMMISSARY (in a pet.) If Mademoiselle du Portail is your 
sister, your name must also be du Portail. Why have you made a 
false declaration?

MARQUIS. There is no great evil in that; I know why he did so! I 
know the reason! Let the name of de Faublas still stand on your 
books (then turning to me) I would not injure you for the world; 
but tell me in a friendly manner what you came to my house for.

FAUBLAS. What, can you not guess? I became acquainted with 
Justine at my sister's, they found me in her bedroom; her charms 
have seduced me.

MARQUIS. Ah, you little libertine! You have passed the night 
with her! The Marchioness would be in a fine way if she knew the 
brother of one of her dear friends came to debauch her maids. 
But how came Justine's room on fire?

FAUBLAS. We were fatigued and fell asleep.

MARQUIS (laughing.) You must have been greatly alarmed when I 
knocked at the door.

FAUBLAS. You can have no idea what a panic I was in.

MARQUIS. But we did not see you, where the devil were you hid?

FAUBLAS. In the chimney.

MARQUIS. But when my wife returned to Justine's room she must 
have seen you there.

FAUBLAS. Not at all; I heard her coming, and went up the chimney 
again.

MARQUIS. And you did well. Oh! My wife could not bear the 
slightest impropriety in her family. It is not that she is less 
indulgent than others, but a respectable female would not have 
the slightest suspicion attached to her own character; people 
may do what they please so long as they do no harm at her house; 
and indeed she carries her indifference on this point too far, 
for she sometimes excuses in her friends those weaknesses-but 
Monsieur, is mademoiselle your sister still at Soissons?

FAUBLAS (appearing to hesitate.) Yes, Monsieur.

MARQUIS. Indeed! Always in the convent?

FAUBLAS (pretending to be embarrassed') Yes, Monsieur!-Yes-Why 
not?

MARQUIS. My motive in asking that question arises from being 
informed that she was in. the environs of Paris.

FAUBLAS. In the environs of Paris! Your informant was deceived, 
Monsieur, it surely could not be my sister-but everything is now 
explained, I think; let us go.

COMMISSARY. Everything is not explained, Monsieur, I am waiting 
for someone.

This somebody entered at that instant; it was my father; the man 
of law said to him: To whom have I the honour to address myself, 
Monsieur?

BARON. I am the Baron de Faublas, Monsieur.

COMMISSARY. In that case, Monsieur. I owe you a thousand 
excuses. I have sent for you because a young man, against whom 
there is a very serious charge, has assumed your name and calls 
himself your son; but his declaration is false. I am sorry that 
I have disturbed you.

MARQUIS (to the Commissary.) What do you mean by his declaration 
being false! Did I not tell you to let the name of Faublas stand 
in your process? (aside to the Chevalier) you know not the 
consequences of that! If once this commissary ascertains your 
real name, he will send and fetch your real father, and he would 
make a rare noise. Beg of this Monsieur de Faublas, to let you 
keep his name, and that will settle everything.

CHEVALIER (to the Marquis.) I dare not.

MARQUIS. I will ask him myself. (To the Baron) Say that he is 
your son.

In the meantime, the Baron, struck with astonishment at 
everything he saw, looked by turns at the commissary, the 
Marquis and myself. Monsieur, he replied at last, to the 
attentive judge, your care is not thrown away, nor is my trouble 
useless. In the situation in which I behold this young man, I 
ought perhaps to disown him; but the place even where I find 
him, prompts my indulgence for him. I know he is possessed of 
some pride and sensibility, and if he has been guilty of any 
folly, an examination here, will, I doubt not, be a sufficient 
punishment. This young man has told you his real name, Monsieur, 
he is my son.

MARQUIS (to the Baron.) Well done! Very well performed.

COMMISSARY. But I do not understand this, I shall send for this 
Monsieur du Portail.

MARQUIS (to the Chevalier.) He does not understand it I believe 
him.

BARON (to the Commissary with great warmth.) Monsieur, do I not 
tell you he is my son!

MARQUIS (to the Baron, pulling him by the coat.) Admirable! (To 
the Chevalier) He plays his part to a miracle!

CHEVALIER (to the Marquis.) Oh, the Baron is a clever man and 
then he owes our family some reparation.

COMMISSARY (to the Baron) All that is very good, Monsieur, but 
there is a charge.

MARQUIS (as loud as he could bawl.) I withdraw it.

COMMISSARY.That is not sufficient, Monsieur; the business is of 
such a nature! Public justice is interested in it.

BARON (with great vehemence.) Public justice is interested! What 
then is the charge?

MARQUIS. Zounds! A mere trifle, a paltry intrigue!

COMMISSARY. An intrigue?

MARQUIS. Yes, Monsieur, an affair of gallantry. (To the Baron) 
It is nothing more than a gallant adventure, you may take my 
word for it!

COMMISSARY. There is a false declaration, escape, assault, 
battery, and seduction.

BARON (in anger.) That is impossible! Who says so? Who dare 
attack in this manner the honour of my son and my family?

MARQUIS (to the Chevalier.) Ah! How well he hits his part! I 
could not have conceived it. (To the father) Come on, Monsieur, 
make yourself easy; it was only an affair of gallantry. 
Monsieur, your son has slept with one of my maids, and in making 
his escape, he has thrashed one of my men; that is all, I can 
assure you.

BARON (to the commissary.) You know my name, and my residence; 
are you willing that I should take my son home, and be 
answerable for his appearance?

MARQUIS. Yes, and I will also be responsible for him.

COMMISSARY. Gentlemen, you will be bound to produce this young 
man at such a time and place as may be required; and will be 
answerable in your own persons.

BARON. Yes, in our own persons.

MARQUIS. Yes, body for body. Come, let us be gone.

We all three came out together. "Ah! Monsieur," said the Marquis 
to my father; "Ah! Monsieur, how well you performed your part in 
this comedy! How natural! How life-like! You could give lessons 
to the actors!" (Then addressing himself to me) "Did you hear 
him when he exclaimed, 'Who dares thus to attack the honour of 
my son?'-Of his son! Why he would almost have persuaded me to 
believe, who know so well to the contrary."

While the Marquis was speaking, the Baron observed him with a 
look which would have greatly amused me if I had not known the 
extreme irritability of my father's temper. I trembled lest the 
droll compliments with which the Marquis de B*** loaded him, 
might raise his anger; but I was happy that he restrained his 
passion.

His carriage waited at the door: "Do not stand on ceremony, he 
said to me, get in first."

The Marquis wished to detain me. "Will you continue talking in 
the street in that figure?" said the Baron. I sprung into the 
carriage, and my father placed himself beside me; we bade the 
Marquis politely adieu, and he went home on foot.

My father then said: "Why will you spend your nights from home? 
Are not the days long enough? See what danger you expose 
yourself to through your obstinacy." I excused myself as well as 
I could. "But your health will be destroyed," continued the 
Baron.

"Ah! Father, never was reproach less merited; if you knew but 
how prudent I have been during the night."

"Does my son think he is still speaking to the Marquis de B***?"

"Certainly not, father; but I assure you that I could pass three 
hundred and sixty-five such nights as the last, without the 
slightest injury to my health, if you will permit me to give you 
the details.

"No, my friend, no, keep them for M. de Rosambert."

He then informed me that M. du Portail, Adelaide, and myself 
were invited with him, to dine the next day with the Duke de -- 
, at the entrance of the Boulevard St. Honoré.

"If the weather changes, and it should keep fine, we will set 
out early," he said. "You shall all three take a walk round the 
Tuileries, while I go in to speak with M. de Saint-Luc, who 
lodges there. Do not forget this, and be ready in good time."


XII.

When I reached home, Justine was waiting for me. The Marchioness 
was a prey to the most bitter anxieties on hearing that a 
robber, concealed in Justine's bedroom, had been arrested and 
taken before the commissary of police, and that M. de B*** had 
gone there. She ordered her fille de chambre, who was no less 
alarmed than herself, to run to our house, to wait there until 
my return, and to beg me to inform her precisely of all that had 
transpired relative to an adventure which might produce such 
serious consequences.

Justine wept when she found I had sacrificed her to save her 
mistress. "I was aware," she said, "that it could not well be 
otherwise, my master will say I must be discharged; and my 
mistress, who is already angry with me, will embrace this 
opportunity of sending me away."

I comforted the poor girl, and assured her I would find her a 
place, but that, at all events, I would not abandon her.

The moment Justine was gone, I changed my clothes and washed the 
soot from my face; I then ran to Rosambert, and related to him 
the various ludicrous accidents which had occurred to me during 
the preceding night. I told him afterwards, that if he would see 
Adelaide, he must be in the Tuileries the next day, in the path 
which they call L'Allé du Printemps. The Count promised me he 
would be there before noon.

After dinner I received a visit from Derneval, who informed me 
that we were to go to the convent the next night, let the 
weather be fair or foul. "My dear Faublas," he added, "we are 
about to separate."

"How?"

"The business which detained me here is finished. Everything is 
ready for the grand enterprise which I have meditated several 
months past. Tomorrow night I carry off Dorothea."

"Ah Derneval, and how can I see my Sophia when you shall have 
abandoned us?"

"Have you not your pavilion?"

"But the garden gate?"

"Ah, you are right, I did not think of that."

"Can you, then, Derneval, leave your friend, and the friend of 
your mistress, in despair?"

"No, Chevalier, no; I will speak to Dorothea; we will not set 
out before you have a key of the gate which leads into the 
garden; and, believe me, if it is necessary, I will defer, for a 
day, the execution of my projects."

Derneval left me, plunged in the most cruel reflections, which 
agitated me all the evening, and indeed during the whole night. 
He goes, I said to myself, he goes off with her he loves! And I 
remain behind, perhaps without another chance of seeing my 
beloved Sophia! And if she has a key, would she venture to open 
the gate? Would she dare to come alone into the garden? Would 
not the elopement, too, of Dorothea, make a terrible noise in 
the convent? Would it not induce them to take every possible 
precaution to prevent such a thing in future? Would not the 
garden be better guarded than before? Ah! My pretty cousin, it 
will only be permitted me to see thee sometimes through the 
blinds of my pavilion. Ah! Derneval! Ah! Dorothea, you abandon 
us. Is this what you promised?

It was thus, without foreseeing the great events which were 
preparing, I reproached Derneval for his precipitate departure, 
which I was presently about to wish more anxiously than himself.

There was a thick fog during the night, and the Baron, who rose 
sooner than usual, finding the morning damp and cold, knew not 
whether he would send for Adelaide, lest it might affect her 
health.

I told my father that the sun would soon warm the air, and that 
no day in autumn would be finer. M. du Portail, who arrived at 
ten, was of my opinion. We went, all three of us, to fetch my 
sister from her convent, and we were presently in the gardens of 
the Tuileries. The Baron ordered his servants to wait for us on 
the Pont-Tournant.

"I am going in," he said, to M. de Saint-Luc, you can walk about 
in the meantime."

"In the Allé du Printemps?"

"Yes; I'll be there in a few minutes."

After walking there a little time, Rosambert joined us. He 
thanked the chance which gave him so happy a meeting: he paid 
Adelaide all the compliments she so justly merited, and, during 
a quarter of an hour, he occupied himself so much with the 
sister, that the brother was forgotten. I made a thousand 
efforts, however, to attract his attention. Impatient to consult 
him on the new misfortunes which threatened my amours, I took 
hold of his arm, and begged him to give me a moment's converse.

At length he deigned to attend to me, and we doubled our pace 
without perceiving it. My sister, who could not regulate her 
walk by ours, remained behind, accompanied by M. du Portail.

We did not think of returning until we reached the bottom of the 
walk. On turning round, we saw Adelaide at a distance, 
surrounded by three men, and made haste to approach her. We soon 
recognised the two newcomers to be my father and the Marquis de 
B***, who were speaking with great warmth.

"Let us hasten," said Rosambert, "here is some awkward mistake."

His conjecture was right, for at the moment of our arrival, the 
Marquis said to my father, "Why do you interfere in this matter, 
Monsieur?"

The BARON DE FAUBLAS. Why do I interfere? Do you know whom you 
are insulting?

The MARQUIS. If I know Mademoiselle du Portail!

The BARON (in anger.) That is not Mademoiselle du Portail. 
Monsieur, it is my daughter. Monsieur du Portail has no 
children!

The MARQUIS (with great vivacity.) Monsieur du Portail has no 
children! Who was it, then, Monsieur, that slept with my wife?

The BARON. What's that to me?

The MARQUIS. But it matters to me! And I am sure it was 
Mademoiselle du Portail. (pointing to my sister.) She is, I 
think, somewhat altered-for a reason I will tell you presently.

The BARON (in a rage.) For reasons which you will tell us 
presently! Dare you repeat it? Zounds! Monsieur, put a riding 
habit on this hare-brained youth (pointing to the Chevalier de 
Faublas,) and you will see the same Mademoiselle du Portail you 
have seen before.

The MARQUIS (looking at the Chevalier with an air of 
stupefaction.) Can it be he?

In the meantime, M. du Portail and Rosambert divided their 
attention between Adelaide, who appeared ready to weep, and the 
Baron, whose wrath their advice could not moderate.

The CHEVALIER DE FAUBLAS (approaching the Baron.) For God's 
sake, father, consider what you are about.

The MARQUIS (looking hard at the Chevalier.) What! His father!

The BARON (darting a terrible look at his son.) Hold your 
tongue, Monsieur! Do you know what he said to your sister? I 
came up at the very moment when he was congratulating her on her 
having been brought to bed before her time, and that her 
pregnancy was scarcely visible. Disguise yourself as a woman and 
deceive fools, but do not compromise your sister's honour.

The MARQUIS (regarding the Chevalier with the greatest 
attention.) The more I examine him- (He then put himself in a 
menacing attitude, and ran up to M. du Portail) If you are not a 
coward, tell me, (pointing to Adelaide) is not this young lady 
your daughter? (Then pointing to the Chevalier:) And is not this 
the young man I saw at your house in the riding habit?

M. DU PORTAIL (with the greatest coolness.) Monsieur, you know 
not, perhaps, that my birth is, at least, equal to yours, but I 
am happy in having some advantage over you. I always recollect 
how gentlemen should behave to each other when they become 
enemies. I shall not imitate you in this respect. As to your 
questions, I would rather not answer them-but this young lady is 
not my daughter, and that is the young man you saw at my house, 
dressed in a riding habit.

M. de B*** remained silent for some time; he came to me, took my 
hand, and squeezed it with great violence. I gave him a wink 
that I understood him. My father perceived these murderous 
signals, for I heard him say in a low tone: "Why could I not 
restrain my first transports of passion? What a blind rage! What 
unfortunate madness! Should it cost my son's life!"

"You have tricked me most unworthily," said the Marquis to me in 
a low tone, "I shall expeet you to meet me tomorrow morning by 
five, at La Porte Maillot. I have no reason to complain of your 
father, but du Portail and Rosambert are your accomplices; 
therefore tell them I will bring two of my friends to punish 
them. Adieu, you shall soon see I know how to avenge myself."

Having said this, he retired. We were surrounded by a crowd of 
persons, whom the noise of our quarrel had attracted. Adelaide, 
frightened and trembling, could scarcely support herself, but we 
repaired to the Pont Tournant, as fast as her strength would 
permit, and found our carriage waiting for us. The Baron took my 
sister into his, M. du Portail and myself stepped into that of 
Rosambert; and to avoid the crowd which followed, the coachman 
was ordered to drive full gallop to our house, but by a 
circuitous route.

M. du Portail said, "Why did you leave us, gentlemen? You were 
only thirty paces distant when the Marquis de B*** came up to 
us. He loaded us with compliments, and put a thousand questions 
to your sister, which she knew not how to reply to. And I 
understood very little of his conversation. I was in hopes you 
would arrive, and relieve me from the embarrassment in which I 
found myself. The Marquis had already congratulated me twenty 
times on the return of my daughter, and the good health she 
appeared to enjoy; and addressing himself to your sister, said 
'Upon my honour, Mademoiselle, you look well, and are very 
little altered.' Here he dropped his voice; and as I was not 
without great anxiety, I listened. 'That is astonishing,' he 
added, 'for if I calculate right, you must have been brought to 
bed before your time.'"

"Mademoiselle de Faublas shrieked out, and I exclaimed with 
indignation: 'Brought to bed before her time! Dare you, 
Monsieur!' Unfortunately, the Baron was already behind us, he 
rushed between his daughter and the Marquis, and in a furious 
tone, said: 'Who, Monsieur, was brought to bed before her time? 
I insist on your explaining that insolent question.'

"You know nearly what followed, gentlemen," added M. du Portail, 
and looking at me: "it will be attended, no doubt, with serious 
consequences."

"Certainly, Monsieur, it will, for tomorrow morning the Marquis 
de B***, accompanied by two of his friends, expects us all three 
at La Porte Maillot."

"What, another duel! More bloodshed!" exclaimed Rosambert.

"You now see," said M. du Portail to me, "what are the 
consequences of a criminal passion! Six brave men are to destroy 
each other on account of the Marchioness de B***. Tomorrow, 
whatever may be the result of the combat, Monsieur the Count and 
myself will be punished for having participated in your errors. 
Being a soldier, I have a hundred times experienced how painful 
it is not to be able to save one's own life, but by sacrificing 
that of another, and one sometimes whom we may be compelled to 
esteem. M. de Rosambert as well as myself is about to shed the 
blood of two men, of whom, perhaps, we are entirely ignorant, 
and who have never done us the least injury."

"Ah! Monsieur, I am more to be pitied than yourself, because I 
am fighting with the Marquis, to whom I have done every possible 
injury."

"It is very singular," said Rosambert, interrupting me, "that I 
should sustain your quarrel. It is droll that I am to fight for 
you because you have choused<4> me out of my mistress. But a 
truce to your reflections, gentlemen, we have no time to lose. 
If we are not dead at six tomorrow morning, it will be necessary 
for us to fly the country."

"Frenchmen!" exclaimed M. du Portail, "who have afforded me so 
much hospitality, shall I not quit your country without having 
transgressed the wisest of your laws?"

"To what country shall we retire?" demanded Rosambert of us.

"To Germany," I replied, with great vivacity.

"Yes, to Germany, if you please," said M. du Portail. "To 
Germany!"

"Well! Be it so," added the Count.

We arrived at the house. Adelaide and the Baron had already 
ascended the grand staircase. M. du Portail ran after them, 
thinking I was going to follow him. I bade adieu to Rosambert.

"How is this! Where, then, are you going?"

"To Derneval's"

"I would have you occupy yourself on such matters as our 
circumstances require, and remember to insure our flight."

"But shall we not see you in the evening?"

"I cannot answer for it, perhaps I shall not see you until 
tomorrow at four o'clock," and I left him at the moment M. du 
Portail was coming back to look after me.

I entered the residence of Derneval in so wild a manner, that he 
asked if any accident had happened to me.

"I have, tomorrow, my friend, an affair of honour; tomorrow I 
die, or Sophia leaves France with me. The chaise in which you 
carry off Dorothea must also bear away Mademoiselle de Pontis."

Derneval was not a little surprised at this resolution; and we 
employed ourselves the rest of the day in making every 
preparation which was necessary for so great an enterprise. I 
would willingly have spent a moment at my father's in the 
evening, but I was afraid he would detain me.

A little before midnight I concealed my sword under a large 
cloak; Derneval took the same precaution, and we set out, 
accompanied by three servants, on whose bravery and fidelity my 
friend well assured me he could rely. Arrived under the wall of 
the convent, we threw into the garden a large bundle, containing 
everything necessary to dress two men from head to foot; and as 
soon as our ladders were attached, we ordered two of our 
servants to stand guard, at some distance, and the other to go 
and bring us the post-chaise, precisely at four in the morning.

We went over into the garden; Derneval and Dorothea left me 
alone, under the covered path, with my pretty cousin. We went 
and sat down at the foot of the chestnut tree, so propitious to 
love. I regarded Sophia in silence, and sprinkled her hands with 
my tears.

"What means this silence?" she said; "and wherefore these 
tears?"

"These tears announce the most dreadful calamities: Do you not 
know that Dorothea is about to leave us? Yes, but her departure 
is deferred a whole day on our account."

"No, my Sophia, no, her departure is not deferred; Derneval 
takes her away this night."

"This night?"

"Yes, I cannot see thee in the conference room, I can no more 
meet thee in the garden, therefore we shall be separated 
forever. This night, my dear Sophia, is the last we can pass 
together."

"The last!" she cried, with tears in her eyes.

"Yes, the last, Dorothea leaves us, Dorothea abandons thee; she 
sacrifices everything to her tenderness for Derneval; Derneval 
is more happy than I am! Ah, my friend, could you desire a 
happiness which would cost me mine? This, Sophia, is the last 
night we have to spend together. Let us pass it, then, my 
friend, in such a manner as will leave us no reason to reproach 
ourselves tomorrow."

"Tomorrow we shall mourn our absence, whilst Derneval and 
Dorothea will be on their road to Germany."

"To Germany! Do they go to Germany?"

"Yes, my beloved! They go to Germany."

"Well, my dear Faublas, we will shortly go and join them; for 
Madame Munich informs me, the Baron de Gorlitz will soon be here 
to fetch me.

"The Baron de Gorlitz will arrive too late. Why too late? He 
will arrive too late, my beloved!"

"Do, pray, explain yourself."

"The departure of Dorothea is the least of the evils which 
menace our amours. But tell me, then, have you not said a 
hundred times, that on the arrival of the Baron de Gorlitz, you 
would go and throw yourself at his feet, and beg the hand of his 
daughter?"

"The Baron de Gorlitz's consent would avail me but little, if my 
father would not agree to the marriage."

"But your father will approve of it, as soon as my father 
consents."

"Sophia! I ought not to deceive you, my father has destined me 
for another!"

"For another! And is it you who announce it to me! Oh! Thou 
cruel one! I understood you too well!-I am sacrificed!"

"No, my Sophia, no, be consoled. I now renew to you my vows a 
thousand times repeated, never shall another woman be called my 
wife, and if you are not mine, you shall have no one to blame 
but yourself."

"Myself?"

"Yes,-you are not willing to render this marriage so much 
desired, necessary."

"I do not understand you."

"Ah! If for three months less rebellious to the vows of your 
lover."

"My dear Faublas, what is it you mean?"

"I should have presented my Sophia to the Baron de Faublas, and 
said to him: she has accepted my plighted vows, our faith is 
registered in heaven; I have taken advantage of her weakness and 
her love; and she now wants nothing but the title to make her my 
wife. What! Would you have had me purchase this title, Faublas, 
with my dishonour?"

"By your dishonour! You love me but little, then, if you think 
you would be dishonoured in belonging to me! Cruel maid! When do 
you expect, then, to consummate the most tender love! We are 
going to be separated! They will shortly conduct you into a 
foreign land, and remove you far distant from your disconsolate 
lover! Do, Sophia! Do open your eyes to the dangers which 
threaten us! You can prevent them; you can unite yourself to me 
by the most indissoluble and most sacred bonds you can at this 
moment, by a single act, make me your husband, in the sight of 
God! In the law of nature! It requires but your kind assent-
Deign, Oh! Deign to grant the cherished boon, and bind me 
eternally with the bonds of gratitude and love!"

"No, I will never consent to that."

I made a thousand useless efforts to triumph over her virtue. 
Rendered desperate by her obstinate resistance, which left me no 
hope of success, I gave myself up to grief.

"Your tears wound me to the heart," said Sophia; "but what is it 
you require of me?"

"I require no more."

"Into what distress do I see you plunged, my dear friend!" (she 
pressed my hands within her own.) 

"No grief can be deeper, or for juster cause, than mine, Sophia. 
The hours glide by; he will appear too soon, and I repeat it to 
you, this is the last night which we shall have to pass 
together."

"Oh! Heaven! In what a tone he speaks to me! What black despair 
has settled on his countenance! Oh! My friend, your sighs and 
tears make me wretched!." (she dried them with her handkerchief) 
"They are cruel, deadly tears."

"Oh! My first beloved, my soul is torn by the most poignant 
griefs. I am weeping, now, Sophia presently you will weep also; 
for some frightful news will spread throughout the city, and 
reach even within these walls, and your repentance will come too 
late to reach your lover."

"Oh! Cruel man! Do you mean to destroy yourself?"

"No! It is not my own hand that will strike the mortal blow. 
Sophia! If my life was dear to you, I would defend it against 
the Marquis de B***."

"Great God! Are you going to fight a duel?"

Having made this exclamation, she fell fainting into my arms, 
and I bestowed every attention upon her which her situation 
required, but as soon as she begun to recover her senses, I 
embraced the advantage which her weakness afforded with a 
promptitude which ensured me a victory.

Oh! Thou last combat of vanquished modesty! First triumph of 
rewarded love! Moment of possession! Moment of celestial 
pleasure; the most eloquent of wits has consecrated your 
delights in an immortal work:<22> let me, therefore, be silent, 
since I cannot express it to you so well.

The clock struck four when Derneval advanced beneath the covered 
walk. I ran to meet him, and he told me the post-chaise had 
arrived; but that Dorothea, who had been obliged to leave him 
for half an hour, would soon return to the garden, and that it 
would not take long to change his clothes. I interrupted him, to 
beg him to retire, as I must prevail upon Sophia to go with us.

I returned to my fair mistress, and showed her the male attire I 
had brought for her; conjuring her immediately to put it on, and 
leave her own behind.

"How? For what?"

"Derneval and Dorothea set out for Germany, does not thy heart 
whisper that we should go with them?"

"Go with them! What! Shall I cut my father to the heart? Shall I 
overwhelm him with shame and bitter mortification? Alas! Am I 
not already guilty enough?"

"Hear me, Sophia!"

"No, I will not listen to you, you cruel one, you have ruined 
me! You have studiously concerted my dishonour." (She threw 
herself into my arms.) "Now, Faublas, you may do as you like 
with your wife; but have pity on her, do not abuse your power 
over her! Do not render her dishonour public!"

Oh, my dear Sophia, I would spare you these cruel alarms; but I 
am obliged to remind you that the Marquis-"

"Alas!"

"Do not tremble any more for the life of him to whom your own is 
attached! Your husband will be victorious; your husband! I will 
now defy the whole family of the Marquis! But you know not the 
laws of the country. Sophia, if, after having overcome my enemy, 
I remain here, I am exposed to lose my head on the scaffold. Ah, 
wretch that I am! Where am I? What have I done? We must be gone, 
Sophia; we will go to Germany: the Baron de Gorlitz cannot 
refuse you to your lover, and my father will confirm my 
happiness. My dear Sophia, suffer your husband to undress you."

The three quarters had struck before I had finished the disguise 
of my Sophia.

Dorothea came to join us, and Derneval, impatient to begone, 
reminded me that we must not let the morning overtake us in the 
city, and that I had business at La Porte Maillot.

"What, do we not all four go together?" cried Sophia.

"Honor calls me, my beloved; I leave you with Dorothea, and 
place you under the protection of Derneval. He will scarcely 
gain a post before me; he may expect me at Meaux; in two hours I 
shall rejoin you."

Sophia threw herself into my arms: "I will not leave you! I will 
not leave you!"

Derneval stamped the ground with his foot: "The fog still 
favours us," he said, "but the daylight will surprise us here."

I tore myself from the arms of Sophia. "If you leave me, 
Faublas, I will not go."

"Well, Sophia, I will not leave you; let us make haste to quit 
the garden."

Derneval had foreseen that our two lasses would have too much 
trouble in scaling the wall with the rope ladders, and had 
provided two short wooden ladders. Dorothea, who had long been 
ready for her elopement, was presently in the street; but Sophia 
would have fallen twenty times if I had not followed close to 
her.

When we arrived at the post-chaise, she wished to see me get in 
first.

"But honour calls me, Sophia."

"Honour! And pray have I not sacrificed mine to you? Oh! You 
ungrateful one! I will not leave you! You shall not fight! I 
will not let you fight!"

She was talking to me in this manner, when the clock struck 
five. No one could be in a more cruel situation than myself. In 
my despair I drew my sword, with a view to point it against 
myself, but Derneval stopped me.

Sophia trembled, and cried "Well! I obey you! I will go!"

While they were placing her by the side of Dorothea, I said to 
Derneval: "It is five o'clock, if I must go on foot, I shall be 
too late, and be dishonoured. I will dismount one of the three 
men; let him go as quick as he can to my father's, where I will 
pass, and order them to give him the horse, which is no doubt 
prepared for me."

Sophia, almost dead, leaned out of the carriage door. "Ah! My 
dear friend," she said, "at least conduct me to the field of 
battle!"

"My dear friends! My Sophia! I will join you in two hours."

"Barbarian! My love! My husband! Take care of yourself! defend 
my life!"

I saw the post-chaise start, and galloped to the Rue de 
l'Université. Jasmin was waiting at the door for me: "Make 
haste, my dear master, make haste; the Baron has sent to seek 
you in every quarter; rendered desperate by your absence, he 
ordered his horse to be saddled, took his sword, and I fear is 
gone to fight for you. Ah, my God!"

I started full speed, and Jasmin galloped after me: "Will you 
not have the best hunter?"

"It may go to the devil! Return, and when a man comes for a 
horse, give it him."

I pushed the one I had so furiously along, that I soon came in 
sight of La Porte Maillot. Presently I perceived the Baron, 
surrounded by several men. By his gestures I saw that he set the 
Marquis at defiance. It seemed as if M. du Portail, Rosambert, 
and the two friends of the Marquis de B***, were already 
engaged.

As soon as they saw me, they separated. "I was sure! cried 
Rosambert."

"Monsieur," said the Baron to me, "you come very late!"

"Too late, father, too late, without doubt, since you were going 
to expose your life."

The Marquis de B*** interrupted me: "If it had only been to meet 
a pretty girl, he would have risen earlier. Come, then, you 
cowardly, effeminate, and perfidious wretch, and your death 
shall presently avenge my insults."

We crossed our swords. The great superiority I had acquired in 
the art of fencing, and the coolness that I opposed to the fury 
of the Marquis, balanced in my favour, the immense advantage 
which he derived from such an attack unattended with danger, 
because the sight of my enemy reminded me of the wrongs I had 
done him, and although I was excusable on many accounts, I felt 
I had more than one reproach to make myself. I could not 
determine to threaten the life of a man whose self-love I had 
hurt, and whose honour I had violated.

Satisfied with parrying his thrusts, I let him exhaust his 
strength in useless efforts, and depending on my own skill, I 
flattered myself that when he was entirely fatigued he would be 
glad to save his life by acknowledging himself vanquished. My 
hopes, however, were deceived.

My father remained about ten paces distant, a spectator of a 
contest so painful to him; I could see him watch with an anxious 
eye the rapid motion of our swords. More than once I thought 
that carried away by his impatience, he would have plunged into 
the lists.

M. de B***, with menace and insult on his lips did not to cease 
to provoke my rage, and pressed forward on me with a vigour at 
which I was astonished. Nevertheless, he could not obtain an 
inch of ground upon me, and my hitherto calm resistance only 
served to provoke his fury. All at once, restraining the 
transports of his rage, he deceived me by a feint; I returned 
rather late to my guard, and my assailant's point, too feebly 
parried, glanced along my breast and tinged it with scarlet. My 
father uttered a cry of alarm, and drew his sword, but stopped 
himself immediately he broke it with indignation; then lifting 
his eyes upwards, he clasped his hands and fell on his knees: 
"Oh! Heavens! Oh! Heavens! He exclaimed, my God have compassion 
on me, and save the life of my son!"

I could no longer bear the heartrending sight exhibited by my 
father. The Marquis in his turn defended himself valiantly, but 
was unable to delay the fatal blow. His fall terminated the 
mortal anxieties of the Baron. I saw my father sink on the turf 
at the same time with the Marquis. I imagined that the Baron 
considered me seriously wounded, I ran to him, and discovering 
my breast, assured him it was but a slight scratch. My father, 
without saying a word, looked at my wound and kissed it. I 
wished to embrace him, but he restrained me, and showed me the 
field of battle.

I looked around me, and saw one of the Marquis's friends 
stretched motionless on the ground, and the other binding up a 
wound which he had received in his side. A surgeon was dressing 
the arm of Rosambert, who was supported by M. du Portail and 
several servants.

"We have given thrust for thrust," said the Count, as soon as I 
approached him: "my adversary does not appear dangerously hurt, 
at which I am greatly pleased; but he has brought me to the 
ground, for which I am sorry."

The Baron was not long in joining us, and heard the surgeon 
assure us that the Count was not mortally wounded, but could 
not, without danger, be exposed to a long journey. "I will take 
care of him, said the Baron, save yourself."

"Yes, save yourselves," said Rosambert. "Come, Faublas, let us 
embrace, and begone."

My father held me for a long time pressed against his breast: 
"Behold," he said to M. du Portail, "an unfortunate affair which 
deranges our projects. Lovinski," he added, "serve him for a 
father until I can rejoin you. Let me not detain you any longer, 
my friends, be gone. Here are excellent horses, who will take 
you in less than an hour to Bondy, where you will find a chaise. 
I have caused relays of horses to be stationed on the road as 
far as Claye; you will not take post horses until you reach 
Meaux; make the greatest speed till you are in a place of 
safety. Stop nowhere on this side Luxembourg.<23>"

At length we started, and found the post-chaise at Bondy, with 
my father's postilion and my faithful Jasmin. The relays 
succeeded each other at short distances until we reached Meaux; 
it was at Meaux also that Derneval was to take post horses. It 
was there that he had promised to wait for me a quarter of an 
hour. I enquired if they had seen three young men followed by 
three servants, and was informed that they had been gone half an 
hour. The same questions were put and the same answers given at 
the three next post towns. Derneval was always half an hour 
before me; he was apparently in dread of being pursued, and 
could not be blamed: but what must have been the anxiety of 
Sophia!

M. du Portail, astonished at hearing me make so many enquiries, 
and give so much money away, asked me why I felt so lively an 
interest about these young men. "They are brothers, Monsieur, 
who had this morning an affair of honour like ourselves, and I 
must absolutely join them. Oh! Let me beg you to let us take 
horse and push on to them."

"But if we give up our chaise, my friend, we may be obliged to 
go on horseback all the way."

"Well! I fear not the fatigue!"

"And I, Faublas, am accustomed to it."

We left our chaise and Jasmin at Vivray. Derneval must have been 
well supplied with horses, for we did not come up to him until 
within half a league of Dormans. Sophia uttered a cry of joy the 
moment she saw me. She thrust herself out of the window, and 
spread her arms towards me: "My dear wife," cried I, "do pray 
moderate the excess of your tenderness; it will betray me; M. du 
Portail follows me; recollect that you are the brother of 
Derneval."

At Port-a-Binson Derneval got out, saluted us, begged us to 
excuse his brothers, who would remain in the chaise and said: 
"As it is important that they should not trace us, if they may 
be pursuing us on this road, I have taken precautions which you 
will no doubt approve. About two miles on this side of Epernay 
we will send back the horses with which we shall be furnished at 
the next post, to take better ones, which a friend of mine, who 
has been apprised for some days past, will surely have provided 
for us. A cross road will conduct us to Jalons by a circuit 
which is not very long. From thence, sufficient relays are 
posted on the road as far as Sainte Menehould, where we shall 
again take post horses. But, gentlemen, when I took these 
measures to secure my own flight, I did not reckon on your 
company. To dismount my servants, in order to give you their 
horses, would render our escort too weak. Happily our chaise is 
sufficiently large and convenient, both of you had, therefore, 
better get into it, and I will undertake to conduct you; I will 
be your postilion."

M. du Portail, after some pressing, accepted the offer. I 
whispered to Derneval that I found myself in a strange 
embarrassment: "Your pretended brothers, my friend, are so 
handsome! And I fear, above all, that their soft voices, and the 
tender distractions of Sophia, cannot long be misunderstood by 
M. du Portail. Pray, therefore, Derneval, recommend our dear 
friends to be sound asleep when M. du Portail and myself enter 
the chaise. There is no other means of avoiding a discovery 
which would be so dangerous, but by acting in a very impolite 
manner."

Everything happened as Derneval expected. We found a relay of 
horses at some distance from Epernay. What emotions did I 
experience when I found myself seated in the post-chaise, 
opposite to Sophia.

Sophia appeared to sleep, but I pressed my knees against hers; 
and, by the gentle return, and her half-repressed sighs, I found 
that my pretty cousin was awake to her lover.

"Are these two young persons the brothers of M. Derneval?" said 
Lovinski to me with much astonishment.

"He has assured me so, at least," I replied.

M. du Portail asked me no more questions. I observed that he no 
longer looked at Dorothea, but continued to fix his attention on 
Sophia, who, more tranquil since I was near her, had really sunk 
into the arms of Morpheus.

After a silence of half an hour, M. du Portail told me he did 
not believe they were the brothers of M. Derneval. "Nor I 
either;" I replied coolly.

"Why did you tell-"

"I told you they were, because he told me so; for my part, I am 
unacquainted with his brothers."

"There is something ambiguous in this adventure, Faublas."

"I verily believe so."

"Faublas, they are women in disguise."

"Upon my honour, Monsieur, I have the same suspicions."

M. du Portail remained silent, and, for a quarter of an hour, 
looked at Sophia with the most marked attention. At length, 
pointing to Dorothea, he said: "This one is pretty! But that" 
(he pointed to my pretty cousin, and his eyes glistened) "is 
handsomer! Is she not?"

"Much handsomer."

"And then her countenance!" (M. du Portail's voice failed him.)

"-is charming! Do you not think so?"

"Oh, yes! Delightful! Her countenance!" He heaved a deep sigh, 
and said no more.

With his eyes always riveted on the face of my fair mistress, M. 
du Portail continued plunged in a profound reverie, until we 
arrived at Sainte Menehould. While the postmaster of that place 
was changing our baggage, and endeavouring to persuade us that 
his miserable hacks were excellent horses, M. du Portail 
addressed himself to Derneval, and asked him if the two ladies 
sleeping in the chaise were his relations.

"Since their disguise has not deceived you" (replied Derneval, 
as astonished as myself at this question, which was, at least, 
indiscreet), "I must inform you that one is my wife, and the 
other my sister;" he added, looking towards me at the same time.

"Your sister! Which of the two, Monsieur?" asked M. du Portail.

"The one on this side," said Derneval, pointing at Sophia.

"You have a very interesting sister, Monsieur. I congratulate 
you on having such a sister."

My surprise increased at every word of M. du Portail. I knew not 
if he perceived it, but he drew me aside for a moment. He said 
to me: "See, Faublas, the wonderful power of a strong passion 
which survives its object. I am singularly interested with the 
sister of Derneval, and do you know why? It is that in looking 
at her I think I again behold my wife, whose loss I shall ever 
lament. Yes, my dear Faublas, at the first glance, I said to 
myself, 'Tis Lodoiska!' and I still repeated it to myself, after 
I had minutely examined all the traits of that countenance, 
which is at once both beautiful and animated. Yes, my dear 
friend, such would have appeared to you the daughter of 
Pulauski, when, under the disguise of a man, she fled, in 
company with her father and her husband, from our persecutors, 
the Russians. A little older, but not less beautiful, was 
Lodoiska at that period. Lodoiska still breathes in this 
charming young woman!"

I listened to M. du Portail with a secret pleasure; yet, 
persuaded that he endeavoured to deceive himself as to the 
nature of the feelings he experienced, I could not but lament 
that so sensible a man, of his age and experience, should so 
badly defend himself against the dangerous fascination of a 
growing passion; but I congratulated myself on my happiness, 
which would no doubt excite a thousand rivals.

In the meantime the sun went down, and the evening closed upon 
us; but we continued our journey the whole night. Next morning, 
by eight o'clock, we were at Luxembourg. We alighted at the 
first inn, and partook of a short repast, during which M. du 
Portail lavished the most flattering compliments on my pretty 
cousin. He did not feel that he had need of repose, until our 
friends, fatigued by so long a journey, expressed a wish to 
retire.

Derneval had been occupied with the host in providing four 
chambers, one for the ladies, two for ourselves, contiguous to 
theirs, and one for M. du Portail at the other end of the 
corridor.

Derneval took the hand of Dorothea; Lovinski, more prompt than 
myself, possessed himself of that of Sophia. He conducted my 
fair mistress to the door of the chamber prepared for her, and 
sighed deeply as he returned to his apartment.

As soon as we thought him asleep, Derneval and myself entered 
the chamber of our wives. Dorothea was already in bed, but 
Sophia was sitting with her clothes on, weeping, and listening 
to some words of consolation which her friend addressed to her. 
Derneval, in a whisper, told me to take her with me. "Come, my 
Sophia, come; let us leave these lovers together; they have, 
like ourselves, a thousand things to say to each other."

I took her in my arms, and bore her to my chamber. Oh, what a 
delightful burden for a lover!

"Is it, then, true," she said, sobbing, "that the first fault is 
always the forerunner of one still greater? Is it, then, true 
that an unhappy girl, betrayed by her own heart, and deceived by 
a foolish hope to take one rash step, must finish by violating 
the most sacred duties? Why did I come so often to that fatal 
conference room? And why did I receive you in the still more 
fatal garden? Ah! I could not love virtue since I preferred my 
lover! I have merited my disgrace, since I have so easily 
exposed myself to it!"

"What is it you say, my Sophia? Why poison your happiness by 
such horrible reflections?"

"My happiness! Is it, then, in the bosom of remorse that I am to 
taste it?"

"I assure you, my Sophia, that whatever may be the intention of 
M. du Portail, I shall start with you for Gorlitz. We will go 
and throw ourselves at the feet of your father."

"Never! Never! I dare not appear before him!"

"Then you do not love me."

"I do not love you! Faublas, my friend, your Sophia is already 
degraded in her own eyes, and will presently be so in those of 
her friends. Do you think, then, that she could support her 
existence if she did not love you? My dear lover! My dear 
husband! I see that repentance offends you, and my remorse 
wounds your feelings. Oh! Pardon the violence of my anguish, for 
in this very moment, when my guilty conscience goads me, I feel 
that my wandering reason still gives way to this fatal passion!"

Having said this, the charming Sophia threw herself into my 
arms, and the same bed received us both. It was noon before we 
fell asleep; some hours after we were awakened by a terrible 
noise.

"I would not advise you," said Derneval, "for I will blow out 
the brains of any one who dares to enter here." They ordered me 
to open my door; at the same time I heard, with as much surprise 
as alarm, the voice of my father. The trembling Sophia hid 
herself under the clothes; I dressed myself in a hasty and 
negligent manner, and opened my door. M. du Portail entered with 
the Baron de Faublas: "Your unworthy projects are, then, 
accomplished," said the latter. "Have you, then, dared-"

At this instant, those who had been rapping at the door of 
Derneval, entered my chamber. I recognised Madame Munich: "There 
he is! That's him!" she said to an old man who followed her. The 
stranger called me an infamous ravisher, and put his hand to his 
sword. I seized my own, and cried out, "Who is this insolent 
stranger?"

"The Baron stopped me, and said: "Thou wretch! It is a father, 
who came to seek his daughter in Paris, the very day that thou 
stolest her away!"

"What, Monsieur, can it be the-"

"he old gentleman interrupted me: !I am the Baron de Gorlitz."

At this name, Sophia uttered a terrible cry; she threw off her 
clothes, opened the curtains, made an effort to rise, stretched 
forth her arms towards her father, and fainted. "And so the 
crime is consummated," cried M. de Gorlitz, at the sight of 
Sophia, almost naked.

M. du Portail had great difficulty in holding my father, who 
loaded me with reproaches; and the Baron de Gorlitz, desiring me 
to put myself on my guard, said: "You have dishonoured my old 
age, vile seducer! I will be revenged or perish." He advanced 
the point of his sword towards me, but I threw mine at his feet, 
saying: "Strike, for I will not defend myself against the father 
of Sophia; pity your daughter; listen to me; hear her 
justification. Sophia is dying, help her, relieve her."

"Relieve her!" answered the Baron de Gorlitz, "may a hundred 
deadly wounds revenge my wrongs, and punish her." He ran towards 
Sophia with his sword in his hand, but I threw myself upon him 
and seized his body, exclaiming: "Barbarian, take my life! 
injure not your daughter, for I will defend her even against her 
father. Deign, my lord, to hear me; your child is innocent; it 
is I who have beguiled her, I alone am culpable."

While I was thus employed in staying the rage of M. de Gorlitz, 
Madame Munich was bestowing on Sophia a variety of useless 
efforts to restore her. At last, however, she heaved a long 
sigh, and opened her eyes; but on seeing those who surrounded 
her, she relapsed into a fit still more insensible than the 
first.

At this instant, Derneval, followed by three armed men, rushed 
into my chamber, and, in a very fierce manner, demanded what 
right they had thus to disturb the repose of travellers.

"And what interest do you take in our quarrels?" asked my father 
in the same tone. I know not what reply my brother in arms 
prepared for him, for being obliged to divide my attention 
between several objects equally dear to me, I cried out to 
Derneval: "My friend, moderate yourself, it is my father, and 
there is the father of Sophia." Derneval and his servants 
retired from the chamber, but continued in the passage.

In the meanwhile, M. de Gorlitz, whose paroxysms of rage were 
succeeded all at once by an apparent calm, had taken a seat, and 
preserved a terrific silence; contemplating with a dry eye, my 
father, his daughter, and myself. I concluded he was a prey to 
the blackest despair, for I knew that the most acute griefs were 
silent, and produced no tears.

My father approached the Baron de Gorlitz, and endeavoured to 
console him. I flew to Sophia, whom Madame Munich was just 
bringing to life. M. du Portail was seated on the bed, and did 
not appear to be less agitated than myself. I repeated the name 
of my sweet angel a hundred times; and at length she opened her 
eyes at the sound of my voice: "Alas! You have destroyed me, she 
said;" and this reproach, so justly merited, heightened the 
horror I was in at that dreadful moment.

 
Illustration: Alas! You have destroyed me, she said.

My father continued to say everything to M. de Gorlitz which he 
thought most likely to calm his troubled mind. The latter 
interrupted him at each moment with the cruel exclamation: "She 
is not my daughter!"

M. du Portail united his entreaties to those of my father, 
saying: "At least, you should listen to her justification; your 
daughter may not be entirely innocent, but she may be excusable. 
It is not likely that so charming an exterior conceals a corrupt 
heart. Do pray listen to her justification."

The BARON DE GORLITZ.I repeat it to you both, gentlemen, she is 
not my daughter.

M. DU PORTAIL. But-

The BARON DE GORLITZ. She is not my daughter; her governess 
knows it well. Madame Munich will tell you that I adopted this 
child to give her a portion of my wealth. She was scarcely seven 
years old when my relatives attempted to poison her, and that is 
why I caused her to be educated in France.

M. DU PORTAIL (with great emotion.)She is not your daughter! Do 
you not know her parents?

The BARON DE GORLITZ. I could discover them, no doubt, but I 
have never sought after them: it is a crime, the fruit of which 
heaven does not permit me to enjoy.

M. DU PORTAIL (with great vivacity.) Monsieur-

The BARON DE GORLITZ. Deign, sir, to give me a moment's 
attention.

One may easily imagine the anxiety I felt during this strange 
explanation. Sophia, who listened with great pain, wished to 
speak, but her weakness prevented her. A deadly paleness 
overspread her face, and a cold sweat ran from her discoloured 
forehead.

"Gentlemen," continued the Baron de Gorlitz, "I have passed my 
life in the midst of arms. In the year 1777, I was in the 
Russian armies, and fought against the Polish insurgents.

M. DU PORTAIL. "Against the Poles in 1777?"

The BARON DE GORLITZ. "Yes, Monsieur, but you interrupt me every 
moment. After a bloody victory which we gained over them, I only 
demanded, as my share of a very considerable booty, an infant of 
about two years of age."

M. DU PORTAIL (rising and running to Sophia.) "Ah! My dear 
Dorliska!"

The BARON DE GORLITZ (taking hold of him.) "Dorliska! That is 
the name I found written under a miniature attached to her 
breast."

M. DU PORTAIL immediately drew a portrait from his pocket 
"Behold, sir, a counterpart. Oh, my daughter! My dear daughter!

The BARON DE GORLITZ (still holding him.) "Your daughter, 
Monsieur? What are the arms of your family?"

M. DU PORTAIL (showing his seal.) "Look at them."

The BARON DE GORLITZ. "They are the same; they are marked under 
her arm-pit."

Sophia shrieked out, mustered up her strength, and stretched her 
arms towards M. du Portail. Lovinski embraced her and wept.

"Ah, my dear child! Art thou at last restored to me! In what a 
place and condition do I find thee! What bitter griefs poison 
the happiest hours of my life! Dorliska, do you know what your 
mother was? Your mother felt for several years a chaste and 
legitimate affection; a virtuous maiden, she was worthy to 
become a wife; as a tender mother, she never ceased to bewail 
thy loss; and thy remembrance occupied her last moments. 'Search 
everywhere for my dear Dorliska,' were the last words pronounced 
by the dying Lodoiska. For these twelve years past I have been 
constantly occupied in a care so tender to my heart; for twelve 
years I have not conceived a greater happiness than the finding 
my beloved daughter. Alas! And now that I hold her in my arms, I 
am overwhelmed with grief. Oh, the most prudent of wives! Oh, 
the most respectable of mothers! Lodoiska, thy faithful spirit, 
I doubt not, hovers round us! How must thou bewail thy Dorliska, 
seduced, and at this moment in the power of a ravisher! How must 
thou pity Lovinski, become, by a cruel destiny, an accomplice 
in. the elopement of his daughter and the witness of his own 
dishonour!"

M. du Portail threw himself into an armchair; his wretched 
daughter, forgetting she was nearly naked, rushed from her bed, 
and fell down at his feet. Madame Munich, observing this, seized 
the counterpane, and covered Sophia, who cried out: "Ah! You are 
my father, my heart tells me so; your generosity proves it to 
be, for you condescend to acknowledge me, although so unworthy 
of you."

M. du Portail repulsed his daughter, and turning aside his face, 
exclaimed: "Cruel child!"

Sophia held one of his hands, and I took possession of the 
other, and threw myself at his feet, "Your grief kills me, 
Monsieur; I cannot be happy while you suffer such affliction. My 
errors become more serious, since they draw tears from my 
friend, from my father's friend, and from the father of my 
Sophia! You are injured, Lovinski, but let your anger fall 
entirely on him who deserves it. Your daughter is innocent; your 
daughter-if you knew the snares by which she was entrapped, how 
long she resisted the seduction, and how dear the guilty victory 
cost me! Lovinski, your daughter is innocent, wash away your 
insults in my blood, or, rather, as you have a heart full of 
tenderness and sensibility, and have felt the power of an ardent 
and mutual love, and know how the passions may lead astray a 
giddy youth and deluded maiden! Lovinski, be no longer 
inexorable; have compassion on our youth, excuse her, pardon me. 
You can, by one word, repair our errors and render our passion 
legitimate; conduct us, then, to the altar; and there let me 
repeat those vows which have already united me to Sophia, there 
you will find your Dorliska."

My father joined his prayers to mine; M. du Portail appeared to 
be moved, but continued silent, we could perceive, however, that 
he meditated an answer. At length, he embraced his daughter in a 
most affectionate manner, looked at me without anger, and, in a 
calm tone, requested everyone to retire, and leave him the 
remainder of the evening alone with his daughter.

The next day I married Dorliska.



SIX WEEKS IN THE LIFE OF THE CHEVALIER DE FAUBLAS
First Published 1788



XIII.

The august ceremony was finished. The eloquent priest then 
proceeded, in a discourse which to me appeared very tedious, to 
recommend certain virtues, the observance of which I considered 
by no means difficult. Sophia called me by the charming name of 
husband, and my lips were uttering a vow which came from my 
heart, when the sacred vault of the church rang with a 
lamentable and piercing cry.

Everyone turned around in alarm. I perceived, already at a 
distance from the astonished spectators, a young man fly like 
lightning through the door, but could distinguish nothing of him 
but a blue uniform.
 
Illustration: He Fixed his Eyes on Sophia

He had been seen, some minutes before, to enter precipitately, 
and abruptly piercing the crowd, approached the altar. He fixed 
his eyes on Sophia; in a plaintive tone he exclaimed, "It is 
she!" and then uttered that long, deep groan, which affected me 
very much. Rendered uneasy and curious by this occurrence, I 
wished to fly after him, but my father opposed me and stopped 
me; my dear companion, Derneval, being more free, and less 
agitated than myself, ran immediately after the stranger.

During this momentary tumult, caused by so strange an event, 
Sophia inclined towards me, and in a tremulous tone, said, "My 
friend, take care of me."

I was going to reply to her, I was going to ask her why; when M. 
du Portail, whose attention had been distracted for a moment 
amidst the general confusion, but who was apparently brought to 
his recollection by what had happened with regard to his 
daughter, came immediately and took his place beside her, 
seeming to repent having quitted it. I saw him give a severe 
glance at my timid spouse, who cast down her eyes and turned 
pale. During the short space of time that the priest was 
concluding his exhortation, my mind was tormented by a crowd of 
the most cruel reflections.

"What, Derneval my friend! What, so soon returned? Do you know 
this young man? Who is he? What does he want? What has he said 
to you?"

"His servants, my dear Faublas, had a horse ready for him in the 
cloister, and he was at the end of the street by the time I 
reached the door of the church."

"And are you ignorant of what is become of him?"

"He rode at full gallop, my friend, and I was on foot: at all 
events, I would have followed him in the carriage which brought 
Madame de Faublas, but the obstinate coachman would not let me."

"Derneval, you know not how uneasy I am: promise that you will 
not leave me to-day; that you will not set out before tomorrow.

"Tomorrow! Suppose my persecutors were this day-"

"I believe your dangers to be possible, but mine are, perhaps, 
inevitable. Since the terrible scene which occurred yesterday, 
since the Baron de Gorlitz and Madame Munich are gone, Lovinski 
has taken possession of his daughter, whom I did not see until 
at the altar the other day. I have scarcely been suffered to 
speak a word to her; and all answer on her part seems to be 
interdicted; it is only in the presence of the Eternal that she 
could renew her faith to me! It is only to my wife that I have 
been permitted to swear, I shall always adore my mistress. Let 
me beg of you, Derneval, to notice Lovinski, and observe his 
gloomy and care-worn countenance, his watchful and suspicious 
looks. Do you find in him the air of satisfaction which a good 
father experiences when he gives his daughter to the husband of 
her choice? Does he evince, think you, that air of noble pride 
which you would expect from a man who had pardoned an injury? 
And, my dear Dorliska, my pretty cousin, my charming Sophia? 
What an expression of deep sorrow is stamped on her lovely 
countenance, which ought to be embellished with the idea of 
those joys which are now rendered legitimate! And her eyes, too, 
which are dim with sorrow and filled with tears which she tries 
to suppress! What, then, is it that thus damps her felicity? 
What is it that has changed a day of joy into a day of sadness? 
What fear? What regret? Who knows this young man? And for what 
did he come here? A frightful suspicion tears my heart! But no, 
Sophia could not betray me. Is she, then, going to be the victim 
of some secret treachery! 'It is she!' said the stranger: 'Take 
care of me!' exclaimed Sophia. But how am I to defend her? Who 
are her enemies? For what dangers must I prepare myself? I 
conjure you, Derneval, by our friendship, not to abandon me in 
such critical circumstances; for, if you leave me, I am lost. 
The designs of our enemies are enveloped in a profound 
obscurity, and a frightful uncertainty paralyzes all my 
faculties. How can I frustrate plots of which I am ignorant? And 
from the multitude of evils which I anticipate, how can I divine 
the one which is to overwhelm me?"

I did not hear the answer of Derneval; for Sophia, still 
accompanied by her father, had left the altar, and reached the 
door of the church. "Do you come, Faublas?" she said. There was 
in her tender look a strong expression of grief, and a marked 
alteration in the inflection of her sweet voice which served but 
to increase still more my mortal anxiety.

We arrived in the cloister. Was it through forgetfulness or 
incivility, that Lovinski, without noticing either Dorothea or 
my father, had handed his daughter into the carriage, and seated 
himself immediately beside her? While I was asking myself this 
question, Lovinski shut the door, and the coachman, already 
mounted, drove off with the greatest possible rapidity. The 
carriage, so furiously driven, was more than fifty paces 
distant, before any of us could recover from the profound 
stupefaction we were thrown into by this unforeseen flight.

The moment I came to myself, I darted forward like lightning. 
The greatness of my loss, and the hopes of recovering the 
invaluable treasure which had been snatched from me, gave 
additional swiftness to my natural agility; I felt a more than 
human strength: I expected in a few moments to overtake the 
carriage, and to rescue my wife from the arms of her ravisher. 
But, alas! Derneval and my father recovered from their 
astonishment too soon for me, because their noisy bustle was 
more mischievous than the fatal stupor in which I had left them. 
They both followed me at a distance, calling out with all their 
might, "Stop him! Stop him!" As for myself, I ran so fast that I 
could not call out. Several soldiers came by, and seeing me 
alone, and flying so swiftly and silently along, imagined that I 
was pursued. They presently formed a circle and surrounded me: I 
wished to explain myself, but I spoke French to Germans. 
Mortified at not being understood, and at wasting my precious 
time in such vain discourse, I attempted to break through them; 
but what could one man do against ten? My resistance only served 
to irritate them, and to procure me ill-treatment. But their 
blows were scarcely felt, for I was so eager in catching the 
sound of the carriage, which was already at a great distance, 
and every turn of its wheels was like the stroke of a poniard at 
my heart. Whilst they were all struggling with me, I looked with 
grief on the rout of Lovinski, and could distinguish nothing in 
the distance but a cloud of dust. Then, seized with anguish and 
despair, I felt my courage expire, and my strength exhausted; I 
felt the most dreadful revolutions taking place throughout my 
whole frame. I fell insensible at the feet of the barbarians who 
had stopped me, at the feet of my father and my friends, who had 
at length come up to me. I fell. Ah, my Sophia! My soul followed 
thee!

Unhappy Chevalier! Where were you when you returned to your 
senses?

Upon the bed of sickness; and the Baron watching at my pillow, 
which he bedewed with tears. Sophia was the first word I 
pronounced when my reason returned.

"See what an effect his ptisan<24> has had," said a little man 
whom I perceived behind the Baron. "The crisis is now passed, 
and tomorrow will be his fourth day."

"What, Monsieur, have I been here but three days? Is it only 
three days since they tore Sophia from me?"

"Yes, my friend," replied my father, with tears in his eyes, 
"three days have passed away since your wretched father has been 
waiting to see you recognise him, and to hear you repeat his 
name."

"Ah, pardon me father! I beg a thousand pardons-but you know 
not, you cannot conceive what a burden I have at my heart; how 
much I feel myself borne down by the weight of my misfortunes."

"Such, my son, is the common result of those passions which lead 
giddy youths astray. At first they enervated your soul in the 
bosom of pleasure, and now deliver you up, without strength, to 
bear the storms of adversity. God forbid, however, that I should 
now reproach you with your faults, as the events which have 
transpired have already too cruelly punished you. You have need 
of some solace, and it is my wish to render you all in my power. 
Listen then, my son, to my feeble voice; receive my paternal 
consolations; attend to a friend who partakes of your griefs, 
and to an alarmed parent who groans through his own sufferings, 
and trembles for you. Thy Sophia is thine own; no one can 
deprive thee of her. Du Portail, in conducting her to the altar, 
has given up all his power over her. We will search for her, my 
friend, and in whatever place we can trace her, I promise thee 
that nothing shall be neglected in order to extricate her from 
her thraldom; I promise to restore thee thy wife. Recall thy 
courage; let Hope again take her seat in thy bosom; have pity on 
my extreme distress, and let me see my dear son restored!"

"Yes, yes, let him but continue his ptisan," interrupted the 
little man, "and we will cure him."

"Alas, father! I am twice indebted to you for my life!"

"And to me also, Monsieur," interrupted the little man: "Do you 
think you owe nothing to me? Do you take no account of the 
draughts I have given you since the morning?"

"Do they know, father, what has become of her?"

"Derneval and Dorothea set off the day before yesterday, and 
they promised me they would make every inquiry."

"Gentlemen," said the little man, addressing us once more, "this 
conversation must be finished. We must cure this young man, 
since he has already recovered his reason. Let him be silent, 
and continue his ptisan; tomorrow all will be well, and we can 
then remove him."

Having said this, he instantly filled a large cup, and bringing 
it with an air of triumph, invited me to swallow the comforting 
dose.

An ardent young lover who inquires after a beloved mistress that 
has been torn from him, and is presented with a draught of 
physic, may well be impatient and wanting of politeness. I 
snatched the cup, and dashed its contents on the head of my 
Esculapius. The thick liquid rolled down his oblong visage, and 
ran over his slender body.

"Ah! Ah!" he said calmly, while wiping his wig and his clothes, 
"your son is again in his delirium. But Monsieur the Baron, let 
not that alarm you. Let him continue his medicine, only 
administer it yourself; because, as you are his father, he will 
not dare to throw it in your face."

The best physician is he, who, being acquainted with our 
passions, knows how to humour them when he cannot cure them. 
Thus the promises of the Baron did more towards my recovery than 
all the remedies of the little doctor.

The next day I found myself much better, and was removed as they 
had promised me. We went to the village of Holrisse, two leagues 
from Luxembourg, to occupy a country house which my doctor had 
recently taken, and of which retreat the Baron had been advised 
to avail himself, in order to complete my recovery.

The tranquillity of the place, its rural gaiety, the charms of 
the country, and the occupation of the peasantry at the season, 
would all afford me, they said, agreeable recreations. I could, 
without danger, breathe a wholesome air, and take moderate 
exercise in a large garden.

My father also thought that we should be better concealed in an 
obscure village, and to a change of residence, which was perhaps 
superfluous, he added a necessary precaution in altering our 
names. He was to be M. de Belcourt, and myself de Noirval. The 
Baron's valet de chambre, and my faithful Jasmin, were our only 
servants. He sent his other domestics on different routes, with 
the double view of searching for Lovinski, and rendering 
ourselves more quiet by their absence.

On our arrival at the new dwelling we had chosen, M. de Belcourt 
examined all the chambers, that he might give me the one he 
thought most quiet and convenient.

M. Desprez (the name of the little doctor) pointed out to us a 
little pavilion between the court and the garden. He told us 
that it contained three very pleasant chambers, on the first 
floor, but that the last proprietor had been obliged to abandon 
them on account of their being haunted. Noirval, said my father, 
smiling, is not afraid of spirits; he has pistols already, and 
when he is a little better, he will have his sword.

I was put into possession of one of the three rooms. Jasmin 
entered with glee into another, and promised to defend even the 
third from spirits. M. de Belcourt took up his abode in the body 
of the house, which looked into the street.

Night came, but the spirits did not appear. They left me 
entirely to my melancholy reflections. Oh, my pretty cousin! Oh, 
my charming wife! What tears did I shed in thinking of thee! 
Where has her father conducted her? Why has be snatched her from 
me? What powerful reason could hurry to his extremity a man 
naturally so mild and compassionate as Lovinski and one, too, 
who had so well experienced the irresistible empire of a passion 
vainly opposed. Could the inconsolable husband of Lodoiska 
become a cruel father? Besides, had not a speedy marriage 
repaired what he called my errors? What could the honour of his 
house, so involuntarily compromised, require more? In fact, was 
it not even to my faults that he owed the unexpected happiness 
of finding his daughter? And did this ungrateful man dare to 
ravish her from me? And would the barbarian fear to immolate 
her? Yes, without doubt, he will destroy her! Overwhelmed with 
despair, Dorliska will fall a victim to his cruelty! The 
unfortunate Dorliska-Oh, my Sophia! If you are no more, you 
must, at least, have carried with you the just hope that I shall 
soon follow you! I shall not be long in accomplishing it! In a 
little time, far from a jealous world and from unnatural 
fathers; free from the insupportable burden of tyrannic customs, 
and relieved from the odious yoke of persecuting prejudices, I 
shall go with tranquillity and satisfaction to join my happy and 
consoled spouse. I shall be in the bosom of Peace in the Elysium 
promised to true lovers and there our souls, more intimately 
connected, shall taste the ecstatic pleasures of eternal love!

Thus, in the silence of the night, my grief fed upon ideas the 
most calculated to feed it, but the morning brought me some 
repose. My father, who always rose with the sun, did not cease 
to repeat to me his promises, and explained to me the means he 
intended to employ, in concert with myself, to recover my wife, 
and his not appearing to doubt of success, relieved me from 
despair.

Nature seems to have ordained, by one of her immutable and 
beneficent decrees, that hope should spring from misfortune. It 
is seldom that hope abandons an unfortunate person and the 
greater his miseries are, the more easy it is to persuade him 
that they will be shortly terminated.

Sometimes agitated by the most galling suspicions, I asked my 
father what he thought of the young man, whose lamentable cry 
still rung in my ears. M. de Belcourt was at a loss for a reply, 
when I enquired how the stranger could have followed us to 
Luxembourg; what design brought him there? When could he have 
known Sophia? and why Sophia had never spoken of him.

Sometimes, also, recalling less melancholy ideas regarding the 
crowd of events which had transpired during my sixteenth year, I 
indulged myself in thinking of that interesting beauty by whom 
the commencement of my career, sown with so many flowers, had 
been rendered so agreeable. Poor Marchioness de B***, what is 
become of you? Perhaps shut up in a prison! Perhaps dead! 
Equitable reader, it is to you I appeal whether, without 
ingratitude, I could refuse a few tears for the fate of that 
unhappy lady, whose only fault was her affection for me.

I should not forget to mention, that my doctor, M. Desprez, 
afforded me also some amusement. He enquired every morning if I 
had been disturbed by apparitions; every evening he recommended 
me to continue the ptisan; but, though I often pressed him 
earnestly, he never would take it himself. I was astonished that 
my father had chosen such a strange doctor, who thought of 
nothing but his ptisan and the ghosts. M. de Belcourt informed 
me that the most skilful physician in Luxembourg had, in the 
first place, been consulted, and had prescribed for me 
everything that was necessary; that M. Desprez, hearing a sick 
person was going to be taken into the country, came and offered 
his services and his house. The first physician approved the 
situation, but rejected the humiliating and dangerous practice 
of consulting with a modern professor, with whom he was 
unacquainted. M. de Belcourt, therefore, to prevent discord, 
took the advice of the one, and the house of the other.

It was the eminent physician of Luxembourg who prescribed for 
me; the unknown doctor of Hollrisse had no other merit than that 
of letting us his house at a very high rent. I was at liberty to 
believe in his ghosts, but I had nothing to dread from his 
drugs.

More than eight days had elapsed, when we received some 
encouraging news. Dupont, one of our servants, whom my father 
had dispatched on the road to Paris, wrote word, that on 
quitting Luxembourg, he heard, at the first post, that they bad 
furnished horses to a middle-aged gentleman, accompanied by a 
young lady in tears. He did not doubt but it was my wife and 
father-in-law, and had followed as far as the environs of Sainte 
Menehould, where he unfortunately broke his thigh through the 
fall of his horse. This accident had prevented him from 
forwarding sooner such interesting information.

M. de Belcourt, expert at catching everything which would 
flatter my hopes, did not fail to observe, that henceforward the 
object of my wrath would be more easily followed up, since we 
found it was circumscribed by the extent of the kingdom, or, 
rather, of the capital. M. du Portail, he added, has calculated 
that he might safely return to Paris, as he was so little known, 
and that even should we discover his retreat, we should not dare 
to follow him there.

"I will dare it though, father, I will go there, and speedily 
embrace my Sophia."

On the same day we received a letter from Rosambert, to whom, 
since our change of name and residence, M. de Belcourt had sent 
the details of our recent misfortunes. The Count, still 
concealed in the retreat he had chosen, was already much 
recovered, and reckoned soon to join us. He had sent to the 
convent to enquire after Adelaide, who was greatly afflicted at 
our absence. He informed us that the Marquis was not dead, but 
said not a word of the Marchioness. The silence which he 
affected regarding a too unhappy and too lovely woman, whose 
fate he knew must be interesting to me, appeared strange, and 
could not but excite my most lively interest.

I was not less surprised that he had not written to me at the 
same time as to M. de Belcourt; but, after reflecting awhile on 
this subject, I guessed that my father, fearing the effect of 
such a correspondence in my present situation, had intercepted 
my letters.

If there was nothing positively good in the news I received, it 
was still sufficient, in some degree, to tranquilise my mind. My 
convalescence was certainly apparent, and the little doctor 
disputed both with love and nature the merit of my speedy 
recovery, and attributed all the honour to his nasty ptisan, so 
rarely taken. One circumstance alone obliged him to confess that 
some propitious divinity watched over our destinies; the spirits 
had not haunted the house since our residence in it. M. Desprez 
had spoken so often to me of ghosts, that at length I begged he 
would inform me what gave rise to all these jokes. He put on a 
grave face and, in a solemn tone, thus commenced his awful tale.

"A little farm-house, the tenant of which was named Lucas, once 
stood on the very spot where this pavilion is built, and which, 
consequently, did not then exist."

"Your consequence is well deduced, Monsieur Desprez."

"Lucas loved his wife, Lisette-and Lisette adored her husband, 
Lucas."

"My God! M. Desprez, how many times are you going to name them?"

"If I am to tell the story, Monsieur, it is proper that I name 
the personages who figure in it."

"You are right, doctor, I will not restrain you."

"I have already told you expressly, that Lucas and Lisette were 
married together; and I now beg you will observe, that for a 
marriage to be happy, it is necessary for the husband and wife 
to be good managers."

"A very excellent remark, M. Desprez."

"And that they manage well, it is necessary their tastes should 
be similar, and their tempers in unison."

"Good again, doctor."

"But I have already told you that Lucas loved something besides 
his wife."

"Oh! Monsieur Desprez, how admirably you relate it!"

"Ah, my memory is good! You see I forget nothing!"

"And you repeat it for fear of forgetting it."

"Because it is necessary to be clear and explicit, Monsieur. But 
this other thing which Lucas loved so much, and perhaps more 
than his wife, was good country-made wine, at three-half-pence 
per pint, Saint Dennis' measure! But his wife loved to drink of 
the limpid stream, and detested the juice of the grape.

"Ah, Doctor, you are now getting quite poetical!"

"Sometimes, Monsieur. There was this inconvenience in the 
propensity of Lucas, that the wine chafing the irritable fibres 
of his stomach, caused acrid vapours to ascend into the warmer 
fibres of his heated brain, and made him always coarse, brutal, 
and vulgar when he was drunk.

"Let me tell you, doctor, that this is a definition almost 
worthy the Medecin Malgré Lui.<25>"

"You insult me, Monsieur; I am become a doctor in spite of all 
the world; my medical genius impelled me to it. And in the 
opposite taste of Lisette there was also a contrary 
inconvenience, for the abundance of water relaxing her viscera, 
diluting too much her badly dressed victuals, affecting the tone 
of her stomach, and destroying her digestive organs, generated 
bad chyle, which occasioned heart-burnings, want of sleep, 
yawnings, listlessness, and drove to the inflated membranes of 
her brain that tenacious and bilious humour, which, in little 
women, has the peculiar effect of rendering them clamorous, 
obstinate, and crabbed scolds.

"Now, Monsieur, you can easily perceive that it would have been 
necessary for these two opposite propensities to have been 
amalgamated and blended together, to produce one well-regulated 
appetite. Lisette should have mixed a little wine with her 
water, and Lucas should have poured a great deal of water to his 
wine, because the temperament of the husband, and the 
temperament of the wife would have thus sympathised together, by 
means of a just medium; because their humours would have been 
found to accord; because-because-"

"Do not trouble yourself, doctor, I can guess the rest."

"It stands proved, then, Monsieur, that if things had been 
regulated in the manner I have just laid down, the fatal 
catastrophe I am about to relate, would not have occurred to 
this unhappy couple.

"Now, doctor, for the catastrophe."

"It was, Monsieur, in the year 1773, on Friday, the 13th of 
October, at thirteen minutes after eight c'clock in the evening. 
I will just observe as I go on, that in the recurrence of 
several numbers, thirteen is always fatal. They had just 
gathered in their vineyards, because the vines were late in 
ripening that year. Lucas, on coming out of the tub in which the 
fruit had been pressed, drank thirteen glasses of new wine; when 
he re-entered the farm-house he was no longer a man-he was a 
devil. Unfortunately, his wife had eaten for her dinner a little 
omelet, composed of the yolks of thirteen eggs, and had drank 
nothing but water. Her digestion became painful, and on seeing 
Lucas a little merry, began to scold, make faces at him, and to 
use a thousand irritating expressions. Lucas replied by a 
menacing gesture and gross language. Lisette, in the moment of 
anger, threw thirteen plates at his head. Lucas, in return, gave 
Lisette thirteen blows on the head with a quart pot, which he 
held in his hand, and knocked her down ultimately as flat as a 
flounder. When he saw her lying dead before him, he began to 
feel that he loved her, and threw himself, broken-hearted, upon 
her carcass, begging pardon for having killed it.

"Alas! Cries he, in a lamentable tone, this is the first time I 
ever did so! At length he rises in a melancholy mood, and 
marches, with his arms akimbo, to his wine tub, and drops gently 
into it, head first, without saying a word. In about thirteen 
seconds after, he was taken out by his neighbours, when he was 
already dead."

"Ah, doctor, this is a long but charming story!

"I did not make it, Monsieur, it is a tradition among the 
people, but hear the conclusion. Justice, indignant, took 
cognisance of the affair, they seized the body of Lucas, which, 
fortunately for him no longer contained a soul, and hung it up 
by the heels; the farm-house was levelled with the ground, and 
the land put up by auction. The person who bought it found 
himself very uncomfortable in it. He never ventured to inhabit 
his pavilion, because every vintage season, and sometimes a 
little later, a most terrible change takes place. Night comes 
on, the sky looks pale; the earth quakes; the elements are in 
convulsions; the pavilion leaps from its foundation; the roof 
dances in the air; and the walls appear red either with blood or 
with wine. A horrible clatter is heard within, like the smashing 
of plates and the knocking together of pots. The groans of a 
dying person are also heard, and the cries of one drowning."

"Ah! What a delightful history, M. Desprez! Let me entreat you 
not to tell it anyone else; keep it entirely for me, and when I 
get to Paris, it will form a charming plot for a comic opera. I 
shall take care, in order to delight and surprise the whole 
world, to introduce into each scene, two or three ariettes<26> 
in verse, nearly rhyming; I will retain much of your manner, M. 
Desprez, and I will not write worse than you relate. If the work 
is applauded, and lays the basis of my fame, I will try every 
year to treat as happily two or three subjects of the same kind. 
Then the musicians, who always judge so well, will steal my 
verses; the comedians, who are infallible, will propose them for 
models; and the public, who are never mistaken, will call for 
the author with enthusiasm. In this age of little talents and 
great success, my chef d'oeuvre will be performed a hundred 
succeeding nights. Every fool will quote me as a great man; and 
if I have only men of letters and men of taste against me, I 
shall, most probably, become an academician."

This project was certainly noble and aspiring, but, as will be 
seen by the sequel, I had so many others to attend to on my 
arrival at Paris, that I could not spare time for its execution.

Had the credulous doctor's frightful story deranged my brain? 
Let the judicious lady who may be at this moment perusing my 
amours, decide on the subject. In a dream, which lasted nearly 
two hours, I saw, almost continually, my pretty cousin. The 
Marchioness de B*** presented herself five times at intervals; 
and only once-do not scold me, reader-once I thought I had a 
glimpse of the charming little creature of whom I have spoken in 
my first year-Justine. I cannot tell which of the three beauties 
it was that embraced me, but I can assure you that I was 
embraced, and as closely as if all the three had hugged me at 
once. I woke, and jumped up: the day began to break. Upon my 
honour, I felt my lips still tingling from the burning kiss I 
had received; my orange-coloured curtains were gently waving, 
and I heard a shrill noise in my apartment. I sprang to the foot 
of my bed, and walked round my room, but no one was to be seen; 
everything was fast and tranquil. I must surely, thought I, be 
delirious! Love and ghosts had turned my head. Oh, Sophia! My 
Sophia! Come back: hasten, if you would not that I should lose 
the remainder of my reason!

When my father and M. Desprez came in to me, I was still so 
affected by the kiss I had received, that I told them a spirit 
had embraced me. My father smiled, and considered it a sign of 
my recovery. The doctor appeared delighted, and, in the 
meantime, advised me to take some refreshment.

Those who do not believe in spirits will be very much astonished 
to learn that the next morning I was awakened in precisely the 
same manner: I experienced the same sensations, heard the same 
noise, made the same useless searches in my room, and concluded 
that the ardour of my imagination had returned with my strength.

Oh, my Sophia! For several days I supported, more impatiently 
than ever, the uncertainty of thy fate, and the torment of thine 
absence; nor did I cease to press for my return to Paris. 
Unfortunately, my father received disagreeable news, which 
seemed to present difficulties to the accomplishment of my 
wishes. They spoke of nothing in the capital but my adventure, 
and the duel with which it terminated. Of the two friends of the 
Marquis, the one who fought with M. du Portail was killed. He 
was generally regretted, and his friends, who were numerous and 
powerful, made the most urgent representations against us. I 
could not show myself in the capital without risking my head on 
the scaffold. M. de Belcourt seemed alarmed at the danger, of 
which I was fully sensible, but which, nevertheless, would not 
have stopped me, if the braving of it could have restored my 
Sophia; but before I went to face so many perils, it was, at 
least, necessary I should know in what place my unfortunate wife 
was detained.

Being obliged to confine myself to the premises I lived upon, I 
endeavoured to relieve my melancholy and ennui by walking all 
day in the garden.

One evening, when undressing myself, I found a letter carefully 
wrapped up in my nightcap; instead of my usual address, were the 
following words: Noirval, dismiss your servant, and read."

I accordingly sent Jasmin away, opened it, and read as follows:

If it is true that the Chevalier de Faublas is not afraid 
of spirits, let him burn this letter, and preserve to-night 
a profound silence, whatever may happen!

"Ah!" I said, pretty loud, "this is one of my dear doctor's 
little jokes." I burnt the mysterious paper, put out the light, 
jumped into bed, and went to sleep.

My sleep was not of long duration. I could not resist the 
accustomed impression of this kiss, which burnt my lips, and 
made my heart beat. For this time, I was not deceived by a vain 
dream; it was no longer a fugitive shadow which embraced me; 
even in my bed, and presently in my arms, I found a living body 
in voluptuous contact with my own. But gently-blunderer as I am, 
I was going to tell the simple fact in simple language, and the 
fair reader is already blushing: let us, then, endeavour to 
clothe this affair in decent phraseology.

I felt myself taken hold of in a very delicate manner, and 
gently drawn towards it by a charming little hand, which I 
kissed. Do not be displeased with me, for, with all your 
scruples, you would have done as I did. A thousand seductive 
attractions would not have been offered you in vain; like me, 
you would have wandered with delight over so many charms with a 
caressing and curious hand, enchanted at the result of your 
researches; like me, you would have said in a whisper, lest your 
servant in the next room should hear you: "Charming spirit! How 
beautiful thy form! How soft thy skin!"

I repeated this very flattering compliment several times; I 
wished more than once to prove that it was sincere. Vain desires 
of a convalescent, if he can in a happy night! The same words 
are spoken again, the same actions easily repeated. The sweet 
combat just began; and it was not simply a matter of politeness; 
I remember only too well that my adversary was enjoying it. 
Alas! Faublas found himself too little prepared for it; Faublas 
was almost immediately vanquished. Even if the ghost, less 
taciturn, had been willing to speak familiarly with me; but she 
persisted in not replying a word. It was a sure way to put me 
back to sleep, I who, like everyone else, like to talk when I 
have nothing to do.

When I woke again, the sun was rising, and I was alone in my 
chamber. I recommenced my search, already so often made without 
effect. My two doors and four windows were fast, and the walls 
seemed incapable of containing a secret door, nor was there any 
opening in the floor, or sliding compartment in the ceiling. 
How, then, could this female spirit penetrate into my room? The 
doctor had neither wife nor daughter, and the house was only 
inhabited by men. From whence then came this tempting spirit, 
whose sex I had proved? Did Lisette journey from the other world 
into this, to be revenged of her poor Lucas?

A farmer's wife in my arms! No! I would rather believe myself 
the Titan of the timid Aurora, or the modern Endymion of some 
haughty goddess, who had clothed herself in a human form. Oh! My 
Sophia! It seems to have been predestined that thy husband 
should not remain faithful to thee, even for three weeks, but at 
least the incense which belongs to thee, has only burnt at the 
shrine of a divinity.

I was anxious to lay this adventure before the Count Rosambert, 
from whom it was very astonishing that I received no direct 
intelligence. I wrote him a letter of three large pages, the two 
first were occupied about Sophia, and I crowded into the third, 
the inconceivable history of my beautiful ghost.

I waited the night following, but it did not come until the 
eighth night. Impelled by an eager desire of knowing the 
nocturnal beauty who visited me, I demanded her appellation, for 
whether nymph or goddess, a name she must have. How long she had 
loved me, for without infatuation, I flattered myself that I had 
pleased her, in what place she had met me, for she treated me at 
least like an acquaintance. These questions, and several others 
less embarrassing, obtained me no answer. At last, of all the 
known means to make a woman speak, I employed the most decisive, 
but the malicious female demon, with an unshaken presence of 
mind, exhausted my resources without suffering a single 
exclamation to escape her.

I was mortified the more, as this impolite silence became, in 
consequence of circumstances, a species of ingratitude; I 
endeavoured to conduct myself in such a manner as to obtain some 
thanks. All my efforts, however, were useless, for I found with 
regret that the females of the other world, although very 
sensible to certain terrestrial joys, possess not, on the most 
interesting occasions, the tender prattle, and the affectionate 
converse of our earthly dames.

An enemy to the accusing day, my discreet spirit waited not the 
rising Aurora. When I heard her prepare for her departure, I 
endeavoured to retain her; but she placed the forefinger of her 
right hand on my mouth, her left hand upon my heart, and on my 
forehead two kisses; then, slipping from me with a sigh, quickly 
escaped I know not where. I merely thought I could distinguish a 
cracking as if the wall opened, and the creaking of a hinge. I 
was, apparently, deceived, for I examined my walls again as soon 
as it was light, but the paper which covered them exhibited a 
smooth surface, and offered no signs of being opened; my doors 
and windows also were closely shut.

The same evening I found in my night-cap a second letter:

I shall return in the night between Sunday and Monday if 
the Chevalier promises me, on the word of a gentleman, that 
he will make no attempt to detain me. Let him answer me 
through the same medium.

Ah! I understand! Through the night-cap. The next day my docile 
messenger was charged with my short dispatch which contained the 
promise required from me.

The much-wished Sunday arrives! And shortly the night surrounds 
me with her perfidious shades, that night so remarkable in the 
history of my life! Jasmin, who had been absent since dinner, 
returned towards dusk. As soon as he saw me alone, he informed 
me of the unexpected arrival of Rosambert. The Count had stopped 
at Luxembourg, from whence he had sent secret dispatches to 
Jasmin; for reasons which he himself would tell me, he could not 
arrive at Hollrisse until about an hour before midnight, as, it 
was of great consequence that no one should see him enter the 
house; I was, therefore, earnestly requested to open the little 
garden gate, precisely at twelve o'clock, with my own hand.

I followed my instructions punctually. M. de Belcourt, angry 
that I left him sooner than usual, made a remark about it to M. 
Desprez, with which I was not struck, but by what happened 
subsequently: "Let the convalescent go," he said, "I dare say he 
has some commerce with the spirits, which he does not wish us to 
know."

Instead of going to my chamber, I slipped gently into the 
garden. Rosambert was waiting for me at the little gate. 

"Ah! How do you do, my good friend; where is my Sophia? What is 
become of the Marchioness? Have you any news of her father? Does 
her husband still live? How is my sister? What do they say of 
the duel? What think you of the stranger? How do you like my 
affair with the ghost? Why did you not write to me? How do you 
do?"

"A moment's patience, dear Noirval! What vivacity! What 
eagerness! You put me in mind of the little Chevalier de 
Faublas, about whom they talk so much in Paris. Let us, in the 
first place, sit down on this bench, and permit me to make my 
answers in a little more order than you put your questions. My 
vigilant emissaries have seen M. du Portail at Paris, and they 
will follow his footsteps until they have discovered the place 
of his daughter's retreat, of which they will send us a good 
account."

"Oh! My Sophia! Shall I then behold thee again?"

"Gently, my friend, you shall, do not interrupt me. Madame de 
B*** is, apparently, retired to one of her country residences, 
as they can meet with her neither at court nor in the city.

"Poor Marchioness, I shall never see thee again!"

"Perhaps not, do not be grieved at that, the Marquis, whose 
wound is not deemed mortal, only desires to be cured, that he 
may go and seek you wherever you are to be found. He vows to 
pursue you everywhere."

"But, Rosambert, have you no idea where she is?"

"Probably at one of her country seats."

"Yes, Madame de B***, but Sophia, I mean?"

"Ah! In Paris, most probably."

"Think you, my friend, that the Marquis will pardon her?"

"Pardon the Marchioness! Why not? The adventure is an 
extraordinary one I agree, but the evil is very common. It is 
only a little noise! Oh! A woman like the Marchioness can make 
him listen to reason."

"Tell me, Rosambert, without flattery, whether you think I can 
make him restore her to me!"

"What, force the Marquis to give his wife up to you!"

"No, my friend, it is of my own, and of her father that I 
speak."

"Du Portail! There can be no doubt but they will compel him to 
give her up."

"I shall never see her more! I shall never, never see her more!"

"On the contrary, since he will be forced to give her up, you 
will see her."

"I was thinking, Monsieur, on that unhappy lady."

"You are always the same, my friend, marriage has not changed 
you: but let me, in my turn, ask you some questions. In the 
first place, I see you are nearly recovered-"

"The hope of shortly seeing my Sophia! Yes! Yes! My Sophia! and 
then, that unfortunate lady!-the Marchioness; I assure you it is 
not my intention to go in search of her! It is true I sometimes 
catch myself thinking of her, but it is because-"

"Undoubtedly, Chevalier; I understand you; it is because you 
cannot help it. A young man of good birth, will, in spite of 
himself, recollect the kind offices of a young and handsome 
woman, who first initiated him into the mysteries of Venus?"

"You are eternally jesting, Rosambert! Tell me, have you, by 
chance, heard anything of the little Justine?"

"What! The fille de chambre also holds a share of your heart? 
Ah, that is because you had the pleasure of first instructing 
her in the rudiments of a Paphian education! But, stop! I think 
you told me that La Jeunesse had that honour?"

"Come on, Rosambert, I am wrong, say no more of it."

"No, my dear Faublas, let us speak of the spirit."

"Ah, yes! How do you like my affair with the spirit? Is it not 
singular that this woman never speaks a word, and is so 
wonderfully firm in her resolution? Is it not curious that this 
little demon should enter my chamber so often, and I cannot tell 
from whence-"

"Does she visit you every night, Faublas?"

"No, but I expect her to-night."

So much the better, and will we clear up this pleasant mystery? 
We shall know-but I amused myself in writing instead of getting 
my supper, while I was at the inn. I begin to be hungry, 
Chevalier."

"Stop here I will go and call Jasmin."

"What! And make a noise in the house? You must guard against 
that stop! I think I have got something in my chaise; I always 
carry some provisions with me."

He left me; and in a few minutes he brought half of a fowl and 
bottle of wine: I have brought two glasses, he said, because I 
intend you shall sup with me here, here in this garden, 
chevalier; we have much to say, and it will not be safe in your 
chamber. In the first place, let us drink the health of 
Adelaide, of whom you have only spoken once."

"Ah, my dear sister! I love her much, notwithstanding-how is 
she?"

"Very well; very well, and grows more charming than ever! I 
could not resist the inclination of seeing her before I left 
France. Amiable child! She looks more beautiful in her grief, 
and pines for the absence of her father, her brother, and her 
dear Sophia! Let us drink her health, Faublas: let us drink it 
instantly; I know that it is not fashionable, but we are in the 
country; and, besides, we are travellers! Stop! Eat a morsel; 
you know I cannot sup alone."

"I am delighted to see you, Rosambert: but why stop in the 
garden? Why this mystery?"

"Because I could not converse with you in private; because the 
Baron, who has already intercepted my letters to you, would have 
occupied all my time, and would have desired me to alter the 
news I bring according to his own wishes."

"You are right, Rosambert; and then the spirit! Do you think 
that I should not wish to speak about her?"

"Come, Faublas, I will give you the health of Sophia."

"I have not tasted a drop of wine for this month before; you 
wish to make me tipsy!"

"To the health of Sophia! You cannot refuse that, chevalier. 
Come, drink to Sophia!"

"Oh, my pretty cousin! It is not the first time you have made me 
lose my reason! This wine, Rosambert, is uncommonly strong! It 
affects my head! What think you of the stranger, who, during the 
ceremony in the cathedral-"

"Faith, I do not know what to say; let us talk of your new 
mistress, that nocturnal beauty who loves you with so much 
discretion. Is she pretty, Faublas?"

"Beautiful, my friend!"

"What! A woman who fears daylight? I'll wager she's ugly?"

"A hundred Louis that she is charming."

"Well! I'll take you at your word; but then I must see her."

"And then you will inform me-"

"Most willingly: but do you think I can be less curious than 
yourself. Since you wrote to me the account of your adventure, I 
have burnt with an ardent desire to develop the mystery. Permit 
me to assist you in this experiment: you must go to bed gently, 
and without a light. You must get into bed quick, and say not a 
word. I will remain concealed by your bedside, and am provided 
with a dark lantern, which will be of importance on this 
occasion; and, if the spirit is not a sorceress, we will see 
what kind of a face she has. Therefore, chevalier, let us drink 
one more health; you have forgot someone."

"Ah! Yes! The beautiful Marchioness! Oh, my faithful wife! I 
know well that I should not name her. Come on, then, give me two 
drops for the Marchioness!"

"You are jesting, my friend; for so charming a woman you must 
have it quite full."

This last glass finished me, and I sunk all at once into a 
delirium of intoxication. The surrounding objects already 
appeared to me in confusion. I spoke without making myself 
understood; or rather, I stammered instead of speaking. I 
presently became dull and stupid: my noisy joy now ceased, and I 
was overcome by the most invincible sleep. Rosambert, who 
perceived this, begged me to conduct him to my chamber, but to 
make no noise, and keep a profound silence. He told Jasmin, who 
waited my orders in the garden, to retire in the same manner. We 
went up with no other light than the dark lantern which we left 
in the passage.

As I entered, supported by Rosambert, I came in contact with a 
sofa, on which he stretched me, to the end, he said, that he 
might undress me with greater facility. I suffered him to act 
the part of valet de chambre, but he acquitted himself so slowly 
and awkwardly, that before he had finished I sunk into a most 
profound sleep.

An hour's sleep having dissipated the fumes of the strong wine 
which had taken away my senses, I was suddenly roused by a loud 
burst of laughter. "At length," cried Rosambert, "I am 
completely revenged; I am willing you shall kill me on the spot, 
if it is not her!"

 At the same instant I heard a groan, which was followed by a 
long sigh. I was lying in such a manner on the sofa, that I 
perceived the feeble light of the dark lantern at the bottom of 
the passage. Prompted instantly both by anxiety and curiosity, I 
ran into the passage, and entered the apartment abruptly, with 
the lantern in my hand. I cast the trembling light on the 
objects before me: what did I see? Alas! Even at this day, how 
can I relate it without a sigh! I saw upon my bed, which he had 
taken possession of, and in my place, which he had usurped, 
Rosambert, almost naked, closely embracing, in the most 
unequivocal position, a woman! Oh! Madame de B***, how beautiful 
you still appeared to me, although you had fainted.

As soon as the Count thought I had properly scrutinised this 
exhibition, he rose from his victim, took his clothes in haste, 
and said, while laughing: "Adieu, Faublas! I leave you with this 
disconsolate fair one; I think you will have a very singular 
explanation! Persuade her, if you can, that you have had no 
share in this trick. Farewell! My chaise is waiting for me; I 
return to Luxembourg, and tomorrow you shall hear from me."

The cruel observations of Rosambert were as distressing to me as 
the action he had been guilty of. In the first impulse of my 
rage I was flying for my sword, to compel him to give me a 
reason for his infamous proceedings, when Madame de B*** rose 
all at once, and seized me by the arm. Rosambert had time to 
escape: the Marchioness immediately took my hand, covered it 
with kisses, and bathed it with tears: "Oh, from what a weight I 
seemed relieved!" she said. "Oh, what a consolation it has been 
to me to learn that you did not participate in this infamous 
proceeding!"

Madame de B*** would have continued, but her extreme agitation 
would not suffer her. She sobbed for a long time, without being 
able to utter a word; at last, redoubling her efforts, with a 
voice interrupted by sighs, she resumed:

"If you had been capable, Faublas, of delivering me to this 
unworthy man, if you had so far despised me, this last 
misfortune, greater than all the rest, would have brought me to 
the grave. I find, however, that it is still possible to live, 
and not be quite destitute of consolation, since debased as I 
am, I can yet hope for your esteem, or at least I ought to 
reckon on your pity. If your bitter mortifications will be in 
any degree alleviated by knowing that I participate in them, let 
me assure you, my amiable friend. Oh!,I am wretched! My heart 
bleeds for you! How this perfidious man, aided by a fatal 
accident, has undermined my vain prudence! How has a single 
moment overturned my carefully concerted projects, and destroyed 
my dearest hopes!"

At these words the Marchioness sunk down on my pillow, her arms 
were stretched out and immovable, her eyes became fixed, and her 
tears ceased to flow. Insensible to my cares, deaf to my 
entreaties, she seemed overcome by despair, and penetrated with 
the horror of her situation. She kept this alarming silence for 
a quarter of an hour; and then, in an apparently calm tone, she 
said: "Make yourself easy, my friend; sit down near me, and give 
me all your attention; I am going to unbosom myself entirely to 
you, and when I have laid open the vain projects I had formed, 
and the immutable resolutions I am about to make, you will know 
precisely how far you ought to pity or to blame me.

"The Marquis met you accidentally in the gardens of the 
Tuileries, and your father exposed everything. My husband came 
off in a hurry, reproached me before twenty witnesses, and 
announced his approaching vengeance. Astonished at the cruel 
manner in which you abandoned me, at a moment equally fatal to 
my love and my honour, I could not help concluding that a more 
urgent interest, and a dearer object, occupied your mind. 
Justine went after you several times, but could not find you. I 
then charged Dumont, my oldest and most faithful servant, who 
takes here the character of Desprez: I charged him, I say, to go 
and wait for you in the environs of the convent of Mademoiselle 
de Pontis, and to watch your proceedings until the next morning. 
He saw you enter the convent, waited till you came out, followed 
you to the field of battle, and on the road as far as Jalons, 
where he lost sight of you. He returned not soon enough to be my 
first informer of the two elopements, the news of which was 
already spread through Paris.

"Dumont, on his return, found my preparations already made. I 
had got together my gold, my jewels, some effects in the bank, 
and dressing myself in a blue uniform, that you might not know 
me, I flew to Jalons. While I was interrogating the post-master, 
a man arrived whom I recognised, and who, without knowing me, 
indicated to me your route; it was Jasmin who conducted a post-
chaise.<27> I continued to follow him at some distance, and 
arrived at Luxembourg the day after yourself. I went into the 
city as soon as it was light, and made inquiries in every 
quarter; I lost a whole hour during my researches, the most 
precious hour of my life.

"At length, I was informed that a marriage was performing in the 
cathedral, between a young gentleman and a lady he had stolen 
away. It was enough, I listened no longer, I flew to the church, 
and rushed through the crowd. You were just married! A groan 
escaped me, but suddenly mustering up strength, I vanished from 
your sight. Too happy in being able to fly, I hurried I know not 
where. My affections, however, soon brought me back to 
Luxembourg, that I might know what was become of you. Indeed, 
Faublas, the pleasure I felt at hearing my rival was torn from 
you, was not so lively as the sorrow I experienced on hearing of 
the dangerous delirium they said you had fallen into. Animated 
by the double desire of watching over the life of my lover, and 
of keeping him to myself, and myself only, I immediately formed 
my plan.

"With Dumont, who accompanied me, I examined all the environs of 
Luxembourg, and, under the name of Desprez, he hired this house. 
I soon made some alterations, which were necessary for the 
execution of my designs. The Marchioness de B***  resolved to 
suffer everything, as long as she did not lose you, and shut 
herself up in a garret, in another part of the house.

"Your father had you conducted here, and I had the pleasure of 
lodging with my lover, almost under the same roof; of seeing him 
restored to life under my own eyes; of visiting him sometimes in 
the silence of the night; of inhaling his breath, and feeling 
the palpitation of his heart. I ought, undoubtedly, before I 
indulged myself in taking still greater liberties, and 
experiencing the most supreme delights, to have waited your 
complete recovery; but what means had I of resisting the 
continual charm of your presence? Or of combating my increasing 
desires? Alas! What am I talking of? Faublas, the moment was 
approaching when my designs were about to be accomplished; 
within three days I should have thrown off the almost magical 
veil with which I have been enveloped; I should have discovered 
myself to you without any mystery; I should have shown you the 
Marchioness de B***, regardless of the rank she had left on your 
account, desirous of nothing but devoting herself to your 
happiness in some secure retreat, and still have thought my fate 
an enviable one, had you but appreciated my feelings and 
approved my plan. But had you ungratefully resisted, my 
resolution was formed, Chevalier, to carry you off in spite of 
yourself, and to have taken you where should I say? Perhaps to 
the end of the world. Yes, I would have placed immense oceans 
between my perfidious lover and my more favoured rival."

The Marchioness, when she began, was calm; next she seemed to 
melt in tenderness, and at length she became impassioned, and 
expressed the last words in so energetic and emphatic a manner, 
that I could not help expressing some signs of astonishment, 
which she observing, "Be composed," she said, "you are 
henceforth at liberty, though I shall be forever enslaved. My 
tender moments of passion are passed! I can now only experience 
the most impetuous, the most implacable of all. Opprobrium has 
put love to flight. How, indeed, could you take back to your 
arms a woman who was dishonoured in your eyes and degraded in 
her own? Being brought into this unfortunate condition by the 
basest of treachery, the most horrid vengeance has taken 
possession of my heart, which is now rankling with its 
empoisoned gall! Faublas, I indulge an idea that I perceived you 
ready to execute my just resentment; but, Rosambert, in this 
combat, the success of which will not be doubtful, would still 
glory in his fall; and his death, being unattended with shame, 
would be too feeble a reparation for the irreparable affront I 
have received from him. No, Chevalier, his punishment belongs to 
me, and I swear to you that it shall be accomplished."

Madame de B***'s countenance was so much inflamed and her eyes 
bespoke so much fury, that I began to dread the consequences of 
her violent passions. My unfortunate mistress saw that I was 
about to interrupt her, and hastened to continue her 
observations.

"You will endeavour in vain to change my resolution. A villainy 
too necessary for you to be astonished at it, or for me to 
shrink from any of the dangers it may be attended with. Alas! I 
have now nothing to lose! The perfidious wretch has overwhelmed 
me with dishonour, and deprived me of my lover! Let me repeat 
once more, Faublas, that I forbid you to espouse my quarrel; I 
will sustain it entirely by myself; I shall be driven to 
desperation if I am deprived of the pleasure of vengeance. It is 
well known what an enraged woman can do; they shall see what a 
woman like myself is capable of achieving. Yes, I swear by my 
disappointed love, by my lost honour, that you shall, in the 
midst of your astonishment, ask yourself whether anyone in the 
world could have avenged the Marchioness de B*** better than 
herself."

She remained for awhile in mournful silence. I ventured to give 
her a kiss, and my tears dropped on her naked bosom. She 
immediately repaired the disorder of her clothes, which, 
apparently, she had not observed, and in a less agitated, but 
not less mournful tone of voice, she said, "Oh, yes! Take pity 
on me! I have need of consolation. Tomorrow I must leave you; 
tomorrow we must separate, perhaps for a long time; I return to 
Paris"

"To Paris!"

"Yes, my friend. It was not fear that drove me from the capital; 
it was not to hide myself that I came to Luxembourg. Alas! I 
cannot, as I wished, consecrate the remainder of my life to your 
happiness? I am going to resume my fortune and my rank, since I 
am not permitted to sacrifice it. I return to Paris, make 
yourself easy as to my fate: for when a woman is not entirely 
destitute of mental and personal attractions, she can, if she 
chooses to take the trouble, bring back her husband, however 
justly incensed. To succeed in this delicate enterprise, two 
ways are still left me, but the most easy is not the best. Like 
many others, I can palliate some parts of my adventure, which 
are too much for his self-love to overlook; make an ingenuous 
confession of the rest, and exert that influence, which beauty 
still preserves even over him it has offended, to obtain a 
pardon which he will not refuse me. But this undertaking, 
however good it may be in a moment of trouble, is productive of 
many inconveniences in future. For M. de B***'s own repose, I 
would not arm him against myself with my own confessions, 
because I should be eternally tormented with his jealousy; he 
would suspect me of having been guilty of ten intrigues; when I 
have had but one passion, and, perhaps, contest with me the 
legitimacy of the only child I ever bore him. Besides, why 
should I humbly beg a pardon that I can boldly demand? No, no, I 
prefer rather to make use of that irresistible ascendancy which 
a strong mind ever possesses over a weak one. I shall not be the 
first who has been obliged, by improbable lies, boldly to deny a 
positive and proved infidelity. It may, perhaps, be less 
difficult for me than you can conceive, to make M. de B*** 
believe that the Chevalier de Faublas has always been 
Mademoiselle du Portail to me; and if I cannot persuade him, I 
shall at least embarrass him in such a manner as to leave him 
undecided.

"I am well aware that the public, far from being blind to real 
wrongs, are always ready to suppose them, and will not be so 
easily deceived as a credulous husband. I know well that I must 
expect the humiliating celebrity occasioned by gallant 
adventures, when they are of an extraordinary nature.

"The beaux esprits will make songs and epigrams about me, and 
the old dowagers will scandalise my character. In those circles 
which I shall be bold enough to enter, I shall see myself the 
object of affected whispers, of malignant looks, of artful 
sarcasms, and equivocal jokes. I must bear the impertinent airs 
of our silly fops; the cold contempt of our inexorable prudes; 
the pretended disdain of those loose fish who still preserve an 
external modesty, and the sisterly welcome of those beauties who 
have entirely lost their character.

"If I have the courage to appear at the theatres, and in the 
public promenades, I shall be surrounded by a crowd; a swarm of 
young rakes will buzz about me, whispering 'there she is; that 
is she.'

"Well! Faublas; this painful part, which many ladies of my rank 
have taken through choice, I shall fill through necessity. Like 
them, perhaps, bold in my appearance, free in my conversation, 
and stoically despising my ignominy, I shall accustom myself to 
repulse shame by effrontery, and blame by impudence.

"See, then, to what an excess of degradation I have been led by 
a passion, criminal if you will have it so, but, nevertheless, 
in many respects excusable. Ah, since it is true, that to avoid 
being unhappy we must fulfil all our duties with punctuality, 
why are so many difficult ones imposed on us? A girl who is 
ignorant of herself falls, at fifteen years of age, into the 
arms of a man she knows nothing about. She is told by her 
parents,<28> that birth, rank, and riches constitute happiness; 
you cannot fail of being happy, since, without ceasing to be 
noble, you become more rich; your husband cannot be otherwise 
than a man of merit, since he is a man of quality. The young 
wife, too soon undeceived, finds nothing but folly and vice, 
where she expected agreeable talents and brilliant qualities; 
the luxury which surrounds her, and the titles which decorate 
her, afford but insufficient and fleeting amusement to dissipate 
the listless langour of her life. Her eyes have already, 
perhaps, discovered and her heart received an impression from 
the mortal who is wanting to complete her happiness. Then, if 
the imperious master to whom she has sold herself presumes to 
use the rights of Hymen; if she submits to the repulsive 
embraces of custom and necessity, the unfortunate victim, doting 
on the image of her lover, even while in the arms of her 
husband, sighs at being forced to prostitute herself to one who 
profanes what another undoubtedly deserves, and would duly 
appreciate.

"If the fickle husband, after having long neglected, ultimately 
abandons her, must she submit herself to the rigour of a 
premature celibacy, or is she to expose herself to the perilous 
pleasures of a connection so anxiously desired. Restrained by 
her duty, but still under the influence of her passion; 
tormented by her fears, but earnestly solicited by love, will 
she be long able to submit to her painful privations without 
some indemnification? Suppose she resists the voice of nature 
continually prompting her, may not chance preserve for her, as 
it did for me, some all-powerful seduction, some inevitable 
temptation? Unfortunate woman! In a single moment she will lose 
the merit of many years' resistance, she is lost forever, for 
after the first faux pas what woman will stop? She will adore 
the man who made her commit it. Satisfied with taking some 
useless precautions, she neglects those which are more 
necessary; her danger becomes imminent, and she becomes more 
careless. Presently, betrayed by some unforeseen event, or, 
perhaps, sacrificed by some cowardly enemy, she loses forever 
the object most dear to her heart, and finds herself publicly 
defamed. This, my friend, is the lot of woman in that very 
France where it is pretended they reign!

"It was thus I beheld myself sacrificed, and for a long time 
struggled with mortification and disappointment, and thus was 
seduced by the sight of you. The day after that fatal, yet 
delicious night, who could have foreseen that I had opened under 
my feet an abyss, at the bottom of which Vengeance, Opprobrium 
and Despair were waiting for me?"

She finished, and I said, "My friend, I must leave you; and what 
will become of you?"

"Alas! You burn to be re-united to my fortunate rival. Oh! That 
you may find her, and continue ever faithful to her! May she, at 
least, escape misfortune! I leave you, Faublas, for a time under 
Rosambert's perfidious insinuations; be careful of listening to 
him, if my memory is dear to you; if you love Sophia: the Count 
will ruin you, you will acquire in his society a taste for 
futile occupations and pernicious pleasures; he will teach you 
the detestable art of seduction, of perfidious villainy and 
cowardly treachery. Perhaps it may appear strange to you to hear 
Madame de B*** giving a lecture on morality, but this is one of 
those singularities which your happy destiny and my unfortunate 
stars have reserved for you. I will freely acknowledge to you, 
Faublas, that it is not without the most poignant regret that I 
see you wasting, in the bosom of corrupting idleness and 
humiliating debauchery, those valuable gifts of which nature has 
been so prodigal to you, and which I had the happiness of 
developing. Ah my friend, how many common men are able to 
corrupt those beauties whose wish is to yield. I am certain 
that, whenever you choose, you may overcome them all, and become 
the idol of our sex! But does it not become you to be ambitious 
of success more worthy a noble heart. A young man like yourself 
might aspire to excel in everything. The sciences invite you; 
literature demands your attention, and glory awaits you in our 
armies: follow her career with giant strides: that your enemies 
may be reduced to silence, and your rivals be compelled to 
admire you. Your first success will bring relief to my sorrow; 
and I shall think I have obtained the eulogiums which you will 
merit; the fame you will acquire will restore me to my own 
esteem; your virtues will justify my weakness your glory will 
bring about my re-establishment the day may come when I can say: 
'Yes, I confess I am dishonoured, but it was for him.'"

Madame de B***'s addresses kindled in my breast the noble 
enthusiasm with which her own was inspired. Urged by a powerful 
impulse I attempted to throw myself into her arms, but she 
restrained me.

"Adieu, Chevalier, you may always depend on me. I shall always 
remember with tenderness and gratitude, though my youth was 
tormented with the most cruel pains, I had, nevertheless a few 
happy days, for which I was indebted to yourself. But do not 
deceive yourself as to the nature of the sentiments I entertain 
for you. This accident, the most fatal and least foreseen of all 
my misfortunes, has enlightened me while it overwhelms me with 
trouble; I find, by sad experience, that I must not hope for 
happiness in an illegitimate attachment. The weak Marchioness de 
B*** exists no more. You now behold a woman capable of some 
energy, but solely occupied with the care of insuring her 
vengeance, and forwarding your advancement. Adieu, Faublas, it 
is your friend who embraces you."

She gave me a kiss on the forehead, and retired by the chimney. 
Yes, it was by that she entered my chamber; the back of the 
fire-place was so constructed as to move on hinges, and to open 
wide enough to admit her through it. How many people, for want 
of knowing better, would attribute this contrivance to the 
invention of the Marchioness; but in an age fertile with 
inventions, and long before Madame de B****, a chimney was thus 
opened by an amiable duke for a captive beauty, whose name has 
acquired a lasting celebrity.



XIV.

The day which succeeded this unfortunate night brought me some 
consolatory intelligence; I received a letter from Rosambert 
which at first I refused to open. No one was with me except 
Desprez when it was brought. "Here, Dumont, is a handwriting 
which I recognise, do me the pleasure to take this letter to 
Madame de B***; tell her I will not open it, and that she may do 
as she likes with it."

Dumont took it, and returned in about a quarter of an hour. The 
Marchioness wished to speak to me a moment in her own apartment, 
I went up to her, and should probably have broken my head 
against the ceiling of her chamber, if she had not taken the 
trouble to warn me several times that I was in a garret. I saw 
no one but Madame de B***, who appeared very pale and 
melancholy. I asked her how she had spent the remainder of last 
night: 
"	"Alas!" she said, "as I shall pass hereafter many others!" 
And she handed me a paper bathed in tears; adding: "Behold the 
worthy epistle of my cowardly persecutor: I have cast my eye 
over it once, but wish to hear it read. Read it out."

"Must I?"

"It will be a cruel complaisance on your part; but I require 
it."

"Permit me-"

"Faublas, do pray grant me this last request."

"Nevertheless-"

"Chevalier, I really wish it."
My DEAR FAUBLAS. You must now look up to me as your master. 
You saw me strike a bold stroke which I had meditated for 
more than a month. Read and admire. I learnt that on the 
day of your marriage a stranger came into the church and 
witnessed the ceremony: sometime after you wrote me that a 
spirit, at once discreet and familiar, paid very 
interesting visits. Being well aware of Madame de B***'s 
enterprising disposition, I conjecture, I suspect, I 
inquire, and finding that she left Paris on the day of your 
flight, I conclude that she is in the same house with you, 
without your knowledge. One does not easily forget the 
wrongs received from so charming a woman. 
For ten months her piquant infidelity had rankled in my 
heart.

"My infidelity! As if ever the insolent coxcomb-. But proceed, 
my friend, proceed."

I conceived a scheme for accomplishing my revenge in a 
manner as complete and agreeable, as difficult in 
execution; I hastened my cure, and started in a post-
chaise. To bring about the gallant catastrophe it was 
necessary to make you a little tipsy, and I was obliged to 
employ that little trick which I doubt not you will pardon. 
This morning, however, I was uneasy; what did she say after 
my departure? What did she do? I would wager that, ever 
expert in making the best of circumstances, she has put on 
the most touching grief, the most affecting despair, and 
the most interesting repentance. 
I will wager also, that, ever credulous and compassionate, 
you have sincerely participated in the grief of your 
innocent mistress, so traitorously violated. I will wager 
also, that the ungrateful Chevalier does not yet feel the 
obligation he is under to me: nevertheless, I have snatched 
him from the woman who led him astray, and restored him, 
with undivided affection, to the wife who loves him. 
By a just decree of fate, Madame de B*** returns to her 
first master.

"To her first master!" interrupted Madame de B***, "that is not 
true!"

I was enslaved by her magical powers for ten months; the 
spell is now broken: the enchantment is dissolved, and I am 
free. Do you also, Chevalier, assert your liberty, and fly 
from the charms of this sorceress. Sophia expects her 
liberator; Madame de Faublas groans within the walls of the 
Convent de --, Faubourg Saint Germain, at Paris: you will 
guess why I did not give you this important news yesterday. 
Go, my friend, disguise yourself, fly to the capital, and 
when you embrace your charming wife, do not forget to tell 
her that she is indebted to Rosambert for the pleasure of 
seeing you so soon. 
I am, your friend, etc.

"My wife in the Convent de -- at Paris!" cried I, on finishing 
the letter. "Oh, my friend! How happy am I at this discovery!"

"Cruel child!" answered the Marchioness, in an emotion of 
passion which expressed her love and her despair; "It is from 
you, Chevalier, that I am to receive this last fatal blow!"

I was going to fall on my knees, to beg her to pardon my 
rashness, but her grief being instantly dissipated, she asked 
me, with more firmness than I could have expected, what I 
intended to do? And what services I expected from her 
friendship?

I told her I felt a most ardent desire to return to Paris. She 
felt alarmed at the dangers which awaited me there, and the 
uneasiness my flight would occasion the Baron. I observed that I 
should probably not be absent from my father more than a 
fortnight, and that, by taking some prudent precautions, I hoped 
to escape the perils my return to the capital would bring upon 
me. Madame de B*** did not seem satisfied.

"My friend," I said, "my wife, plunged into despair by my 
absence, may perhaps die; I know no danger more appalling to 
myself than that which menaces her, and it is my first duty to 
fly to her relief."

"It is not for me," replied the Marchioness, "to blame the 
imprudent actions which the most powerful of all passions impels 
us to commit. May I, now become the confidant of your rash 
enterprises, never regret in secret the times when I hazarded 
similar ones! Go, my dear Faublas, and, amidst a thousand 
dangers, search for this young Sophia, whose beauty has cost me 
so many tears. Oh, what a strange destiny! I must now take as 
much pains in order to re-unite you, as I have heretofore given 
myself torments in endeavouring to separate you. Doubt not but 
my anxious friendship will watch over your inconsiderate love. I 
go, as much as possible, to ward off the dangers by which you 
are surrounded, and to pave the way to that pleasure and 
happiness which is promised you."

"Of all other precautions, the first and most necessary is that 
of your disguise; I therefore undertake to provide you with the 
most commodious and convenient one, as well as to make all the 
necessary preparations for your departure. My own, which was 
fixed, shall be put off till tomorrow on your account. Leave me, 
my friend. Tell Desprez to come up and speak with me, and expect 
me in your chamber in the middle of the night."

She came as she had promised; and, for this time, she entered by 
the door. In the first place, she made me take off my coat, and 
from a parcel, mysteriously opened, she drew a large black robe, 
in which I was presently muffled up. My neck and breast were 
covered with so much art, that the kerchief seemed to envelope 
the treasure of a rich plump bosom, modestly concealed.

Over my bashful forehead, already bound with a white bandeau, a 
thin white veil was thrown, through which, with timid glances, I 
endeavoured to meet the eyes of the officious fair one employed 
in disguising me. I saw her blush and tremble; and, with a mixed 
sensation of pain and pleasure, I heard her stifle a tender and 
mournful sigh. How frequently were her eyes filled with tears, 
and cast down to avoid coming in contact with mine, as with 
quivering hands she continued to adjust some part of my dress 
which did not set to please her.

How often was I prompted by desire to allay my own ardour and 
her regrets, in the raptures of a last embrace! Oh, my Sophia! 
In no moment of my life was the remembrance of thee more 
necessary to my tottering virtue! And yet I must confess, that 
had I thought Madame de B*** had been as weak as myself, I 
should have tried the experiment; but, in short, I did not 
attempt to convince myself of it and you ought, my charming 
wife, to be happy that I did not put the courage of the 
Marchioness and the fidelity of your husband to so critical a 
trial.

When Madame de B*** saw that nothing more was wanting to my 
disguise, she could not restrain her tears; and, in a feeble 
voice, she said: "Adieu! Begone! Re-enter France: fly to Paris; 
I will follow you in two hours, and be in the capital only two 
hours later than yourself. Faublas, we shall arrive, as it were, 
together! The same city will contain us; yet we shall see each 
other no more! But I shall watch over your safety, and prevent 
or ward off the dangers which threaten you! You shall see if I 
am not a real friend! Get down in Rue Grenelle, Saint Honore, à 
L'Hôtel de l'Empereur; you need not remain there a minute, 
someone will come to you from me, in whom you may place all your 
confidence. Listen, Chevalier, to his advice; let your conduct 
be governed by his directions; and, above all, let me beg of you 
to commit no indiscretions. You have but one way of recompensing 
me for all my care and trouble, and that is this, not to spoil 
their effect by a foolish temerity. Oh, that it was permitted me 
to accompany you on the road, and partake of the dangers which 
perhaps await you! Here, my friend, at all hazards take your 
pistols. As to this weapon, she added, pointing to my sword, 
which hung at the head of my bed, it can never form part of a 
nun's equipage, therefore permit me to take it myself.

I reached it down, and presented it to her. She seized it with 
transport, drew it immediately, appeared to take a pleasure in 
examining its fine temper, and then returning it to the 
scabbard, she took my hand, which she squeezed with more force 
than I thought her capable.

"Grant, O Heaven," she said, in a vehement tone of voice, "that 
I may be worthy of this present!"

Without waiting for my reply, she conducted me to the staircase, 
which we descended in silence. We crossed the garden without 
making a noise, the little door was opened the moment we 
appeared, and I saw a post-chaise waiting for me. I wished to 
thank her for her kind attentions, but my mouth was stopped by 
several kisses. I hoped, at least, to return her tender 
caresses; but, quicker than lightning, she tore herself from my 
arms, shut the door after her, and bade me a tender "Adieu!"

I started, I set out to rejoin thee, my Sophia but how many 
misfortunes, how many enemies and rivals were still to retard 
the moment of our re-union!

It was very near five in the morning. We entered, at day-break, 
into the French territories. Every man who travels in a country 
where he has committed any dangerous act, imagines that everyone 
who looks at him recognises him, it seems impossible to him but 
that the cause of his inquietude is written on his forehead, and 
can be read by everyone who passes: besides, a nun travelling by 
herself in a post-chaise, was calculated to excite observation. 
This is what I was saying to myself in the environs of Longwy, 
the first place on the frontier, where I thought I perceived 
that I was noticed. After these fine reflections, I gave myself 
up to the deceitful sweets of a sleep, alas! Too short! For in a 
little time my chaise was surrounded, and I awoke through the 
noise produced by opening the doors. Before I had time to look 
about me, they got in, seized me, and bound me; but either too 
respectful, or too inattentive, or out of consideration for my 
sex, or my habit, or imagining there was nothing to fear from a 
nun, who was unarmed, they neglected to search me; the 
sacriligious troop, however, dared to profane my holy garb by 
throwing a soldier's cloak over me, and their chief seated 
himself cavalierly by my side, ordered the postilion to go 
forward.

"Where are you conducting me?"

Apparently deaf and dumb, the discreet satellite who guarded me 
was as little touched by my questions as my complaints. A kind 
of napkin, with which they had covered my head, admitted too 
faint a light to enable me to distinguish anything. The noise of 
a cavalcade struck my ear, from which I judged, that for greater 
security, I was escorted by soldiers. Once, while the troop 
stopped, seemingly to take fresh horses, I heard someone 
pronounce distinctly the name of Derneval and myself.

Where are they conducting me?

The cursed post-chaise went on perpetually; but we did, at last, 
come to our journey's end. From this I calculated that we must 
have been on the road about thirty-six hours: truly, six ages 
could not have appeared longer! What dreadful anxieties agitated 
me! To what cruel reflections was I a prey! I saw myself 
surrounded by judges! I heard the terrible sentence pronounced, 
and beheld the fatal scaffold! What a situation! It was not for 
myself alone that I groaned; no, my father, I thought of the 
letter which I had left for you on my table, in which I promised 
to return to you soon. Alas! Your son, perhaps, is doomed never 
more to embrace you!

It was not for myself that I regretted my life, no, my young 
wife, no; I thought of thy still increasing attractions, of our 
nuptials so short, and of our bonds so soon broken. In supposing 
that my deplorable end should not bring you to a premature 
grave, I was at least confident that you would remain faithful 
to my memory; no one would boast the happiness of marrying the 
widow of Faublas. Oh! My Sophia! I melted over the fate of a 
girl of fifteen condemned to the fate of a widowhood, that might 
last for more than half a century; and compelled all the while 
to regret the fleeting pleasures of two nights.

At length the chaise stopped, and they took me out. Where they 
had brought me I could not divine. I could not examine the place 
through the cloth with which my face was covered. For want of my 
eyes, I exercised my ears, and listened with as much curiosity 
as anxiety.

I heard the flapping of doors, the noise of bolts, the rattling 
of iron gratings, and the hasty steps of several persons on all 
sides. The place in which they put me appeared cold and damp. I 
was seated on a large wooden armchair; at some distance from me, 
I heard some words muttered, but I did not understand them; my 
ears were only struck by that hollow, prolonged echo, common in 
large vaults.

Someone approached me, and inclining towards my ear, addressed 
to me in a very mild tone, the following words, which were both 
terrific and consoling: "Great God! What will become of you? Oh, 
that I could save you!"

The next moment I heard a bell tolling as for a funeral; it 
seemed as if a number of people came in and surrounded me. To 
the tumultuous buzz of a great assembly, all was at once 
succeeded by a profound silence, which lasted for some time. My 
soul was troubled, my image ination laboured: I felt a something 
I had never felt before. Alas! I must acknowledge it was fear.

A shrill and squeaking voice at length broke the profound 
silence, and ordered me to say an Ave Maria. An Ave Maria! I 
tried three times to fulfil this strange commandment, and three 
times my trembling tongue refused to obey: for I could not in my 
extreme distress recall a syllable of the prayer in question. 
Someone then sung it, that I might repeat it word for word. 
After which began the short interrogatory, of which the 
following is verbatim.

"From whence do you come?"

"How should I know? Ask those who brought me here."

"What have you done since you went from hence?"

"Here! Perhaps I have never been here. Where am I?"

"Have you not seduced Mademoiselle de Pontis?"

"Mademoiselle de Pontis! Oh, Sophia!"

"Yes, Sophia de Pontis: do you not know her?"

"I have heard speak of her. "

"If I had known her I would have adored her, instead of seducing 
her."

"Do you know Chevalier de Faublas?

"That name has reached my ear."

"Do you know Derneval?"

"No."

"This 'no," repeated by several voices, circulated through the 
assembly.

"Is not your name Dorothea?"

"No." This made a still greater effect than the other. The voice 
which interrogated me, replied: "Let them take away the napkin, 
and lift up her veil."

The order was immediately executed, and what a spectacle met my 
astonished sight! Before an altar, and on a circular bench which 
surrounded me with an extensive sweep, were ranged in rows more 
than fifty nuns. Did my eyes deceive me? No, it was not a dream 
of my distempered imagination. The more I looked about me, the 
more certain I was that I had been examined by fifty nuns: I 
heard them exclaim, unanimously: "It is not she!"

"It is not she," repeated the one who appeared to preside over 
the assembly. "The affair is embarrassing," she continued, after 
a moment's reflection; "we must write this evening to our 
superiors. Tomorrow we shall receive their answer; in the 
meantime, let her be put in the dungeon, and let one of our 
sisters watch near her."

Four young nuns seized me, and took me away. I did not care to 
resist; in the first place I was bound, and in the next, I found 
my carriage sufficiently agreeable. Moreover, all the women 
followed me: and I took a pleasure in looking at them. Amongst 
so many females I perceived some very respectable on account of 
their size; and others very precious for their antiquity. There 
were some of all colours white, grey, yellow, green, more or 
less marked. This one was common, that was singular, another 
ridiculous: But I also got a side glance at some who were modern 
and pretty! And the sight of them seemed to defer the gloomy 
ideas which were presently about to strike a terror to the very 
bottom of my soul; and though my situation was still very 
uneasy, I thought no more of it. I am so constituted, that in no 
circumstances of my life, however embarrassing, if I saw but 
some pretty women, my troubles were entirely forgotten.

In the meantime, they took me by torch-light through a long 
passage underground, at the end of which I perceived a chapel. 
Close to that they opened a chamber, which was a dungeon only in 
name. It was a kind of a cell, in which I found a bed, upon 
which they put me. A lamp was lighted, and a chair given to 
sister Ursula, whom the venerables on retiring, begged to pray 
fervently by me until the next morning.

Oh! My happy stars! How I thanked thee! Of all the pretty faces 
which I had distinguished amongst them, that of Ursula was the 
most charming. What a companion! What freshness! What 
brilliance! What sweetness was there in her timid look! What 
innocence in her open and ingenuous aspect! With the exception 
of Sophia, she was the most delightful creature in the world; 
and from the day that Sophia de Pontis, in the arms of her happy 
lover, became the most beautiful of women, Ursula ought to be 
proclaimed the most handsome of maids.

Although a prisoner, I had no other inquietude than what was 
necessarily excited by the presence of so interesting a beauty. 
Although very much fatigued, I no longer experienced the want of 
sleep; and, then, would it have become thee to sleep? Here, 
Faublas, the gallant companion of Rosambert, the docile pupil of 
Madame de B***, here was an opportunity of proving thyself 
worthy thy masters. The triumph may appear difficult to thee, 
but the field is open, and I see that the prize which chance 
proposes at this moment to your eloquence, is worthy thy best 
efforts; for what greater excitement canst thou need than a 
charming girl and liberty? If ever seduction was excusable, most 
assuredly this is the case.

Let the curious bishop who shall devoutly peruse this wicked 
book when alone by his fireside, and if he possesses as warm an 
imagination as its young author, compose what ought to fill the 
next six pages; but take care of the censorship, for they will 
not suffer everything to be printed.<29>
*	*	*	*	*

I now proceeded to tie Ursula's pretty legs together, and to 
bind her hands with the bonds which bound my own, I prepared 
with regret the handkerchief which was to cover her mouth.

"One moment," she said, "one moment more. I wish to repeat to 
you your last instructions, which you must take care to 
remember. Guided by the feeble light of this lamp, you will 
enter the subterraneous passage, which we came through. After a 
few steps you will turn to the left, and presently arrive at the 
trap-door we had so much trouble in lifting up: close by there, 
under a shed in the little court, you will find the gardener's 
ladder; finally, with this key you will open the garden gate, 
which you know, and may heaven preserve you from all danger. But 
stop, I have still forgot one necessary precaution; I forgot it, 
because it only related to myself, that it may appear less 
doubtful, as to force being employed in effecting our escape, I 
wish you to drop one of the two pistols, which the marshals have 
so fortunately left you. Now begone, my angel, it is already 
late. Adieu, divine young man; thy words are sweeter than the 
honey of the bee; the fire of thine eye has pierced my heart; 
and my soul reposes in thine. Cover my face, and make haste to 
quit this place."

It was with difficulty that I obeyed her, but I was obliged to 
decide. I tied a handkerchief over her beautiful mouth, and 
arranged everything in such order that they might think the face 
of the poor nun had been enveloped in this manner to prevent her 
cries from being heard. Having done this, instead of wasting the 
time in useless thanks, I quitted my liberatrix, tolerably easy 
as to her fate, whatever might happen, but still full of anxiety 
on my account. Judge what was my joy, when, after I had passed 
through the vault, got out at the trap door, crossed the little 
court, opened the gate, I found myself in a garden which was so 
familiar to me, and, no doubt, is fresh in the memory of the 
reader. I placed the ladder against that part of the wall which 
Derneval and myself had so often scaled together; and on the 
other side was the street by which I reckoned to escape. There 
was the pavilion and the covered walk; my heart palpitated, and 
my eyes were filled with tears. I again beheld the cherished 
spot where my Sophia used to sigh. What feelings did I 
experience? A religious awe and a sacred veneration, mingled 
with the most tender considerations of these places, so full of 
the reminiscences of our amours. I thought of the day when I 
sung my rondeau; the spot where she fainted, and the bench to 
which I carried her. Upon that bench where she used to sit in 
her hours of recreation, that we might see each other through 
the blinds of my pavilion. Near there was the place where we met 
of an evening, and in mutual embraces mingled both our sighs and 
our tears. Further on-yes, there it is! I saluted with an 
exclamation of gratitude the propitious chestnut tree, that tree 
consecrated by her last struggles, and my triumph! I kissed its 
tutelary branches, and cut my cypher and that of my wife on its 
trunk. Of my wife! Ah! We were then lovers, and were united-we 
are now married, and languish apart! I fly to her. Great God! 
The day begins to break, and if I am discovered here, I am lost.

I ran to my ladder, which I mounted with difficulty, on account 
of the length of the gown with which Ursula desired I would 
remain muffled up. Nevertheless, I was already on the coping of 
the wall; I perceived a party of patrol marching up and down, 
and came back precipitately, very much embarrassed to know by 
what means I was to get out. I could not think of going to my 
old landlord of the pavilion, who knew me too well, and I knew 
not who inhabited the house which was next to his; but whoever 
was the proprietor, no sojourn could be more dangerous than my 
present: I determined, therefore, to plant my ladder against the 
wall which led to the last-mentioned premises.

In order to make my perilous excursion with greater facility, I 
was going to divest myself of my cumbrous gown, which impeded 
all 'my motions; but I heard a slight noise, and was alarmed: 
instead of losing time to undress myself, I climbed up as quick 
as possible, and striding the coping, I drew up the ladder to 
plant it on the other side. At the moment I had it up in the 
air, I thought I perceived someone at the gate through which I 
had passed into the garden. My alarm increased, my hand shook, 
and the ladder slipped from me. Reflect on me in that 
inconvenient equipage, astride on a high wall. Happily, I was 
not frightened at a leap of ten feet, and having no time to 
deliberate, I precipitated myself down.

At the noise of the double fall of myself and the ladder, a 
young girl came from behind some shrubs, where she had hid 
herself. At first she was coming directly up to me, but suddenly 
stopped, as if she was as much embarrassed as surprised; and she 
covered her face with her hands before I was near enough to her 
to distinguish her features. I went up to her, told her she had 
nothing to fear, and begged her assistance. I kissed alternately 
her two pretty hands, which I wished to remove, in order to see 
her face, which was apparently pretty.

"A nun!" exclaimed a voice; "it is a man disguised thus. Ah! You 
scoundrel! I will teach you to come and court my mistress."

As I turned round to see from whence came this threatening 
voice, I felt a shower of blows on my shoulders. Without respect 
for my gown, they were regaling me with some strokes of a stick. 
I had received several before I had time to pull out my pistol; 
but I will leave you to judge whether my honour, thus 
involuntarily outraged, was not sufficiently revenged by the 
reparation I obtained from my abrupt aggressors.

There were three of them. Each of whom suspended his blows, and 
recoiled some steps backwards, when I produced the redoubtable 
instrument with which I was armed. The firmest of my 
adversaries, which I noticed was scarcely fourteen or fifteen 
years old, I recognised to be one of those impudent grooms, who, 
when mounted majestically on the top of a lofty carriage, amuse 
themselves by making grimaces at, and insulting those who pass 
on foot, and are splashed by the wheels. I gave but a glance at 
the second; he was one of those strapping, insolent and idle 
scoundrels that luxury has taken from the plough's tail, and 
paid for playing at cards, for sleeping in antechambers, 
swearing, and drinking, mocking their masters in the kitchens, 
and playing with the maids in the garrets. The third attracted 
all my attention; his attire was at the same time simple and 
elegant, decent and pretty; he had an air of grace and nobility 
in his manners, and there was something imposing about him, even 
in his terror. I deemed him the master of the other two.

"Monsieur," I said, "if you dare to take a step; if you make 
only a sign, if your servants attempt the least resistance, I 
shall fire upon you. Do me the favour to answer me: are you a 
gentleman?"

"Yes, Monsieur."

"Your name?"

"The Vicomte de Valbrun."

"Monsieur, I shall not tell you my name, but you shall know that 
I am your equal. Do you think this adventure, the beginning of 
which is so disagreeable for me, will be terminated comfortably 
for yourself? It is probable that I am not the person you took 
me for, but it is I who have received so unworthy an outrage. 
Monsieur cannot be ignorant that offended honour calls for 
blood. Unfortunately I am pressed for time, and have but one 
pistol, nevertheless we will, if you please, settle our 
differences without leaving this spot, but first of all I beg 
you will send away your footman and your jockey."

M. de Valbrun made a sign, and the two servants retired. I 
immediately presented my closed hand to him: "I hold some pieces 
of money," I said: "Odd or even. If you guess right you are to 
fire at me: if you guess wrong, Vicomte, I declare you are a 
dead man." Even he said; I opened my hand, and he was correct. 

"Adieu, my father and my Sophia! Adieu, forever,-"

M. de Valbrun, in taking the pistol which I presented to him, 
exclaimed, "No, Monsieur, no; you shall again see your father 
and your Sophia!" He discharged the pistol in the air, and fell 
down at my knees: "Astonishing young man," he continued, "what 
nobleness of mind, what intrepidity; I should have been 
inexcusable if I had voluntarily insulted you: consider that my 
fault was accidental, and deign to pardon me." I wanted him to 
rise. "Monsieur," he replied, "I will not quit this posture 
until you have assured me of your forgiveness."

"You ask my pardon, Vicomte, when you have given me my life! 
Believe me I retain no resentment, but shall be charmed to 
obtain your friendship."

"To whom have I the honour of speaking?"

"I cannot tell you, I cannot make myself known till under more 
happy circumstances than I am in at this moment; will you permit 
me to retire?"

"What! In the garb of a nun? Go into my apartments, I will order 
you some clothes; it will be but an affair of a moment."

Indeed it was impossible for me to have gone out in the state in 
which I found myself, therefore I accepted the Vicomte's offers.

The young woman who had occasioned all this disorder, still 
remained at a distance without saying a word. M. de Valbrun 
called, and she approached with her hand remaining over her 
face. "What modesty!" said the Vicomte, "how interesting it is! 
I am no longer the dupe of that affectation, and do not choose 
to have a rival in my footman. Since it is this fine gentleman 
who pleases you, let him pay you; from this moment we separate, 
Justine."

At this name, which sounded so sweetly in my ears, I interrupted 
M. de Valbrun.

"Is she called Justine? It is very singular. Will you permit me, 
M. de Vicomte, to remove my doubts. He assured me that I should 
do him a favour. I approached the young girl, put aside her 
hands, and discovered her to be the pretty little Abigail whose 
remembrance had sometimes given me uneasiness.

FAUBLAS. What, is it you, my dear?

JUSTINE. Yes, Monsieur de Faublas, it is I.

THE VICOMTE DE VALBRUN. M. de Faublas! He is handsome, noble, 
valiant and generous. He thought he was on the point of death, 
and named Sophia! I have a hundred times wished to meet with 
him. (He came up to me and took my hand.) Brave and gentle 
Chevalier, you justify in every respect your brilliant 
reputation. I am not astonished that a charming woman should 
have risked her fame for you. But tell me, how have you come 
here? How, after the noise of that unfortunate duel, dare you 
appear in the capital? It must be some powerful interest that 
has drawn you here. Place your confidence in me, Chevalier, and 
look upon the Vicomte de Valbrun as your most devoted friend. 
But, first of all, where are you going?

FAUBLAS. To the Hôtel de l'Empereur, Rue de Grenelle.

THE VICOMTE. A public hôtel, and in the most frequented quarter 
of Paris! Have a care, for you are well known there, and must 
not show yourself by daylight. You cannot stir twenty steps 
without being arrested.

The Vicomte, perhaps, was right; but I only thought of hastening 
the moment of my reunion with Sophia. I insisted on leaving him; 
"Well! Be it so," he said, "but permit me at least to see if the 
coast is clear, while you put on some clothes. Justine, conduct 
Monsieur to my dressing-room, open my wardrobe, and see that he 
wants nothing."

As soon as the Vicomte was gone, I asked Justine what was her 
precise employment in the place where I found her. She 
stammered, and made an evasive answer. "I understand you," I 
said; "in this temple of pleasure, you are the idol that is 
worshipped: I assure you, Mademoiselle, that I think your charms 
deserve it."

"M. de Faublas is full of compliments."

"How is it that your fortune has improved so much in so short a 
time?"

"The adventure of Madame the Marchioness procured me some degree 
of reputation; and of all those who paid their court to me, M. 
de Valbrun seemed the most amiable. And you have already been 
playing him some queer tricks."

"I! Not at all, I assure you: it is only his jealousy."

"But the valet? For shame! Can you think I would let a creature 
like him-"

"But what brought you so early into the garden?"

"To take the air, merely for a walk. Besides, if M. de Valbrun 
is angry, so much the worse for him, I shall have no difficulty 
in finding another place."

"Yes, as a kept mistress, I suppose you mean?"

"What! Would you have me be a servant all my life-time? I prefer 
being the mistress of a nobleman."

"But you are quite forgetful of our amours."

"Oh! No, she replied," in an affectionate tone, "I am delighted 
at your return; and enchanted with this meeting. M. de Faublas 
may always be sure of being loved, every time it pleases him, 
and I shall never show myself at all interested in any concerns 
without him."

"Very prettily spoken, but I have some doubts. Has La Jeunesse 
ceased to officiate?"

"Do not speak of him."

"Yes, let us speak of him, and tell no stories. Recollect, he 
was to marry you. Have you inhumanly sacrificed your intended?"

"Surely," she said, "I would not marry any but persons of 
quality."

I was about to reply, when M. de Valbrun entered. "I would not 
advise you to go out, he said, the street is certainly guarded. 
I have seen a party patroling in the neighbourhood, and a number 
of ill-looking fellows lurking about. You had better spend the 
day here. I will go out and assemble a few friends, and in the 
middle of the night I will return. If you will do me a real 
service, you will accept in my house an asylum which shall not 
be violated. You, Justine, in my absence, do the honours of the 
house; treat Monsieur as you treat myself, and I forgive you, on 
his account, your morning walks. I will leave my jockey, and La 
Jeunesse at home, to wait upon you."

"Ha! Monsieur, was that strapping fellow who accompanied you in 
the garden, La Jeunesse!"

"Do you know him?"

"Yes, if he formerly lived with the Marquis de B***. Pray, 
Justine, is it the same?"

"Yes, Monsieur de Faublas, a steady fellow; an excellent 
servant."

"It was you, I suppose, who recommended him to the Vicomte?"

"Yes, Monsieur de Faublas."

"'Twas good, my dear, very good, you made him a valuable 
present."

The Vicomte, when bidding me adieu, desired me to barricade all 
the doors, and gave orders that they should be opened to no one.

As soon as we were alone, Justine asked me timidly how I meant 
to amuse myself during the morning. "I would willingly 
breakfast, my dear, had I not now a great need of sleep. Let me 
go to bed, and wake me when dinner is ready."

She turned pale, sighed, almost cried, and, in a pitiful tone, 
said: "You are, then, angry with me?"

"No, my dear, I am not angry, but I have much need of repose." 
She sighed again, and taking me by the hand, conducted me to a 
convenient bedroom, elegantly fitted up, and gay as the boudoir 
of Madame de B***. I also sighed myself at this moment, but it 
was not the result of any present desire, it was a reminiscence. 
Justine remained with me, looked at me a great deal, and 
appeared full of thought. I was obliged to ask her to retire two 
or three times before she obeyed me. When she went out, she gave 
me so painful and cutting a glance, that it convinced me of the 
poor girl's disappointment and mortification more than if she 
had uttered a thousand reproaches.

I had not been long in bed when they brought me a cup of 
chocolate. Sensible of this attention from the mistress of the 
house, I thought of thanking her in person, when I saw her enter 
the chamber, covered only with a slight gauze dress. Already as 
voluptuous as a lady of quality, and less delicate in the 
refinement of her pleasures, she ordered the shutters to be 
closed, so that not a ray of light should pierce through. The 
curtains of yellow taffeta were let down, wax candles were in 
the girandoles, and the incense vase was kindled.

All this was done without their deigning to make a single answer 
to my questions. As soon as the servant was gone, Justine told 
me her first duty was to obey the orders of M. le Vicomte, and 
her most anxious wish was to make her peace with the Chevalier. 
Having said this she sprang towards me quicker than lightning, 
and lavished on me the most flattering caresses. In less than a 
moment I had forgot her affairs with La Jeunesse, and-fear 
nothing, my charming wife, for I will not mention your revered 
name near one so contemptible.

I think I hear the reader murmuring, and detailing the variety 
of motives I had to resist all these luxurious fascinations; but 
you do not speak of the means. To your hundred thousand reasons, 
I oppose but one, the enterprising Justine had me in her bed. If 
it is true that you would not yield to temptations so close and 
so pressing, tell me how you would avoid it.

Peut-etre come je fis, helas ! vous laissez echapper l'occasion, 
apres avoir multiplié d'inutiles efforts pour la saizir. Quelle 
injure je fis a tes appas qui le méritaient plus que jamais, 
jolie petite Justine! et assurement ce ne fut pas ta faute: tu 
te montras complaisante, patient, impresse, autant que tu me 
trouvas faible languisant et malheureux. Pour se voir reduit à 
cet exees d'abbattement qui faisait alors ma honte et le 
desespoir de Justine, il faudrait avoir comme moi couru la poste 
pendant trente six heures, cahoté dans une mechant voiture, 
tormenté de mille inquietudes, nourri seulment de bouillon ; il 
faudrait surtout avoir soutenu durant toute la nuit suivante une 
entretien tres vif avec une nonne charmante-et Bavarde, bavarde 
comme l'on est au cloitre en pareil cas!

Ah ! dit enfin la pauvre enfant, d'un ton qui marquait sa 
confusion et sa surprise, "Ah, Monsieur de Faublas, que je 
vous trouve changé!" Il me parut que si cette exclamation, 
echappée la tendre veracite de Justine, renfermait, l'amere 
critique du present, elle offrait aussi, dans son double sense, 
l'obligeant eloge du passe , mais, comme je me sentais aussi peu 
capable de meriter le compliment que de me justifier du 
reproche, je pris le sage parti de m'endormir sans observations 
preparatoires.

Justine me laissa tranquilment reposer bien convaincue 
apparemment que, si elle prenait la peine de me reveiller, ce 
serait tres gratument pour elle. Cependant elle demeura 
constamment pres de moi, puisqu' en me reveillant, je la sentis 
a mes cotes, je ne la vis pas, car les bougies etaient eteintes: 
il y avait vraisemblement longtemps que je dormais. Il me sembla 
qu'il etait temps de diner. Je sentais le vif aguillon d'une 
faim gloutonne; mon premier mot exprima mon premier desire. Elle 
se preparait de me quitter, quand je me supris quelque velleite 
de reparer mes torts enverse elle; je crus meme qu'il fallait 
commencer par-la, et je lui fis part de ce seconde reflection 
qui me parut lui etre plus agreable que la premiere. Elle 
accueillit ma proposition avec une petulance qui ne lui etait 
pas ordinaire; ce qui mi fit presumer que sans doute elle 
imaginait qu'il n'y avait pas de temps a perdre. Quelque 
diligence qu'elle fit pourtant, elle ne se pressa pas encore 
assez; il etait decide qu'apres avoir essentiellement manque a 
tout le beau sexe des petit-maisons, dans la personne d'une de 
plus gentilles creatures qui jamais s'y fut trouvee, je me 
verrais contraint de quitter ma dessolée compagne, avant d' 
avoir pu retablir sa reputation et la mienne a la fois 
compromises.

[Perhaps just as I did, alas, you too could let the opportunity 
slip away, after many futile attempts to seize it. What an 
insult I did to your charms, which were more deserving than 
ever, pretty little Justine! And surely it was not your fault: 
you showed yourself accommodating, patient, impressed, as much 
as you found me weak, languid and unhappy. To see oneself 
reduced to the condition which then caused my shame and 
Justine's despair, one would have to have, like me, travelled 
post-haste for thirty-six hours, jolted in a nasty carriage, 
tormented by a thousand anxieties, fed only on broth; one would 
have to have sustained throughout the following night a very 
lively conversation with a charming and talkative nun, 
chattering as one does in the cloister in such a case! 

"Ah!" said the poor child at last, in a tone that showed her 
confusion and surprise, "Ah! Monsieur de Faublas, how changed I 
find you!" It seemed to me that if this exclamation, which 
escaped Justine's tender veracity, contained the bitter 
criticism of the present, it also offered, in its double 
meaning, the obliging praise of the past. But, as I felt as 
little capable of deserving the compliment as of justifying 
myself from the reproach, I wisely decided to fall asleep 
without preparatory remarks. Justine let me rest peacefully, 
apparently convinced that if she waited till I woke, it would be 
very gratifying for her. However, she remained constantly near 
me, since when I woke, I felt her at my side, I did not see her, 
because the candles were out: I had probably been asleep for a 
long time. It seemed to me that it was time for dinner. I felt 
the sharp sting of a gluttonous hunger; my first word expressed 
my first desire. She was preparing to leave me, when I felt an 
inclination to repair my wrongs towards her; I even thought that 
it was necessary to begin with that, and I shared with her this 
second reflection which seemed to me to be more agreeable to her 
than the first. She received my proposal with a petulance which 
was not usual for her; which made me presume that she doubtless 
imagined that there was no time to lose. However diligent she 
was, she still did not hurry enough; It was decided that after 
having essentially failed the whole fair sex of the houses of 
pleasure, in the person of one of the nicest creatures that had 
ever been found there, I would see myself forced to leave my 
desolate companion, before having been able to re-establish her 
reputation and mine, both compromised.]

At the very moment when this attentive girl so worthy of 
recompense was about to receive the price of her generous cares, 
I was much alarmed by a great noise at the street door; they 
continued to knock exceeding loud, and La Jeunesse rushed into 
my bedroom, to tell me that they demanded to enter in the name 
of the king.

"Go, my dear," I said to Justine, "run and see that the door is 
not opened, until I have time to escape."

"Escape! Where?"

"I know not, but keep the door shut."

"Stop, fly to the garden; I will send you a ladder, scale the 
wall on the right, and if our neighbour, the devotee, Madame 
Desglins, is tempted to receive you as well as I have done, 
endeavour to recompense her better."

"Hear me, Justine."

"Well?"

"Try to inform Madame de B*** that I am in Paris. I know not 
what will become of me, that is no matter, let her know I am in 
Paris, and that you have seen me."

During this short dialogue they brought me a light, I 
immediately seized the most essential part of male attire, but 
which good manners prevent me from naming, and which I shall 
call, if you will permit me, the necessary garment. As I was 
preparing to put it on, I heard the noise redoubled, and 
expected every moment that the door would be opened by force.

I had not time to put on the clothes which Justine had prepared 
for me; therefore, seizing M. de Valbrun's sword, which I 
brandished in one hand, and carrying the necessary garment 
instead of a buckler in the other, I rushed downstairs, crossed 
the courtyard, and flew to the bottom of the garden.

La Jeunesse followed me with a ladder, planted it, and I 
mounted. At this moment I saw several men enter the courtyard, 
with flambeaux in their hands. I found I had no time to lose, 
and without considering the ground I was to come upon, which, 
moreover, I could not perceive, on account of the darkness of 
the night, I leapt boldly from the wall into the adjoining 
premises, and received but a slight bruise on my leg.

It is true, I found myself on a soft sandy place, but I 
conceived that it was at least ten o'clock at night; I was 
completely enveloped in darkness, in a strange garden, with no 
covering but my shirt, which was a poor defence against the 
wind, which blew with violence; I was tormented with a thousand 
anxieties, and perishing with cold! But why should I lose my 
courage? At Paris, as elsewhere, there is no condition so 
desperate but a wretch may be extricated from it by the aid of 
money; and why not a young man of family, when he has a purse 
full of gold, and a sword in his hand? Come on, then, Faublas, 
and examine the house which thou seest a few steps from this 
basin, into which thou wert so near tumbling.

I advanced with caution, and rapped gently at the door; which 
was at length opened to me; and, as I saw no light, I entered 
with confidence.

"Is it you, Chevalier?" whispered a female. I immediately 
disguised my voice, and speaking as softly as possible, and in a 
tone as mysterious as her own, I answered that it was me. She 
put her hand out, which accidentally came in contact with the 
hilt of my sword.

"You have your sword in your hand"

"Yes."

"Were you pursued?"

"Yes."

"Did you enter through the breach?"

"Yes,"

"Do not tell my mistress so; it will frighten her."

"Where is she?"

"Who? my mistress?"

"Yes."

"You know very well, she is in bed. You can spend the night 
together, for my master is gone to Versailles, to deliver a 
woman of quality, and will not return till morning."

"Very good; lead me to her."

"You know where she is."

"But I am afraid; my head is giddy; lead me there, take hold of 
my hand."

I had scarcely taken four steps, when the fille de chambre, 
opening a second door, said: "He is come, Madame.

The mistress of the house said: "You come very late my dear 
Flourvac."

"It was impossible for me to come sooner."

"Did they detain you?"

"Yes. Very well; but where are you?"

"I am coming."

"What hinders you?"

"I am undressing."

You know I had no need to undress, as I have already stated my 
left hand to contain my only garment, but you can easily 
perceive it was necessary for me to proceed with caution and 
gentleness in a strange room where, fortunately for me, there 
was no light. At length, having reached the foot of the bed, I 
placed my necessary garment on the ground with my sword, then 
lifting the bed clothes fell into the arms of the unknown, who 
immediately began to give me the most tender kisses.

"Oh! How cold you are," she said."

"It freezes so hard!"

"My dear Chevalier-My sweet friend-will not the rigour of the 
season prevent your coming here often?"

"Certainly not."

"Every time Monsieur Desglins sleeps out?"

"Yes."

"Bathile shall always send you word as she did today."

"Very good."

"Was it not ingeniously contrived, to light the little lamp in 
the window."

"Yes."

"And that part of the wall which I ordered to be pulled down."

"Yes, I passed through the breach."

"And you may pass through it again, for our neighbours the 
magnetisers will not repair it this winter."

"Are you not happy that you came to lodge with them?"

"Very happy. You know, my dear Flourvac, that my husband is gone 
to Versailles?"

"Yes."

"We can, therefore, pass the whole night together."

"So much the better."

"I was sure you would be glad of it, my dear Chevalier!"

"Oh, my dear friend!"

"You will always love me, Flourvac?"

"Most tenderly."

"And I confess to you, my angel, that I was much vexed this 
afternoon."

"Why?"

"Because you did not meet me at church."

"It was impossible."

"But this morning I was very well pleased; and you?"

"Quite ravished! But did not the mass seem long to you?"

"Oh! No! What pleasure I felt in looking at you!"

"And I!"

"You did right to put your chair beside mine; but you did wrong 
in speaking to me."

"Why so?"

"What will all the ladies who know me and respect me say, on 
seeing me talking in church with a young officer? You must not 
meet me any more, my love."

"Why not?"

"Because it is not right. My conscience reproaches me."

Good!"

"To make love even in the house of God."

"It is true."

"And a military man too!"

"And why not?"

"If you were an Abbé it would be more excusable! Apropos, my 
dear angel, have you executed my commission?"

"What commission?"

"Have you forgotten it? What! You know I am always ill during 
the fast of Lent."

"Well?"

"What, Flourvac, do you not remember that I begged you to 
consult-"

"Oh! Yes, the physician."

"No such thing, a priest."

"Yes, I remember now"

"To demand of him permission-"

"He has granted it to you."

"To me?"

"To whom then?"

"Did you mention my name?"

"No; one of my relations."

"Ah, that was right; and so, my dear, I shall be able to eat 
meat on Fridays and Saturdays."

"Yes."

"Ah, how happy I am! How much I am obliged to you."

The impassioned kiss which the devotee now printed on my lips, 
was more fervent than any she had yet given me. I had received 
several others before, but was occupied with the care of 
sustaining a conversation in which I was obliged to confine 
myself to answer, in simple monosyllables, the numerous 
questions which the deceived unknown multiplied upon me. In the 
meanwhile, her charms, although still defended by a modest night 
gown, began to act most powerfully upon my very susceptible 
frame; my blood began to circulate through my veins, and I found 
myself in the happy disposition which some moments before 
Justine would have profited by, if we had not been interrupted 
by such disagreeable intruders. I immediately began to prove my 
gratitude to the hospitable beauty, but I met with the most 
serious resistance.

"Be quiet; let me alone, Flourvac, you know our agreement. It 
was not so. No-no-I will not suffer it-I will not."

Greatly surprised at the strange caprice of this unaccountable 
woman, who had expected her lover to scale the walls in the most 
dreary winter's night, to come and sleep peaceably with her; I 
laid down by her side, and presently fell asleep. In the course 
of a little time I was awakened by her sobbing, and continuing 
my disguised voice, I he askedr what was the matter. "What is 
the matter," she replied; "why you are ungrateful, and love me 
no more! You forget our agreement: You remain motionless by my 
side: My embraces appear no more desirable to you, than if they 
were those of vulgar, immodest, and wicked women."

She said many other things, but I could not penetrate their 
meaning at length she explained herself very clearly, both by 
words and gestures, and taught me, perhaps what you will be 
surprised to learn. Mes desirs avaient eté repoussés d'abord 
parceque j'avais malhonnetement exprimé mes desirs, parceque 
d'une main profane j'vais voulu soulever l'unique voile dont les 
pudiques attraits de cette beauté, toujours modeste devaient 
rester envelloppes. Il fallait, sans ecarter, sans deranger la 
fine toile artistement ouvert; il fallait le moins indecement et 
le mieux possible, embrasser de toutes les femmes la plus vive 
et la plus chaste en meme temps. [My advances had been rejected 
at first because I had immodestly expressed my desires, because 
with a profane hand I had wanted to lift the nightdress in which 
the attractions of this beauty, always modest, must remain 
enveloped. It was necessary to do it, without removing, without 
disturbing the fine, artistically open cloth; it was necessary, 
to embrace, in the best and least indecent way, this woman, who 
was of all women both the most lively and the most chaste.]

And you, whom nature has only half-favoured you, who have a very 
fine head upon a very ordinary body, do not ridicule my 
Jansenist. If you had prudently employed the same means that she 
used, your husbands, perhaps, would not so soon have abandoned 
you, and your lovers remained longer faithful.

I must confess, nevertheless, that a woman should not resort to 
these means but when she has no other; and I acknowledge, for my 
own part, that I do not like them. 

En vain la devotée, d'une voix entrecoupée, begayait dans mes 
bras ces mots inusié s, quoique expressifs: "Divins transports! 
bonheur des elus! joies du paradis!" Je ne partageais que 
mediocrement cette joie, ce bonheur, ces transports si vantes. 
Peu curieux de rechercher encore une demi-felicité, je reprends 
a coté de Madame Desglins une place que je suis presque fache 
d'avoir quitté.

[In vain the devoted one, in a broken voice, stammered in my 
arms these unusual, though expressive, words: "Divine 
transports! Happiness of the elect! Joys of paradise!" I shared 
only feebly in her joy, this happiness, these much-vaunted 
transports. Not very anxious to seek another half-happiness, I 
resumed beside Madame Desglins a place that I was almost sorry 
to have left.]

I was now only occupied in devising some clever lie, in order to 
obtain, without having the candles lighted or the servant 
called, something to satisfy my voracious appetite. But I might 
have saved myself the trouble of racking my invention, for it 
was decreed that I should go from there to get my supper.

"There is a noise!" she said: "What can it be? I hear a voice! 
It is like his! But that cannot be! Yet it is! Good God! Yes it 
is the voice of the Chevalier! My love!-How can this be! A 
stranger in my arms! Oh, I am undone!"

At the first noise that I heard, at the first word that she 
uttered, I jumped out of bed. I seized my necessary garment, and 
put it not as formerly over my left arm, but on its proper 
place. I took my sword, and guessed my way. I pushed a door 
which stood ajar, and I calculated that I ought to be in the 
place which the fille de chambre, who stood sentinel, first 
received me in. What confirmed me in this conjecture was, the 
noise I heard made by a man outside, who, in a great passion, 
kept repeating very distinctly: "Bathile, open the door." In the 
meanwhile, Madame Desglins came out of her bed-room, and called 
to me. Instead of replying to her I stood still and thought she 
would pass me without touching me. "Whoever you are," she said, 
at least hear what I have to say: "do not ruin me, but fly 
before the Chevalier sees you, and I will pardon you if you keep 
the affair a secret."

This was my intention: I reckoned to shoot out as soon as the 
door should be open; but the unfortunate devotee opened too 
slowly. After she had turned the key twice, and M. de Flourvac 
was pushing against one of the folding doors, Bathile, who was 
not yet in bed, was drawn hither by the noise, and appeared with 
a light in her hand. What a spectacle we presented to each 
other!

The scene occurred in a kind of dining-hall. Towards the end of 
it, and to the left of me, the unlucky fille de chambre surveyed 
us alternately with her large eyes, which she rolled about in 
astonishment. In the front of me, and on the step of the door 
which led into the garden, I perceived a young officer, who 
seemed panic-struck with what he beheld. In the intermediate 
space, Madame Desglins, overcome by the alarm, had sunk into a 
chair, and concealed her face; not so quickly, however, but I 
caught a sight of her features; and still entirely occupied with 
the object which concerned me most, and always incapable of 
dissimulation, I exclaimed: "Upon my honour, she is handsome!"

"Perfidious woman! Scrupulous devotee! So you must have 
several!" said the young officer in his rage.

I wished to speak, I wished to justify Madame Desglins; but the 
young man, perhaps too hasty, drew his sword, which was 
immediately met by my own. At the very first bout I discovered 
he was not equal to myself at the sword; I therefore pressed him 
a little closer, and obliged him to retreat a few paces, and the 
garden became the theatre of our combat. As I wished, above 
everything, to gain ground, in order to secure a prompt retreat, 
I did not cease to advance on my adversary, who, astonished at 
being so vigorously pushed, still retreated. We arrived at the 
entrance of a walk which appeared spacious; and there I quitted 
him abruptly, and endeavoured to escape. My adversary, as 
courageous as he was unskilful, pursued me and the darkness not 
permitting me to run fast, he soon overtook me. I turned round, 
and our swords were again crossed, but my enemy's being wielded 
by too weak a hand, I gave it a blow which carried it ten paces 
distant. The two women ran out, and seized the vanquished one; 
I, the vanquisher, slipped behind the hedge, and escaped.

I ran by the wall, to search for the breach of which Madame 
Desglins had spoken to me; I found it at length, I passed 
through it, and behold me in the premises of her neighbours, the 
magnetisers!

As it is necessary to interest the compassionate reader, I ought 
not to omit a circumstance which then augmented the danger of my 
situation. You no doubt remember my complaining of the bitter 
piercing wind about a quarter of an hour back? It was now still 
more powerful; and, to add to my misfortune, it snowed fast and 
thick, and my shirt was but a poor defence against it. Have 
pity, fair ladies; have pity on a young man, who could be 
reproached with nothing but the excess of his love for you: 
think at what a time of night, and in what a costume he was 
reduced to take such painful promenades from garden to garden.

I found my progress in the yard of the magnetisers stopped by a 
gate, which was fast. I immediately began to rattle the gate 
with my sword. The noise which I made roused a dog, whose 
barking resounded through the neigbbouring building, and 
relieved me from my prison, where I might otherwise have 
remained until the morning, though not perhaps alive. A man ran 
out and opened the gate. "Oh, here is another of them!" he 
exclaimed: "How strangely he is dressed for winter: And then, 
that fine blade! Does he think to kill flies with it in the 
month of November? But what an odd whim to sleep standing, as if 
our ancestors had not invented beds to lie down on. Get you 
gone, Monsieur Somnambulist, get into your dormitory again, and 
leave a poor porter to take a little rest. There, go along with 
the others."

While I was considering about a reply, a woman came out and 
abused the porter, saying that I could not find the staircase 
without a candle, and should break my neck.

I mounted, at all events, and searched for some corner 
sufficiently convenient and solitary to repose my wearied limbs. 
I proceeded, until I arrived at the second storey, where, in a 
large hall, lighted by lanterns, I discovered long rows of beds, 
but none of them appeared to be empty. At last I discovered one 
which was unoccupied, and pulling off my necessary garment, I 
jumped instantly into it. I placed my sword and all my treasure 
under the bolster. I took my shirt off, as it was quite wet, and 
hung it on a chair, wiping my body with a corner of the bed-
clothes. I felt myself more comfortable on my hard mattress, 
than in the superb bed of M. de Valbrun; so true is the vulgar 
adage, that pain begets pleasure. Yes; but frequently, when the 
moment of most poignant grief is past, a crowd of minor troubles 
attack you, and the pleasure is instantly destroyed. As soon as 
the warmth caused my blood to circulate, as soon as I could move 
my limbs without pain, mental anxieties succeeded the fatigues 
of the body, and I reflected with terror on the dangers which 
surrounded me, undoubtedly pursued without, and perhaps my life 
menaced within. I knew not to what kind of a house my destiny 
had led me, nor what sort of people inhabited it; but how was I 
to remain there? or how get out? and, above all, how was I to 
satisfy my craving appetite? for, during the whole of the 
preceding day and night I had taken nothing but a cup of 
chocolate. Oh, my Sophia! Without doubt thy fate demands my 
tears! Thou groanest, separated from the object of thy 
tenderness; but, at least, thou knowest the prison in which thou 
languishest, and art not deprived of victuals and clothes. Thy 
unhappy husband is still more to be pitied! How can he preserve 
himself for thee without nourishment? How can he come to thee 
without linen, without clothes, and without shoes?

I remained a prey to these painful reflections, until several 
persons entered abruptly, and immediately surrounded my bed. 
What was I to do in this perilous situation? Since I had no 
means of flight, I determined to shut my eyes, and pretend to be 
in a profound sleep, of which luxury I was very far from 
tasting. Imagine to yourself the alarm I must have been in when, 
to examine me more minutely, they held a candle close to my 
eyes; and think what must be my astonishment when I heard four 
or five persons discoursing tranquilly, as follows:

"I do not know him."

"Nor I."

"Nor I."

"Nor I."

"Nor I," said a female voice; "but stop, I think I do recognise 
him. It is a newcomer."

"What, to-night?"

"Yes."

"So much the better.

"He has not a bad countenance. By no means."

"Indeed it is a very good one, but a little fatigued. That is 
not to be wondered at; have you prescribed the necessary 
medicines for him?"

"Yes," she replied.

"And the diet?"

"Undoubtedly.

"Is his sleep natural?"

"We have only to ask him."

"Yes, if he will tell us."

"Well, try him."

"My dear youth," said the female, "do you sleep well?"

"He does not answer."

"Put another question to him, Madame."

"Young man," she continued; "Why are you come here?"

"Come along, he will not speak a word."

Well, let us perform the operation on him, Madame."

"I think it will be proper."

"And I am of the same opinion.

"I agree perfectly with you."

At the word operation I shuddered, and a cold sweat came over me 
when I felt them lift the bedclothes. "Ah! Good God!" she 
exclaimed, throwing them back again, "He is quite naked!"

"He is quite naked," they repeated. "See, here is his shirt on 
this chair. It is all wet, as if it had been soaked in water!"

"So much the better, it shows he has perspired."

"It is the effect of a crisis. A very happy crisis. If it had 
not been for us, he would have had an inflammatory fever."

"Putrid."

"Or an apoplexy."

"Or a catalepsy."

"Or a palsy in the chest or a sciatica in the head."

"And he ran great risk!"

"He would have been lost!"

"He would certainly have been dead."

During more than a minute, and while I was beginning to take 
courage, they continued to repeat in chorus "He would have been 
dead."

One of them interrupted this dismal chorus, saying, "It is, 
nevertheless, to you, Madame, that the honour of this cure 
belongs."

"In truth, I believe it," she replied.

"Since it has gone on so well, why not begin again."

She replied: "Most willingly, but put a shirt on him."

After they had put on me a shirt which was brought immediately, 
they raised me in my bed, in such a position that I found my two 
feet, which at first hung down, supported on the rail of a 
chair, upon which sat the lady whom they begged to commence the 
operation on me. She immediately began by pressing my two legs 
between hers, and running her hand (which I found very familiar) 
over several parts of my body; and in a very delicate manner, 
rubbed her two thumbs against mine. Too prudent to testify how 
much this operation pleased me, I feigned to be still asleep.

"What a very obstinate sleep!" Exclaimed someone.

"Yes, 'tis like a lethargy," said a second. "So much the better, 
it will the more surely bring on the somnambulism. Let us try if 
he will speak now. You had better interrogate him Madame."

"Charming young man," she said, "does the magnetism act upon 
you?" I did not reply a word, but I thought the question almost 
impertinent. To ask if the magnetism acted on me on me, whose 
imagination is so quickly on fire, and whose mood is so easily 
inflamed!

The waggish female who put these malignant questions to me, 
could not be ignorant of the effect of magnetism on me. With a 
single glance of her eye she perceived proofs, by no means 
equivocal, that it had taken effect; for all at once she I 
exclaimedn a tone of triumph to those around her: "Gentlemen, in 
eight days, or a little better, I will guarantee the radical 
cure of this young man. I will return and question him in about 
a quarter of an hour, and I will undertake that he will be then 
in a state of somnambulism, and will reply to me."

As soon as the physicians were retired from my bed, I opened my 
eyes to look at the young lady, who, before she left, seemed to 
squeeze my hand. Her voice was by no means strange to me, but I 
could not recollect where I had heard its sweet accents. 
Unfortunately for me the lady turned her back, but I could not 
help thinking even her elegant figure was familiar to me.

I kept my eye on her until they came to inform her that Madame 
Robin wished to see her. She ordered her to be shown up, and 
then turning to those who were about her, said: "Gentlemen, 
Madame Robin is an excellent lady, there is every reason to 
believe that it is she who sent us that fine turkey and truffles 
this evening, with which we shall regale ourselves tomorrow."

Alas! At a time when I would have been happy with a morsel of 
dry bread, they were talking of a turkey stuffed with truffles!

"Good evening to you, Madame Robin;" she said to the lady who 
entered.

The other replied: "Your most obedient, Madame le Blanc."

"You come, Madame Robin, to see your beloved daughter!"

"Yes, yes, Madame."

"Walk into my chamber."

This closet was in the front of my bed; they left the door open, 
I listened and heard: "Are you asleep, Mademoiselle Robin?"

She replied in a gentle and mysterious tone: "Yes."

"You speak, nevertheless?"

"Because I am a somnambulist."

"Who has initiated you?

"The prophetess, Madame Le Blanc, and the Doctor D'Avo."

"What is your complaint?"

"The dropsy."

"What must be the remedy?"

"A husband."

"A husband to cure the dropsy?" replied Madame Robin, the 
mother.

"Yes, Madame, a husband; the somnambulist is right."

"A husband in less than fifteen days," resumed Mademoiselle 
Robin; "for if I remain a maid any longer I am lost. A proper 
and capable husband; I know many who only bear the name. None of 
your old beaux, thin, dry, infirm, grumbling fools and 
cripples."

"Peace, hussy!" said Madame Robin, "you must have what is chosen 
for you."

"Hold!" said Madame Le Blanc; "whatever the somnambulist says, 
we must hear and say nothing."

"These worthless wretches," continued the young lady, "have no 
other merit than to take a young girl without a dowry; they make 
a poor virgin tremble when they talk of marrying her. But a 
young man of seven and twenty, with brown hair, fair skin, black 
eyes, round face, vermilion lips, fresh complexion, five feet 
seven inches high, well-made, active, and lively!"

"Ah!" said Madame Robin, "it is the exact portrait of our 
neighbour Killbullock's son, who is a poor devil. Ah! My child, 
if I had but a fortune to establish you!"

A noise was heard, and all at once Madame Le Blanc said: 
"Silence! The God of Magnetism has possessed me, and I feel 
inspired with his holy flame! I read the past, the present, and 
the future! Silence! I see in the past, that Madame Robin has 
sent us this evening a turkey stuffed with truffles."

"It is true," she replied.

"Peace, then, Madame. I see then, that within a fortnight, you 
wished to marry your daughter to some decrepit old fop."

"A very amiable man, nevertheless"

"Peace, then, Madame Robin. I see that your daughter has fixed 
her eye upon the young Killbullock, five feet seven inches, 
well-made, active and lively."

"Yes, but so poor!"

"So poor! Peace, Madame I see in the present, that Madame Robin 
conceals, in the bottom of her drawers, five hundred double-"

"My, God! Do not finish!"

"Five hundred double Louis in twenty bags."

"Why have you let it out?"

"Peace, then, Madame Robin. I see in the future, that if Madame 
Robin, does not, within a fortnight, dispose of eight bags-"

"Eight bags!"

"Peace, Madame Robin, of eight at least, for the establishment 
of her daughter with the son of her neighbour Killbullock; I 
see-the future frightens me! Poor Madame Robin! Poor 
Mademoiselle Robin, what an unfortunate couple! Oh, how I pity 
you!They will open the drawers of the mother, and break the 
heart of her daughter, they will steal the money of the mother, 
and ravish the virginity of the daughter; the mother will die of 
grief at being robbed; and the daughter will go into some 
foreign country to be delivered of a boy!"

"Ah!" cried Madame Robin, seized with terror, "I will marry her; 
I will marry her next week, she shall espouse the rascal 
Killbullock."

 Madame Robin having thus made her determination, retired, and 
one of the doctors attended her politely to the door.

What a scene was I thus accidentally rendered the witness of! On 
one side what a compound of impudence, extravagance, and 
charlatanism; and what ignorance and imbecility on the other! It 
is true, then, that men are but great children.

I went on moralising to myself, but, as a starving man is not 
the most rigorous casuist, I began to blame myself for not 
turning their knavery to my own account. Why had I not replied 
to their interrogatories? It was very hard to escape from the 
fury of the elements to die of hunger in an hospital, instead of 
making use of my ingenuity and address, in order to procure me a 
repast, which was so necessary, and, perhaps, also an agreeable 
night. It must be agreed that the obliging prophetess assisted 
me wonderfully in the execution of this laudable project. I am 
certain that Madame Robin could scarcely be at the bottom of the 
staircase, when Madame Le Blanc told the doctors to return to my 
bed. I closed my eyes at their approach, and the prophetess 
commanded silence; and, affecting an imposing and oracular 
style, said:

"Some Superior Being transports me above the skies! I soar in 
the immensity of space! I can take in the universe at a glance! 
My knowledge embraces the past, the present, and the future! I 
see in the past that the young man that lies here has always 
been inclined to libertinism and good company; that, not content 
with having, at the same time, a beautiful lady and a pretty 
girl, he has even dared to chouse<4> the Baron, his honoured 
father, out of a most amiable nymph. I behold in the present 
that this spoiled child is called Blasfau. I divine, as to the 
future, that he will not be long ill, and that he will presently 
be in a state of somnambulism, and reply to my questions."

At the sound of my real name, which the prophetess disguised by 
the simple transposition of the two syllables of which it was 
composed; on hearing the history of my amours, of which she made 
an abridgment: and, above all, the little secret anecdote which 
she so malignantly brought to my recollection, I at length 
recognised do you know who? No; Well! I will not tell you yet. I 
wish you in the first place to hear the answers I made to the 
questions of Madame Le Blanc.

"Charming young man! Are you asleep?"

"Yes, but I speak because I am in a state of somnambulism."

"Who initiated you?"

"The most amiable of women, she whose pretty hand I hold, the 
prophetess"

"What is your malady?"

"Excessive fatigue and uneasiness in the morning, and in the 
evening a most voracious appetite."

"What must we do to you?"

"Give me, as soon as possible, a bottle of champagne, and some 
turkey stuffed with truffles."

"Ha! Ha!"

"And that in the apartment of the prophetess, whom I beg to 
grant me a private interview."

"Ha! Ha!"

"I will reveal to her several things very essential to the 
propagation of Magnetism."

"Ha! Ha"



XV.

O Venus! Venus! It was thy will that, for the amusement of the 
fair sex, and of my long minority, there should be united in 
Faublas, at the age of seventeen, many qualities considered as 
incompatible. With the pretty face of a young girl, thou gavest 
me the complete vigour of a man; thou gavest me gentility and 
spirit; sprightliness and the graces; the wit of the day, and 
the eloquence of the moment; the address which gives birth to 
occasion, the patience which watches for it, the boldness which 
faces it; a thousand various charms, of which one more foolish 
would have been more proud, and, perhaps, made less use: thou 
knowest how my conduct has always proved nq gratitude, how dear 
thy worship is to me, how upon thy adored altars have I been 
prodigal of sacrifices. Yet, if thou hast reserved me for 
labours more than human; if taking pleasure to multiply 
temptations and obstacles upon my road, thou wilt that from the 
convent of the Faubourg Saint Marceau to the convent of the 
Faubourg Saint Germain, I am stopped from house to house, and 
without relaxation, forced to choose there between a passing 
infidelity, or an eternal separation; goddess, I declare to 
thee, that I am ready, that nothing shall astound me; that, were 
I to perish, I would try to go to Sophia: but, oh! be just as 
thou art beautiful, in proportion to the means and the 
difficulties, and to the extreme labours of thy favourite; thou 
hast not yet sufficiently endowed him: Venus, thou knowest it; 
he does not require either the perishable charms of your 
effeminate hunter,<30> or the conjugal efforts of thy lame 
blacksmith<31>; it is needful that he who should run my 
brilliant career, possess the prodigious powers of your immortal 
lover<32>, or the fabulous talents of the husband of fifty 
sisters.<33>

But no, it is not this which Faublas asks of you, oh, beneficent 
divinity! You are not only the Queen of Pleasure, they call you 
also the Mother of Love! A young married couple, while they are 
lovers, cannot appear unworthy of your protection. From the 
height of the empyrean, look down without jealousy on a mortal 
beautiful as yourself; she sighs, she prays to you, she expects 
me. Honour her knight with a favourable look, come to my 
succour, overrule my dangers, disperse my enemies, conduct me to 
the desired asylum; deign to re-unite me to the more dear half 
of myself! Then I will burn, under your auspices, a delectable 
and pure incense; then there will be made to you, in heartfelt 
thanks, a delicious sacrifice, equally worthy of the minister, 
of the victim, and of the idol.

Whilst I made this poetic invocation, the prophetess finished 
her circuit in the dormitory; she descended to her own 
apartments, and sent to seek me; it is useless to say that I put 
on the necessary garment, and that I left my sword.

"Ah, good evening, my amiable son-in-law!"

"Good evening, my charming mother-in-law!"

"Faublas, tell me then by what chance-"

"Relate to me, Coralie, by what metamorphosis-"

"Monsieur, I am married."

"I am married, Madame."

"But this event makes me fear for the honour of M. Le Blanc."

"But, oh, my Sophia! I fear much I shall be conquered by 
opportunity."

"Hold, my pretty boy, fortunately thou arrivest apropos, for a 
husband is a foolish thing, and I am in want of a lover."

"Hold, Coralie, I find thee again very happily, for the meeting 
a pretty woman can never displease me; and besides, I want an 
asylum, a dress, and a supper."

Madame Le Blanc made her attendants give me a nightgown, and 
commanded them to wait on me. They brought me the so-much needed 
wine, and the food I was so impatient for: I drank with the 
eagerness of the most sober musician, who, after playing three 
hours by the clock, without ceasing, in some fine house, has 
found, till then, no leisure moment for refreshment. I ate with 
the persevering avidity of some hungry author, who admitted 
regularly on a Monday to the table of some fat bookseller, makes 
it last him for the rest of the week. Whilst I employed my time 
thus in the most useful manner, Coralie told me her history in a 
few words.

"Some days after the comic catastrophe which deprived me at the 
same time of both father and son, a grave doctor was brought to 
my house. M. Le Blanc paid court to me, fell seriously in love, 
and offered me his hand; I could not refuse, because he is rich. 
I married him, Therefore-"

"Thou art married to him!"

"Yes, I married him at the church! And I will tell thee 
something even more strange; I have been faithful to him for 
these three months; but it begins to be unpleasant to me; oh, I 
own it, I am not made to be the monthly routine of old men."

"Madame, in this case, I fear very much I am not come to your 
house quite so apropos as you did me the honour to make me 
believe."

"Good! Are you in want of compliments? Do not be so modest. 
Chevalier, to return to M. Le Blanc, I married him. He brought 
me into this house, which I find full of imaginary sick persons 
and quack-doctors. My husband, who gets richer every day by 
magnetism, teaches me the famous doctrine, which I practice very 
well, because it amuses me. Thou knowest, my friend, that I was 
born a laugher, and that I am always diverted at the expense of 
those I deceive. Besides, they raise me upon trestles, and 
somnambulism is always a public comedy. Upon my honour, as to 
marriage, my new condition does not displease me. Coralie dances 
no more, but she magnetises; she foretells instead of 
declaiming; thou seest that there always remains a part for me 
to act, and that, in fact, I have only changed the theatre."

"Very well, Coralie; but now that I have supped, let us talk 
seriously: you will not send me back to the dormitory?"

"Certainly not."

"Thou consentest to pass the night with me, notwithstanding 
Hymen?"

"Notwithstanding Hymen! Say on his account. Chevalier, thou hast 
wit, and I am obliged to tell thee that he who pays and the 
husband are both alike; and then I have learnt somewhere, that 
one always has a taste for one's first trade. I have not 
forgotten mine, Faublas; I know too, that respectable women 
have, of late, become interlopers, and I assure thee, that none 
of them engage in it more willingly than myself, or for a more 
amiable gentleman than I now embrace."

I gave Madame Le Blanc her kiss, and resumed the conversation, 
which it had interrupted for a moment.

"Thy husband, where is he?"

"At Beauvais, on some family business."

"And your maid, will not she talk?"

"You are right; what a blockhead I am! We must entrust her with 
the secret."

At these words, she rang the bell; the servant came; the 
mistress said to her: "Hold! Here is a Louis d'or, which I give 
you, but it behoves you not to tell my husband that this 
gentleman has slept with me: for I shall prove that you told him 
a lie; I shall tear your eyes out, and turn you away; go."

After having pronounced, with the most majestic air, this truly 
heroic harangue, Madame Le Blanc got into her bed, where she 
soon received me.

Alas! It was useless: magnetism, always deceitful, did not keep 
its promise, and Venus, apparently, did not hear me. In vain, to 
bring the happy moment of which she had conceived the hope in 
the dormitory, Coralie exhausted all the resources of her old 
trade and of her new art; like Justine, she finished by making, 
in her despair, this bitter reproach to my heart:

"Ah! M. de Faublas, how changed I find you! Upon my honour," she 
added briskly, "I should not have prophesied this."

And I, who did not care to enter into the details of a very long 
justification, did with Madame Le Blanc what I had done with 
Mademoiselle de Valbrun; I slept without answering a word.

Now, fastidious critic, who complainest that this history 
contains no moral, see how sublime and profound a one this is, 
which flows from the depth of the subject itself! Admire with 
how much justice, with what inevitable fatality, the two most 
unworthy rivals of Sophia are found, one after the other, and in 
the same manner, precisely punished by the way in which they had 
offended.

Yet, as the first duty of an historian is to be faithful, should 
this work appear a little less moral, impute not to the famous 
doctrine a blame which does not belong to it. Let us say, for 
the honour of the science, that it was, more than anything, by 
the help of magnetism that at the break of day the prophetess 
obtained from her patient the first proof of convalescence. But 
also, since it was necessary to be rigorously exact, let it be 
added, that the female doctor, apparently restrained by the fear 
of compromising her art, dared not attempt to initiate me a 
second time.

It was nearly light in the morning when Madame Le Blanc made me 
put on a large black dress, which she had just chosen from the 
wardrobe of her husband. Before I determined what part there 
remained for me to take, it was needful to let M. de Valbrun 
know the asylum my good fortune had procured me. The commission 
was delicate; Coralie would execute it herself; but she had not 
been gone five minutes, when I saw her return. She entered 
abruptly, shut the door, bolted it, and with a frighted air, 
told me, that on going out, she had beard in the street the 
voices of a crowd of men; one of them, on taking hold of the 
knocker of the great gate, had said, this nun cannot be far off; 
it is necessary to search the neighebouring houses. You run to 
look over that of Commissary Chenon; thou, Griffart, guard the 
middle of the street, and these gentlemen will enter here with 
me; we have no want of permission, because it is a public house. 
Coralie, in giving me this dreadful news, had led me to a secret 
staircase. "Chevalier," she said then, "you cannot go by the 
court, because the agents of the police are there already."

"They are there, Coralie?"

"Yes, my friend. While giving his orders, the life-guard 
knocked, my porter drew the cord, I had only time to fly here to 
tell you of your danger."

"But by what way then shall I escape?"

"By this, Faublas: mount to the top of this little staircase, 
climb on the roof, and I beg of you to take care not to break 
your neck."

"Do not be afraid."

Immediately I dart off, I mount, I arrive at the roof. I pass 
through the window, I leap over a gutter, and I walk with the 
timid precaution that the night and the irregularity of the way 
would naturally inspire me with. I had been some minutes, 
walking from precipice to precipice, when, in one of the gardens 
on which my sight fell, I discovered a man who, having seen me, 
gave the alarm. I hastened to seek an asylum in a little paltry 
room, which was only defended by a bad sash window, with paper 
panes instead of glass. There, upon some trusses of straw, a 
young man lay groaning, who, with a feeble voice, said to me: 
What are you come to do with me? What do you want with me? 
Always a victim of the unjust scorn of men, I have then vainly 
hoped to screen my last moments from their insulting pity! 
Answer, indiscreet stranger-answer-why dost thou come to 
augment, by thy presence, the horror of my last awful hour!"

"Unfortunate man! What do you say? I am far from wishing to 
augment your griefs. Oh, that I could but soften them-that I 
could but bring you some consolation!

"I will receive none. Leave me. I am too happy to die, if I can 
die without witness."

"You make me tremble! Have you a grief so shameful that you can 
avow it to nobody?"

"Yes-one shameful-cruel-insupportable-but a thousand times less 
so, than the humiliating avowal that thou in vain wouldst 
attempt to tear from me. Leave me."

As he spoke, a child, whom I had not perceived, which laid near 
him, awoke, held out its arms to me, and cried: "I am hungry."

"Why do you not give it something to eat?"

"Why!" answered the young man, "Why!" and, with a mournful tone, 
with that tone which pierces the heart, and tears the entrails, 
the child cried to me again; "I am hungry!"

"Ah! poor wretches! what poverty!"

"Poverty! Interrupted the young man; poverty! It is true that it 
can blast everything-everything-even virtue itself! Is it my 
fault if, thrown by chance of birth into the most indigent 
class, I have seen an infancy tormented with a thousand wants, 
and condemned to all privations? Is it my fault if, making 
afterwards useless effort to soften ungrateful fortune, I am 
only delivered over to labours badly paid, because they were 
painful; to enterprises vain, because they were honest; to 
dangers ignoble, because they were unfruitful; and, when at 
length I became elevated to the bar, and believed a caereer open 
to me, at once useful and glorious, am I culpable for having 
encountered only compeers interested to impede the talent they 
were apprehensive of, only attorneys incapable of appreciating a 
merit which had not been boasted of; only friends in too low a 
situation to lend me ten Louis to purchase a great cause?<34> Am 
I culpable for having taken to myself a companion in misfortune, 
because I have felt the lively goad of that sensual appetite, 
which is the pleasure of the rich, and the want of the poor? 
Shall I be blamed because, flexible to the call of nature, and 
unpractised in that destructive act by which your fine ladies 
baulk her first object, my faithful wife gave me this child, by 
whom our poverty was so much augmented! Am I to be accused of 
spending too much for her sickness, who died soon of her malady, 
because she had no physicians? Alas if my life has been, in its 
miserable course, crossed by a thousand accidents, agitated by 
innumerable chagrins, devoted to torments of every species, who 
dares to say the fault is my own! Yet, I have seen myself the 
object of their derision, ridicule has pursued me, humiliations 
have been heaped upon me; it has been necessary to endure 
menace, and pocket affronts; I have been loaded with curses and 
opprobrium; all, in fine, have kept me at a distance, all have 
fled from my approach, as if my proximity infected them, as if I 
carried on my detested forehead the sign of public reprobation. 
Thou great God who has tried me so much; powerful being, who 
readest the hearts, thou knowest if ever my conduct has 
justified the scorn of men; thou knowest if I have not always 
done the best I could to make my poverty respectable."

"What! Has nobody succoured you?"

"Once only, impelled by extreme distress, determined by the 
peril of this infant, I did myself the violence to go and 
implore the assistance of a man who called himself my protector. 
If you knew with what a cruel tone he pitied me, with what 
barbarity he raised his voice, as he threw me his alms amidst a 
crowd of valets!

"Without doubt I have merited that they should treat me in this 
manner: I have suffered one to take the title of my protector! I 
have sought benevolence in the palace of a rich man; I have only 
found charity! I have soiled, by a baseness, a life hitherto 
irreproachable.

"Thou who art now listening to me, if nature has endowed thee 
with a strong soul, if thou hast preserved that pride of 
character which the consciousness of a pure life gives and 
justifies, thou wilt know that I could not, however pressing 
were my wants, receive without ignominy any aid so accorded; 
thou wilt feel that all my affronts, the most insupportable 
would be the last; that death became my only resource.

"No, generous unknown, keep thy gold, it is too late for me. I 
returned here desperate-For six and thirty hours three potatoes 
have sustained my child.-No, generous unknown, keep your gold, I 
tell you it is too late. But, I own it, your grief consoles, 
your tears soften me. Oh! My child! If like me thou art reserved 
for more painful trials, if like me, thou shouldst have to 
combat incessantly between opprobrium and famine; without doubt 
it would be better that thou go with me into the tomb; but 
heaven sends thee a deliverer. Oh! my son! I feel myself more 
tranquil, I leave thee to thy adopted father; he is, I see, 
feeling and benevolent. Sir, watch over his infancy, and leave 
me to die."

"Why to die? What blind delirium precipitates your youth to the 
tomb! Embittered by resentment for the injustice done you by an 
unfeeling man, is your heart susceptible to that little vanity 
which refuses all succour from a stranger with disdain; which 
rejects proudly him who presents an unknown hand? Or would you 
suspect me of insulting interiorly those griefs over which I 
have shed so many tears?"

"No, the most tender interest reigns in your discourse and 
looks: I believe there is yet upon earth a man capable of some 
human sentiment."

"Well, then, live for society, whose injustice towards you has 
not deprived it of the right to reclaim your talents, the 
exercise of which may become useful; live for your son, whom 
your premature death would deliver without defence to those 
strokes of fate which have outraged you so long; live for me. 
Yes, assuredly your child shall be mine, yes, I will see him 
again; but I will see you both: my friend, do not be obstinate 
in keeping a dreadful resolution, do not refuse me.

"Listen to me. For more than a year, thrown into a new world, 
continually distracted by the pleasures of a too dissipated 
life, I have neglected duties that nothing could dispense with 
my fulfilling; I own it, occupied entirely by myself, I have 
always forgotten such of my fellow creatures as ought to have 
been perpetually in my remembrance. And how many honest 
families, now ruined without resource, I could perhaps have 
supported by a part of the money prodigally spent in vain 
amusements! And how many unfortunates have, perhaps, perished 
that I could have saved from their despair! My friend, deign to 
help me to repair this fault, which I will never pardon myself 
for committing. I do not pretend to offer you a feeble succour 
which will take you only for a moment from the horror of your 
deplorable situation, two hundred Louis are in this purse; 
borrow the half of them of me."

"The half!"

"Borrow them, I beg of you; one hundred Louis will provide for 
your more urgent wants, and will help you to bring your public 
talents to perfection, will give you time to wait for occasions 
to show them, in fine, to make you known; a hundred Louis will 
perhaps be a germ to your fortune! Well! My friend, when you 
shall be at your ease, you will go also to seek misfortunes to 
console; and the first time that an unhappy being shall owe his 
life to you, you will be acquitted of your debt to me."

"Oh, beneficence! Oh, generosity!"

"Come, my friend, receive this money; take courage, let us 
embrace, and console yourself. Go, I know well, poverty is only 
shameful when it is the fruit of bad conduct; and almost always 
a donation, while it honours him who gives, makes the eulogium 
also of the receiver."

"Oh, my redeeming angel!-It is Providence-Yes, it is God-It is 
God himself who has sent you to save us.-Go, each day I will be 
at the feet of his altar.-I will thank the Eternal-I will-I will 
call down on you the blessings of heaven."

His voice was broken by sobs, and the child moved his little 
hand caressingly over my face bathed with the tears of his 
father. Oh, moment full of charms! How inexpressibly delicious 
wert thou!

"Sir," resumed the young man, whose voice began to be 
strengthened, "deign to acquaint me to whom I owe my life."

"I cannot."

"You refuse to tell me! Take back your gold, sir."

"But-"

"You wish to hide yourself from my gratitude! Sir, I do not 
accept your money."

"But first know my reasons."

"Sir, I will not accept it."

"Well! I am going to give you proofs of a confidence without 
bounds. I call myself the Chevalier de Faublas."

"The Chevalier de Faublas! 'Where will so much virtue find a 
niche!'<35> How-Oh, my benefactor! I ask pardon a thousand 
times, I offend very involuntarily."

"My first adventures have made some noise in the capital, and 
you condemn me immediately; perhaps you are a little too prompt, 
a little too severe. Oh, my friend excuse the follies of 
inexperience, pity the passions of youth, and to judge of me, 
stay some time, you do not know me yet."

"Ah! Do you forgive an exclamation without doubt indiscreet. I 
know you, and you have a right to all my esteem, you will 
correct yourself, I am sure of it; with an excellent heart, it 
is impossible to be long misled."

He took my hand which he kissed many times. Embracing him, I 
asked his name. He said, "Florval."

"Florval," I love your noble frankness; are you sincerely 
disposed to honour us with your friendship?"

"What a question!"

"I shall see you then in a happier time?"

"What!"

"Florval, it is necessary for me to hide myself, I do not know 
what is to become of me, they pursue me."

"They pursue you! May your enemies waste themselves in vain 
researches! May their rage be confounded! But why this dress? 
They have already seen it perhaps? Why do you not take another?-

"Which?"

"See, in that corner are some rags. They are my robe, and the 
only moveable which it was essential for me always to preserve. 
This morning I resolved on going to sell it, but I have not had 
power to reach the staircase. And then what would they have 
given me for it? It is so bad! Take it for your own, it can 
disguise you perfectly; hide your dress underneath, and over it 
let your floating locks fall in all their length, they are still 
sufficiently powdered."

While occupied with my dress, I allowed myself to ask several 
questions of Florval, to which he eagerly answered.

"So you are an advocate, Florval?"

"Alas! Yes, sir."

"I have always believed this profession as lucrative as 
honourable."

"Ah! Sir, what a profession it is to force a poor devil to pay 
you beforehand in order not to be obliged to summons him! To 
engross for an attorney, cases at two-pence a page! Every 
morning to tell lies to little audiences for a crown! Ah sir, 
what a trade! What a trade!"

"Yet there is so much business at the courts that you ought to 
be always occupied."

"People think so; but then the associated order is there for 
renown. I have seen a brother who was in fashion, caressing 
fortune who smiled upon him, but neglecting the glory he might 
have hoped for, in the same day draw up petitions, compile 
consultations, hurry up cases, make up memorials, plead in all 
the courts, and by this murderous avidity suck the blood of 
fifty impoverished clients, and devour the substance of fifty 
famishing brothers at the bar! Oh sir! What a profession!"

"Never mind, Florval, try to make yourself known, and-"

"And the way, sir! If you knew how disgusting it is to me, with 
how many delays they will wear out my patience, with what 
address will they environ my first efforts with difficulties 
almost insurmountable!"

"Florval, better luck is in store for you, doubtless. Think of 
celebrated orators; they have, like you, had obstacles to 
vanquish."

"What do you say, sir? All push back rising talents, the 
sublimity of some great models makes one despair, but 
nevertheless how disgusting is the inconceivable success of 
certain people so unworthy, so very unworthy of it! Do you 
believe there is in literature anything but usurped reputations? 
At the bar, sir, as elsewhere, timid merit blushes and hides 
itself, while audacious mediocrity comes forward, solicits, 
manoeuvres, sermonises, gains its point, and enjoys a glory 
which is not always ephemeral. Why, when yesterday, with rage in 
my heart, I regained this garret to expire with famine, why did 
my brother E--, during all his life drunk with success, die of 
an indigestion under gilded roofs? Ah! sir, what a profession! 
What a profession!"

"So there's none amongst you then who deserves his reputation!"

"One might mention many, whose talents in reality do honour to 
the bar; would to heaven that the bar always honoured them, that 
no secret hate, arising from daily rivalries, and base envy, the 
sure followers of success, did not dog their steps to work their 
ruin, and to blight their glory! Ah! Sir, what a profession! 
What a profession! I have seen it too near. Ah! Who would follow 
it, if be did not now and then, at distances of time, meet some 
wretches to defend, at the risk of being erased from the list."

"Florval, my friend, Florval, misfortune sours you."

"It is true, he answered almost laughing, it is true that one 
does not look at the prettiest side of things, when one has been 
without food two days. Chevalier, you are nearly dressed. I 
cannot descend into the street. You have done nothing for me if 
you do not also take the trouble of sending me some food."

"My friend, I fly to do it."

While he spoke, I arranged the robe so that its age was a little 
less remarkable. Each of the sides were torn below; I was 
careful to turn them up elegantly on each side, as if I was 
afraid of the mud in the streets, I stuffed one of the lappets 
in my fob, I held the other under my arm. A long rent left my 
breast discovered; I made a grand fold and put pins in it like 
an artist. As to the back, the holes were hid under the plaits; 
so all was in the best manner, and the young advocate ready to 
disappear. I had the air of a judge advocate. Adieu Florval; if 
by chance you are questioned-"

"I will sooner suffer the last extremity than expose you to 
danger."

"But will it be long before I see you again?"

"I know nothing about it, Florval."

"Oh, I will seek for you, I will enquire after you; M. de 
Faublas, deign not to forget him who owes all to you."

"Florval, I will not forget my friend."

"Adieu, my benefactor I delivering angel, adieu!"

And, as I was at the end of the corridor, the child called out 
with its little clear voice: "Adieu, papa!"

His papa! And the father calls me his delivering angel and I 
have saved two victims from death and my eyes are yet moist with 
the sweetest tears which I have ever shed! And my heart is full 
of a delicious sentiment! Oh, what ineffable pleasures those 
taste who perform good actions! Oh, supreme happiness, of which 
I have only a feeble idea! But what is it to give money to a 
confidential person to distribute? We should go ourselves! Oh, 
my Sophia! One day we will mount together into garrets: we will 
penetrate into the little cabins of the poor. There, we shall be 
able to discover misery which shrinks from observation, to 
prevent its painful avowals, to apportion our help to its wants, 
and to calm its doubts by our consolations. There, my charming 
wife, twenty unhappy beings, supported by thy gifts, shall 
return thee homage acceptable to thy heart. Oh, how much more 
beautiful wilt thou appear to me, when I shall have seen thee 
weep over their secret troubles! When thou shalt return, proud 
of their benedictions! They will scarcely see me at all, they 
will only look at thee! It will be thy hand which they will 
kiss: it will be thee whom they will call delivering angel! Thou 
hast the appearance of one; each of thy features attest a soul 
divine! Oh, my Sophia! Thou wilt sustain the fathers of 
families, orphans, poor widows, cast-off daughters, widows! 
Girls! Faublas, fly from the horrible idea which is arising! 
Respect unhappy beauty, which you have succoured, or renounce 
every sentiment of honour, and remain forever loaded with the 
just execrations of mankind.

I went on reflecting thus, even to the street door, where the 
perils which surrounded me, fixed my ideas upon different 
objects. I had scarcely quitted the hospitable threshold, when 
many men already followed me. One of them in particular 
frightened me with a very scrutinising glance; then, with an 
air, half irresolute, half decided, conveying alternately his 
squinting eyes over my pale countenance, and on the broad faces 
of his vile companions he seemed often to consult, and often to 
say: "It is he!" I saw the moment of my danger at hand. 
Persuaded that I could not escape but by drawing upon impudence, 
I made my deportment very assured, and my memory serving me, 
apropos, I repeated, in a loud voice, the name Madame Le Blanc 
told me. "Griffart," cried I.

"Who is that?" he said to me. "Do you know me? I know you not 
exactly yet."

"And you, gentlemen?"

"Worse than not knowing you exactly," answered one of them, "we 
do not know you at all." Then I took a noble look of disdain 
over my shoulder, and reviewed the whole troop. I measured the 
chief from head to foot; then I let fall these words:

"What, my fine gentleman, you do not know the son of Commissary 
Chenon?"

At his revered name, you should have seen these knaves, seized 
with respect, suddenly take off their woollen hats, or cotton 
bonnets; with an air of quality, grip their fore-tops, gently 
throw their right foot behind, and make me, in this manner, with 
the most humble excuses, their obeisances. With a nod of the 
head, I motioned that I was satisfied; and addressing myself to 
Griffart:

"Well, my brave fellow, is there anything new stirring?"

"Not yet, sir, but a long time cannot pass before there will. I 
believe that we have squinted on her upon a roof. The fine girl 
must come down if she breaks her neck. She has taken the dress 
of our sex; but that's all one. I'll warrant she don't deceive 
Griffart. Both ends of the street are guarded, and no one can 
pass without being examined.

I then said: "Hold, my friends, go to breakfast at the public-
house; thou, Griffart, I charge thee to carry immediately a loaf 
of bread, a piece of roast meat, and a bottle of wine, to one M. 
Florval, who lives there-in this alley, the fifth floor. What 
remains of my six francs, take with thee to the public-house, 
and drink with thy companions."

All these men exhausted themselves in thanks more gross than 
energetic, and I found their gestures as disgusting as they were 
ridiculous; and their joy made me sad, it was ignoble as 
themselves. This pretended nun whom they pursue has taken, they 
say, the dress of a man; if I could disguise myself as a woman, 
I do not know but I might escape. Ah! ah! Who is this engaging 
damsel, who, from the window of the second floor calls politely 
to those who pass! Let us go there. Perhaps with money-Let us go 
there, we shall see; I can at last change or not; if I cannot do 
better, I must go to the street to present to the inspector the 
commissary's son. Let us go up."

"It is bad company, Faublas; but faith, let him save himself 
that can."

I entered quietly into the room of the poor girl, who had left 
the door half open. She saw my black gown, and believed me to be 
the devil. The piercing cry she gave could have been heard by 
all her customers in the neighbourhood. I, who could not think 
of running the gauntlet with this modern Aspasia's crowd of 
lovers, hastened, in order to re-assure her, to take off the 
dreadful gown. Her mortal fear disappeared as soon as she heard 
me protest I was not the commissary. It was another thing when 
she saw me draw from my purse a double Louis, the sweetest hope 
shone over her whole face, now perfectly serene.

"Mademoiselle, these two Louis are for you."

"I am very willing" she said, and quicker than lightning she ran 
to the door, and closed it, to the window, and drew over it a 
worm-eaten cloth, that people less diffident would call a 
curtain; and to the recess where her bed stood.

"Come, come, my too complaisant and too lively girl, if you 
would have heard me to the end, you would have been spared these 
useless demonstrations, which may cost your self-love as much as 
your modesty. In reality, child, thou hast wrongly construed my 
intentions. For the two Louis which I offer, I want only that 
you should furnish me with woman's clothes, and that thou 
shouldst help me to dress."

"I am willing," she answered.

"That is charming! You are willing to do everything one asks 
you!"

"By the Virgin! I must act up to my profession!"

"What do you give me, here?-A petticoat that should be white, 
full of splashes from top to bottom?"

"That is only because I came the other night from the play when 
it rained."

"And this handkerchief is torn?"

"I did it on last Monday in belabouring an attorney's clerk, who 
would not pay me."

"And this dirty handkerchief?"

"An old man tumbled it."

"And this morning cap, all brown?"

"That was my lover, in a fit of jealousy, threw it in the fire?"

"Never mind, miss, take your rags again, I will have none of 
them. Stay, child, give me your best clothes; I will pay you 
what you ask for them; the two Louis are for keeping the 
secret."

"Who will say a word, I wonder! Upon the word of an honest girl, 
Fanchette is going to give you the gayest things she has, her 
Pantheon-dress; stop, I will let you have them at the cost 
price: four Louis; and over and above, you shall have this large 
black hat with its plume of feathers, and these proofs of my 
friendship if you will, because you are very genteel."

"For the robe and the hat, willingly; very much obliged for the 
rest."

Still I wanted a shift. Fanchette has much trouble to find me 
one moderately good; she had more trouble not to outrage my 
timid shame-facedness in putting it on. The gown she put on 
afterwards, went on as well as if it had been made for me." How 
well this dress fits you," said Fanchette: "Ah," she resumed, 
after a moment's reflection, "I ask no better; for thou art the 
prettiest man I ever set my eyes on!" And if I had not been in a 
hurry to put myself to rights, she was going to embrace me very 
indecently.

"No, mademoiselle; no, I tell you. Stay, Fanchette, here are the 
six Louis that I owe you. Do me the favour to go and get a 
hackney-coach, and bring it here to me. You will accompany me in 
it to the gate of the Luxembourg. In leaving thee there, I will 
give thee, besides, four half crowns for thy ride; but, pray 
make haste; and, above all, do not say a word to anyone."

"I promise you I will not: I love you, because that-"

"Go, Fanchette; make haste."

She had not been gone five minutes, when I heard the key turn in 
the lock. Judge of my surprise and alarm, when, the door 
opening, I saw a stranger enter, who, not less familiar then if 
he had been in his own house, said: "Good day!" without looking 
at me, and threw his cane and hat upon the bed. I saw that his 
shaking legs bore him contrary ways; that he frequently deceived 
himself; that he ran against the furniture; and knocked against 
the walls. His mouth opened with difficulty, his tongue scarcely 
articulated, his hair was deranged; he took a chair and sat down 
on one side: then, in rising, he made this judicious remark to 
himself: "I was cheated!" He added: "Fanchette, I am sure thou 
hast been uneasy that I did not return home before this morning; 
it has displeased thee, as it had a right. Ah, it was because 
there was such a world of people at the English hotel. What 
pleasure there is in that place!  How many people ruin 
themselves there-with such glee!-It is charming to see them!-but 
they are contented!-There has scarcely been a quarrel-so you may 
judge!-excepting one, in one of them was killed; the other-but 
that is all."

At these words, he rose, to come straight to me, but, without 
intending it, he went the other way, and fell against the sash, 
some panes of which he broke. After many circuits, he at last 
got to me; and during some seconds, he stared full at me, with 
an air which would have amused me greatly if I had had less 
inquietudes.

"It is I," he resumed at last; "It is thee! it is thy chamber; 
and thy handsome gown! But I am drunk! Oh, yes, I am drunk! Thou 
hast black eyes, and I see them blue; Thou art fair, and yet 
seemest to me brown! Thou art little, and appearest large to me! 
Yes, I am tipsy, that's certain! But what of that! I will 
persuade thee that thou art genteel, and I am thy lover!"

He approached, I retreated; he followed me, I repulsed him, he 
held me; I made a menacing gesture, he struck me with his fist; 
I gave him two for one; he threw himself on my plume of 
feathers; I seized him by the hair; and his fall drew me down. 
The Chevalier de Faublas, stretched upon the floor, rolls in the 
dust with the vile lover of a girl of the town! What seemed 
likely to turn the fall in favour of my adversary, in this 
unworthy combat, was, my being dressed so inconveniently for a 
game of fisticuffs. Yet victory would not have been long 
uncertain because there was, in our manner of fencing this 
difference, to my advantage, that, without saying a single word, 
I tried to parry rather than to thrust; instead of which, the 
wretch, swearing like a coachman, neglected parrying, and only 
sought to strike, and to hold me. One may judge, then, that the 
most noisy was not the least beaten; but before I was able to 
disengage myself, the neighbours ran in to see the occasion of 
so great a noise. Charmed to find this opportunity to get rid of 
their odious lodgers, they began by loading us with imprecations 
and blows. In the end, they separated us. We descended, and were 
both of us delivered over to the guard, without being searched.

Two soldiers put the handcuffs on my companion, two more gave me 
their hands, the people hooted me, and the boys followed me. At 
the end of the street I passed triumphantly through the middle 
of the police scouts, who did not expect, under these gaudy 
clothes, and with this honourable escort, their pretended nun 
dressed in man's clothes. But how many streets were we made to 
walk through! What mud, collected in the way, soiled the 
beautiful pantheon dress! What indecent discourse I heard on the 
road! With what brutality my uncivil conductors handed me along! 
Ah! poor girls, God keep you from the Parisian guard!

God preserve you also from the commissary! A justice of the 
peace, acting the magistrate, condemns without hearing! A stupid 
corporal recounts facts of which he is ignorant, his soldiers 
bear witness to what they have not seen, many witnesses cried 
out that I was a girl of the town, who fought with my lovers; 
the expeditious clerk, comprehending little, but writing all, 
closed the commitment before he even deigned to inform himself 
if we had any means of defence; and all at once, from the 
despotic tribunal of the proud citizen, came this decision, 
without appeal: "The profligate to the Hôtel de la Force: the 
girl to Saint Martin."

To St. Martin! It is then true that I am to be conducted there! 
It is then true that the most precocious youth, he who many 
times, in certain cases, has shown himself so superior to many 
grown men, he whose success in gallantry yet occupies the 
astonished town, the Chevalier de Faublas, in fine, proclaimed a 
girl by a public judgment, sees himself shut up in the chapel of 
ease of an hospital, in order to wait there apparently till some 
leisure day, when the head of the police will cause him, with a 
hundred prostitute companions, to be transferred to the 
metropolis.

And why do I let myself be taken to this frightful prison? Why! 
Would not the avowal of my sex at the commissary's, have drawn 
upon me a number of questions, which it would have been very 
embarrassing to me to answer. At all events, will not this 
hazardous means always remain a resource! And ought I not to 
flatter myself that a thousand others, almost as easy, will 
spare me the danger of it? With address and with gold I shall 
force the gates of Saint Martin more easily than those of the 
Bastille: but I ought to make haste; an instant may ruin me. In 
the suburb of Saint Marceau, become for the second time the 
theatre of my glory and my misfortunes, a thousand accidents may 
discover traces the Chevalier de Faublas has left of his route. 
Come, quick, let us call some friends to my aid. Friends! I have 
only acquaintances at Paris. Rosambert, he has played me a dirty 
trick: Rosambert! And then he is far off. Derneval is further 
yet: Madame de B*** is perhaps not yet arrived. Besides, how 
shall I give her news of myself without exposing her! But my 
friend, my love, my wife!

It is she! Yes, it is to her that I must send. No, du Portail is 
there, who, without doubt, has his eyes open. He may intercept 
the dispatches, and carry me off again. No, I will not use a 
name which may deprive me of the sight of my Sophia. The Vicomte 
de Valbrun remains. It is not to his private house that I must 
send; I know not where his hôtel is; the commissioners will 
inform me; let us write to the Vicomte.

What I tell you in thirty lines, was the result of two hours' 
reflections; so my letter to the Vicomte was not finished when 
they came to call Fanchette. Seized with alarm, I only resolved 
to do my best, and gained the first wicket. There I saw an 
elegant woman who, having cast upon me two or three disdainful 
glances, ordered me, in a severe tone, to follow her. The door 
of the prison opened, my proud protectress mounted gravely into 
her carriage, and by a motion of the head, told me to take the 
place opposite. I obeyed, and we drove off. Then, addressing 
myself to the unknown, I said: Madame, how many thanks-"

"You owe me none," she interrupted; "it is true that I have 
taken you from this fine place, where you were not badly placed, 
I think; but it is not to oblige you personally, I assure you."

"Yet, Madame-"

"Yet, mademoiselle, I beg you to believe me."

"Why will you refuse the just homage?"

"Good God! What fine words! I like them not, mademoiselle. Let 
us not talk toegether, I beg of you."

There was a moment of silence, during which I asked myself who 
was the uncivil deliverer, who did me so great a service, and 
treated me so ill, where this adventure would bring me, and what 
was going to become of me?

The beautiful lady who had ordered me to hold my tongue, soon 
commanded me to speak. 

Do you know how to read?" she said."

"A little, Madame."

"And to write?"

"Yes, though not much."

"You can dress hair?"

"Woman's?"

"To be sure; certainly."

"Tolerably, Madame; is this all that is necessary?"

"And enough too, mademoiselle; you forget that it does not 
become you to question me."

The carriage soon arrived before a very fine house; the unknown, 
having made me traverse superb apartments, finished by leaving 
me to my reflections in a sort of cabinet for dressing in, where 
I remained alone some minutes, which appeared to me to be ages. 
In fine, my deliverer appeared; she brought me clothes herself, 
for which she desired me to change mine, for I disgusted her, 
she said; and without waiting for an answer, she began by taking 
off my handkerchief. "I rather guess," she said, throwing into 
my bosom a scrutinizing glance, "that this courtesan, who looks 
so pretty, has some secret defect. Faugh! this is as flat as my 
hand."

To the surprise which seized me at first, soon succeeded a more 
painful sensation. This great lady, so proud, so imperious, and 
yet alert as a waiting maid, and an experimental observer, made 
me as uncomfortable with her help as with her observations, and 
distressed me as much by her kindness as by her severity. I 
tried to get rid of her good offices; she found my attempts to 
do so very impertinent, and what she called the grimaces of 
pretended modesty were of no avail.

There was a knot; she undid it very dexterously, and at the same 
time disembarrassed me of my first petticoat. "

"Good God! Madame, you lower yourself to wait thus upon a 
servant"

"Well," she answered, "but if I choose to support the shame and 
the trouble?"

"Madame, I will not permit it; I cannot bear it; you are too 
good."

"And is that a reason for you to show yourself so ridiculously 
modest, so obstinate!"

She spoke with quickness; yet her tongue went less quick than 
her hand; so that I saw, almost immediately, notwithstanding my 
vain precautions, my second petticoat fall; alas! It was the 
last.

At least there remained yet one safeguard, the wretched chemise 
of which I hoped not to be easily despoiled. 

"What obstinacy! What foolish reserve! said the irritated lady. 
"Without doubt, if I was a man, mademoiselle would make less to 
do."

Scarcely had she said this, than she passed behind me, and 
instantly, with a rapid cut of the scissors, from my reins to my 
shoulders, she cut in two the unfortunate chemise, of which it 
became easy for her to take the pieces away.

Oh, readers, judge of my trouble! You see here the poor 
Fanchette very succinctly undressed, and so much the more 
embarrassed, as the only veil which remained to her having been 
dragged in the mud in wallowing in the streets of Paris, I 
cannot, in conscience, deny that I was in want of clean linen. 
So the obliging person who presided at my toilette, hastened to 
throw over my head a fine shift, that she ordered me to put on. 
It was, above all, the operation that I dreaded, and for the 
completion of the mischief, every instant rendered it more 
difficult. How will ever this young girl so excessively awkward, 
in this most critical moment of all, have the dexterity 
necessary to hide from these quick eyes the too apparent youth! 
I know not by what fatality my imagination, till then asleep, 
awoke more ardently; it electrified me, it inflamed me for the 
charms of this stranger, whose prompt and light hand I can yet 
fancy myself feeling, whose look always pursues me, whose all-
powerful look, awakening dying desire, suddenly produced in me 
the most unexpected effect, the effect in general auspicious, 
but now unfortunate, the effect that, two hours before, Coralie 
dared not hope for, even with the aid of magnetism. What shall I 
do, then! What is going to become of me? By what means shall I 
keep my secret?

The part I took will astonish the reader, he will laugh at my 
expense; but never mind. As I boast sometimes of my prowess, I 
must also own my defects. Know then, that, imagining there was 
nothing better to be done, I had the weakness to turn my back to 
the enemy.

"This behaviour is not polite," she said, "I own to you that 
these manners are not such as I am accustomed to."

From the tone in which these words were pronounced I could 
perceive that the offended person, far from giving way to 
movements of impatience and anger, experienced a mischievous 
satisfaction, and was merely ironical. A slight glance which I 
hazarded, confirmed me in this idea. I saw that she repressed 
with difficulty the emotions of violent laughter. It was then, 
and yet to my shame I avow it, it was only then that it came 
into my mind that I had been a long quarter of an hour her dupe, 
that for a whole quarter of an hour my protectress quizzed, 
entirely at her ease, an innocent young man, whom she pretended 
to believe a girl of the town. This discovery filled me at first 
with spite; but I consoled myself almost as soon, by thinking of 
the sweet vengeance my mishap promised me.

"Ah! Whoever you are," cried I, "you are not formed for such 
incivilities. Yes, I am sure of it, you ought not to be more 
accustomed to suffer, than I am myself to permit them: and it is 
very sincerely that I beg your pardon."

"Pardon!" repeated she, laughing at last most heartily; "but if 
one grants it only to boldness, do you believe you merit it?"

"Assuredly not," I replied, a little stunned with this reproach.

"Well then," she said with a force of wit little known, "I wait 
till a real offence-"

I did not leave her time to finish, for her air, her discourse, 
and above all, her deportment, spoke a rare assurance, which she 
summoned up to astonish at first the most intrepid, but 
afterwards to give courage to the most timid; so precipitating 
myself before her, in this humble and formidable posture, so 
convenient for a lover, so menacing for a mistress, I made, in 
the most decided manner, this declaration of love and war: "Upon 
my word, madam, I believe that you will not wait for it long."

Without any emotion, she replied: "Whatever you may say, I do 
not believe you have such temerity. Besides, I inform you that I 
am not one of those women who are frightened at a word; they are 
feeble beauties who believe in all menaces."

The answer was clear: acts, and nothing else would do with this 
lady. I could not reasonably doubt that she knew pretty well who 
I was, that the danger of my presence and of my very slight 
attire, nevertheless, did not astonish her; in fine, that the 
Chevalier de Faublas could without indiscretion, and even ought 
to, declare himself.

She received the avowal with infinite grace. This complete 
triumph was disputed only just enough to make me know that it 
was of some value. I was yet in the lap of victory, and upon the 
point of seizing the fruits, that the conqueror himself 
contributes to, when a carriage made the pavement of the court 
resound beneath it. "The Vicomte already!" said my unknown; "let 
us make haste, let us make haste and finish this nonsense.

She made haste in reality; and as if I had not had myself some 
interest to do so, she, as one may say, obliged me to do it.

Thanks to my promptitude, and above all to her own, what this 
original person called our nonsense, was over; but the third 
intruding person, to whom all this would not have appeared so 
very pleasant, soon made himself be heard near us; and my proud 
protectress, who had no desire that they should know how she 
amused herself with her protegée, did not confine herself to 
putting herself to rights, but gave me a sign to collect my 
scattered clothes, and to escape into a neighbouring closet.

I threw myself into it; when the intrusive cavalier, whose too 
sudden visit sent me off, entered. "He is changing his dress 
there," she said.

"Without the help of your maid?" he demanded.

She answered: "If he cannot do without it, we will call her; but 
why, except there is an absolute necessity, should we put a 
third person in possession of our secret."

He then came in to me; it was M. de Valbrun. "Good day, my dear 
Faublas," he said, embracing me. "Are you not pleased with the 
zeal that the Baroness de Fonrose has shown in your favour?"

"Pleased!" I exclaimed; "It is, in reality, too little to say."

"Ah! I have been very troublesome: your dear Faublas," she 
interrupted, laughing; "ask him what he thought of it; ask him 
if I have not already begun the vengeance of my sex." Come, 
gentle knight," she added, "there must be no rancour, you see in 
me only a friendly fairy, who comes to carry you away from the 
enchantress; and as soon as you are dressed, come respectfully, 
and in token of gratitude, to kiss my hand."

Whilst she spoke, I observed her face reflected in a glass on 
the other side of the room. Her deportment had so much changed, 
that there only remained a cold dignity, and the perfect 
calmness of her face, seemed to announce the absence of all 
passions. I saw that the Baroness was an excellent comedian; but 
whatever pleasure I took in seeing her in her new part, I could 
give to it only a short attention. All the feminine 
accoutrements in which it was necessary to muffle myself up, 
caused me not a little embarrassment. It was to me a labour 
without end; I believe that it would have lasted till night, if 
Madame de Fonrose had not come at the repeated invitation of the 
Vicomte, to help to finish it. In the end, but always to oblige 
him, she carried her complaisance so far as to put in order, 
with her noble hand, my disordered locks. She was still dressing 
my head, when I cried out:

"M. de Valbrun, let us go."

"Go where?"

"To see Sophia."

"Sophia! Is she in Paris?"

"In these suburbs even, at the convent of -- in -- Street."

"So much the better; but for an instant, moderate your 
impatience, listen to me; I ought to tell you what I have done; 
and to consider with you on measures which must now be taken."

"I should by right, have begun, M. le Vicomte, with assuring you 
of my gratitude."

"Are you anxious to prove it to me?"

"Do not doubt that I am."

"Well, do me the pleasure to hear me."

"With all my heart; but let us go."

"What impatience! Pray, hear me."

"My Sophia-"

"We will speak of her presently. Chevalier, in the middle of 
last night I returned to my private house, as I had promised 
you. Justine, in recounting to me what had passed, gave me great 
uneasiness about you. Not knowing what was going to become of 
you, and wishing to remain at hand, to give you aid if any 
occasion presented itself, I determined to remain with Justine. 
This little girl, who appears very fond of you, was continually 
at the street window. Twice in the morning she thought she saw 
you, and in two different dresses. In two hours she came to me, 
saying, that the guard were bearing you away, that she knew you 
very well, notwithstanding your new dress. So she got a faithful 
emissary to mingle with the crowd that followed you; and return, 
as soon as possible, to tell me what had become of you. On his 
return, I was not less enchanted than surprised, to know that a 
dreadful judgment came to send the pretended Fanchette to St. 
Martin. Then I flew to Madame de Fonrose."

"At first," she said, "I could not but interest myself much in 
the fate of a young man like you. I hastened directly to demand 
the mandate, at the hôtel of the police, and you know what a 
quick use I made of it, which set you at liberty."

"Madame, accept my warmest thanks."

"M. de Faublas," answered the Vicomte, "hear me to the end"

"Sophia waits for me."

"We will speak of her; hear me to the end. Whilst the Baroness 
went to the police, I returned to the suburbs of St. Marceau, to 
learn what I could. There was no longer any enquiry about 
Dorothea; the Chevalier de Faublas only is spoken of 
everywhere."

"Now! Already!"

"Can you be astonished at it? The declaration of a nun named 
Ursula, who has, she says, been ill-treated by the ravishers of 
the nun, proved nothing against you; but what has discovered 
all, is the complaint of a certain M. de Flourvac, who he said 
was attacked in the enclosure of the magnetisers, by a young 
man, who escaped in his shirt, sword in hand; and the resistance 
which was here made to the officers of the police by Madame Le 
Blanc, who chose rather to let them break open the door of her 
apartment than to open it; also the deposition that the true 
Fanchette has been forced to make, who, returned to her hôtel, 
has been interrogated upon facts and articles. The meeting 
together of so many extraordinary events has betrayed you: the 
most astonishing events have been brought about, upon account of 
the most astonishing young man. In two hours, perhaps, they will 
go to seek you at St. Martin's, in order to transfer you to the 
Bastille. Madame will no doubt be troubled about it, but she is 
well with the minister: so that, if they do not find you, I am 
easy about all the rest. The friends of the Comte de G--, whom 
one of your seconds has killed, call loudly for vengeance; but I 
have friends also; I enjoy some credit, we will smother up this 
affair. In the meanwhile-"

"In the meanwhile, I will see my Sophia if I ruin myself."

"You will ruin yourself, without seeing her."

"Without seeing her!"

"If you dare to put a foot out of doors, you will be arrested. 
It is not to be doubted that the most vigilant agents of the 
police are upon the watch. Pray wait some days."

"Some days! Day are ages!"

"Will you find them less long in a state-prison, and when you 
will even lose the hope of ever seeing your mistress again?"

"She is my wife, Vicomte--

The Baroness interrupted us: "Chevalier, if what you say is 
true, I wish you joy of it."

"Very true, they will search long enough before they find one 
who merits to be adored like her."

"I believe you."

"One more worthy of the tenderness and respect of her happy 
husband."

"Chevalier," resumed the Vicomte, "permit me-"

"One who-"

"Pray, time is precious; let us come to some resolution. Promise 
me not to expose yourself."

"Alas! I shall not see her then today!"

"Think that your affair may now be arranged; but, if you were 
once a prisoner, I could answer for nothing. Chevalier, you will 
consider-"

"Ah! Vicomte, you see me penetrated with gratitude; in a more 
fortunate hour, I shall have less, and shall express it better; 
it is to-day, that to give you one proof, I surrender myself to 
your counsels. M. de Valbrun, regulate my conduct, and I will 
obey."

"Chevalier, I cannot now offer you an asylum at my house, 
because they will certainly come there to find you."

"Why should he not remain here?" said the Baroness.

"Because he will no longer be here in safety, Madame."

"Do you think so, Vicomte?"

"I ask you yourself what you think?"

"I-I see not too-"

"What! Madame, after what you have been doing!"

"Oh, but Vicomte!"

"You astonish me, Madame," he replied with an air of some 
displeasure, "excepting that, if you really desired to take care 
of the Chevalier, I would not oppose it, and only now from my 
anxiety for him; you know that I am not jealous."

"Yet I like," she said, "the rather piqued tone in which you say 
so; it proves that you have more attachment to me than you are 
willing should appear. Gentlemen," she added, "it is late, let 
us go into the dining-room, where we shall not stay long, and, 
during dinner, all three will think upon the means of saving 
this amiable young man, the friend of all women, and the true 
lover of his wife."

Madame de Fonrose presented me her hand, which the Vicomte 
seized more promptly than myself; we went to sit down to table. 
The Baroness, who did not come out of her profound meditation, 
only to look steadily at me from time to time, broke silence by 
a loud burst of laughter. The Vicomte asked her the cause of 
this sudden gaiety.

"I shall explain it to you in the saloon," she said, rising.

I was afflicted by this sudden freak, for the lively appetite 
which remained, made me feel that I should have liked to finish 
my dinner.

"I have found for this young girl," she said to us, "a place 
that will suit her marvellously in all respects."

"A place!" cried the Vicomte.

"A place! Yes. Female factotum, she will be lady-companion, 
secretary and reader at Madame de Lignolle's."

"The young Countess?"

"Yes."

"A lady-companion to the young Countess! It is laughable!"

"What matters, Vicomte? She wants one; and the one I provide her 
with will be better than any other, I believe."

"But on account of M. de Lignolle."

"M. de Lignolle! M. de Lignolle is a very ugly man, to whom I 
have wished such a thing a long while. One of my intimate 
friends accuses him of faults; of such faults as a woman never 
pardons. Mademoiselle du Portail," added the Baroness, turning 
towards me, "I recommend the little Countess to you; she is 
young and pretty, a little careless, very lively in person, and 
uncommonly capricious also. I know a fancy that she affects: it 
often happens that she wishes to be a prude for a quarter of an 
hour; then, pretending the profound ignorance of the most 
unpractised virgin, she will not understand the commonest 
pleasantries; and, the instant after, you hear her hold, with an 
indifferent air, a very licentious discourse. Besides, she has 
whims that will ruin her if she does not take care. At her age, 
she flies the world; nobody meets her anywhere; and few people 
have the good luck to find her at home. I believe that her ugly 
husband is not displeased at this economical retreat; but it is 
not he who exacts it, it is she who insists on it. M. de 
Faublas, I charge you to form this child, for it is absolutely 
necessary to get her into society."

"Ah, my Sophia! Baroness, my Sophia!"

"Yes, yes, your Sophia, you rogue, no less fortunate than 
dangerous, if public report has not deceived me in your 
character and talents, Sophia, since she is absent, will not 
save the Countess. I will only say a single word to you about 
her stupid husband. He is a heavy man, badly proportioned in his 
body, and his large face, which was perhaps handsome in his 
youth, had never any expression. They say that many women tried 
to please him, but nobody can tell of one whom he has loved. 
This gentleman has consecrated his time to the muses; he is of 
the number of those little beaux esprits with which Paris 
swarms; of the noble literati who expect to go to the Temple of 
Fame by sonnets periodically printed in the public papers. He 
will be passionately fond of you, if you take pains to declare 
against modern philosophy and to find out enigmas."

"That, Madame," said M. de Valbrun, "is a portrait painted by 
the hand of a master; I discover the pencil of an offended 
woman."

"Vicomte," she answered, "I have not told you it was myself who 
had reason to be offended with him."

"Now! I swear it," he replied; "but tell us of what you are 
thinking.2

I interrupted both to make this observation: "Instead of being 
woman to the countess, can I not be woman elsewhere? Would it be 
impossible for me in this dress to penetrate into the convent of 
my Sophia?"

"Now!" replied the Vicomte, "the danger would be extreme! And 
the means to remain there?"

The Baroness interrupted him: "Stay, for I interest myself in 
this young woman. Chevalier, you give me the idea of a project 
of which the success is infallible. Tomorrow, yes tomorrow, I 
promise you, I will go myself to this convent, to inquire if 
there is not room for a young widow, a friend of yours, whom you 
will take upon you to bring after tomorrow, Baroness?"

"After tomorrow, no, but at the end of the week."

"O, my Sophia!"

"Don't leap so!" said Madame de Fonrose, "your head-dress will 
come off." She added: "I admire this stratagem, as much as I 
approve it; nobody would believe it was a husband who thought of 
it."

"Madame," said the Vicomte, "we can go, it is dusk; but do you 
believe that Madame de Lignolle will take her companion in this 
evening?"

"Yes, sir, I will make it my business."

"And M. de Lignolle will not oppose this fancy of his wife?"

"You know that he has no will of his own when she has spoken; 
you know very well that when the Countess has pronounced the 
fatal I will, the Count must will it. Let us go, Chevalier," she 
added, "you will call yourself Mademoiselle de Brumont."

We descended; as I got into the carriage I saw that they placed 
a trunk behind. "It contains your wardrobe," said the Baroness. 
I begged the Vicomte to come and see me next day at M. de 
Lignolle's; he promised that he would come in the evening to 
inform me what Mad. de Fonrose should have done. Then leaning to 
his ear, to speak confidentially, I said, "I believe Madame de 
B*** has returned home; could not Justine give her news of me, 
and send me word of anything relative to herself?"

"Yes, I will take charge of that. That is to say, you are still 
interested about Madame de B***?"

"No, not in the way you mean; no, upon my honour; but I am very 
impatient to know how the Marquis has received her."

"I will manage to bring you word tomorrow."

M. de Valbrun, though he pretended not to to be jealous, only 
quitted us at the door of the Count's hôtel.

M. de Lignolle was with his wife when we were announced. The 
Baroness, in presenting me to the Countess, said, "I bring you 
this young person, in whom you will find all the qualities 
necessary to the triple charge with which you honoured me. She 
reads, writes, and talks well. She has the reputation of having 
studied deeply, but that is her last merit. I know her to have 
an honourable mind, praiseworthy inclinations, and, above all, 
talents more solid than are usually found at such a tender age, 
and with such a pretty face. Do not believe that I exaggerate, 
Countess; you will soon become the intimate friend of your 
amiable reader, and you will discover a treasure in her, for the 
acquisition of which you will thank me."

"I thank you beforehand," said the Countess; "upon your 
recommendation, I do not hesitate."

"Many of my friends wish to have companions like her," said the 
Baroness; "but I felt that I ought to give you the preference, 
and to say the whole truth, she is a present that I wished to 
make M. de Lignolle."

The Countess renewed her thanks to the Baroness, and said that 
from this evening then-

"From this evening," interrupted the Count, "wait a little."

"Sir, I shall not wait."

"But"-

"No buts, sir, I have longed for this companion these three 
days; and if it is necesary for me to wait longer, I shall fall 
sick."

"The world will think it ridiculous."

"What is that to me, sir?"

"They will blame you, Madame, for-"

"I knew very well there would come one of these fors, with which 
you are always teasing me, and which are insupportable to me, 
particularly when you contradict me, from this evening, sir, 
mademoiselle."

"But Madame, I would observe to you."

"Oh! how unhappy I am!"

"I would observe to you that if-"

The irritated Countess took a proud attitude, looked at M. de 
Lignolle with majesty, and with the most imperious air, said to 
him, "I will have it so."

"Since you take it in that way, Madame," answered the Count, "it 
must be so: why did you not explain yourself at once. The 
Baroness must permit me to examine her protegée a little, for 
they often talk of deep studies, and God knows what to 
understand from it. I have seen those little gentlemen that have 
been praised up as prodigies! They had gained the prize at the 
university, and could not find the secret of an enigma. Judge, 
then, what they would have done, if they had been asked to make 
one! Mademoiselle, I do not doubt that you are well educated, 
but-your face,-your manners-What is your name, mademoiselle?"

"De Brumont, sir."

"You are not a philosopher, I hope?"

"No, sir, I am a virtuous girl."

"A fair answer! Mademoiselle, superb! Superb! You are of a good 
family, apparently?"

"Sir, I am a gentleman's daughter."

"Good! Good again! Good! I see that we shall sympathise 
wonderfully. I own to you that you are come here in a particular 
minute; when they introduced you, I had finished the last verse 
of my riddle"

"Oh! it is a real riddle, this-"

"Listen, I pray you, to my riddle, and try to find it out."

It is certain that to find it out, more than common trouble was 
necessary. The Count was not happy in the art of defining, but 
in revenge, each expression, thanks to the situation which he 
gave it, became an enigma.

"She has guessed it," he cried; "a proof that the riddle is well 
made. Baroness, you are right, she is really an astonishing 
girl!"

"I was very sure, sir," said Madame Fonrose, "that you would 
find her so; but it is particularly in the eyes of the Countess 
that I would have her show herself."

"Upon my honour, an astonishing girl!" repeated he; "she has 
guessed my best riddle! One, of which the plan only, cost me 
five days of meditation! Of which I have laboured the style nine 
days and a half! Indeed, I have changed the first verse eighteen 
times-Yes, eighteen times. I have varied it in my sleep-"

"As Voltaire did, Count."

"Ah, Mademoiselle! Voltaire has never made riddles, and then he 
was a philosopher. To return to my work, how do you find it?"

"Very spirited, sir, and full of charming antitheses."

"Of charming-You call antitheses so? I know very well I can make 
antitheses, yet I never learnt rhetoric perfectly; but there are 
things that some people do not want to learn. It is nature which 
gives antitheses. Ladies, these are called antitheses."

"No, sir," answered the Countess, entirely occupied with what 
the Baroness said, "these are what they call bolsters."

"How, Madame! Bolsters?"

"Yes, sir, these little cushions that we put upon our hips to 
make our petticoats stick out are called bolsters."

"Ah, Madame," he cried, "what an answer!" He returns to me: 
"Hold, Mademoiselle Brumont, I do not say that to you, for upon 
my honour you astonish me; but women are so trifling with their 
fiddle-faddles! When you shall have gained the confidence of the 
Countess," he added in a lower tone, "try to give her taste for 
things of more importance. Instruct her; teach her the great art 
of riddles and antitheses."

"Let me alone, Count, if I have only the happiness to please 
her."

"You will please her."

"Do you think so?"

"You will please her; I am sure of it"

"Well, I will teach her many things."

"Of that I do not doubt, I give you my word, and you will do me 
a great service, for which I shall be very grateful."

"You are too good, sir; another would thank you, but I am 
tempted to obey your wishes. Elsewhere I have for a time 
occupied the situation which I am wanted to take in your house, 
and no husband has desired me to fill any department with 
respect to his wife which I have not imposed on myself, if the 
exercise of it was even disagreeable to me. My services to the 
Countess shall be, as far as concerns you, always disinterested, 
I swear to you.

"To return to my work: you find it-? 

"Surprising! Of a simplicity! Sublime! But, sir, how do you make 
verse?"

"Easily," he interrupted; "my longest verses never take me more 
than fifteen days. For the measure, I count it on my fingers; 
for rhymes, I take Richelet's Dictionary; and the meaning, I 
wait for three weeks, if necessary; so my verses are very easy."

"And your riddles have the merit of being made in bouts-
rimes?<36>"

"Exactly; every poet has his way, and that is mine."

"You do not tell me so?"

"The deuce! It is my secret!"

"It is badly kept, Count, since all the wits of the day possess 
it. Read the crowd of their little works, which are born and die 
every week, under the proudly modest title of my Whims, 
Recollections, Essays, Relaxations, Caprices, Leisure Hours, 
etc. Read the little familiar songs with which they regale their 
friends in the gay days of a festival, and which they afterwards 
address to posterity in those almanacs, presumptuously called 
poetical, which are bought on New Year's Day and forgot before 
the middle of January; read the ariettes<26> of our grand comic 
operas, and of our serious operas; read the tender madrigals of 
our fashionable comedies; read our frightful tragedies; read, M. 
le Comte, and you will see that they are all nearly after your 
own manner, and that modern poetry has the advantage of all 
other, of being made to rhymes chosen beforehand."

I perceived that he began to look serious, and I restored him to 
good humour by loading him with praises..=

"Then you are really delighted with my riddle, and you think 
that I might sign it without any danger?"

"Most assuredly, Monsieur, and you may reckon on the gratitude 
of the public."

He took the pen and wrote: By M. Jean Baptiste Emanuel Frederic 
Louis Chrysostome Joseph, Comte de Lignolle, Seigneur de -- et 
du --, Lieutenant-Colonel of -- regiment, in garrison at --, 
Chevalier of the Royal and Military Order of Saint Louis, Paris, 
etc., etc.

"What! Monsieur, your names, your titles, and your residence!"

"It is customary, mademoiselle; there, you will read it in the 
Mercury next week."

The Count, intoxicated with my approbation, told the Baroness 
that she would see some of his productions in the public papers, 
and then addressing himself to the Countess, he said: "Madame, 
you may take Mademoiselle de Brumont into your family, for I 
assure you I am perfectly satisfied with her; she is a girl of 
rare accomplishments, whose merit you are not yet acquainted 
with."

"Monsieur," replied the Countess, "I am happy you agree with me, 
but it was an affair already settled."

M. de Lignolle next turned to me, and in a low tone said: "I 
have something to say to you, Mademoiselle de Brumont."

"Speak, Monsieur."

"I cannot doubt but your morals are good, because you are of 
noble blood and dislike modern philosophers; but, however 
prudent a young girl may be, she cannot help hearing and 
repeating almost every day some tales about gallantry."

"Oh, fie, Monsieur."

"Good; you understand me; I desire, therefore, that you will 
never enter into such conversations with the Countess."

"It will be very difficult to avoid, Monsieur, for young women-"

"Yes, yes; they love to talk of a thousand nonsensical things, 
which serve to corrupt their minds, and give them false ideas of 
the world, and I beg you, above all things, to avoid it as much 
as possible."

"I will be very candid with you, monsieur, and acknowledge that 
I cannot answer for-"

"Try, for I have good reasons for asking you."

"I believe so, Monsieur."

"Besides you will not have much trouble, for the Countess is 
very reserved on such subjects."

"I am not sorry for it."

"And then her reading is very select; she has good books on 
moral subjects, which do not afford much amusement, but are very 
instructing. No romances, no love stories, for in all those 
cursed works there is nothing but gallantry and intrigue."

"Yes, they are very pernicious."

"In my opinion, mademoiselle, love is as bad as philosophy; for, 
look you, philosophy and love--"

The Baroness, who rose at this moment to take her leave, 
interrupted the Count, and caused me to lose the fine parallel 
he was about to give me. "Mademoiselle," said Madame de Fonrose, 
in the tone of a protectress, "I leave you in a very agreeable 
house, where all kinds of pleasure await you. Consider that from 
this moment you belong to Madame de Lignolle, and you will not 
only execute her commands, but anticipate her wishes. In short, 
if you have occasion in certain points to disoblige Monsieur, it 
is your first duty to please Madame. I do not think you will 
find this either a difficult or a disagreeable task, and it will 
be highly to your credit to justify the very favourable opinion 
I have formed of you; endeavour, therefore, to deserve as soon 
as possible the good will of so charming a mistress; and 
remember that I yield to her all my right in you."

After having sermonised me in this manner, my august protectress 
kissed me on the forehead, and retired. As soon as she was gone, 
I begged the Countess to let me go to bed. M. de Lignolle 
insisted that I should remain, but a single word from Madame 
closed his mouth. The Countess herself conducted me to my little 
apartment. It was a kind of closet at one end of her bedroom. 
The Count bade me good night several times in a very 
affectionate manner, and Madame de Lignolle, in saluting me on 
the forehead, said, with great vivacity, "Good night, 
Mademoiselle de Brumont, get a good sleep; it is my desire. Do 
you understand me?"



XVI.

Behold me alone, and with a moment to breathe! I find myself in 
a safe house, where my enemies are not likely to search for me. 
For four days, what perils have surrounded me! What adventures, 
what anxieties, and what pleasures within the last forty-eight 
hours! Pleasures! Pleasures! When distant from Sophia! Happily, 
the space which separated us is greatly diminished. More than 
sixty leagues were between us, but now there is not five hundred 
yards. The same city, and even the same neighbourhood contains 
us; we breathe as one may say the same air.

Alas! I why can I not instantly join her? And I am this night to 
embrace nothing but her image, in my deceitful dreams, and to 
bedew my solitary couch once more with my tears! Come, M. de 
Valbrun, come tomorrow as you have promised me, for if you do 
not I shall go alone at all hazards to the convent to demand my 
wife. I shall be intoxicated with the pleasure of seeing her, 
with the pleasure of recompensing her tender solitude, and of 
consoling all her griefs. Yes, I will go, regardless of the 
danger, and look my enemies in the face. Yes, I shall be a 
thousand times too happy in forfeiting my liberty for a few 
moments of that supreme felicity and rapturous ecstasy I shall 
enjoy in her presence, nor will I complain of my lot, if they do 
not arrest me until I return.

Yes, I will go; the Countess shall not restrain me; a little 
brunette, very pretty, quite young, full of vivacity, but of an 
imperious temper! Oh, the little dragon! Is she witty? Does she 
love her husband? But what ideas does my ardent imagination 
continually prompt? Was it then to occupy myself with these 
trifles that I requested her permission to retire? Oh, my 
father, rest satisfied in having a son who loves you! It was to 
occupy himself with you that Faublas left a pretty woman! And 
Faublas thinks of nothing but the pleasure of at length being 
able to send you some satisfactory tidings.

I cannot here dispense with inserting the whole of my tender and 
respectful letter.

MY DEAR FATHER, 
Perhaps at this moment you are accusing me of ingratitude 
and cruelty. I left you in the asylum you had procured on 
my account, but you know not the passion that consumed my 
heart, which you have rendered so susceptible; you know not 
what an unexpected blow it received from a man who called 
himself our friend. On leaving you, father, I proposed a 
speedy return, and then the chagrin which my absence 
occasioned would soon have been effaced. 
My wife groaned in captivity, like me, bemoaning our 
separation, and, perhaps, reduced to all the horrors of 
despair. It is true that at a distance from you I exist but 
in part, but I am not able to exist at all a distance from 
my Sophia. 
I knew that she was at Paris, and I flew thither; I did not 
bid you adieu, because you would not have permitted me to 
brave the dangers of such a journey. None of the evils 
which I dreaded have happened to me, but I have encountered 
more than one danger that I did not foresee. I have been in 
the capital three days, and this is the first moment of 
liberty I have enjoyed. I consecrate it to him who would be 
the most dear to me in the world, if my Sophia was not in 
existence. 
I intended to return to you, but beg you will come back 
here, as you have nothing to fear in Paris, but the dangers 
which menace me, and I shall shortly be free from alarm. I 
have already made powerful friends, which, united with 
yours, will, I hope, be able to hush up this unfortunate 
affair. Beside, I expect, in about three days, to take 
refuge in a place of safety. Return here, I pray you. Oh, 
how happy will be the day for me when I embrace my much-
loved father. 
While I am waiting for that happiness, deign to write me a 
few lines, to ease my anxious mind. Address to the widow 
Grandval, at the Convent in -- Street, Faubourg Saint 
Germain. Imagine what will be my joy; your letter will find 
me under the same roof with Sophia. Therefore, let me again 
entreat of you to write immediately. 
I am, with profound respect, 
Yours, etc. 
FAUBLAS"
P.S. I have not yet been able to see my dear Adelaide; but 
I shall send to her convent as soon as it is in my power."

Now that I have sealed this letter, and directed it to M. de 
Belcourt, it may be permitted me to examine my little apartment. 
This door goes into the Countess's bed-room; the other to a 
private staircase, which leads down into the court. My little 
chamber is certainly very convenient. If during the night it 
should take my fancy to visit Madame de Lignolle! How came that 
idea into my mind? Be tranquil, my Sophia. I wonder if she 
sleeps with Monsieur de Lignolle? What matters it? What interest 
is it to me? It is but simple curiosity; but it torments me, 
nevertheless, and I would know if they sleep separate. I see but 
one bed in the room: how shall I ascertain? Zounds, I will wait 
awhile, and look through the keyhole! Good! It is but seven 
o'clock, they will not sup before ten, they will not retire 
before twelve; and I must wait five hours by the clock? I shall 
die with fatigue. No; my charming wife, I will occupy my mind 
with nothing but you; and as a proof of it, I will now go to 
bed.

I did so instantly, and slept so well, that Madame de Lignolle 
was obliged to call me the next morning to assist her in 
dressing.

"How have you passed the night, Mademoiselle de Brumont?" she 
said, with great cheerfulness."

"Very well, indeed; and Madame?"

"I have slept very bad."

"Your eyes are nevertheless very bright and your complexion 
fresh, Madame."

"But I can assure you I have not slept well," she said, smiling.

"It is perhaps the fault of Monsieur the Count."

"How so? Answer me, mademoiselle, why you think so."

"Madame-"

"Explain yourself. I must know."

"I beg you will excuse me, Madame; I have perhaps displeased you 
with this pleasantry, though I meant no harm."

"Not at all, but I do not understand it; therefore explain it, 
and make haste, for I do not like to wait."

"Madame-"

"Mademoiselle, you put me out of patience. Speak, I will have 
it."

"Madame, I will obey you. It is true that the Count is nearly 
fifty, but Madame is, I understand, very young?"

"I am sixteen."

"It is true that the Count appears to have very indifferent 
health; but Madame is pretty."

"Without flattery, do you think so?"

"I feel confident I tell you no more than you are accustomed to 
hear."

"You are very polite, Mademoiselle de Brumont, but let us return 
to what you were speaking about"

"Most willingly. It is true that the Count is the husband of 
Madame; I think it is not long that Madame has been a wife."

"About two months."

"I concluded from that, that M. de Lignolle, still amorous of 
his spouse, had-"

"Well what has he?"

"Paid a visit to Madame during the night"

"No, Monsieur never comes to me during the night."

"Perhaps then you were together late in the evening, and the 
Count was teasing you?"

"Teasing me! And for what?"

"When I said teasing, I only meant such caresses as are 
permitted between husband and wife."

"What, is that all? And do you think I could not sleep soundly 
during the night because in the evening my husband had kissed me 
five or six times? I know not what madness possesses the world, 
but they are all talking to me in this singular manner!"

Having said this, the Countess went with her fille de chambre 
into her dressing-room, and told me she would soon return. Left 
alone, I began to reflect on the conversation which had passed 
between us. The woman astonishes me! But perhaps she amuses 
herself at my expense! But no; she must have spoken seriously, 
for she had such an air of innocence, and such a look of 
candour. Yet, it is possible that a young woman, married two 
months, should pique herself on being as ignorant of certain 
things as she was two months previously! My hint was so plain! 
why then so obstinately pretend not to understand me? Is it a 
polite manner she has adopted of repulsing a joke which does not 
please her? I doubt it. Imperious and lively as she is, she 
might easily have told me it displeased her; but, on the 
contrary, she insisted on an explanation, which was very diffi 
cult for me to give, and which, after all, she affected not to 
take in the true sense, and then made this equivocal reply: 
"What, do you think that I should not sleep soundly during the 
night, merely because my husband may have embraced me five or 
six times in the course of the evening before?"

Upon my honour, Madame, I am astonished at you, and confess 
myself at a loss to reconcile your new married state to your 
virgin airs and your conversation, either too innocent or too 
free.
Ilustration V3 p.72 Madame de Lignolle, prompt in keeping her 
word with me, returned soon after in a very simple but elegant 
dishabille.

Madame de Lignolle, prompt in keeping her word with me, returned 
soon after, in a very simple but elegant dishabille. She passed 
into her boudoir, where she begged me to follow her, and ordered 
chocolate. We were just going to breakfast, when M. de Lignolle 
ran into the room in a great rage, exclaiming: "No, no, I will 
not pardon it, I will be forever inexorable."

"Good God! What is the matter with you?" said the Countess; "I 
never saw you in such a passion before."

"A most frightful circumstance, Madame!"

"What?"

"You slept tranquil this night, and a seducer was near you."

"You dream of nothing but seducers, Monsieur; but tell me what 
all this noise is about?"

"I discovered it by mere accident."

"But the accident has discovered nothing to me."

"The wretch would have ravished your honour."

"What should I have suffered?"

"Never trust any more in those who call themselves your friends. 
They are only pretended friends who have given it you."

"What! What is it?"

"Who have answered for-"

"Monsieur-"

"The prudence-"

"Will you explain-"

"Of their conduct.-"

"I shall lose my patience!"

The Count, whose motions I observed, far from addressing any of 
these injurious apostrophes to me, did not even look at me, and 
perhaps knew not that I was present. Nevertheless, some of his 
disagreeable reflections seemed so applicable to my present 
situation, that I was far from being at ease.

Madame de Lignolle, burning with impatience, rose hastily, 
seized her husband by the collar, shook him with great violence, 
and said to him: "You have put me beside myself, Monsieur! You 
have sported with my curiosity so long, I cannot bear it. 
Explain yourself, I insist on it."

"Well, Madame, you shall hear it all. I know not by what secret 
inspiration I was prompted to go just now into your antechamber 
and discovered a pamphlet lying open, I approached it, I read, 
and horrible to tell, Madame, I found it to be the most 
dangerous, the most abominable of books! A philosophical work!"

"Ah, let us see it!"

"Le Discours sur l'Origine de l'Inegalité parmi lés Hommes.<37>"

Being now satisfied on my own account, I ventured to interrupt 
M. de Lignolle, and to ask him what this treatise on the 
inequality of men had to do with the honour of women.

"Yes, yes," cried the Countess, "inform us if you please."

"What it has to do with it, Madame," replied the Count with a 
great deal of warmth, "do you not perceive it? What! A 
philosophical work read publicly in your house! All your 
servants become philosophers and you not tremble at the 
consequences?"

"What harm could that produce, Monsieur?"

"Every species of mischief, Madame. As soon as a servant becomes 
a philosopher be corrupts all his companions, robs his master 
and seduces his mistress."

"Seduce! It is always seduction with you, Monsieur, and why? I 
shall make a clear house in the antechamber? What! Will you turn 
away all our servants?"

"Yes, Madame."

"I do not understand that, Monsieur. If any one of them is in 
fault, I consent to your discharging him."

"I'll send them all away Madame."

"No, Monsieur."

"They are all contaminated; it requires but half an hour for a 
philosopher to corrupt them."

"I wish, Monsieur, you would cease to stun me thus."

"Yes! I confess that when I see in the hands of my servants, 
"The Philosophical Thoughts," or "The Philosophical Dictionary," 
or "The Discourse concerning a Happy Life," or the "Essay on the 
Origin of the Inequality amongst Mankind," etc., I am very much 
alarmed, and I think nothing safe in my house."

In the meantime the Countess, furious to see, though undoubtedly 
for the first time, that M. de Lignolle had dared to disobey 
her, ran and threw herself into an armchair; there giving way to 
the violence of her passion, she struck the ground with her 
feet, bit her hands, and continued to rave like a mad woman. 
Insensible to her comic despair, the comic enemy of philosophers 
proceeds with the following rhapsody:

"How many wretches of this class have been perverted by the 
philosophy of the age! It has produced more crimes and suicides 
of every kind, than were ever caused to be committed by 
misfortune and misery. I might, perhaps, while condemning his 
opinions and lamenting his errors, become the friend of a man 
who was a partisan of this false philosophy: but nothing shall 
induce me to keep servants who are philosophers."

"Monsieur," exclaimed the Countess with much fierceness, "you 
shall keep them notwithstanding, for it is my pleasure."

At this decisive word the good husband forgets his anger, and 
replies with great moderation: "Since it is your pleasure, 
Madame, it must also be mine, but at least permit me to make a 
few observations."

"I hope you will excuse me, Monsieur," she interrupted, and "I 
repeat it that it is my pleasure."

"Very well, Madame," he said, holding down his head, "very well, 
it shall be so, but you will see, you will see the consequences. 
Your servants will give you lessons enough; there is not one, I 
am sure, who is not a philosopher at heart; consequently they 
will become drunken, insolent and careless. Your groom will lame 
your horses; your coachman will overturn his passengers; your 
cook will spoil the sauces; your major domo will destroy your 
linen and your clothes, your housemaids will break your 
furniture, your stewards will rob you, your fille de chambre 
will betray your secrets and calumniate you, and your lady's-
maid will become pregnant in your house."

He left us, and did well in so doing, for I should have been 
sorry to have burst into a fit of laughter before him. Whilst he 
was thus depicting to us future evils, a real evil happened to 
us; the chocolate had become cold. Judge my mortification when 
the Countess talked of sending it back, for I had but a poor 
dinner the day before, and went to bed without my supper. I 
trembled lest the chocolate should not come back again, and 
therefore proposed to warm it by the fire of the boudoir. "A 
good idea," said the Countess, "and in the meantime I will write 
a letter."

This letter was to a dear aunt who had brought her up from her 
infancy. I wrote at her dictation about thirty lines of 
respectful compliments, to which she added twenty lines of 
tender recollections, and about twenty-five lines more of 
childish secrets. I thought I should never have finished. 
Mortified at the idea of beginning the fourth page of this 
epistle, I took the liberty of informing the Countess, that the 
chocolate must be warm, "I believe it," she answered, "but let 
us finish the letter first."

I may as well tell you everything which augmented the 
embarrassment of my situation, which was truly grievous. A 
wretched fille de chambre whom I could not look at a second time 
on account of her ugliness, kept loitering about the fireplace. 
There was a something philosophical about this girl, which made 
me tremble for my breakfast; a secret presentiment seemed to 
warn me, that her awkwardness would prove fatal to me, and her 
continual motion gave me continual distractions.

Madame Lignolle, whose letter did not advance very fast, 
perceived several times my badly disguised anxiety and 
restlessness, and at length, asked me with warmth if anything 
troubled me. At the very moment when the impatient mistress put 
this question to me, the clumsy blundering Abigail in brushing 
the hearth, rolled the chocolate pot in the ashes. I perceived 
the disaster; the pen fell from my hands, my eyes were lifted up 
to heaven, my head thrown backward by means of a convulesive 
motion, and I nearly fell over on the floor.

"Ah! Madame," cried I, "the chocolate! The chocolate!" But the 
Countess, after turning her eye first towards the chimney, and 
then towards me, with the greatest serenity, parodied the words 
of a hero, by saying: "Well, mademoiselle, and what has the 
chocolate to do with the letter you are writing?"<38>

Carried away by my despair, I replied in rather an indifferent 
manner. She then addressed the servant, and told her to take it 
to the kitchen, and order some more to be sent up. This generous 
order administered the balm of consolation to the very bottom of 
my soul; I felt my strength revive, my ideas brighten up, and my 
style become animated; and Madame de Lignolle assisting me, I 
concluded by saying an infinity of pretty things to her dear 
aunt.

The letter being finished, I closed the secretaire, and the 
breakfast once more made its appearance. They brought a little 
table, two cups are set, the refreshing beverage is poured out, 
the Countess came to sit down, I took my place opposite her, and 
I thought the happy moment was come!

But, oh, a misfortune more insupportable than the first! An 
unhappy footman brings a letter; the Countess noticed the 
postmark. "Besançon!" she exclaimed, and uttering a cry of joy, 
rose up precipitately. She struck her two thighs against the 
table, which was very light, and rolled it with what was on it 
into my lap.

I made a dreadful cry, but it did not proceed from any injury I 
received on the occasion, nor because the table was broken, the 
china scattered, the chocolate pot bruised, and my best 
petticoat spoiled! No! I thought of nothing but the chocolate, 
now running in floods upon the carpet.

While I remained motionless, the Countess, in a stooping 
attitude, with her eyes fixed on the much prized paper, her 
hands trembling, and her voice faltering, read:

You may conceive, my dear niece, that after having 
experienced so much pleasure in educating you, how much I 
was hurt at not being able to attend at your marriage: but 
the Parliament of Besançon have at length had a sitting; I 
have gained my lawsuit, and shall be with you as soon as my 
letter, viz., on the 15th instant.

"The 15th, that is to-day," cried the Countess, kissing the 
paper; "Oh, what good news! Oh, my dear aunt, I shall see you 
once more! Oh, how delighted I shall be!!" At this moment I 
perceived a remnant of the breakfast under a table. I darted 
forward, seized it, and kissed it, crying: Oh, precious little 
loaf, I am enchanted at having found you. I sat down in a corner 
to devour my insufficient prey, while Madame de Lignolle, by 
turns reading and kissing her letter, cut capers from one end of 
the dressing-room to the other.

At length she rang for the footman: "Saint-Jean, tell the porter 
that I am at home to-day to no one but the Marchioness 
d'Armincour. Mademoiselle Brumont, I disturbed you early this 
morning, but you may now dispose of your forenoon as you please. 
I made the Countess a profound reverence, and withdrew to shut 
myself up in my little apartment. The reader knows nearly all I 
could say to my sister Adelaide, to whom I wrote.

As I sealed my letter, the ugly femme de chambre came to dress 
my hair, by order of her mistress. I cursed her frightful face 
to myself, for spoiling my breakfast. You can easily conceive 
that, being naturally polite, I did not let her hear what I 
said. You will guess perhaps that during the operation which now 
took place, I yielded my head to her hands and shut my eyes.

I must, however, do justice to poor Jeanette, for though 
unfavoured by nature, she was endowed by art. She could dress 
with great taste, and handled her comb with wonderful dexterity. 
But how many acquired talents are necessary to counterbalance 
one natural gift? How much at this moment did I regret my little 
Justine!

When Jeanette had finished her task I did not retain her. Had it 
been Justine she would have remained without my asking her; at 
first perhaps she might have delayed my toilette, but with what 
promptitude should we have made up for lost time! I was now 
obliged to undertake the painful task of dressing myself as a 
woman from head to foot, which I at last accomplished, after 
having spent more time than an idle young girl, on a cold 
winter's morning, when she is going, against her will, to hear 
mass at a country church, with her grandmother.

In the meantime the clock struck three, and the Marchioness 
arrived. M. de Lignolle, apparently still in dudgeon, informed 
us that he would dine in the city. A servant announced that 
dinner was ready. At table the young Countess overwhelmed me 
with compliments. Their questions, sometimes embarrassing-my 
answers, sometimes equivocal-their credulity-my confidence-the 
praises with which I repaid their eulogiums-all ought, perhaps, 
to be related; but I feel matter of a more interesting nature 
pressing upon me.

Oh, Muse of History! Astonishing virgin! Who has been so often 
violated? Eloquent and truth-speaking goddess, who is made to 
lie with so little address! Maiden, respectable and wise by whom 
so many impertinent follies are transmitted to us! August Clio, 
it is you I invoke! Since you know everything, I have no 
occasion to tell you that of all the adventures which have 
amused my ardent youth, the one I am going to relate is not the 
least foolish; and the gallant recital I am about to make gives 
me real uneasiness. Where, at the same time, shall I find the 
gauze, decently to veil it, that the truth may not be left quite 
naked? I shall hurt the least delicate ear if I use the proper 
language; and if I soften it down I shall render it unnatural. 
How then, without outraging any one's modesty, can I satisfy the 
curiosity of all the world? Oh, chaste goddess, cast a look of 
pity upon the most embarrassed of your servants! Descend from 
heaven to his relief; enter his chamber, and guide the pen he is 
now mending!

"Very well, my child," said Madame d'Armincour to Madame de 
Lignolle, "but, at present, let us be free; let us speak 
seriously. Are you satisfied with your husband?"

"Yes, Madame la Marchioness," she replied.

"Why do you call me Madame la Marchioness? Do you think I shall 
always call you Madame la Countess? It is right, to be sure, 
when persons are present; but between ourselves it is nonsense! 
You are a child whom I have reared, therefore call me aunt, and 
I will call you niece. Tell me candidly, shall you soon present 
me with a little nephew?"

"I do not know, my dear aunt."

"That is to say, you are not certain?"

"I do not know."

"Have you not perceived any changes in your health?"

"Eh? Plait-il, ma tante?"

"Tu n'as pas eu quelques absences?"

"Des absences! Est-ce que j'étais sujette à avoir des absences."

"Non pas quand tu étais fille; mais depuis que tu es femme?"

"Hé bien! Les femmes deviennent-elles folles?"

"Folles! Il n'est bien question de follié! Cela ne ports pas au 
cerveau, dans ce cas-là, ma nièce."

"Que me demandez vous donc, ma tante?"

"Je demande-je demande-pourquoi donc affecter? Mademoiselle de 
Dumont ne doit pas te gêner, elle est ton aînèe; une fille de 
vingt ans, quoiqu'elle soit sage, n'ignore plus certaines 
choses."

"Je ne vous comprends pas, ma tante."

"Ma nièce, trouvez-vous mes questions indiscrètes?"

"Non, sûrement; parlez, ma tante, parlez."

"Ecoute, mon enfant, si je m'en mêle, c'est par intérêt pour 
toi. D'abord, si l'on m'avait crue, tu n'aurais pas épousé M. de 
Lignolle; je le trouvais trop vieux. Un homme de cinquante ans."

"Je sais bien qu'à cet age là, M. d' Armincour était un pauvre 
sire-mais enfin on prétend qu'il y en a-Dis-moi, le comte 
remplit-il son devoir?"

"Oh, M. de Lignolle fait tout ce que veux."

"Tout ce que tu veux!"

"Et tous les jours?"

"Tous le jours."

"Je t'en félicite, ma niece, tu es forte heureuse. Ah cà, mais 
pourtant, ma petite, il faut prendre garde."

"A quoi, ma tante?"

"Il faut ménager ton mari."

"Comment?"

"Comment, ma niece. De ne faut pas vouloir trop souvent"

"Vouloir quoi? Ma tante."

"Ce donc il est question, ma nièce."

"Mais il ne semble qu'il n'est question de rien, ma tante,"

"De rien! Tu appelles cela rien, toi! Tu ne sais donc pas qu'à 
l'âge de M. de Lignolle, aller ce train-la, c'est s'épuiser."

"S'épuiser!"

"Sans doute. Il y a des fatigues que les femmes supportent, mais 
auxquelles les hommes ne resistant pas."

"Des fatigues?"

"Assurément, et puis vos ages sont tres-différents, ma niece."

"Mais que fait l'age?"

"Cela fait tout, ma petite, et ne va pas tuer ton mari.

"Tuer mon mari!"

Oui, le tuer, mon enfant; il n'est pas rare de voir des hommes 
en mourir."

"Mourir de quoi, ma tante?"

"De cela, ma niece."

"De cela! de faire lea volontés de leurs femmes!"

"Oui, ma niece, quand lea volontés de leurs femmes sont 
infinies."

"Eh bien, M. de Lignolle ne s'en porte pas plus mal."

"Tant mieux; ma nièce; mais, je vous le répète, prenez-y garde, 
parce que cela ne durerait pas."

"Je voudrais bien voir-vous riez, ma tante?"

"Oui, je ris, avec ton je voudrais bien voir! Que ferais tu, je 
t'en prie?"

"Ce que je ferais! Je lui dirais que je le veux."

"Ah! voilà du nouveau!"

"Vous croyez que je n'oserais pas! Cela m'est arrivé deja plus 
d'une fois."

"Et cela t'a réussi?"

"Certainement. Quand M. de Lignolle hésite, je me fâche."

"Ah! Ah!"

"Quand il refuse, je commande."

"Et il obéit?"

"Il murmure, mais il s'en va."

"Mais, s'il s'en va, il ne fait donc pas ce que tu veux?"

"Pardonnez-moi, ma tante."

"Il revient done?"

"Il revient ou ne revient pas, que m'importe?"

"Comment!"

"Pourvu qu'il obéisse"

"Mais-"

"Et que je sois la mâitresse"

"Mais-"

"De faire tout ce qui me plait."

"Ah ça, ma niece, il y a donc une demi-heure que nous nous 
parlons sans nous entendre? Savez-vous bien que cela 
m'impatiente?"

"Comment, ma tante."

"Eh oui, ma nièce, je vous dis blanc, vous me répondez noir; il 
semble que je vous parle hébreu."

"Ce n'est pas ma faute."

"Est-ce la mienne? Je vous fais la question la plus simple, et 
vous paraissez ne pas comprendre! Quand je parle des devoirs de 
M. de Lignolle, j'intends ses devoirs de mari."

"Fort bien, ma tante."

"Et quand vous me répondez qu'il fait vos volontés, je crois que 
vous voulez dire vos volontés de femme."

"Justement, ma tante."

"De femme marié."

"Sans doute, ma tante."

"D'une femme jeune, vive, et qui aime le plaisir."

"Précisément, ma tante."

"Ainsi, vous m'entendiez?"

"Oui, ma tante."

"Et vous répondiez à ce que je vous demandais?"

"Oui, ma tante."

"Vous répondiez que M. de Lignolle remplissait son devoir de 
mari?"

"Oui, ma tante."

"Tous le jours?"

"Oui, ma tante."

"Eh bien, ma nièce, je trouve cela fort étonnant et fort 
heureux."

 [	"You have not experienced something missing?"

"Missing! Have I ever had anything missing"

"Not when you were a girl, but since you became a woman."

"Well! Do women become stupid?"

"Stupid! It's not a question of stupidity! It does not affect 
the brain!"

"What are you asking me, then, aunt?"

"I'm asking-I'm asking-why should I use euphemisms? (The 
presence of) Mademoiselle de Brunont should not worry you, she 
is older. There are certain things which a sensible woman of 
twenty should not be ignorant of."

"I don't understand, aunt."

"My niece, do you find my questions indiscreet?"

"No indeed. Speak, aunt, speak."

"Listen my child, if I bring this up, it's for your benefit. 
Actually, had I been listened to, you would not have married M. 
de Lignolle; I thought him too old. A man of fifty!"

"I know well that at that age, M. de Lignolle is a poor fellow-
but some say that there are-"

"Tell me, does the Count perform his duties?" 

"Oh, M. de Lignolle does everything I wish."

"Everything you wish!-and every day?"

"Every day."

"I congratulate you, my niece, you are very fortunate. But you 
must be careful."

"Of what, aunt?"

"You must take care of your husband."

"How?"

"How, my niece. Do not make him do it too often."

"Do what, aunt?"

"Do what we are talking about, my niece."

"But it's nothing much, aunt."

"Nothing much! So you say. You don't realise that at M. de 
Lignolle's age you will wear him out if you go on like that."

"Wear him out!"

"Undoubtedly. There are exertions which a woman can endure, but 
a man cannot."

"Exertions?"

"Just so, and also your ages are very different."

"But what has age got to do with it?"

"Everything, my niece. Don't kill your husband."

"Kill my husband!"

"Yes, kill him, my child; it is common to see men dying-."

"Dying of what, aunt?"

"Of that, my niece"

"Of that! Of doing what his wife wishes!

"Yes, my niece, if those wishes are infinite."

"Well, M. de Lignolle seems no worse."

"So much the better, my niece, but I say again, be careful, 
because it may not last."

"I'd like to see that! You're joking, aunt!

"Yes, I'm laughing at your I'd like to see that. What will you 
do, I ask you?"

"What will I do! I'll tell him I want it."

"Ah, that's new!"

"You think I won't dare. It's happened once already."

"And it worked for you?"

"Certainly. When M. de Lignolle demurs, I get angry"

"Ah! Ah!"

"When he refuses, I command him."

"And he obeys?"

"He grumbles, but he goes away."

"But if he goes away, then he does not do what you say?"

"Excuse me, aunt?"

"He comes back, then?"

"What do I care if he comes back or not?"

"What!

"Provided he obeys me."

"But-"

"And I will be the mistress."

"But-"

"To do whatever I want."

"Ah, my niece, we have been talking for half an hour, without 
understanding one another. Do you know how this irritates me?"

"How?"

"Now, my niece, I say white, and you say black; it's as if I 
were speaking Hebrew."

"That's not my fault."

"Is it mine? I ask you the simplest question, and you appear not 
to understand! When I speak of M. d Lignolle's duties, I mean 
his marital duties."

"Very well, aunt."

"And when you answer that he does your wishes, I believe you 
speak of the wishes of a woman."

"Exactly, aunt."

"Of a married woman."

"Undoubtedly, aunt."

"You answer that M. de Lignolle fulfils his marital duties?"

"Yes, aunt."

"Every day?"

"Yes, aunt."

"Well, my niece, I find that very surprising and very 
fortunate."

"But, my dear child, I shall repeat it over again, you must 
listen to reason; your husband is no longer young, and you will 
be the death of him."

"That is what I do not comprehend, aunt."

"How so I don't you comprehend that a man who is fifty years of 
age cannot, without endangering his life, gratify a young wife 
whose appetite is immoderate?"

"Appetite, aunt, is quite out of the question."

"Well, then, I shall say desires, if you will have it so."

"But who told you that my desires were immoderate?"

"Yourself, niece, since you pretend to keep the command in that 
particular."

"Well, aunt?"

"And that you compel your husband to act foolishly every day."

"Indeed, madam, you are quite out of temper today."

"You resemble all other young wives when they are contradicted 
upon this point."

"Would you wish then-"

"They think of nothing else in the world."

"Would you wish, I say,-"

"That is always for them the summum bonum."

"Do you wish to oblige me to clear the place?"

"I confess that it is one of the greatest gratifications this 
life can afford."

"Oh! How my patience is worn out!"

"Go on, go on, I am well aware of your being of a petulant 
disposition, but I am your parent, and you must listen to me."

"Great God!"

"You shall not take yourself off, stop here, and listen to what 
I have to say; I insist upon your promising not to compel 
Monsieur de Lignolle daily to obey what you term your will."

"Tell me, pray, Madame, wherefore should I suffer myself to be 
governed one day in preference to another?

"What a fine reasoning!"

"Why should I not do this day what I have achieved yesterday?"

"But according to your pleasant calculation, there would be no 
reason why it should not last forever."

"I understand it so, and I expect there will be no end to it."

"What queer answers she returns!"

"You may say whatever you please, aunt, I will not suffer my 
husband to offend me."

"She must be crack-brained!"

"Nor to rule me!"

"What nonsense!"

"I do not prevent his acting as he pleases."

"She is not in her proper senses"

"But let him allow me to do whatever I like."

"Allow you? That cannot be. It is only with her husband that a 
modest woman-"

"With him when it suits me; with another if it suit me better."

"For shame, niece, what principles!"

"The main object is, that I wish to be left entirely at 
liberty."

"Indeed, I don't comprehend your meaning."

"And that in every respect, I be left to act as I please."

"So then, Madame, you wish me to be gone."

"It is you, Madame, who wish me to leave the room?"

"How provoking!"

"I can't put up with her language!"

"Act according to my advice, my dear niece."

"Speak reason to me then, my dear aunt, I am no longer a child."

They both had left their seats, and were equally irritated. 
However, to the very plain questions of the old lady, her niece, 
with as much innocence as truth, had returned answers at once so 
candid, so ambiguous, and so extraordinary that I began to 
suspect strange things. I endeavoured to pacify Madame 
d'Armincour by saying:

"There is every reason to believe, Madame, that my lady Countess 
is not extremely happy in the particular case you mean her to 
understand. I would even venture to lay any wager that she is as 
far from deserving as from comprehending the sense of your 
reproaches."

"Do you think so? If that he the case, do you put questions to 
her, Mademoiselle de Brumont, and let us try whether she can he 
made to return plain, satisfactory answers."

I then addressed the niece: "Will my lady Countess allow me-"

"She did not give me time to proceed, but instantly replied: 
"Most willingly, mademoiselle."

"Does M. de Lignolle sleep in my lady Countess's chamher?"

"No."

"Never?"

"Never. Does he go there in the course of the night?"

"Never."

"He, perhaps, postpones going till the morning?"

"Yes, when I am up."

"Does he ever, in the course of the day, lock himself up with 
your ladyship?"

"No."

"Does he remain with you, Madame, to a late hour in the 
evening?"

"When our supper is over, he will stop at most five minutes."

"How does he spend those five minutes, pray?"

"In wishing me good night."

"How does he wish your ladyship good night?"

"He kisses me."

"In what manner does he kiss you?"

"As people generally do kiss."

"Where are his kisses applied?"

"Where kisses are commonly, I suppose."

"I would wish to know?"

"On my forehead, my eyes, my chin."

"Is that all?"

"That is all."

"Exactly so?"

"Exactly so. What would you wish for more?"

"Well, now, my lady Marchioness, what do you think of that!"

She replied: "I think it would be very incredible, and very 
shocking!"

She immediately ran up to Madame de Lignolle, saying: "Tell me, 
niece, are you a wife or a maiden?"

"A wife, since I have got a husband."

"Have you got a husband?"

"Certainly, since M. de Lignolle has married me."

"But, are you sure that he has married you?"

"Can you doubt it!"

"Where did he marry you?"

"At church."

"Nowhere else!"

"Are people ever married elsewhere?"

"Tell me, child, on your wedding day-indeed, I am very sorry I 
had it not in my power to come to Paris on your wedding day, I 
was on my guard against this Monsieur de Lignolle, this amiable 
gentleman of fifty, who seemed to me to exhibit no traces of 
intellect in his countenance: but I had expressly recommended 
that you should be provided with the necessary preliminary 
instructions. Then, tell me, my dear child, what happened to you 
on the wedding night?"

"Nothing, my dear aunt"

"Nothing. Mademoiselle de Brumont! Is it possible that the 
nuptial night had no incidents? Unhappy creature!" added the 
good-natured aunt, with a flood of tears, "how I pity your case! 
But give me an explicit answer, did not your husband go to bed 
to you, as is usual upon such occasions?"

"He did, aunt."

"Well, and what did he do afterwards?"

"Why, he wished me a good night, and then went away."

"What! Go and leave you on such an occasion?" exclaimed the 
Marchioness, in tears. "Ah, my charming little niece! Your youth 
and beauty merited not such treatment!"

"My dear aunt, how you distress me."

"Unhappy child! You are still a virgin, even after a two months' 
marriage! What a strange and wretched destiny is yours!"

"But pray explain yourself, my dear aunt, you terrify me with 
your apprehensions."

"I really cannot, my dear child, my grief suffocates me, and 
deprives me of utterance. Do you, Mademoiselle de Brumont, who 
express yourself with so much ease and perspicuity, do you 
explain the matter to my young friend. You are not ignorant on 
these subjects, I presume. You certainly must know something."

"Oh, my lady Marchioness, I have heard some conversations on the 
matter, and have read some instructive books."

"Then let me request you to instruct my niece. I authorise you 
so to do, and your compliance will confer an obligation on me."

I did not require the request to be repeated. I gave a full 
explanation, because she was ignorant of the matter; but, as for 
you, courteous reader, the intelligence would be no novelty.
 
Illustration: "A strange business!" rejoined Madame de Lignolle

"A strange business!" rejoined Madame de Lignolle,  astonished 
at the declaration she had heard; "but are you really serious, 
or are you only joking?"

"I would take no such liberty with you, my lady Countess, I 
replied."

"But pray, my dear aunt, is everything that Mademoiselle de 
Brumont tells me exact and true?"

"Undoubtedly, my dear niece, she has fully explained the whole 
business to you, as if it had been the study of her life."

"But really, ought M. le Comte to behave to me in such a manner, 
after being married to him two months?"

"Oh, my dear niece! M. le Comte has insulted you! Yes, he has 
insulted you, and are you not ugly!"

She replied: "Not so; I do not hide my face, and as for my 
shape, it is visible, and is not amiss."

"Perhaps he thinks your arms are not well turned?"

"Again I say, it is not so! I shall take off my glove."

"But he may find fault with the shape of your foot?"

"There also he is mistaken, as you see-I have no shoe on."

"He may imagine that your bosom is not prominent; your skin 
coarse, and your legs ill-shaped?" To all these insinuations, 
she replied in the most decisive manner, and presented palpable 
evidence of a contrary supposition.

The frank and unguarded manner of the young Countess, and the 
warmth with which she resented the criminal coldness and 
indifference of her husband, induced me to engage more deeply in 
the conversation.

Being anxious to see how far her passions might lead her, in 
gratifying her resentment, I hinted that there might be some 
secret deformity in her person. Upon this, she discovered, by an 
expressive gesture, a motion as quick as thought, that she was 
ready to contradict the injurious supposition in the most 
unqualified manner, and treat it as a falsehood of the vilest 
stamp. But Madame d'Armincour, quickly perceiving the intention 
of the Countess, unfortunately for me, prevented its immediate 
execution.

"My dear friend," she said to her niece, the matter is beneath 
your attention. I have never lost sight of you since your 
childhood. I know that nothing is amiss, and Mademoiselle de 
Brumont may rely on your word. Besides, it is not worth your 
while to be angry."

"What! Not angry, when my husband tells an atrocious untruth?"

"Perhaps he is not so much to blame."

"He is an insolent wretch and a base character."

"Perhaps, niece, he has been ill some time?"

"Not for the last two months."

"But, perhaps, he has met with some family misfortune."

"None, whatsoever, for he was quite happy when he received me in 
marriage."

"It may he that some great calamity has taken place."

"Yes, the progress of philosophy."

"Perhaps he is engaged in some work of deep meditation."

"O, yes, the composition of riddles. But, my dear aunt, cease to 
take his part, for if you do, you will irritate me beyond all 
patience. I am now fully sensible of the vileness of his 
conduct, and as soon as he comes home, depend upon it, he shall 
give me an explanation, he shall fully apologise to me for his 
strange behaviour; he must marry me on the spot, or we shall 
see."

In the meantime, the day began to draw towards a close; and it 
was not without some difficulty that I obtained a moment of 
liberty from the Countess. I retired, however, to my apartment, 
and shortly after M. de Valbrun made his appearance. The Vicomte 
informed me, that a confidential person was dispatched to the 
Hôtel de B*** to deliver the letter from Justine into the hands 
of the Marchioness de B***. The answer was to this effect:

She who sends you does me a great favour, I was rather 
uneasy about the person concerning whom she gives me 
information. Pray tell her to give me every information 
about the state of her affairs, as I am deeply interested 
in her favour. You may add, that M. de B***, who at first 
treated me rather coldly, has now acknowledged his error, 
and has received forgiveness. This is no secret, it may be 
communicated to those who may feel pleasure in my 
happiness.

M. de Valbrun then informed me that Madame de Fonrose was gone 
to the convent of Madame de Faublas. "Tomorrow morning," he 
said, "before eight o'clock, I will communicate to you what we 
have done."

After thanking the Vicomte in a proper manner, I put into his 
hands two letters; one of which I begged him to convey to the 
convent of Adelaide, and to put the other in the general post. 
As he left me, he gave me every assurance that he was going 
instantly to execute both these commissions. Oh! Fatal letter to 
M. de Belcourt! Ought I not to have had presentiment of all the 
uneasiness which thou wast likely to produce! But at the present 
moment, I may naturally ask why Mademoiselle de Brumont, having 
no other project in her head, than that of meeting with Sophia, 
felt, nevertheless, some displeasure at finding the old 
Marchioness, when she repaired to the apartment of the young 
Countess? But this emotion, douhtless, like many others of a 
similar stamp, arose from the circumstance that the Chevalier de 
Faublas, being summoned by love to atone for the endless 
injuries that matrimony continually inflicts on suffering 
beauty, felt himself invisibly attracted, while he only obeyed 
the impulse of his own imagination. I may ask, also, why the 
niece received the instructions of the aunt with listlessness 
and inattention, and fixing upon me, at intervals, glances that 
penetrated my inmost frame, did not show any strong desire to 
detain Madame d'Armincour for the rest of the evening, however 
highly she might esteem her in other respects. It was because, 
whatever the unfeeling philosophers of these modern times may 
assert, those sympathetic atoms, which they reject, issuing 
forth from the glowing person of a lively youth, and at the same 
moment, proceeding from the connubial charms of a young and 
interesting bride, approximate and coalesce to form their two 
persons into one. The lovely and gentle brunette, already felt 
this soft sway, and was sensible of the presence of an engaging 
young man; she was already guided by the powerful rays of that 
beneficent light, which I kindled in her eyes; and by that 
instinct which is so natural to the female sex, and which leads 
them to a decision in a way the most delicate, prompt and 
efficacious. Thus it is, certain subjects, and, in certain 
cases, a quickness of apprehension, rule the female soul in a 
way superior to the laboured deductions of reason. Madame de 
Lignolle felt undisguised contempt for the insignificance of a 
man who failed in his duty to her, both day and night; and, as 
it were mechanically, perceived in me one who could punish the 
offence, and satisfy the offended party. I might ask, why Madame 
d'Armincour, though favoured with long experience, never 
perceived that her presence was not desirable, and in spite of 
the ennui of her niece, kept her company till the return of M. 
de Lignolle. But these antiquated personages are doomed 
eternally to mar the enjoyment of the young, in order, perhaps, 
to render their pleasures poignant by means of obstacles and 
interruptions, and thus secure to them more satisfaction from 
ultimate success. I do not desire however, to deliver my oracles 
of wisdom, or hold forth maxims of infallible truth, neither do 
I desire a blind submission to my precepts of morality. Often 
have I observed, that when woman enters into my thoughts, she 
introduces confusion into my imagination, and destroys the web 
of my arguments and calculations; hence it follows that when I 
wish to moralise, I deviate into pleasantry, and when I am eager 
to philosophise, I deliver a string of paradoxes.

At all events Madame d'Armincour favoured us with her company at 
supper. She spoke incessantly about the province of --, where 
she brought up her niece; of her chateau which required to be 
repaired only once every year; of the keeper of the chateau, who 
performed the duty of her agent, whom she described as a most 
important individual; and whom she might be supposed to know 
best, without offending any other person. The conversation about 
this good André might have been prolonged till the next morning, 
but a little after midnight the Count's carriage was heard in 
the court.



XVII. 

"A most disagreeable accident has hefallen me, cried M. de 
Lignolle, as he entered the apartment; you know the heautiful 
riddle that I have composed-"

"This, sir, is the Marchioness d'Armincour," said the Countess, 
interrupting him; "this is my aunt." The Count, being thus taken 
by surprise, commenced a long complimentary speech to the 
Marchioness, which she had not the patience to hear to the end. 
"Good night," she said abruptly to the Countess; "Good night, my 
dear Eleanor.<39> Tomorrow I will come at an early hour, and I 
hope I shall have the honour of saluting the Countess de 
Lignolle. Farewell, sir," she said, dryly, to M. de Lignolle, 
making a cold and distant curtsey, such as females usually 
reserve for men whom they disregard.

"You know my beautiful riddle," repeated the Count, as soon as 
she was gone.

"Mademoiselle de Brumont," interrupted the Countess, "please to 
retire to your apartment."

I complied without hesitation, but contrived to keep close to 
the door, and listen with the most profound attention.

M. de Lignolle began to repeat his observation about the riddle, 
when his lady interrupted him by observing that it was not his 
duty to make riddles, now that he was a married man, but to get 
children. "What, Madame!" he cried, with surprise.

"Why, sir," she replied, "is it my duty to tell you what a 
husband ought to do? If my aunt and Mademoiselle de Brumont had 
not informed me, I must have still been ignorant of these 
matters."

"My dear lady," he replied, "you quite misunderstand me; I know 
my duty as well as any other man."

"If so," she replied, "why do you not perform it? Perhaps you 
consider me to be ugly. During the last two months you have 
treated me with every degree of contempt. But why are you going 
to withdraw, sir?" On repeating these words Madame de Lignolle 
ran to the door, and secured it against his exit. "You must not 
quit this apartment, sir, until you have amply atoned to me for 
your insulting behaviour."

"Insulting behaviour! Madame."

"Yes, sir, I repeat the words; you have insulted me by not 
completing the marriage; you must perform your duty; I insist 
upon its immediate performance. If everything is correct, what I 
have heard is not a very unpleasing task; besides, it is your 
duty, and whether it is agreeable to you or not it must be 
performed. I insist upon its complete execution."

"But, Madame-"

"No buts, if you please, sir, it is the height of impertinence. 
Do you imagine that I am beneath your notice; that you have 
obtained a young and heautiful bride only to compose riddles for 
her amusement? Vous me ferez un enfant, monsieur-vous m'en ferez 
un ! vous me le ferez ! vous me le ferez tout à l'heure!-tout à 
l'heure!-ici!-là!-à cette place-là! [Give me a child, sir,-Give 
me one! Give me! Give me one now! At once! Here! Over there! In 
that place, there!"]

After this animated apostrophe, the Countess took her frightened 
admirer by the hand, and conducted him behind the curtains. I 
beheld the scene throught the keyhole by the light of a 
glimmering lamp; I beheld four feet moving up and down: Their 
position, which was no longer doubtful, gave me good reason to 
know that Lignolle was obtaining, or was on the point of 
obtaining, pardon for his sins.

What a strange character had I to sustain during this melodrama! 
The part of a spectator in such a case is most painful and 
mortifying, when he himself desires to be acting upon the stage. 
Ah! Cursed and curious creature, why did you not retire long 
before this critical moment? But what can you say for yourself, 
M. le Chevalier? Do you despair of your good fortune? Take 
courage, my good friend, your kind destiny still awaits you. 
Faublas is not doomed to act a secondary part in such an affair 
of gallantry. Listen to what the Countess has to say, and jump 
for joy.

"Excuse me, sir; perhaps I am in the wrong; perhaps my aunt, as 
well as Mademoiselle de Brumont, have only wished to have a 
little pleasantry at my expense. I was on the point of asking 
you to pass the whole night with me; but I perceive you would 
only take useless pains, and your best mode of proceeding is to 
retire to your own apartment."

"Madame, I heg your pardon; perhaps another time I shall he more 
successful."

"Another time! Sir, wait till I ask."

"Madame, I rely on your discretion."

"I make no promises, sir; I only request you to leave me alone."

As soon as he returned from her apartment, she came and opened 
the door, which he had shut. I instantly ran from my apartment, 
and repaired to hers.

"Madame, indeed, I am delighted."

"But why this foolish joy?" she interrupted.

"You can scarcely conceive, Madame."

"Mademoiselle de Brumont," she said, in a most serious and 
solemn tone, "if you had a correct notion of what sort of a man 
M. de Lignolle is, you would know that between him and me 
nothing has passed exciting joy and pleasure."

"What, no pleasure," Madame, cried I, "but what would you say if 
I told you how much rapture I feel at your disappointment? What 
would you say if I announced to you that your kind destiny has 
conducted an avenger into your apartment?"

"An avenger?"

"Yes, you now behold a young man at your feet-one who loves you 
passionately-who feels every sentiment of tenderness for you, 
and every degree of admiration for your charms!"

"You are really a young man, and you love me! But perhaps it is 
not love," exclaimed the Countess; "You are here, Mademoiselle 
de Brumont, but are you really a young man?"

"My charming Countess," I replied, "can have no doubt upon that 
head."

"Well, then," she said, "avenge my cause; be my avenger, marry 
me forthwith-I command you-I insist upon it."

"My dear Eleanor," I replied, "you need not command me. It is 
the most ardent wish of my soul."

The good soul had every reason to be displeased with her 
husband, but the good man was unintentionally the author of my 
success. He had actually done so little that everything remained 
for me to do, but in enterprises of this description every 
obstacle only serves to add new fuel to the flame. My courage 
increased with the difficulties opposed to it, and acquired 
force from the recollection of past success. A few half-
smothered sighs, the forerunners of bliss, announced my 
approaching triumph, and a mixture of pain and rapture completed 
the conquest over a young and innocent heart. This triumph was 
indeed of a most delicious nature, in which the victor, highly 
pleased with the transports of his conquered antagonist, finds, 
in communicating pleasure, an additional relish for his own 
joys.

In justice to the quickness of apprehension possessed by this 
youthful Countess, I must state, that as soon as she recovered 
the use of her speech, she required to know who I was. I was 
prepared beforehand for this obvious question, which a female of 
less sensibility would have asked in the first instance, and 
hesitated not to declare to my charming Eleanor, that I was 
called the Chevalier de Flourvac; that the injustice of my 
parents, who were eager to secure a large fortune to my elder 
brother, had determined them to compel me to become a 
Génovéfain.<40> 

"Ah!" she cried, "they wished to make you a monk; and then you 
would never have married anyhody! What a frightful state!"

"But, my dear Eleanor," cried I, "something secretly whispered 
to me, that I had not the slightest inclination for that holy 
state. I did not, however, indulge the fond hope that my destiny 
had reserved for me the peculiar privilege of consummating a 
marriage not my own, while I feel a native instinct for the 
matrimonial state. Under this influence, I fled from the convent 
in which I was confined: and my friend, the Vicomte de Valbrun, 
indignant at the selfishness of my brother, and the cruelty of 
my parents, has given me an asylum, has provided me with this 
disguise, and found me a more agreeable retreat than his own 
abode. I must therefore consider myself peculiarly fortunate, 
and return thanks to heaven, for conducting me to a young, 
beautiful, and delightful virgin, for the companion of my softer 
hours."

"Heaven has been equally kind to me, my dear Flourvac," replied 
the Countess, embracing me tenderly, "and you shall keep me 
company till your parents are dead."

"My dear Eleanor," I replied, "you have taken a heavy charge 
upon yourself, for my father is still a young man."

"So much the better," she replied, "we shall be longer together. 
Stay with me till the death of your parents, my dear Flourvac."

"That is my determination and my wish."

While I was amusing the Countess with my invention of a family 
dispute, I helped her to put off the incumbrance of dress, which 
it had not occurred to me to do before, so eager was she to be 
revenged, and so prompt was I in executing her reasonable 
demands.

But now, kind reader, speaking without disguise, would you not 
wish to be in my place; in the arms of the charming Countess; 
and in the nuptial bed prepared for another man. I need not tell 
you that these were the happiest moments of my life, though I 
may communicate to you the pleasing reveries in which my 
sportive imagination revelled with uncontrolled delight. While 
engaged with my amiable pupil, I did not forget the more amiable 
preceptor who initiated me in the mysteries of love. In both 
instances, unexpected and extraordinary occurrences that 
prepared my happiness, had, almost under the eyes of an 
eccentric and ridiculous husband, thrown me into the arms of his 
charming better half! I found myself in the place intended for 
M. de Lignolle, instructing the Countess in the noble science 
which I had learned from the beautiful Marchioness de B***. 
under the auspices of her Marquis. But, alas! Of these two rare 
and precious females, to whom my kind stars had rendered me so 
dear, one was already torn from me, and the other was doomed to 
see herself forsaken and undone.

But it would he disgraceful to me to quit my interesting pupil, 
without completing her education; and what master has been more 
favoured by fortune than I have been, in such a pupil as Madame 
de Lignolle? The most charming creature, the dearest object of 
my heart, possessed of the most seductive graces, as well as the 
utmost docility, and the happiest disposition of mind! What 
sensibility, vivacity, and address, were combined in her 
formation! The same night began and finished her education, and 
rendered her experience complete: a night that must always he 
reckoned the happiest, as well as the shortest of my existence.

Not long before daylight, we hecame weary of our pleasing toils, 
and fell into a sound sleep. My surprise was great when I awoke, 
and looking at my watch, found that it had gone twelve. 
"Heavens!" cried I, "M. de Valbrun has been waiting impatiently 
for me since eight o'clock!" I then quitted my young Countess as 
quietly as I could, and left her in a deep slumber.

I ran to my chamber, half dressed, and opening the little door 
facing the stair-case, neither met nor saw anybody. Oh, my dear 
Sophia! A little scrap of paper in the key-hole, caught my 
attention. The Vicomte had scrawled a few words on the slip of 
paper with a red pencil, and I found some difficulty in 
deciphering them:

I knock, and you make no answer. Where are you, 
Mademoiselle de Brumont? What are you doing? I cannot tell, 
though I can guess. What a pleasant piece of news for the 
Baroness! I return in less than two hours but, will the 
Countess be up at two o'clock?

I soon after awoke my young mistress, and took my place beside 
her. On opening her eyes, she cast a glance at me, full of more 
vivacity than tenderness, and I had reason to imagine that the 
caresses which followed it were not totally disinterested. A few 
incoherent expressions escaped her, mingled with half smothered 
sighs. These symptoms quickly intimated to me that my young 
pupil was prepared for another lesson, and was secretly wishing 
to complete her education.

Who, kind reader, could refuse her the favour, if he was still 
able to bestow it? I therefore recommenced my essays, when a 
loud knocking resounded at the chamber-door. I quitted my post 
on this alarm, and was preparing to get out of bed, but the 
Countess made me a signal to remain where I was, and then 
enquired with a firm voice, who was at the door?"

"It is I," replied M. de Lignolle, "are you not getting up?"

"Not yet, sir."

"Madame, it is very late."

"Yes, but I am busy."

"What are you doing?"

"I am composing with Mademoiselle de Brumont"

"I wish I could take part in the lesson."

"That cannot be, sir; you are not clever enough; you would 
hinder us from doing anything."

"Pray, Madame, what are you composing?"

"I am performing what you will have the credit of, that is, I am 
finishing a riddle."

"A riddle, indeed; you are in search of the word?"

"Yes, wait a minute, I shall find it."

"Now," she said," in a whisper to me, "this is the moment of 
complete vengeance and satisfaction. I wish to play him a trick, 
the recollection of which will amuse me fifty years hence, if I 
live so long. My dear Flourvac, he has cruelly interrupted our 
pleasant pursuit."

She said no more, but a glance and a gesture, as well as a 
tender kiss, conveyed to me an order to resume the exercise so 
unfeelingly interrupted.

Pleasure rendered me docile and submissive, and I obeyed without 
any murmur or remonstrance. Then, in order to prove to me, after 
Coralie, that more than one woman knows how, in a critical 
moment, to engage at once in many difficult occupations, and can 
at the same time act and speak most consistently and distinctly; 
Madame de Lignolle raised her voice, and said to the Comte: 
"Sir, do you listen at the door?"

"Yes, Madame," he replied, "since you will not let me in."

"Well, here is my riddle."

"Amo'l primo mio." (Piano a Faublas abbracciandolo.) "L'amo di 
molto."

"A mo'l primo mio," ridisse il Lignolo.

"Signor si," soggiunse ella. M' ama 'l secondo mio" (Piano a 
Faublas). "M' ami. Ah! .m'ami ê verro?"

Non risposi; ma l'abbracciai teneramente, mentre che 'l Lignolo 
con grandissima attenzione ridiceva: "M'ama 'I secondo mio"

"Bravo, signor," disse la contessina, "e 'l mio intégrale benche 
eomposto da due. nondimeno fa più che uno (Piano a Faublas). 
Deh! non ê la- la verità?-la verità-ben mio."

"Ma," disse Ligaolo, "dunque in prosa lo fate?"

"Signor-si-in pro-" sta volta sulla labra della svenuta la 
parola mori.

[I love my first," (Softly to Faublas, embracing him.) "I love 
him very much."

"I love my first," Lignolle repeated."

Yes, sir," she added. "My second loves me" (Softly to Faublas.) 
"You love me. Ah! Do you really love me?"

I did not answer; but I embraced her tenderly, while Lignolle 
with great attention repeated: "My second loves me."

"Bravo, sir," said the Countess, "and my all, though made up of 
two persons, only makes one."(Softly to Faublas.) "Ah! Isn't it 
the-the truth? The truth-my dear."

"But," said Lignolle, "so you're doing it in prose?"

"Sir-yes-in pro-" This time on the lips of the fainting woman 
the word died.]

However she had full time to recover her senses, before her 
husband, who wished to guess the riddle, had ceased to repeat 
even once, my all, though made up of two persons, only makes 
one. "Sir," replied the wild young Countess, more delighted than 
if she had composed an epic poem, "as it is a virtuous action, I 
must in conscience, acquaint you with a very essential point: My 
riddle is a species of enigma, consisting of two words. I must 
be frank with you, and declare that I will never tell it to you, 
and I am persuaded that you will never be able to guess it."

"Not guess it, Madame?" he replied, "I will go and shut myself 
up in my study, I will return to you in half an hour."

"Well, sir, let it be so, I shall then be up."

Accordingly he returned as soon as the half-hour had elapsed. I 
was sitting by the side of the Countess in her boudoir and was 
taking a large cup of chocolate, which I had asked for without 
much ceremony. "Ladies," said M. de Lignolle as he entered the 
apartment, 2you both know my new and elegant riddle; it was 
criticised yesterday. Would you believe it, Mademoiselle de 
Brumont, it was criticised with great asperity, but envy lurks 
at the bottom of these censures."

"You are perfectly right, M. de Lignolle."

"I was yesterday engaged," he said, "in a circle of amateurs of 
the belles lettres, (here I must relate this unpleasant 
anecdote) when a riddle was proposed, which I immediately found 
out. Another person in the company hit upon the meaning exactly 
at the same moment as myself, yet the whole circle immediately 
congratulated him on his discovery, without taking the least 
notice of mine. This act of injustice has aroused my resentment, 
and has brought to my recollection a plan which I had meditated 
upon frequently before. It is the custom to notify every 
circumstance relating to riddles in the Mercuré de France,<41> 
as you know, mademoiselle, and at the end of every riddle, it is 
the custom to insert the name, surname, title, residence, and 
even province and city of the author. This is all perfectly 
right, because encouragement should be given to talent; but is 
it not a frightful circumstance that a man who regularly devotes 
three or four days of the week to the investigation of the words 
that compose a conundrum, or rebus, in each number of the 
Mercuré, should not be repaid for his labours by a small portion 
of glory, or literary adulation? This neglect is a proof of 
downright ingratitude, or I am much mistaken. But now for my 
plan: I am going to propose to the editor of the Mercuré, to 
open a public subscription, the produce of which shall be 
devoted to the publication of a large placard once a week, on 
which shall appear the names of the fortunate candidates who 
shall guess the conundrum, the riddle, and the riddle of the 
foregoing week."

"Your plan is excellent, Countess, but since you make mention of 
the riddle, pray have you guessed mine?"

"Not as yet," Madame, he replied, "with an air of confusion."

"Sir," she said, "if you succeed in finding both the words, I 
make you promise, while your plan is in agitation, to move 
heaven and earth to have my riddle inserted in the Mercuré, with 
its explanation, my name and yours, if you can solve it, and all 
the circumstances to which it gave rise."

"Madame," he replied, "what you say has excited my attention to 
the subject."

The entrance of a chariot into the court-yard interrupted the 
Count in the middle of his speech, when a footman announced the 
Marchioness d'Armincour. She made her entry rather 
precipitately, and going up directly to her niece, said; "My 
dear niece, how fares it with you to-day? Is there any change in 
your health?"

"Ah, you young rogue, I see you have every appearance of 
lassitude, and your eyes are dim; but it is all quite natural; I 
am no novice, I understand it all; I wish you joy on the 
occasion. Monsieur Le Comte, I equally congratulate you on your 
felicity; let us now be at peace; let us embrace, and be 
friends. Perhaps we shall have a little nephew in nine months?"

"That's very possible, cried the Countess; my dear aunt, you are 
perfectly right, but why don't you compliment Mademoiselle de 
Brumont?"

While the Marchioness turned round and engaged in conversation 
with me, I observed that M. de Lignolle approached the Countess, 
and whispered something into her ear. With every apparent 
attention to the aunt, my concern was to hear what the husband 
said to his wife:

"Forgive me, my dear," he said, "indulge the Marchioness in her 
mistake."

"What, sir?" she replied, "are you not perfectly satisfied with 
me?"

"Oh! By all means, I commend you for your discretion."

"Your compliment is quite unmerited," she replied, "my 
discretion is necessary and natural, and you owe me no thanks on 
that score."

M. de Lignolle seemed delighted with these expressions, and 
coming up to me said, "Mademoiselle, I owe you eternal 
obligations for the pains you have taken with my dear Countess, 
in instructing her in a part so full of difficulties."

"No difficulties, Monsieur le Comte," I replied, "quite the 
reverse."

"Oh, my dear mademoiselle," he answered, "I am quite at home in 
the business, and fully sensible of your extraordinary 
complaisance."

This frank and decisive compliment on the part of this paragon 
of husbands, quite disarmed me, I contented myself with 
repeating to him literally the equivocal compliment of his wife: 
"My complaisance is necessary and natural, and you owe me no 
thanks on that score.

After this round of compliments, the conversation became 
general, and nothing on one side or the other appeared worthy of 
being recorded, and transmitted to posterity. However, about two 
o'clock, a gentleman was announced, who wanted to speak with me. 
The Countess was for having him come up, but I, knowing him to 
be M. de Valbrun, opposed that step. "Well," she said, "let him 
speak to you here."

"That cannot be, Madame," I replied. She then gave me leave to 
retire, expressing a wish for my speedy return. I ran to the 
door, and seeing my friend, exclaimed: "Good morning, my dear 
Vicomte!"

"Good morning, my dear Chevalier?"

"Have you delivered the letter to my sister?"

"Yes, I have sent it to the convent. And the letter to my 
father?"

"Yes, I put it into the general-post myself."

"And how is my Sophia?"

"The Baroness has not seen her," he said; "but an apartment is 
bespoke for you in the convent, as you desired."

"Then let us depart, my dear Vicomte--Let us set off 
instantaneously."

"But, he said, have we not agreed to wait some time?"

"No; I replied, I will not wait a moment"

"But consider the danger."

"I consider nothing; I will listen to notbing. O my dear Sophia, 
can I deliberate a moment, when I have a prospect of seeing 
you?"

"Yet hesitation and delay become necessary," observed he, "and 
it would be right to pause."

"My dear Vicomte," I replied, "if you will not accompany me, I 
must go by myself. I would rather perish a hundred times than 
not see my Sophia today!"

"Chevalier de Faublas! and the Countess?" he cried.

"What do you say, sir?" I replied, "the Countess is nothing when 
Sophia is in the case. As for my enemies, I defy them all."

"But can no consideration determine you to defer your 
departure?" he said.

"No, my dear Vicomte; and I repeat my determination to you. If 
you do not attend me, I must set out alone, but still my 
gratitude to you is unalterable."

"Well, then," said the Vicomte, "since nothing can make you 
comply with my wishes, I must surrender to your resolution; but 
grant me one request."

"Speak, and rely on my indulgence."

"Only wait till night," he said. "In a quarter of an hour I must 
dine with the Baroness, and at five o'clock I will conduct her 
to you. When you see her enter the house of the Countess, be 
assured that my carriage shall be ready for you at the door. Do 
you then come down by the private staircase and join me, when I 
promise you most solemnly that I will attend you to the 
convent."

"At six o'clock, precisely, my dear Vicomte."

"At six o'clock precisely, I pledge my word of honour to you.

At the very moment M. de Valbrun bade me farewell, the Countess 
came down to invite me back. The dear creature, no doubt, 
thought that she herself was the only object of my profound 
reverie during dinner, which, to my imagination, appeared 
tedious and uninteresting. But, oh, my dear Sophia, it was you, 
and you alone, that occupied the recesses of my heart.

When the dessert was over, and while we were drinking our coffee 
in the drawing-room, I several times looked at the Countess de 
Lignolle, and my eyes always met hers. I finally gazed 
voluntarily upon her sweet person. What vivacity! How blooming! 
What a beautiful skin! That pretty mouth! Ah, charming little 
woman, you deserve not to be forsaken on the second day of your 
marriage.

These reflections were the genuine effect of a compassionate 
feeling, too natural to be disapproved of by any one; but 
unfortunately I happened to be in a situation of mind when one 
reflection suggests an idea, speedily followed by another, which 
other ideas immediately displace, and thus it will occur that in 
consequence of this combination of ideas, that which was good in 
the origin turns out to be blameable in the end. Who, among 
yourselves, relying too much upon himself, would presume, in 
similar cases, after having settled the exact point where he 
should stop, would presume, I say, to declare that he will never 
go beyond it? Show then your wonted indulgence to a youth, who, 
with his usual candour, makes at once a painful and delicate 
avowal.

I drew near the Countess, leaned towards her, and whispered in 
ber ear: "Could not I, my young friend, have a private 
conversation with you in the boudoir?" Madame de Lignolle rose 
from her seat, and addressing her aunt, said: "Will you, Madame 
la Marchioness, permit me to leave here for a moment?"

"Go, go," replied. Madame d'Armincour; "I well know that young 
women have always-"

"Indeed," interrupted the Count, with a kind of sneer; do you 
know what these ladies are going to be about? Composing a riddle 
in prose."

"Ah, sir," replied the Countess; "What an ironical joy! How much 
bitterness! I don't wish to defend our production; it has cost 
us so little trouble. But it appears to me that whoever is 
incapable of guessing our riddles, or of composing any, has no 
right to be in an ill-humour, or to make game of us."

This said, the cunning little Countess took me into her boudoir, 
and, although we did not stop long, our riddle was finished 
before we left the place.

I impatiently called tardy evening to my relief; it came at 
last, and I felt overjoyed. When the Baroness was announced I 
was near fainting; I could hardly stand on my legs; I was 
scarcely able to make a slight inclination to my protectress; 
but as soon as this extreme agitation had subsided, I made 
towards my room. I had hoped that the Countess, while welcoming 
the Baroness, would not have noticed my making my escape; but 
the watchful eye of a lover never loses sight of the least 
motion of the cherished object. Madame de Lignolle saw me go, 
and cried out to me: Are you going, Mademoiselle de Brumont?"

"Yes, Madame."

"But you will soon come again, I hope?"

"Oh, yes!-Madame- I shall-re-return-yes-I will try-yes, Madame, 
as soon as possible."

I will confess that I could only speak in broken accents, and 
that I trembled as I bade her that fatal adieu. Poor little 
dear!

I crossed her apartment and my room, ran down the private 
staircase, leaped through the street door, and jumped into the 
Vicomte's carriage.

In the course of five minutes I reached the convent, the wished-
for asylum. A nun let me in, and enquired who I was.

"The widow Grandval."

"I am going to conduct you into your apartment, sister."

"No, sister, pray tell me where all your boarders are collected 
now?"

"They are at prayers, sister."

"Where do they read those prayers?"

"In the chapel."

"And where is the chapel?"

"Facing you."

I ran to the chapel, the whole extent of which my inquisitive 
eye surveyed at once. A number of females were saying their 
prayers. One among them seemed particularly attentive to her 
devotions. My heart was moved, and beat violently. Methought I 
saw her long dark hair, her slender waist, her enchanting 
graces. I advanced a few paces-I beheld her! Gracious heavens! 
Faublas! Happy husband! Check the violence of this first 
transport; go quietly to kneel close to her.

Madame de Faublas was so preoccupied that she did not perceive a 
stranger had just placed herself by the side of her. I listened 
to the fervent prayer she was addressing to heaven.

"Great God!" she said, "it is true that I had been his guilty 
love; but thou hast allowed me to become his legitimate wife. I 
thought that a long absence had sufficiently punished a moment's 
weakness. If thy justice, nevertheless, has not relented; if, 
according to the august severity of thy verdicts thou hast 
decided that my offence could be obliterated only by an 
everlasting separation, almighty God! God of kindness! Who art 
pleased to display thy infinite mercy, even when thou punishest, 
remember that I am a mortal; hasten to strike the blow; take my 
life! A speedy death will prove a signal favour granted to thy 
victim; and, if thou shouldst deign to gratify her last wish, 
thou wilt allow, at her last hour, that she may see her husband 
once more!-once only!-Thou wilt permit Faublas to close her 
eyelids, and to receive her last breath."

I overheard her prayer. My first motion was to run before her, 
and to show her that husband she had called for. I nevertheless 
retained sufficient presence of mind to be made sensible we 
should be ruined if we were noticed, and had fortitude enough to 
moderate my impatience and check my excessive joy until such 
time as the church service was over, and that I might make 
myself known to Sophia when she was by herself, I relished only 
the happiness of admiring her.

The divine service had just finished. Sophia rose without even 
seeing me, because, absorbed in grief, she could see none of the 
surrounding objects. I regulated my steps after hers, and 
followed her gently, close behind. She had just left the chapel, 
and was going to cross the yard. Just as I was stepping into it, 
several men,<42> rushing on a sudden from the recess in which 
they were concealed, surrounded and seized me. Surprise and 
fright made me send forth a loud scream, a terrible cry, that 
reached the ears of Sophia.

My beloved, knowing my voice, turned round, too soon 
undoubtedly, since she could still see me. I myself heard her 
address to me a useless complaint. I saw her holding out her 
arms to me, and I saw her fall in the midst of the terrified 
women who surrounded her! Alas! Where are my arms! Where are my 
friends!

The barbarous satellites overpower me, they being so numerous; 
they drag me away at a great distance from my wife! From my 
wife, who had fainted away! Cruel God! Unmerciful God! Hadst 
thou heard the last prayer she addressed thee!

Useless are the ravings of impotent fury, nothing can save me. 
The gates of that convent, which I had entered so rashly, opened 
a second time! I was put into a coach, which started 
immediately. It did not roll long. I hear immense gates to creak 
over enormous hinges; I see a strong castle, the drawbridge is 
let down before me. I enter a vast tower; decorated officers 
receive me-Alas! I am in the Bastille.

To the Public.

You have it in your power to set me at liberty; but, to induce 
you to be so kind, it is proper you should be desirous of 
perusing a new sequel to my adventures. If you should not 
continue to this essay the indulgence with which you have 
honoured the first, I shall find myself condemned to end my days 
in prison; and unlike a great number of my fellow-sufferers, 
shall enjoy the sad adbantage only, of knowing wherefore I have 
been sent and continue there.

END OF THE SIX WEEKS



CONCLUSION OF THE AMOURS OF THE CHEVALIER DE FAUBLAS
First published 1790



XVIII.

Alas! I am in the Bastille! I stayed there during the whole of 
the winter season, four months, four entire months. It has often 
been published, yet I am compelled to write it over again:<43> 
sorrows of every description are collected together in that 
dreary habitation, and the most inconsolable of all those 
grievances, Ennui, dreadful Ennui, watches day and night by the 
side of Inquietude and Sadness.

I firmly believe that Death would soon be the only inhabitant of 
the place, if it were possible to prevent Hope penetrating 
within its walls. O, my king! The day on which your equity will 
suggest your destroying these scandalous prisons, will be a day 
of rejoicing for your subjects.

The sun, which for about two hours perhaps illumined the 
remainder of the world, scarcely began to enlighten us unhappy 
prisoners. Scarcely did one of its feeble rays, obliquely 
directed, illumine half of the narrow and long window that had 
been sparingly formed in an enormous thick wall; my eyes, which 
for a long time since had no more tears to shed; my eyes, worn 
down, were going to be closed for a few moments; for a short 
time I had ceased calling, Sophia, or death! On a sudden, I hear 
my treble door open, the governor came in, shouting out to me: 
"Liberty! Liberty!"

How can an unfortunate mortal, after having been detained only a 
few days in one of the less dreary dungeons of the Bastille, 
hear that word without his joy killing him? How have I been able 
to survive the excess of mine? I cannot tell; but what I well 
know, is, that I was going to run half-naked out of my tomb, 
when it was represented to me that I must at least take time to 
dress myself. Never did my toilette appear to me so long, never 
was it completed so expeditiously.

It was but a short time before I reached the first gate. As soon 
as it was opened M. de Belcourt<45> ran to meet me; with what 
transport I embraced my father! With what pleasure did he 
receive me within his arms!

Subsequent to addressing to me the mildest reproaches, after 
having returned me the other tender caresses, the Baron heard 
the delicate question which a husband, tormented with impatience 
and inquietude, was already repeating. "I could wish," he said, 
"to restore you to your Sophia; but for a charming woman, who 
feels the most lively interest for whatever concerns you-"

I thought the Baron meant the Marchioness de B***; a sigh 
escaped me. Whoever will remember what the Marchioness had done 
and suffered for me, will excuse that sigh, I am not aware 
whether my father had been surprised at my leaving it, but he 
kept silent for some minutes, looked at me most steadfastly, and 
then resumed:

"That lady who feels so lively an interest to whatever concerns 
you, has told me,-"

"Has told you! Have you then seen her, father?"

"Did you speak to her?"

"I have."

"Well! I is not she indeed-But you were just now making the 
observation: she is truly charming."

"I own it."

"And you believe, father, that she continues highly concerned?"

"In your case? I do so."

"She has been saying to you?-"

"That Madame de Faublas has been obliged to leave her convent 
the day after that on which you had been arrested there; no one 
has been able to discover where Lovinski has concealed her."

"Oh, my dear wife! Oh! What a situation she was in, when the 
military, having surrounded me, overpowered me by their numbers; 
I saw her fall, faint away, ready to breathe her last. Ah! If my 
Sophia is no more, it is all over with me."

"Reject those fatal ideas! your wife probably is not dead, she 
lives to love you: the day on which she left her convent, she 
looked very sad, very uneasy, but nothing was apprehended 
respecting her life."

"I feel comforted at this assurance, we shall find her out 
again."

"I ardently wish it may be so; but I could not dare to vouch for 
it. I have made great enquiries, we shall make more; but I 
confess that I begin to doubt of our being successful."

"What father, she lives, I am at liberty, and should I not find 
her out! Ah! I will find her out, you may rest assured of that."

Meanwhile, our carriage was ready. We were out of the Bastille, 
and near La Porte Saint Antoine, where a man, on horseback, 
having beckoned our coachman to stop, delivered a letter to me, 
saying:"From my master, here present;" at the same time he 
pointed to a young cavalier, who was capering facing us, at the 
entrance of the boulevard. Notwithstanding the round hat which 
almost covered the eyes of the handsome youth, I recognised the 
Vicomte de Florville; I knew again the elegant frac Anglais<46> 
which he sported in happier times, to come into the room of the 
Chevalier Faublas, to disabuse a too unjust lover; and, at other 
times, to conduct Mademoiselle du Portail to the petite maison 
of Saint Cloud. I hastened to look out, crying aloud: "It is 
her!" The Vicomte immediately honoured me with the most 
caressing smiles, kissed his hand to me, and galloped away.

Delighted at seeing her again, and unable to check my joy, I 
continued crying out: It is her!"

The Baron kept crying out: "You will fall out-take care-you will 
fall out, sir!"

"Father, it is her!"

"What her?"

"Her, father-that charming woman we were speaking of just now-
only look!"

I thought that I had now taken hold of M. de Belcourt's hand, 
whereas, I was pulling and tearing his ruffle.

"If you wish me to look, make a little room, he said to me, 
where is she to be seen?"

"Yonder, yonder! She is already at some distance, but you can 
still distinguish her pretty horse, and charming dress."

"What! Does she dress in men's clothes sometimes?"

"Often."

"And she rides on horseback!"

"Well; very well! With infinite grace! And in a masterly style!"

"You seem to know more about her than I do," said the Baron, 
"who seemed to be a little out of humour, I did not know all 
that."

"Father, will you permit me to read what she has written to me?"

"To be sure, and even aloud, if it is to be done; you will 
oblige me."

I read aloud:

Until such time as your unfortunate duel is entirely 
forgotten, sir, no more than your father, (who is very 
right to keep the name which he had assumed at Luxembourg), 
can you reappear in the metropolis under that of Faublas; 
let you be called Chevalier de Florville, if you should not 
dislike it, and if you do not find it too painful sometimes 
to call to mind the recollection of a friend, to the 
solicitations of whom you are obliged for your liberation.

"I was well aware of her soliciting," interrupted the Baron, 
"but she did not expect to succeed so soon. I only received this 
morning the happy tidings of your approaching liberation, and 
the letter was written by an unknown hand."

"Proceed, read on."

We may have a moment's conversation together this evening: 
you will receive this evening a visit from Madame de 
Montdesir, and will act as she directs. Burn this note."

The Baron asked me instantly who that Madame de Montdesir was? I 
answered him that I did not know. "There is always," he replied 
with impatience, "something mysterious and extraordinary in 
whatever happens to you. However, I shall have the whole 
business explained to me this evening."

"This evening, father?"

"Yes, this very evening: we shall go to her house, to return our 
thanks to that lady."

"Shall we go to her house? But I cannot make my appcarance 
there."

"Why not?"

"Because her husband-"

"Could her husband find fault?"

"But her husband is dead."

"Dead?"

"To be sure he is-you, who seems so well acquainted with 
whatever concerns her, cannot be ignorant of that."

"How could I know of it, father. If he is dead, I am very sorry 
for it. Poor Marquis de B***, most likely it is in consequence 
of his wounds; I shall have to reproach myself with that as long 
as I live."

M. de Belcourt no longer heard what I was saying, because his 
carriage had just stopped at a convent in the Rue Croix-des-
Petits-Champs, near the place Vendome.

"You are going to see your sister," said the Baron.

"Ah! my dear Adelaide!"

"I have placed her there," continued my father, "that we might 
have her nearer to us: you may notice, presently, and with 
pleasure no doubt, that from the window of the hôtel where I now 
lodge, you may see your sister when she will be walking in the 
garden, during the hours of recreation. You conceive it was 
impossible for me to continue in the Rue de l'Université, but on 
the contrary, that I was right to choose another part of the 
town than the Faubourg Saint Germain. Follow me, we shall take 
home Adelaide, who will not be sorry to dine with us."

She at first came down into the parlour. I found her very much 
embellished during the five months of my absence. She looked 
better-made, more womanlike, taller, and handsomer. Oh! Sweet, 
lovely girl! If I had not been your brother, what would not I 
have given to be your lover?

I held her hand, which I bathed with my tears, hers dropped on 
my hand, and my father lavished upon us both a thousand sweet 
caresses. It was me, however, whom he kissed most frequently. 
"Be not jealous," he said to my sister, who had made the 
observation with her wonted candour: "Allow me on this day to 
love him a little more than I cherish you, for upwards of six 
months, perhaps, I have suffered and been uneasy, but not on 
your account, my dear girl, it is not you who occasioned my 
sorrow." The Baron, in order to soften this kind of reproach, 
pressed me twenty times to his bosom.

From the convent we reached our hôtel in less than a minute. My 
father then put me in possession of the apartment he had 
intended for me. I was glad to find my faithful Jasmin in my 
antechamber; but I could not, without much grief, behold in my 
bed-room, which was very small, one single narrow bed. "Oh, 
father! You have lodged the Chevalier de Faublas as if he were 
destined to continue long a widower. This is the apartment of 
celibacy!"

The Baron, instead of answering me, opened an adjacent door. 
After crossing several extensive rooms, I entered a very rich 
one, in which I discovered two alcoves, and a couple of beds. I 
jumped through joy. This, thought I, is the temple of Hymen! 
Love will bring me back my wife here!

"Father, I shall occupy this room only in the company of Love-of 
my Sophia! Until such time as my wife is restored to me, I shall 
inhabit the dismal apartment. Nobody shall enter this; none, no 
beauty, unworthy of this place, shall profane it by her 
presence. And this boudoir, how pretty it is! How nicely 
furnished! Pretty, and nice, no doubt! But when my beloved will 
have entered it, only once, to receive my adoration, the boudoir 
will no longer exist; it will not only be a temple, but a 
sanctuary. I shall never approach the altar, but with holy 
respect."

The altar-it was an ottoman-I addressed, and kissed it.

"No one, except myself, is to approach it. Ah, my dear sister, 
don't you go into it-never enter it, my dear Adelaide, I beseech 
you! The entrance of this abode is closed to everyone except my 
wife! Yes, my Sophia, I take my solemn oath, never shall a 
mortal female penetrate into that sanctuary where my homage 
awaits thee. I swear it over again, she alone shall be 
worshipped there. She, the deity whom my most ardent wishes will 
seek after daily."

Whilst taking that double oath, useless at best, the Chevalier 
de Florville was far from suspecting, that before the day was at 
an end, a mighty scandalous scene was to occur in that place, so 
rashly consecrated.

My father made me observe, that the boudoir opened into a 
dressing closet, which led to a passage, at the further 
extremity of which there was a private staircase. I was not 
easily prevailed upon to leave my wife's apartment; before 
Monsieur de Belcourt could persuade me to enter his, he was 
obliged to listen to the tender exclamations, and to admire the 
caresses which I bestowed upon every piece of furniture in the 
delightful boudoir.

Do not ask me how it so happened that several hours glided away, 
without my being able to think once of Madame de B***; without 
having found time to ask my father about the situation of that 
widow who must have been so dear to me. Think that Adelaide was 
speaking to me of her friends; think, that my sister was 
lamenting, in company with me, the absence of my beloved.

We were still weeping, when the gate of the hôtel was opened 
with a great bustle. My father hearing the rattling of a 
carriage, ran to the window; and then returned to me. "My 
friend, it is her, although she knew very well that you were 
here, for I had sent her word, she is come most likely to dine 
with me." I was preparing to go downstairs, M. de Belcourt 
prevented me; "You shall not go to meet her in the hall, that is 
my office."

"Father!"

"Stop here, my friend; stop with Adelaide, I insist upon it."

He went down, and returned a moment after. In real truth I 
expected to see the Marchioness de B***; but it was the Baroness 
de Fonrose who made her appearance. My surprise, already great, 
became extreme when I saw her accompanied by a handsome little 
brunette, who, as quick as lightning, flew into my arms. When 
she had pressed me twenty times between hers, embraced me twenty 
times, and called me as repeatedly her beloved, she perceived 
there were two persons in the room whom she did not know, and 
who, very much surprised at her excessive joy, and at her 
vivacity more excessive still, silently looked at her, and 
seemed to wait impatiently till she had done. "I beg your 
pardon," she said, to my father, making a curtsey; "I had not 
noticed you-but it is no fault of mine-it is because-It is 
proper I should tell you, I am naturally rather quick;" and 
without waiting for M. de Belcourt's answer: "Who is this young 
person?" she said to me, showing Adelaide. As soon as I had she 
answered was my sister, she ran to embrace her, saying: "I am 
glad, mademoiselle, you are so nearly related, for I think you 
are very pretty."

My dear Adelaide, much confused and agitated, could not reply a 
single word, but I heard my father, scarcely recovered from his 
surprise, begging Madame de Fonrose to tell him the name of that 
lady whom, in fact, he found rather lively. The Baroness 
replied, aloud: "She is one of my most intimate friends; I 
believe I have occasionally mentioned to you the Countess de 
Lignolle."

My father next addressed the Countess: "It appears to me that my 
son has the honour of being known to you, Madame?"

"Very much so, sir," returned she.

"Yes, very much so," repeated the Baroness, who laughed at the 
same time, "they have composed riddles together."

The company were all seated, the Countess beckoned to me to come 
and sit close to her; as I was going, the Baron stopped me: 
"What a light-headed boy you are!" he said, and then presenting 
me to the Baroness: "Madame," he said, "receive my son's best 
thanks."

"It is to be confessed that he owes me some; I have been 
expeditious in bringing back to him a pretty lady to whom no 
doubt he bears some friendship."

"But," he resumed, "that is not the only reason."

"You are right, he is moreover obliged to me for having 
introduced him to her. I accordingly was eager to go and fetch 
the Countess this morning, as soon as I was apprised of the 
Chevalier having been liberated."

"As soon as I apprised you of it (but I hope you knew of it 
before I sent you word)?"

"Not I."

"How so! Did not you intercede for his release?"

"It is true that I have solicited, but-"

"Is it not to you that he is indebted for his liberation?"

"'Upon my honour, I don't believe he is."

"I wonder, Madame," he exclaimed, rather in an ill humour, "why 
you should reject the manifestation of the father's gratitude, 
and solicit at the same time the son to express the whole of 
his-"

"I, solicit the son! What do you mean, sir?"

"To be sure, Madame; you conceal from me the success you have 
met with, and hurry away to impart it to the Chevalier."

"Pray tell me, sir, she retorted, in a tone of impatience, how 
can I have informed the Chevalier, since I have not-"

"How? By means of the letter which you wrote to him this 
morning."

"The letter!"

Now I could see plainly that during the whole morning the 
Chevalier de Faublas and his father had been playing at cross 
purposes; it was evident that the latter had always meant Madame 
de Fonrose, whereas the former thought only of Madame de B***.

Struck at the warmth of M. de Belcourt's explanation with Madame 
de Fonrose, I could no longer doubt his being very much in love 
with her, and rather jealous of me. Had I spoken a single word, 
I might have vindicated the Baroness; but I wished to avoid 
exposing the Marchioness and picking up a quarrel with the 
Countess. What was I to determine? Whilst I was contriving to 
find out the means of conciliating such jarring interests, 
Adelaide appeared absorbed in deep meditation, Madame de 
Lignolle to be uneasy in her mind, Madame de Fonrose out of 
patience; and the Baron went on, saying:

"Yes, Madame, a letter from you, which was delivered to him as 
we were going by la Porte Saint-Antoine, a letter in which you 
were pleased to call him de Florville."

"De Florville!"

"And in which you inform him that he may expect to receive, in 
the evening, a visit from a certain Madame de Montdesir."

"I rejoice at your having made me acquainted with that name. I 
must confess, however, sir, that I long for your putting an end 
to this untimely, procrastinated joke."

"It depends entirely upon yourself, Madame; you need but make a 
plain confession."

"Of what, sir? Am I accountable for all the whimsical reveries 
that torture your brains?"

"Merely confess," he continued, in an angry tone, "confess that, 
stationed at the extremity of the boulevard, you were waiting 
patiently till the Chevalier should cast a look at you."

"Are you cracking your jokes, sir; or have you lost the use of 
your senses?"

"Confess, Madame; I shall not be angry, though I should think it 
rather surprising that you should have deemed it advisable to 
ride off at full speed, when I offered to look out at the 
window."

"Ride off! A very proper expression!"

"Gallop away, if you like it better."

"This is no less correct!"

"Why not?" vociferated he, quite in a passion; "why not full 
gallop, since you were on horseback, and in man's clothes?"

"Will you tell me that I was on the boulevard this morning on 
horseback, and in man's clothes? Are you in good earnest?"

"Can you deny it! That is going too far! You have been seen, 
Madame, as I now see you."

"Who saw me, sir?"

"My son."

"He?"

"He did; he, in person, did see you."

"If it is so, I shall abide by what he is going to say. Speak, 
Chevalier, is it me whom you have seen?"

"No, Madame, answered I."

"How, sir," exclaimed M. de Belcourt. "Did you not tell me-"

"We did not understand one another, sir; you imagined I meant 
one lady, and I was speaking of another."

"Of whom, then?"

"I beg to be excused."

The Countess, rising with great vivacity, said to me: "I insist 
upon knowing!"

I pretended to laugh, whilst saying: "You wish to know?"

"Yes," returned she, "I wish to know who that female was, who, 
so anxious to see you, was watching your going by this morning, 
and has written to you."

"You wish to know?"

"I do, sir."

"What! In good earnest?" continued I, affecting a great 
surprise; "you wish me to tell?"

"How provoking! I insist!"

"Do you, positively, Madame?"

"To be sure."

"You exact it of me?"

"Out with it, I say."

"But, if I obey you, won't you be angry with me?"

"No."

"Weigh it in your mind."

"I have no patience with you."

"Well, then, suppose I only tell you, and in a whisper?"

"You keep me on the rack! No, sir, speak aloud, that everyone 
may hear you."

"I have your leave?"

"Certainly, since I order you so to do."

"You command me?"

"I do; yes, a hundred times over I do."

"Most likely you have your particular reasons?"

"To be sure I have."

"That alters the case, I therefore shall speak it out." 
(Addressing the Baron and Baroness, and pointing out the 
Countess) "It was this lady."

"That is not true," she cried.

"So, then, you won't believe that I knew you again?"

"I swear it was not me."

I maintained it was her, and put on such an air of assurance and 
of truth that my father believed me. The Baroness herself 
entertained no further doubts. "It is true, she said to the 
Countess, that you sometimes wear men's clothes, and that you 
were not at home this morning when I called. I waited for you 
nearly an hour."

In vain did Madame de Lignolle, more chagrined than I can 
express, cry out: "I was gone to my aunt's, Madame 
d'Armincour's. Never in my life-time have I mounted a horse; 
neither did I know that the Chevalier was to be set at liberty 
so soon."

Her vociferation was of no avail; no one appeared to believe 
her. As for me, persevering in an impenetrable sang-froid, truly 
proper to redouble her impatience, I ceased not repeating 
coolly: "Ah! I knew you again!" I verily believe that the 
Countess would have jumped out of window, if I had been cruel 
enough to deprive her of the only amusement which afforded her 
some consolation-namely, that of pinching my arm; and of 
breaking her fan by knocking it upon my fingers!

"You are angry with me, Madame. I told you that would be the 
case I had foreseen as much when I resisted! Wherefore would you 
compel me to speak out?"

"Why, sir, could I guess-"

"That I would name you?"

"Ah! That is it! you urged me so pressingly, merely that I 
should name another person? I wonder I was not sensible of that. 
I have been very wrong, very wrong indeed! What a dunce I was!"

As I spoke at this rate, I pretended to lower my voice; but, at 
the same time, I took particular care to pronounce distinctly, 
so that all present might hear me. She noticed it, and was so 
vexed in consequence, that she would have beaten me in good 
earnest, if I had not run away.

Oh, my Sophia! I flew to your apartment, and went to your very 
boudoir, there to find a safe asylum.

I was mistaken, however. Madame de Lignolle entered it almost as 
soon as myself. Either too reprehensible, or too thoughtless, I 
only viewed the pleasure of meeting with her in so delicious a 
place, where I had it in my power to have the cruel frenzy 
replaced by the soft effervescence of love. I clasped her within 
my arms! And, in the most affectionate tone, addressed her in 
these words: "Since you assure me it was not you, I must believe 
you; yet I would have bet every louis d'or I am worth, that 
Madame de Lignolle had met me this morning near the boulevard. 
Lovely Countess! What does this mistake which grieves you 
evince? Nothing more, assuredly, except that at all times the 
recollection of you being so predominant, your adorer sees you 
everywhere."

"Well, now," answered the Countess, "this is sound reasoning. 
Why did you not urge it sooner? I would not have been so angry."

She gave me a kiss. I had taken a twofold oath: the one was 
already entirely forgotten, since Madame de Lignolle continued 
in the boudoir, which I had not opposed her entering: the other-
with due humility I confess, though my feelings may be hurt-the 
other, which may not be deemed less essential, I was on the 
point, as irreligiously, and perhaps as promptly, to violate, if 
Madame de Fonrose had not come on a sudden to prevent my 
perjuring myself twice basely at the same moment-alas!

"Come along, my dears," she said, as she opened the door, what 
are you doing there? You act too inconsiderately; you do indeed. 
The Baron is angry; he will not allow his daughter to dine with 
us. In true conscience, is he wrong! Come along with me: let us 
go in again."

"This is a handsome boudoir," said the Countess. "Thither we 
shall return, Monsieur de Faublas, du Portail, de Flourvac, de 
Florville, for you sport half a hundred different names."

"What! Are you apprised of all that, Countess?"

"And of many other things besides. I must tell you beforehand, 
you and I shall quarrel together ere long."

I locked the door of my wife's apartment. The Countess watched 
an opportunity of seizing the key, which she put in her pocket. 
"You probably have another," she said, "and I want this." When 
these two ladies re-entered the saloon, my father was gone. I 
ran out to meet him as he was going out with Adelaide. My dear 
sister's eyes were bathed in tears: [she said] "That lady, dear 
brother, occasions us a deal of trouble. Most likely it is on 
her account that we are not to dine together; she makes too 
free, and is too petulant; believe me, do not trust to her. Let 
me tell you, brother, I dislike those ladies that ride on 
horseback. Don't you, once more, on account of that one, assume 
an Amazon's garb to go and fight her husband. Could you derive 
any pleasure from injuring a man of honour, and like to return 
to the Bastille? Do not fall in love with that lady, I beg of 
you. Think of my bonne amie, she will soon come back; she loves 
you dearly, and I tell you, that Countess would occasion her as 
much sorrow as the Marchioness, who caused her to shed so many 
tears."

Thus would my dear Adelaide, unknowingly, administer good 
advice. But how was I to relish her morality, at a time when the 
Countess was upstairs waiting for me? Could I listen to reason, 
when pleasure was so near at hand? A day will come, my lovely 
sister, yes, a day will come, when you, influenced by your 
passions, will find it difficult, without hard struggling, to 
join example to precept. Till such time, innocent preacher, your 
salutary speech is of no avail, your grief alone perplexes me, 
and whilst your father is taking you back, I shall go to see the 
beloved of my heart.

"I love my second," said Madame de Fonrose, who saw me embrace 
the dear creature. "I love my first", repeated she as Madame de 
Lignolle returned the compliment. But after running between us, 
she added: "Gently, my dears, it grieves me thus to part two 
such pretty creatures, you must, however, postpone concluding 
the riddle."

The Baroness happening to mention the riddle so apropos, I 
became sensible that the Countess kept no secrets from her 
friend.

Placed between two handsome females, one of whom applauded the 
tender language which the other was lavishing upon me, I could 
not but find that, "the moments did slide on promptly," and to 
speak the truth, I thought my father was scarcely gone, when I 
saw him return. The Baron addressed the Countess with cold 
civility. Thanks, however, to Madame de Fonrose, cheerfulness 
prevailed during dinner.

The Baroness would smile at Monsieur de Belcourt at every 
sprightly sentence he uttered, and the gentleman seemed to be 
highly pleased at those smiles. Nevertheless, the Baron, more 
delighted still, at seeing me returned to his table, would 
frequently and for a long time keep his eyes fixed upon me; he 
would often speak of Adelaide, and each time that he mentioned 
her name, the recollection of her being absent caused him to 
heave a deep sigh. During that too short dinner, believe me 
father, and I shall remember it all the days of my life, I 
needed only pay a slight attention to perceive that your 
mistress might occupy your attention momentarily, but that you 
unceasingly felt for your daughter, and that it was on account 
of your son only, that you were made happy. Yes, father, I 
observed you for a single moment only, and I was quite sensible 
that notwithstanding the allurements of that love, so powerful 
and so tyrannical, parental affection alone procured you that 
satisfaction you wished to conceal, and the joy you felt so 
delighted in exhibiting.

A friend to us both came to share in it; the Vicomte de Valbrun, 
who had just been apprised of my release, was come to 
congratulate me upon the occasion. It appeared to me as if 
Madame de Fonrose had wished he had not been in such a hurry. 
The gentleman assumed, when addressing her, the proudly modest 
tone which seems to be the privilege of a former lover, and I 
could see Monsieur de Belcourt, on the reverse, affect to 
display the proud airs of a preferred rival. "The business is 
settled," whispered the Vicomte, who perceived that I observed 
every performer in this scene, quite new to me, "it is a settled 
affair, the Baroness has entirely done with me. Alas!" He 
continued laughing, "I am the author of mine own miseries. The 
Baron having heard from me that you were confined, returned to 
Paris, I introduced him to the Baroness, and on a sudden the 
ingrate seduced her from me. I shall feel quite happy, however, 
if his son condescends to suffer me to continue the tranquil 
possessor of that little Justine, to whom in the present 
circumstances I devote my leisure hours."

"His son, you may rest assured, Vicomte, will not interfere with 
your amours!"

"I dare not trust you; swear by Sophia."

"With all my heart! I swear."

That was a luckless day for me taking my oath: it will soon be 
found that I perjured myself once more.

"When will you have done, gentlemen," said Madame de Lignolle, 
"tired of our whispering. Whom are you speaking of in that 
mysterious converse. Is it of Madame de Montdesir?"

"Madame de Montdesir!" repeated the Vicomte.

"The Countess in a spiteful and ironical tone, replied: "She is 
an unknown fair lady, who intends paying a visit to the 
Chevalier this evening; her intention she has imparted this 
morning in a billet-doux."

Monsieur de Valbrun, with an air of astonishment, again re-
echoed the Countess's last words: "a billet-doux."

"Yes, desire the Chevalier to show it to you, you will find it a 
very interesting epistle."

"Ah! Chevalier, do me that pleasure."

I readily granted the request, and presented the Marchioness's 
letter to Monsieur de Valbrun. He read it over several times, 
seemingly with no less inquietude than attention, and returned 
it to me, without offering the least observation.

But a moment after we had done dinner, he drew me towards one of 
the balconies, and said: "I can guess who wrote that letter."

"I am very glad you did not mention it."

"Oh I make yourself easy. With regard to Madame de Montdesir, it 
is Madame de B*** who-"

Monsieur de Valbrun interrupted, "I am of your opinion; it most 
assuredly must be the Marchioness."

The Vicomte then added: "During the time of your incarceration, 
which might have lasted very long, Justine has told me a hundred 
times that Madame de B*** was continually labouring to procure 
your liberation. She, perhaps, has something very interesting to 
impart."

"Maybe so, and undoubtedly that is the object of her visit this 
evening."

"I am not sorry in the least at her coming to you, since such a 
step may prove serviceable; but be cautious, think of Madame de 
Lignolle, think of Sophia, do not-"

The Countess, who did not lose sight of me for one single 
moment, now came to join us, and put an end to a conversation, 
during which the Vicomte and myself had given a different 
meaning to several words susceptible of being interpreted in 
various ways; once more I must beg my reader's pardon, but we 
too had been playing at cross purposes.

Meanwhile, the Baroness was speaking of going to the opera. As 
soon as Monsieur de Belcourt understood that the Countess would 
not accompany Madame de Fonrose, he declared that he would not 
leave his home. The latter lady tried by her complaisant 
insinuations to induce him to go out, and vexed at finding he 
would not be persuaded, finally vowed that she would stay 
likewise; the Countess, on the other hand, who was uneasy in her 
mind, was protesting that she would keep me company the whole 
evening; and would say in a faltering tone of voice: "I shall be 
glad to know this Madame de Montdesir, so anxious to appoint a 
meeting." She next added, in a mild tone: "Have you not besides 
something particular to say to me?"

I confess that Madame de Lignolle's jealousy and her tender 
vivacity perplexed me strangely. To speak the truth I 
rapturously indulged the sweet hope which her polite question 
had given rise to. "Have you not something particular to say to 
me?" But flattering myself with a sweeter hope still, persuaded 
that, under a fictitious name, Madame de B***, perhaps within 
quarter of an hour, would be in the Chevalier de Florville's 
apartment, I enquired of myself what pressing concern could 
bring her back to me in such a hurry; nay, sometimes I presumed 
to think that love, justly offended at the violent resolutions 
she had formed at the fatal village of Hollrisse, would glory in 
restoring her to me here, more weak than ever. Everyone, of 
course, may judge of the embarrassment of the Chevalier de 
Faublas, anxious to return his best thanks with the utmost 
expedition to his dear benefactress, towards whom he was bound 
to be grateful in more than one way; but followed at every step 
by an eager pupil, who seemed to wait impatiently for the lesson 
which her tutor would have been sorry to refuse her. Let 
everyone, therefore, pity a young man, compelled in the first 
instance to dismiss the handsome Countess to make room for the 
beautiful Marchioness, and subsequently reduced to the hard 
necessity of sending away his primary teacher to receive his 
first pupil; let this be apprehended, lest in such a predicament 
he may commit some blunder. Alas! In so perplexing a situation 
who could, better than myself, have continued in his proper 
senses?

I determined upon what I imagined to be the best plan: I seized 
the opportunity of the Countess and Baroness being in close 
conversation to make my escape; I ran to my apartment, called my 
servant, and said to him: Go, Jasmin, and stand watching at the 
street door; a lady will soon come, who will enquire for the 
Chevalier de Florville; you will desire her to follow you. You 
will even beg of her, very politely, so to do, for she is a lady 
of high rank; on account of its being dark, the porter will not 
see you go by; cross the yard, and go up the private staircase; 
the lady will be kind enough to wait in my apartment; you will 
leave.her then without a light, because it must not be seen from 
the Baron's windows that there is any one in my room; do you 
understand me?

"I do, sir."

"Wait a little, that is not all; instead of calling for me at 
the Baron's, you will go down into the yard, and thrum on your 
violin that tune which you scrape so nicely: Tandis que tout 
sommeille.<47> When you think that I have heard you, come up 
here again and wait for my further commands."

"Have you well comprehended all that I have been saying?"

"I have, sir."

"I need not repeat it, then?"

"No, sir, and you are going to be obeyed. Oh! How glad I am to 
see you again. I was right to say that when my young master 
should return, love and pleasures would revisit my antechamber."

"You were forgetful of your perquisites, Jasmin. Take this, for 
I like men of bright intellects."

I had scarcely left the Countess for a minute and she already 
wanted to send a servant after me. For upwards of an hour I had 
been waiting in her company for the appointed signal. Jasmin 
began-the good fellow scraped like a street fiddler; 
nevertheless, admire the power of my imagination over my senses; 
at the first thrums of the squeaking instrument, methought I 
heard King David playing on his harp, or, if you like it better, 
Amphion fingering his lyre. Never did Violli, our modern 
Amphion, in his best days, draw from his instrument more 
delightful sounds.

Most fortunately my enthusiasm did not enrapture me to such a 
degree as to render me forgetful of the happy moments that 
awaited me. I approached the Countess, and whispered to her, 
with apparent eagerness: "When will you allow me a private 
interview?"

"As soon as possible," she candidly replied: "We only need to 
contrive the means of making our escape."

"I shall weigh it in my mind; try yourself to find out some 
expedient."

"But hear me, I know how to manage it. Sir," she said to my 
father, "I have been told by the Baroness that you liked 
backgammon."

"So I do."

"I am a tolerable good hand at it"

"Would you wish to try a game, Madame?"

"With all my heart"

I was highly surprised at her proposing to play a game with my 
father, in order to procure me a private interview as had been 
proposed! That appeared to me arranging matters very awkwardly; 
I however, felt some consolation from the reflection, that if 
the Countess's paramour was to be a loser, in consequence, the 
Marchioness's lover must be made a gainer. I imagined that I 
should be able to effect my escape without Madame de Lignolle 
noticing it. But I was mistaken. The sweet little creature kept 
watching me, she called me to come near her, insisted upon my 
sitting down, and would not allow me under any pretence 
whatever, to leave my seat.

This had already lasted half an hour, I began to grow tired, and 
the Marchioness likewise, when Jasmin began his solo over again. 
My worthy confidant feared, perhaps, my not having heard him at 
first, for he now made a devilish noise. One may easily conceive 
to what a degree my impatience was heightened by this loud 
scraping; I could feel as if a hundred thousand pins were stuck 
into me, and (mind what ingratitude) Amphion's lyre now appeared 
to me but a sorry bagpipe. The Baron, who happened to make a bad 
move at the time, did not find the music very melodious; he ran 
to the window, opened it, and asked who was the cursed scraper 
who made his head ache. "'Tis me, sir," returned Jasmin, 
thankful for the compliment that had just been paid him; "it is 
me."

"Be so kind as not to interrupt me at this rate."

I, like a dutiful son, through regard for my father, who was 
catching cold at the Window, lustily cried out: "Have done, 
Jasmin, you make such a noise; one can hear you in the drawing-
room as well as if you were in it; be quiet presently, 
presently, you know what I mean?"

"I do, sir, you have said enough, I perfectly comprehend your 
meaning."

Pleased with my zealous interference, the Baron resumed his seat 
with an air of satisfaction: the giddy Countess soon lost the 
game. Under a pretence of having been seized on a sudden with a 
violent headache, she refused taking her revenge, and begged of 
the Baroness to play for her. As soon as Madame de Fonrose had 
taken her place, she joined me in a distant corner; and asked me 
in a low voice whether there was a light on the staircase? 

"There is, my little pupil."

"Go away then, I shall follow you."

"Immediately?"

"Yes, my dearest."

"How imprudent that would be! Beware of attempting it."

"Why not?"

"Because there is no possibility of our leaving the company at 
the same time."

"Don't you say so!"

"Impossible! It would be noticed, and you would be ruined. I am 
going up stairs, it will be thought that I have some business in 
my apartment, and in about half an hour's time-"

"Half an hour? Ah! that is too long."

"It is requisite."

"Would you have me dance attendance here a whole half hour?"

"I shall find it no less tedious than yourself, my lovely 
Countess; but indeed we should act childishly if we were to 
manage it otherwise. See, the Baron has already turned round 
several times, he watches us, he looks as if he was uneasy."

"The Baron! The Baron! what business has he to trouble his head 
about what concerns us?"

"On account of my being his son, he thinks himself entitled to 
look into my little affairs. How can it be helped? Every father 
and mother will assume that ridiculous pretension."

Jasmin no longer durst play on his fiddle; but I could hear him, 
true French singer-like, bawl out, Tandis que tout sommeille.

"I am going, my beloved. I shall wait for you in my bed-room."

"No, wait in the boudoir."

"Why so?"

"Because it is prettier, more conveneient"

"Why, but-"

"In the boudoir, sir, I tell you, I wish it to be in the 
boudoir."

"But-"

"I insist upon it"

"I, therefore, must obey. Now take care to make it half an 
hour."

"Be it so."

"Will you be as good as your word?"

"Yes, yes, I will.

I flew like an arrow. "Get out," Jasmin, "shut the doors after 
you, run to the bottom of the private staircase to wait for the 
lady who will soon come down. You have introduced her 
unperceived?"

"I have, sir."

"Well, use the same precautions when you take her back; where is 
she?"

"Ah! Sir, what a happy mortal you are! What a sweet woman she 
is!"

"Tell me, then, where she is?"

"We first entered the dressing-closet"

"Go on!"

"You won't allow me time, sir! She saw the boudoir, and would 
not proceed any farther. I left her in the dark, as you bade 
me."

"That was right: put this light out too, I have no farther 
occasion for it; get you gone, and close the doors after you."

Close the doors after you! What a wise precaution! What a crack-
brained fellow was! I had forgot the Countess had the second key 
in her possession!

Replete with a fatal security, I crossed over my wife's 
apartment as quick as the surrounding darkness would permit me 
to trace my steps, and entered the blessed boudoir: "dear mamma! 
My sweet friend! Here you are then! The Chevalier de Florville 
at last enjoys the happiness of possessing you in his own 
house!"

"Yes," she answered in a stifled voice: "How tenderly thankful 
must I feel! How I love you! How highly obliged do I feel."

Whilst addressing her so, I was feeling after her; a pair.of 
officious arms encircled me, I was pressed against a gently 
agitated bosom, greedy lips sought mine, and repaid my burning 
kisses, I immediately presumed to venture more; far from 
opposing the least resistance, my fair friend seemed anxious 
only to hasten the success of my bold attempts. Her defeat and 
my triumph were soon complete.

Woe to them who are ignorant of it! Such men as are favoured 
with an ardent imagination, will experience that there are 
certain moments when the feelings of happiness become so acute 
as to absorb every other; when the soul, greedy after one single 
object, and become frantic in consequence of the poignant desire 
of possessing that same object, will create one, and appropriate 
it to himself, though it were an entirely foreign object. The 
illusion then is so overeruling, that no human faculty remains 
capacitated, by exercising its particular powers, to annul the I 
saidllusion; the memory then can no longer recollect, the mind 
is unable to reflect, neither can our judgment compare. Woe to 
him who is ignorant of it yet, as it will be seen presently, I 
had occasion to regret having had one of these fits of delirium.

"Oh, my stars! I hear a noise! Dearest mamma, make your escape!"

How could she have run away? She was without a light, in a 
strange apartment, the windings whereof I myself was scarcely 
familiarised with. I wished to favour her flight; and, laying 
hold of her hand, tried to reach the door of the dressing 
closet, but I had not time. The other door of the boudoir opened 
too soon. Madame de Lignolle, favoured rather too much by chance 
and love, which guided her rapid steps through the dark, was 
reaching the loving pair whom her approach frightened: "I have 
found you at last, my dear," she said, kissing a hand which she 
had just caught hold of; but it was not my hand that she kissed.

The Marchioness, thus detained on a sudden, dared not move; 
whilst I, conscious of her apprehensions and killing 
embarrassment, hastened to throw myself between her and Madame 
de Lignolle and, consequently, to cover with my body that which 
the Countess had seized, and a very useful limb of which she 
kept caressing most tenderly, without interruption.

"I have found you at last, my dear," repeated she. Compelled to 
return an answer, I was so unjust, in my violent perturbation of 
mind, as to reproach her for having come before the appointed 
time.

"Do you find that I am come too soon," she retorted: "I observed 
the Baron to be entirely attentive to his game, could not 
conquer my impatience, and seized the opportunity to give him 
the slip."

"You have acted wrong, madam; you ought not to have been in such 
a hurry ; you should have waited as I had begged of you, and as 
you had promised. My father will perceive your being gone. We 
shall see him coming here -"

Alas ! I little thought I was speaking so true; he was hurrying 
on at that same moment. A loud scream escaped me: "Dear mamma, 
you are ruined!"

The Baron, with a lighted taper in his hand, stopped at the 
door. What a scene did he illumine! He, in the first place, who 
thought of finding only one female with his son, was not a 
little surprised at seeing two, who amicably held each other by 
the hand. Madame de Lignolle next: that good lady, equally 
angry, surprised, and ashamed, sufficiently displayed in her 
countenance, wherein were depicted several opposite jarring 
passions, that she could forgive neither the infidelity, of 
which, no doubt, I had been guilty, nor the insignificant 
caresses with which a moment before she had overwhelmed her 
rival, who, standing motionless, stuck to the wall, appeared to 
be a mere statue. However, you may well imagine, that, of the 
four performers in this strange drama, I was not the least 
thunderstruck, when casting a stolen look upon the unfortunate 
statue, I recognised-I looked at her three times more before I 
could be persuaded that my senses had misled me so far-that 
woman, in whose arms I had fancied I possessed the most 
beauteous of her sex, was only a brunette, tolerably pretty! She 
whom I so recently idolised as Madame de B***, was no other than 
Justine!

Beauty! Heavenly gift! Offspring of Nature and queen of this 
universe! Permit one of your humble, respectful, but sincere 
subjects, to submit to your best judgment a reflection, which 
your enthusiastic worshippers will perhaps call a blasphemy. 
Since it is true that, sometimes heated by love, and 
occasionally cooled by disgust, imagination, ever active and 
inconstant, may at every moment, and a hundred times in a 
moment, either create, or, according to its fancy, can annul 
thee; tell me, what art thou in fact?-in what consists thy most 
attractive charm?-where does thy real power reside?

Wait a little, however. Perhaps it was something superior to 
Justine. That pretty shoe and stocking; that elegant and rich 
gown; that superb hat, surmounted with a waving plume; a 
thousand other appendages, that rouge especially, that noble 
rouge, which never coloured plebeian cheeks, pray what does all 
that portend? Pray tell me. Most assuredly no part of that 
brilliant equipage belongs either to Madame de B***'s waiting 
woman, or to the priestess of the Vicomte's petite maison. Oh, 
Madame de Montdesir! Behold my embarrassed state, and pity me. 
Was it under a recently true-made name that you have entered my 
premeises? Have you, at the cost of some dupe, acquired the 
noble de which precedes it, and which I am proud of for your 
sake. Gently though-the lion's skin is not so dexterously put 
on, but a little bit of the informing ear may be discovered. In 
your court lady's attire, there is--I know not what-an 
affectation of delicacy, that speaks you to be no gentlewoman.

Well, everything duly examined, it was only Justine!

The cunning Countess had discovered as much; and, with a 
contemptuous look, surveyed, from head to foot, her unworthy 
rival.

"You most likely are Madame de Montdesir," she said.

Justine, who had just recovered her presence of mind, replied in 
a sarcastic tone: "Ready to serve you, Madame."

"Madame perhaps is a married woman?"

"Quite so, Madame, to all intents and purposes."

"Is Madame's husband busily employed?"

"Alas! He does his utmost. And yours, Madame?"

"He does nothing at all," replied the Countess, in an ill 
humour. "But you are very bold to interrogate me! Be satisfied 
to answer those questions with which you are honoured. I was 
asking you what your husband did, what was his profession, what 
he is, in short?"

"What he is?-what he is?-why, he is-what yours is apparently, 
likewise, Madame."

I must confess, that once more my behaviour towards Madame de 
Lignolle was reprehensible. This repartee of Justine was truly 
jocular, but I ought not to have burst out laughing at it in the 
presence of the Countess, as I did. To speak the truth, as I am 
now disposed to recount all that passed then, the little lady 
punished me most severely; for she gave me-yes, I believe it to 
be the fact-it was a slap on the face that she gave me!
 
Illustration: My father did not remain a tranquil observer of so 
scandalous a scene

One may easily guess that my father did not remain a tranquil 
spectator of so scandalous a scene; but I do not deem it 
superfluous to relate in what manner he put an end to it, and 
avenged the offence that had been offered me. Monsieur de 
Belcourt pulled the bell, which was answered by a footman, whom 
he ordered to light Madame de Montdesir to the street-door. He 
next addressed the Countess, saying: "Madame, I may be three 
times as old as yourself, I am a father, and you are in my 
house, I therefore deem it incumbent upon me to tell you 
candidly, what I think of your conduct: it is so inconsiderate, 
(and you ought to thank me, if through a particular regard, I do 
not use a harsher expression,) it is so inconsiderate, that your 
extreme youth is the only excuse that can be alleged in your 
favour. Though my son may have mistresses, Madame, it is not 
here that they meet; and never will a woman who retains the 
least idea of common decorum, select for her appointments with 
the Chevalier, his father's house, and his young wife's 
apartment. In short, Madame, a female well brought up, a lady of 
quality especially, will be cautious never to use her lover, 
although he were culpable, and they should be by themselves, in 
the manner you have treated yours, even in my presence."

Madame de Lignolle for awhile stood abashed. The Baron then 
continued, in a less severe tone: "Whenever Madame la Comtesse, 
as a friend to Monsieur de Belcourt, and to the Chevalier de 
Florville, will be pleased to pay a visit to them both at a 
time, she will do them high honour: but to detain you any longer 
today, Madame, would be, in my opinion, to abuse your 
embarrassing situation. Go you, my son, into the saloon, tell 
the Baroness that Madame la Comtesse, who wishes to leave us 
immediately, requests she will see her home, and that she is 
waiting for her in her carriage. Permit me, Madame, to see you 
downstairs."

The Countess, whom ill humour deprived of her proper senses, 
rejected my father's hand, saying: "No, sir, I shall go down by 
myself. You turn me out of your house," she added, 2in that 
dictatorial tone which I never heard from my husband; but 
remember! You may come to my house some day! Come, and you will 
see!"

I could not hear what Monsieur de Belcourt answered to this 
menace, which must have occasioned great surprise. Anxious to 
make amends for the errors I had been guilty of, and to soothe 
my irritated father, I was hurrying to the Baroness, who, 
astonished at the abrupt departure of the Countess, asked me 
what was the occasion of it. I protested that Madame de Lignolle 
would relate, better than I could, all the particulars of the 
calamitous event which deprived me so soon of the pleasure of 
seeing her. Madame de Fonrose leaned on the Vicomte's arm to go 
down, and I attended them as far as the hall. From thence I 
could hear the impatient Countess returning unceasingly this 
only answer: "The perfidious man! The ingrate mortal!"

When I was left alone with my father, he returned to Sophia's 
apartment and I followed him. He stopped facing the door of the 
boudoir: "No living female this morning, "he said, was to be 
allowed to enter these premises, "and this very evening two 
women have been locked up in it!"

"The one that I know not, is no great thing, I believe; but the 
other!-that Madame de Lignolle-I am frightened on her account! A 
woman at her time of life! A mere child, so enterprising, so 
bold? Wherefore must she happen to be a person of rank, 
possessed of great wit, and handsome? I am frightened on her 
account, and on yours no less; I never saw a more lightheaded, 
imprudent, violent woman! Dread her; you yourself are too 
incautious, too petulant; she will expose you too much. Only 
consider how, during several hours, she has already known how to 
make you forget her, whose absence you had been lamenting during 
the whole forenoon! What! Cannot the misfortunes, and the 
uncertain destiny of Sophia sufficiently engross your attention? 
Is it indispensable that several objects at a time should employ 
the activity of your soul, and the fickleness of your senses? 
Will you never be steady? Have the lessons you have received 
from adversity been insufficient? And if your wife, so charming, 
so unfortunately seduced, so respectable, even in her foibles, I 
am not afraid of saying so, your interesting wife, so deserving 
of being loved sincerely, tell me, is she destined to be united 
to the most inconstant of all husbands? Ah, Faublas! Faublas!"

The Baron saw my tears run, and left me without offering a word 
of consolation. How tediously long did the evening appear to me 
and when bed-time was come, how painful did I feel, to be 
reduced, close to the apartment with two large beds, to occupy 
the room which contained only a very narrow one. It is to be 
confessed, however, that I was not so uncomfortable there as in 
the Bastille. In my prison, I would call Death to my assistance; 
at home, I invoked Sleep.

Come, Morpheus, come thou god of married men, what thou art 
continually doing for them all, deign to perform in my behalf, 
for a few hours only: drive from my couch tender inquietudes, 
impatient desires, consuming love; harbour me within thy 
peaceable bosom, summon near us, carelessness, sloth, languor, 
and indifference, dejection and disgust; above all things, 
convey into the very bottom of my soul, the entire forgetfulness 
of my beloved half. But when the light of day shall come to 
disperse the darkness of night, suffer not the Chevalier de 
Faublas to continue in a state so unnatural. Ah! I beseech thee, 
bid the morning dreams to come and caress his refreshed 
imagination; bid them to bring back to him a cherished image; 
allow him at day break to awake in the arms of Sophia. God of 
illusion, thou hast never favoured me but with one dream, but 
shall I be the only single man who shall have derived 
consolation from a dream! To the youth whom thou favourest, to 
the novice whom thou enlightenest, do not your grossest 
impostures appear as sweet reality: yes, beneficent god, thou 
will have restored my fortitude; filled with new hopes, I shall 
rise to accompany you; I next will shut myself up, demand my 
wife of the whole universe; and if love will second me, thou 
shalt soon see me bring back to the temple of Hymen, the beauty 
the most capable of driving thee from within its walls.

Alas! Wherefore was the conclusion of my invocation as ill 
suited as the famous harangue of that loquacious Nestor, to that 
most rancorous Achilles? A god is susceptible of feeling piqued 
the same as a hero: my unworthy petition was rejected, I enjoyed 
neither refreshing sleep nor agreeable dreams, but spent the 
whole night in lamenting a beloved object not being now at hand.

A letter that was brought to me the next morning, however, 
recruited my spirits; I here offer the contents to your perusal.
You never allow, Monsieur le Chevalier, a poor woman time 
to recollect herself. I ought to be accustomed to your 
ways; yet I always suffer myself to be caught, owing to my 
memory not being very retentive, and to my being 
occasionally absent. You, meanwhile, should not have 
forgotten our former agreement, namely, that I should 
always discharge my errand first. 
Yesterday evening, you occasioned me to forget one of high 
importance; a certain great lady, whose very humble maid I 
was only, when you were thought to be her fathful 
attendant, sorry at my not being able to speak to you then, 
as I was commissioned so to do, desires me to write that 
she wishes to have a few moments' conversation with you 
this very day. She will be at my house in two hours' time. 
Come sooner, if you are desirous of our breakfasting tête-
à-tête before she arrives. For my part, I should feel very 
happy if you would; for your manners are so engaging, that 
they are irresistible. 
Wholly yours, De MONTDESIR"

De Montdesir! it is now beyond a doubt, Justine now ranks with 
the nobility. Prosperity brings a great change in one's manners; 
Justine now scorns being called by the same name as her 
ancestors. Her wholly yours, nevertheless, I deem rather 
unbecoming: methinks the dear creature assumes a tone of 
superiority. Why should she? I was born a nobleman, but she is 
handsome. Has the ever-renovated question been hitherto decided: 
whether we were allowed to be more proud on account of having 
fortuitously been favoured with a high birth and great wealth, 
than if chance had dispensed upon us beauty and personal graces? 
Justine, upon some occasions, will act a better part than many a 
duchess; neither durst I boast of being her equal. Give it up, 
Faublas, humble thyself, man, renounce a puerile vanity, 
overlook and forgive the temporary lofty one of thy conqueror.

Let me read over a certain passage in her letter: a great lady 
whose very humble maid, etc." Madame de B***, most certainly! 
The lady wants to see me in a stranger's house! Madame de B*** 
wishes to speak to me in private! Heavenly powers! If love could 
restore her to me as tender-"

"Jasmin?"

"Sir."

"Is anybody waiting for an answer?"

"There is, sir."

"Tell him that I am going directly."

"Why, but she will only be there in two hours."

"What does that signify? Justine will be at home, we shall have 
some chat together; I am low spirited, that will cheer me a 
little. Tell the messenger that I shall follow him close."



XIX.

In fact I reached the Palais-Royal nearly as soon as the 
messenger. What struck me at Madame de Montdesir's, was, not so 
much the beauty of her apartment; the tasteful elegant 
furniture, the impudent look of her young manservant, and of her 
ugly waiting woman, as the true air of protection with which 
Justine honoured me. Reclined on a sofa, she was playing with an 
Angora cat, when my name was called in. "Ha! Ha!" she said, in a 
listless accent; "Well! Let him walk in;" and without either 
rising, or letting go her darling puss, added: "Is it you, 
Chevalier? It is very early; however, you will not incommode me; 
I have had but very little sleep, and shall not be sorry in the 
least at having company." She next addressed her fille de 
chambre: "Are not you going to set this dressing-table to 
rights? I really can't tell how you manage it, but you leave 
everything undone." She spoke to me when my turn was come: 
"There is an armchair, be seated, and let us have a little 
gossip." The waiting woman once more attracted her notice. "That 
will do, I have no patience with you, take yourself off. If 
anybody should come, let them be told that I am not at home."

"You appointed your mantua-maker, Madame?"

"Dear me! How stupid you are, miss! When I say somebody, can I 
mean that creature? Is that dress-maker anyone to mention? Bid 
her to wait"

"But Madame, if she should want to be gone?"

"Bid her wait, that's her province, and yours is to hold your 
tongue. Away with you, begone."

At first I was struck dumb with surprise; but at last I could 
not suppress a loud burst of laughter. Tell me, my beauty, how 
long since have you assumed those princely airs?"

She replied: "It is very proper with such people, and in their 
presence, not to lose sight of one's consequence. Be thou not 
angry therefore at my-"

"What how so? Will Justine presume to thou me?"

"Why not? Since Madame de Montdesir likes you, and since you 
love her."

"You are right, indeed, I have been saying as much to myself 
less than half an hour ago, while perusing your familiar 
epistle. But, permit me to urge an observation: did you not love 
me formerly?"

"Formerly! For shame! I did love you indeed, as much as a 
wretched fille de chambre could love."

"And now?"

"Now my affection is no less, but that affection is more 
delicious, more dignified; for you must know that I am settled, 
I now have a settlement of my own."

"I wish you joy, Madame, and in fact everything here annouuces 
opulence. Do inform me by what means you have acquired so 
brilliant a fortune."

"Most willingly; but I have much more interesting news to impart 
first."

I allowed Justine to proceed with her narrative, and found her 
language to be very correct. It appeared to me, that she had 
improved prodigiously during the last four months, and in 
consequence, I wondered less at the mistake which, on the 
preceding evening, had abused my senses. I durst not affirm, 
however, that I was entirely free from prepossession in the 
present instance; a pretty dishabille will sometimes act more 
powerfully than is thought of; neither can they who have never 
experienced it, imagine how many new attractions a more elegant 
dress will add to the charms, already familiar, of a young 
female who had neglected her mode of decking herself out. I 
shall even say here what many men perhaps do not know, but that, 
which for certain no female is ignorant of, namely, that 
oftentimes a coquette, either forsaken or betrayed, has only 
needed, in order to bring back the disgusted or inconstant 
lover, to add a flower to her head-dress, a fringe to her 
waistband, or a flounce to her petticoat. It can't be helped! I 
am sorry for it, myself; but love is amused with those trifles; 
he is a child, who must he supplied with toys. At any rate, I 
hope you will understand my meaning, that you will comprehend 
what sort of love I am speaking of, when I mention the name of 
Justine collectively.

Don't you imagine, nevertheless, that I have entirely forgotten 
Monsieur de Valbrun. Yet, to speak the truth, I only thought of 
him and my promise so late that Madame de Montdesir had no cause 
left either to wonder at it or to complain; but it was solely in 
consequence of my bad memory, and not at all a voluntary mishap, 
for were it so, I would confess it as candidly. Now that we were 
disengaged and at liberty to enter into a confidential discourse 
I desired Madame de Montdesir to let me know the nature of the 
Vicomte's concern in her favour; she, without the least 
hesitation, told me all the particulars. Monsieur de Valbrun, 
soon tired of his petite maison, but more attached daily to his 
mistress, had furnished an apartment for Justine, to whom he 
allowed twenty-five louis d'ors per month, besides paying her 
rent, frequently likewise making her presents, and sharing in 
the expenses of her housekeeping; that was what the lady termed 
having a settlement. As soon as I knew her to be to all intents 
and purposes no better than a woman in keeping, I begged of her 
most seriously to consider me only as a chance visitor, and 
pulled out of my pocket a few Louis, which I insisted upon her 
accepting. I cannot forbear submitting upon the present 
circumstance, to my readers, an observation illustrative of our 
manners. When, in former times, Justine, waiting-woman to the 
Marchioness, and confined in the obscurity of her servile 
situation, was willing, in her leisure hours, generously to 
surrender her person to whomsoever she appeared handsome, I did 
not scruple loving her gratuitously; nay, I considered as a mere 
effect of my liberality, the trifling presents with which I 
occasionally rewarded her complaisant affection. Now that Madame 
de Montdesir, a stipendiary of the Vicomte, brought her charms 
to market, I should have thought it indelicate to fatigue those 
charms without allowing the owner a remuneration. All among our 
young nobility who are possessed of principles, will reason and 
behave in this same manner; hence it proceeds, that for a female 
who relies upon her beauty to procure a fortune, the most 
difficult part does not consist in finding out half-a-hundred 
coxcombs, whom she may persuade of her being a meritorious 
object, but an honourable man who will take it into his head to 
set a price upon her accomplishments.

Be it as it may, I paid Madame de Montdesir, and made so bold as 
to call for breakfast, which was brought up by the saucy-looking 
footman. The fellow was of a handsome figure, and I could 
immediately perceive that his mistress did not address him so 
peevishly and with those haughty airs which she exhihited when 
she spoke to her waiting-woman. I am observing you all this 
while, Madame de Montdesir, and see that you do not pay 
sufficient attention to what you are about, that you are 
forgetful of that consequence which you had been mentioning, now 
that you are speaking to your footman. If I am not widely 
mistaken, you retain in your actual state of grandeur, the 
original disinterested propensities of your former situation in 
life! Justine, this young gentleman puts me in mind of La 
Jeunesse. Ah my dear Vicomte, take care of yourself; look sharp! 
Henceforth you alone will be entitled to keep the watch, for I 
protest that in future I shall have nothing to do with your kept 
mistress. But let us give up speaking of Madame de Montdesir; 
methinks I can hear Madame de B***.

This lady did not make her entrance the same way I had made 
mine. I saw her make her appearance on a sudden in the room 
which Madame de Montdesir had just left. I ran and threw myself 
at her feet, which I embraced. The Marchioness stooped to give 
me a kiss, but seeing that I was rising with the intent of 
repaying the compliment, she drew back a couple of paces, only 
presenting me her hand through mere civility, but with that air, 
which far from soliciting a caress, seemed to command respect. 
For my part, delighted at holding within mine that hand which I 
had cherished for such a length of time, I was fully sensible, 
while covering it with burning kisses, that ever deserving of 
being loved, she was too pretty to inspire only respect or 
friendship. Madame de Montdesir came forward to pay her 
obeisance to Madame de B***, who received her as she formerly 
was in the habit of welcoming Justine. "I am satisfied," my 
girl, she said, "with your zeal, and the skilful and expeditious 
manner with which you have attended to my commands; you know me, 
and shall not have to complain of my want of gratitude. You may 
go now; shut the door after you, that no one may come to 
interrupt us."

No sooner had she obeyed than I endeavoured to express how 
thankful I was for Madame de B***'s kind visit, and the excess 
of my joy. "Chevalier," retorted the Marchioness, withdrawing 
her hand, which most likely I squeezed rather too hard, "you are 
not going to hear me, through false delicacy, pretend to deny 
what thousands of people will soon know, and will come to inform 
you of: it is owing to me that the gates of the Bastille have 
been thrown open to you. Perhaps Montdesir has told you to what 
degree, in consequence of my being a constant attendant at court 
during four long months, my credit there has been increased; and 
I can assure you, my good friend, that the consideration of your 
unhappy situation, which I was anxious to relieve, was not the 
least inducement that prompted me to persevere in my ambitious 
projects. I have now attained the highest degree of favour which 
a courtier can aim at, and if your liberation, at first sued for 
in vain almost daily, but finally obtained, notwithstanding a 
thousand obstacles and as many enemies, has not signalised as 
soon as I could have wished the whole extent of my interest, I 
may boast of its being the most unequivocal proof of my credit; 
neither am I afraid to confess that your release is the most 
gratifying success I ever wished for. Do not believe, however, 
that the good offices of your best friend are to stop there. I 
am well aware that you do not value liberty as the chief 
blessing: I know that Faublas, although unceasingly caressed by 
several sweethearts, cannot be happy so long as he languishes 
separated from the woman he has always cherished. I intend to 
restore her to him; I am determined to find out du Portail's 
place of residence, though it were at the furthest end of the 
universe."

"Oh, my benefactress!" I exclaimed; "Oh, my generous friend!"

The Marchioness drew back her hand as I was preparing to lay 
hold of it again, and proceeded as follows: "And when I shall 
have succeeded in bringing together a charming couple, I shall 
presume, for the sake of their mutual happiness, to attempt a 
bolder stroke still, I shall endeavour, if Faublas is willing to 
repay my care by reposing confidence in me, and if he allows me 
to enlighten his inexperience by my advice, I shall endeavour to 
guard him against the allurements of my sex and the wanderings 
of his own. I shall exert my utmost powers to make him sensible 
that a young man, favoured as he has been by Hymen, must derive 
happiness from his being a faithful husband. Imagine not that I 
am ignorant of the difficulties attendant upon such an 
undertaking. No, I can foretell that from you I am to expect the 
greatest obstacles. I am no stranger to your impatient vivacity, 
which seldom allows you time to resist perilous opportunities; I 
know, likewise, that your fiery imagination will frequently 
induce you to go in quest of them. These, Faublas, are the 
enemies I dread above the angry fits of your giddy Countess, 
more than the skilful instigations of her intriguing friend, the 
Baroness."

"I here interrupted Madame de B***: "What! Are you acquainted 
with those ladies? How came you to know?"

"Monsieur de Valbrun," she replied, "leaves very few secrets 
untold to Madame de Montdesir, who, for three months past keeps 
none from me."

The looks which Madame de B*** cast upon me, while laying a 
decided stress on the words keeps none from me, would not allow 
me to question the meaning she intended to convey. I could not 
help blushing; the Marchioness noticed my confused state, and 
said to me: "Let us have done with Justine for the present, we 
shall speak about her presently; but it is proper before that, I 
should acquaint you with Madame de Fonrose's true character: 
neither shall I be sorry to let you know how Madame de Lignolle 
is known to me."

"The little Countess, proud of her attractions, which she thinks 
are matchless; of her wit, which she is told is genuine; of her 
birth, the legitimacy whereof she is not apprised of being 
brought into question; of the immense fortune and title she is 
in hopes of inheriting; presuming on account of those 
advantages, for which she is obliged to her weak aunt and the 
most imbecile of husbands, the fair little Countess thinks 
herself entitled to claim adoration and respect. Giddy, 
imperious, obstinate, whimsical, and jealous, she has every 
imperfection of a spoilt child. She will always evince being 
less actuated by the gratification of proving agreeable, than by 
the happiness of commanding; she will be found the most 
troublesome mistress, as she is known to be the most impertinent 
of all women: ere long, she will take one of her footmen for her 
paramour, in like manner as she has made a slave of her husband. 
I warrant you, she is no more capable of disguising her 
extravagant opinions, than of curbing her unruly passions. You 
accordingly will hear her continually striving to justify and 
defend by her nonsensical talk, the blunders she may have 
previously committed; I shall even go so far as to assert, that 
with the inexhaustible stock of conceit which she is known to be 
possessed of, in vain would she struggle to mend the combined 
vices of nature and education.

"With regard to the Baroness, she is well known; for which 
reason no one can have the least regard for her. Her scandalous 
behaviour early in life brought her husband to an untimely 
grave. He was a very worthy character; the only fault he 
deserved to be reproached with was to have tried, in his 
elevated rank, to inspire his wife with plebeian virtues. The 
noble lady, in consequence, when in a humour to crack her jokes, 
always called him le philosophe de la Rue Saint Denis. As soon 
as her husband was dead, Madame de Fonrose being at full 
liberty, hastened to confirm the opinion which she had already 
established. She has been seen to rise above decorum so 
ornamental to her sex, and in every circumstance, with stoical 
effrontery, to maintain her notorious character. In less than 
ten years' time her conquests had become so numerous, that for 
fear of forgetting some of them, she has wisely determined, of 
late, to publish a list of them. The name of your father ranks 
the thousandth in this endless vocabulary, and will probably be 
followed by a thousand more, besides your own. What renders it 
more surprising still is the invincible boldness of that woman, 
capable of putting up with the uninterrupted favours of so many 
people that she welcomes them all, and never rejects any one. 
Never will the first new-comer make room for the last in that 
Messalina's good graces. She will keep thirty at a time, if 
thirty are willing to stop. In case someone should dislike this 
order of things, he withdraws himself without complaining. If 
the vacuum which he has left should happen to be found out it is 
immediately filled up; but, invariably, should the deserter 
return after six months' absence, he is always sure of being 
well received. Do not imagine, however, that such minute details 
alone are sufficient to occupy the whole capacity of the 
Baroness's head. Her intriguing genius requires occupation 
abroad. Vexed at the leisure hours which her own amours leave 
heavy on her hands, her only consolation consists in favouring 
the amours of her acquaintances. Go to her house on a day when 
she receives company, and you will see her surrounded by groups 
of young men whom she has in training, and of youthful lasses 
whom she introduces.

"Such are the female enemies which, assisted by you, I intend to 
oppose; yet I should think it advisable, for a while, to let 
them enjoy the pleasure of triumphing over you, and swell the 
immense catalogue of those men whom Madame de Fonrose has made 
happy. That woman, too busily engaged already, will not be able 
to detain more than one single day a youth, whom I know to be 
endowed with feelings, and I hope, with delicacy. As for Madame 
de Lignolle, I shall allow her to keep you for a few weeks. 
Since you stand in absolute want of an object of amusement, I 
prefer, to any other, a giddy child, who will inspire you with a 
transient whim at most. Be you, then, in your leisure hours, the 
doll which she will be fond of; but rememher, that as soon as I 
shall have succeeded in bringing Sophia back, you must give up 
the Countess forever."

I promised the Marchioness to hehave as she directed; thanked 
her for the interest she showed me, and engaged to love my wife 
alone, as soon as she was restored to me. I felt much chagrin, 
however, at Madame de B*** insisting upon my remaining faithful 
to Sophia, and in order that no one should find fault with the 
lively displeasure I felt involuntarily, I hasten to inform 
everyone that the Marchioness, at that period, more than ever, 
shone in all the lustre of youth and beauty. Her skin appeared 
to me more dazzling fair; her rosy complexion more blooming, my 
memory pointed out to me other charms which my imagination 
depicted as being brought to a much higher degree of perfection; 
true, indeed, I was forced to acknowledge at the same time, 
there was a something more steady, more decent in her still 
enchanting countenance, and in her whole person, still 
completely graceful, a dignified air inimical to amorous 
approaches. I could feel exasperated: twenty times I was on the 
point of recalling to her those recollections which agitated my 
mind, the painful remembrances of my former happiness; but as 
many times she silenced me by a look that seemed to say: pity my 
distress, and respect your friend.

I was forced to abide by the injunction, and to listen a little 
longer without interrupting. She entered into a particular 
detail of the means she could now command, and proposed going to 
find out Madame de Faublas; and when she had convinced me, she 
thought, that no one could discover where Sophia was, if Madame 
de B*** did not, she spoke to me about Justine.

"That young woman," she said, "has engaged to throw no obstacle 
in my way, and to allow me to make a good boy of you; but I 
doubt her being able constantly to adhere to so involuntary a 
determination. I therefore beg you will condescend not to put 
her to too severe a trial. You cannot," she said in a more 
serious tone, "in common decency continue as intimate with her 
as you have been for a long time past. An intrigue of that sort 
is totally unbecoming of you, my good friend. You are neither so 
foolish as to intend making Madame de Montdesir's fortune, nor 
base enough to pay her gratuitous visits. It seems to be the 
general opinion now-a-days, that the rich libertine who goes 
unceasingly cheapening those girls, is less contemptible than 
the obscure coxcomb who courts their favour; but it has not yet 
been determined whether it is more absurd to pay very dear for 
their good graces which the purchaser cares very little for, 
than it appears disgraceful to obtain them by cringing, when in 
want of gold to become the best bidder. What has been truly 
ascertained is, that whoever is so unfortunate as to be fond of 
the company of women of that class, must soon, unless he takes 
care, forfeit besides his property, the esteem of all honourable 
people, and ruin his constitution, and finally blush at his own 
conduct."

I candidly apprised the Marchioness of Madame de Montdesir 
having violated her rash vows that very morning: I even 
recounted to her by means of what sweet illusion, in order to 
procure one of the most happy moments in my life, I had, on the 
preceding day, emhellished Justine with all the attractions of 
Madame de B***. I observed the Marchioness to blush repeatedly, 
and heard her sigh several times, in consequence of my 
unpardonable error. Emboldened by her confused state, I presumed 
to risk a gentle caress, and an insidious question. "Do you ever 
think of me, dear mamma? Does never a soft recollection?-"

Madame de B*** having already recovered her composure, 
interrupted me: "Ought you to ask whether I think of you! Does 
not all that I say to you evince that, continually bearing in 
mind your dearest interest, your friend-"

"Is it true, then, that you are my friend? Alas! You no longer 
are but a friend then?"

"Faublas, you ought to congratulate me."

"Dear mamma! I can only complain."

"Faublas, you should have said Madame."

"Madame! To you? I shall never get accustomed to it."

"It is requisite you should though, Faublas."

"Ma-Madame, my name is Florville."

"So much the better, I thank you for your condescension."

"Dearest mamma! How happy!"

"My good friend, you should say Madame"

"What happiness does that name put me in mind of!"

"Let us speak of something else, and have done with that."

"With what exquisite pleasure I rememher the amiable Vicomte who 
was called by that name!"

"Pray, once more, let us speak of something else."

"Oh I that I was Mademoiselle du Portail still!"

"Chevalier, introduce some other topic."

"Oh! That we were still going to Saint Cloud together"

"My stars! It is twelve already," she exclaimed, looking at her 
watch. "Before I leave you, however, Florville, I want to send 
you on an errand. She drew from her pocket-book a paper, which 
she delivered into my hands. I have petitioned myself the 
Secretary of State for this letter, which recalls back to France 
my most mortal enemy; have the goodness to direct it to Count 
Rosambert, at Bussels, where he now is. Inform him that he is at 
liberty, under his own name, to return to the metropolis, and 
even to make his appearance at court. I give you leave to let 
him know that she whom he had affronted, and who needed only to 
speak a single word to have his estates and property 
confiscated, to have him dismissed from his majesty's service 
and made an exile for life, has just obtained his restoration to 
his former rank and honours. He must not expect, however, my 
renouncing to be revenged, but it will be a becoming revenge 
that I propose taking. His base offence will not provoke a base 
chastisement. To inflict a noble punishment upon a man, who, 
forgetful of his high rank, has presumed to insult me grossly, 
will be to inflict a twofold punishment. Adieu, my friend."

"Adieu, Madame. Shall I he deprived long of the happiness of 
seeing you again?"

"No, Florville, I intend coming here sometimes."

"Say, often."

"Well, often, if I have it in my power."

"And soon?"

"As soon as possible."

"Within a few days?"

"Justine will let you know when. Adieu, my friend."

When Madame de B*** was gone, I called Madame de Montdesir.

"Tell me, I said, where does that passage lead to through which 
I saw the Marchioness come in and make her exit!"

"To the jeweller's next door, whom the lady has paid most 
liberally to allow its being made. This is to answer the same 
purpose as the boudoir at the milliner's."

"Oh! No, Justine, this is not for the same purpose, far from 
it."

"How so! Has our mistress been shy?"

"She has."

"Perhaps it is on account of your being a married man?"

"Do you think so?"

"Who can tell? I know that for my part it would occasion me a 
deal of vexation, and that I should he very angry at first. But 
we poor women cannot bear malice long. I should soon make it 
up."

"So then you are of opinion that the Marchioness-"

"Will soon be appeased. Make yourself easy. Besides," she added, 
in a careless tone, "I know that you are not without some 
consolation left you."

Madame de Montdesir, in fact, seemed much disposed to offer me 
some, but I summoned fortitude enough to do without.

Jasmin was waiting for me with great impatience. He informed me 
that Madame de Fonrose had just sent to beg of me to call upon 
her. I first wrote a short letter to Count Rosambert, which I 
had carried to the post-office, and immediately went to meet the 
Baroness.

When the Chevalier de Florville's name was called in, Madame de 
Fonrose let an exclamation of joy escape her. She took me to her 
dressing closet, placed me facing a looking-glass, and rang for 
one of her maids, who, less handsome, though equally clever as 
Justine, by means of using some ribbon and a few flowers, soon 
dressed my head in as elegant a manner as any young lady could 
have wished. I next was decked in a lilac-coloured India silk 
gown, and petticoat of the same, and to complete the 
metamorphosis my feet were confined in a pair of small shoes 
from the Cadran Bleu. Madame de Fonrose dismissed the waiting-
woman, and kissed me repeatedly, protesting at the same time 
that I looked as lovely as most persons of the sex. I was just 
going, imprudently, to return her flattering discourse and 
tender caresses, when a servant in waiting bawled out from the 
door, Monsieur de Belcourt.

The Baroness, apprehensive lest my father should enter the 
dressing closet, shut the door, and received him in the next 
room. "I am come," said the Baron, "to beg your pardon, load you 
with reproaches, and express my regret. We were obliged 
yesterday to part rather suddenly: I suffered much in 
consequence, but it was your own fault entirely; you had 
introduced to me the most frolicsome little creature-"

"Say a charming woman, sir, handsome, lively, witty-"

"That may he, Madame, but-"

"Have done with your but!"

"I must confess," he continued, "that I feel some inquietude in 
my son embarking in a new intrigue. It would be too grievous for 
me to think that his wife will be gone forever."

"For God's sake, Baron, make yourself easy! When she returns she 
will have her husband back again."

"It will be too late; perhaps he will not love her so much; yet, 
indeed, his Sophia deserves to be happy."

"There you are again! I wonder at you! According to your maxim, 
it would appear as if the perpetual adorations alone of her 
husband can constitute the happiness of a wife; and you have 
brought from the country the obsolete notion that every good 
husband, plebeian-like, must overwhelm his wife with incessant 
love. What uninhabited part of the world are you come from, my 
dear sir? Don't you know that gentlemen in the present time 
marry only that they may keep a house and procure an heir to 
their estate?"

"And that is the reason why, Madame, those gentlemen you are 
speaking of, after some years' marriage, have neither estate, 
house, nor children of their own."

"Indeed, you are the most entertaining man in the world when you 
wish to take the trouble."

Then, turning towards a footman: "Let the carriage be got 
ready."

"Don't you dine at home, "resumed my father.

"No, I am prevented."

"I intended to spend the evening with you."

"I am very sorry, but it is not in my power."

"May I take the liberty, without being impertinent, to ask where 
you intend going?"

"I shall dine with the little Countess."

"Are you going alone?"

"No."

"With my son, perhaps?"

"With the Chevalier? By no means."

"Yon are cracking your jokes."

"I give you my word of honour it is not your son who is to 
accompany me."

"Who then?"

"A young person, whom I do not believe you ever heard of."

"What is her name?"

"Mademoiselle de Brumont."

"De Brumont no, I do not know her. Is she to come and fetch you, 
or will you go for her?"

"Why, but-I cannot tell, I am waiting."

"Will you stop late at Madame de Lignolle's?"

"I had thought of coming home early, that I might sup with you."

"That was a bright thought, an excellent idea. I would be denied 
to everyone if you did not dread finding a tête-à-tête tedious."

"I would only apprehend finding it too short."

He then kissed her hand. A servant now came in to let the 
Baroness know that her carriage was ready. Mademoiselle de 
Brumont, eager to join her mistress, found that the Baron's chat 
with his, lasted too long.

Yes, my Sophia, I must beg your pardon upon the occasion; 
Faublas was ruminating on the means of speedily dismissing his 
father.

Agatha, the expeditious chamber-maid, who had dressed my hair so 
well, consented to receive a louis d'or, and to show me some 
mercy. She led me through a back staircase into the yard, where 
I found the carriage, and then went to tell her mistress that 
Mademoiselle de Brumont was just arrived, but that upon being 
informed that Madame de Fonrose was engaged, and unwilling to 
receive company, she was waiting below for the Baroness.

My message was delivered very punctually: I soon saw Madame de 
Fonrose coming down, and leaning upon my father's arm. He cast 
an inquisitive look at me in the coach, but I was so uncivil as 
to hide my face with my fan.

We drove off. The Baroness laughed heartily; she congratulated 
me on the result of my stratagem. She took hold of my hand, 
gently squeezed it, honoured me with several tender glances, and 
more than once repeated that my father might be considered as a 
most amiable man, but that I was the most charming woman she had 
ever seen. Madame de Fonrose was kind enough to warn me that the 
Countess, very angry still, no doubt, might at first treat me 
with no kind reception, but, she added, you soothe her, as all 
women are to be soothed, by oaths, encomiums, and caresses.

The Count and Countess were together, when we sent in our names. 
Indeed it is her! said the Count. Madame de Lignolle, yielded to 
her first impulse, rose, and opened her arms to me; but on a 
sudden, actuated by a contrary sentiment, she threw herself back 
on the chair, and cried out: "I will not see her." I was going 
away, the Baroness prevented me, and said: I have brought her 
back to you very repentant, and sorry for what has happened: I 
can assure you, she longs to be deserving of forgiveness."

"Forgiveness for such deep ingratitude!"

"To be sure," said M. de Lignolle, "this young lady has presumed 
to behave here in a very strange manner. To stop only two or 
three days, and then to give us the slip without saying a word! 
She ought at least to have given notice to the Countess."

"To me, sir? Notice! that would have been acting most wisely, 
indeed. You are speaking nonsense, sir: I am not to be given 
notice to because I am not to be left."

"It is to be owned, however, that Mademoiselle was at liberty; 
she has as much right of sueing for her discharge, as you had to 
dismiss her."

"But in such a case, I shall repeat it over again, notice should 
be given on both sides, some days beforehand."

"I beg, sir, you will keep your observations to yourself. 
Perhaps they might divert me at another time, but now I confess 
I find them tedious."

The Count held his tongue, and I began to speak: "I confess, 
Madame, that I have behaved towards you in an improper manner; 
but appearances made me look more blameable than I am in 
reality."

"How so! Do you pretend to say, that you have not been 
unfaithful?"

"And for four months' continuance," interrupted the Count. "Four 
months without even letting us hear from you! The Countess is 
very right, that was not behaving well."

"Something may, nevertheless, he said in her favour," observed 
Madame de Fonrose: "I have heard from good authority, that those 
four months' ahsence appeared to her very tedious, and that if 
she had been allowed to come and see you, she most heartily 
would have availed herself of the permission."

"In vain would you attempt, Madame, to apologise for her; you 
know that she has betrayed me!"

"To be sure," said M. de Lignolle, "it is a kind of treason."

"She has sacrificed me!"

"Yes, indeed, she has truly sacrificed us, if she went to take 
another situation."

"That is exactly what she has done," resumed the Countess.

"I confess, Madame, I have acted wrong, but-"

"You hear what she says", she interrupted again, lifting up to 
the ceiling her pretty little hands, with which she next covered 
her eyes. "You hear her plain enough! She went to take another 
situation, she don't deny it."

"I beg, Madame, you will only listen to what I have to say more-
"

"She went to take another situation!" repeated the Countess, in 
doleful accents: and her eyes were filled with tears."

"Was it with a lady," asked the Count?

"Undoubtedly," exclaimed Madame de Lignolle, with great 
vivacity; "what queer questions you will ask, sir!"

He then addressed me: "Who is the lady with whom you engaged?"

"What is that to you?" interrupted the Countess again. "It 
little signifies in what capacity even."

"Is she a lady of quality?" asked the husband.

"As much so as my groom."

"And what is she?"

"What is she? What is she," retorted the Countess, whose anger 
was heightened at every interrogation of her inquisitive 
husband; "She is a dealer in bad practices and nonsensical 
jokes."

"And what is her name?"

Madame de Lignolle exclaimed: "Oh! I know what her name is; but 
I wish you would tell me, Mademoiselle."

"Madame, I beg you will excuse me."

"No shuffling excuse, Mademoiselle, I insist upon it."

"Well, Madame, her name is Montdesir."

"Montdesir! I was sure of it."

"Montdesir!"

"She has left me for another! She went to live with a Madame 
Montdesir!"

The Countess again wept bitterly.

The Baroness said to me in a whisper: "She now sheds tears, she 
presently will be soothed, she soon will forgive. Kneel before 
her, and beg her pardon."

I did so. I emhraced her knees; and, while Madame de Fonrose was 
administering to her, in a low tone of voice, some consoling 
discourse, the Count addressed me, frequently intermingling some 
of the most gentle upbraidings with parental remonstrances: "You 
are very young, Mademoiselle de Brumont, and are endowed with 
both personal attractions, and an agreeable wit; you, 
nevertheless, must not expect to mend your circumstances if you 
are fickle-minded, if you will not attach yourself to anyone, if 
you accept of a situation anywhere, without being disposed to 
settle with any family. Whom did you prefer to us? Tell me, I 
pray. A plebeian, a mean character, a philosopher, I would lay a 
bet. Were not you a thousand times more comfortable here? I do 
not believe I was ever deficient in showing respect to a young 
lady for whom I had conceived the highest esteem; as for my 
wife, she was quite fond of you. In the first place, without 
speaking of manifold other advantages, you enjoyed one in our 
house, which is seldom to be met with elsewhere, namely, of 
guessing riddles every day, and of composing as many yourself as 
you pleased."

The grief of the Countess continued not proof against the last 
observations of her husband. Monsieur de Lignolle had scarcely 
done speaking, but Madame fell into convulsive fits of 
inextinguishable laughter. On a sudden, deep sorrow was replaced 
by sportful joy on that charming visage, where smiles and tears 
were intermixed. I could easily perceive that Madame de Fonrose, 
the same as myself, would have paid very dear to be at liberty 
to laugh as loud as the Countess; but I was equally afraid as 
herself of creating strange suspicions in the mind of her 
husband, who was looking at us, and who must already feel much 
surprised at his lady's deep grief and unhounded joy. The Count, 
in fact, noticed my state of perturbation, and addressed me as 
follows, to quiet me: "You look quite abashed, mademoiselle; but 
nothing of all this must surprise you. No affection whatever of 
the soul escapes me. During the time of your absence, the good 
humour of my wife had undergone a striking alteration, but I 
discovered there was a possibility of making her cheerful, and 
spoke to her about riddles. She no sooner heard the word, than 
she burst out laughing ready to split her sides. I repeated the 
experiment several times, and always with a similar success. You 
have witnessed it yourself; she has been laughing this quarter 
of an hour without interruption. Look at her now! The fit 
redoubles!"

The Countess, in fact, burst out laughing again, and Madame de 
Fonrose gave up all constraint. I was incapable of resisting the 
temptation; neither could M. de Lignolle see three people so 
merry without joining with us. Our boisterous laughing must have 
been heard all over the neighbourhood.

Notwithstanding Mademoiselle de Brumont was made half crazy, the 
Chevalier de Faublas retained the use of his senses. His greedy 
lips pressed her lily arm, as smooth as ivory, and with a 
caressing hand, he gently squeezed a pair of pretty knees.

"Grant her forgiveness," said Madame de Fonrose, who was 
continually looking at me, and could see every detail of the 
ludicrous pantomime. "Grant her forgiveness," the husband re-
echoed, who, not satisfied with applauding my actions by his 
looks and gestures, stooped twice to whisper into my ear these 
very encouraging words: "Go on! Go on! Do not get tired; 
persevere, you will gain your point."

"Forgive me," I exclaimed, in my turn, with tender accent, and 
in a supplicating voice: "forgive me, for I repent, and I love 
you."

"I love you, likewise," she answered, embracing me: "And I 
forgive you, she added, embracing me again, "but you must 
promise never to visit that Madame de Montdesir again."

"I never will."

"That you will never settle but with me."

"Never."

"That being the case, I forgive you! I love you! And kiss you! 
And, if you are as good as your word, I will love and kiss you 
as long as I live!"

"Well, then," exclaimed the Count, delighted at his lady's being 
in such good spirits, "since Madame loves, kisses, and forgives 
you, I wish also to forgive, love, and kiss you."

He then honoured me with several kisses.

"And I, too," said Madame de Fonrose, "must love, forgive, and 
kiss you, for I have been highly entertained by you for the last 
half hour."

"Who will now pretend to say," resumed the Count, with a 
triumphant air, "that riddles are of no utility whatever? See 
how they have put us all in good humour, in what manner a 
reconciliation has taken place so soon as-"

The Countess interrupted him: "The Count is speaking of riddles; 
would you believe it, Mademoiselle de Brumont? He has not yet 
been able to guess our last."

"The reason why, is, because it is not exact"

"That I call a substantial reason," exclaimed Madame de Fonrose: 
"How comes it that your riddle was incorrect?"

I pointed to the Countess, and replied: "This lady was the real 
author."

"True," answered the latter, "but it was at your instigation."

"It does not signify," resumed the Baroness, "since it is not 
exact, you must begin over again."

"We intend as much, Madame," said the Countess.

"Undoubtedly, "observed M. de Lignolle, "you must begin over 
again."

"Will that give you any satisfaction, sir?"

"Most assuredly, Madame, I should he highly pleased. I even wish 
I were allowed to help you."

"I return you a thousand thanks; I will have no other tutor, in 
future, than Mademoiselle de Brumont. Besides, sir, perhaps it 
might be to no purpose that you would attempt to become mine."

"You may be in the right! I have already composed above five 
hundred poems, in enigmas and riddles. It would be an arduous 
task for me to have to go over the first rudiments again."

I then said to him: "Give me leave to observe, sir, that my lady 
Countess is young, inquisitive, and anxious to learn."

"Well, then, mademoiselle, you want no help-mate to teach her 
all that it is requisite she should know. I am thoroughly 
persuaded that you are fully capacitated to teach your pupil 
excellent principles, and when you have taught her the first 
elements, I willingly engage to finish-"

"By no means; the pleasure and glory of her education I shall 
not allow anyone but myself to enjoy."

"Please yourself. That, however, will not prevent my feeling a 
lively interest for the progress of your pupil."

"What you are so kind as to say, sir, will certainly prove a 
great encouragement to me, and I promise to give my lady 
Countess the best lessons in my power."

"Do, mademoiselle, do."

"I shall compose many a riddle with her, I assure you."

"Do, mademoiselle, do."

"So, then, sir, I may attend to those lectures, without running 
the risk of displeasing you."

"Indeed, Madame, you may, and all day long, if you like it."

"Now then, I am satisfied! I rather scrupled at so doing, at 
first, because I was afraid of assuming a privilege that I had 
no right to; but, since I have obtained your permission, I am 
quite easy in my mind."

"So much the better; but I invite you to begin over again that 
which you had only sketched; for I certainly should have found 
it out if it had been completed. Come, mademoiselle, go to work, 
no mauvaise honte;<48> begin over again, and do things better."

"I shall try whether I cannot, sir."

"Do your best, and be as quick as possihle."

"Directly, if my lady Countess likes."

"No, not quite so soon," quoth the Baroness, "let us dine first, 
you will have plenty of time. I intend leaving you here a 
fortnight."

I thought I had not heard her right: "What a fortnight, do you 
say?"

"Why, truly, you find that it is very short?"

"Do not wonder at it, but I never could obtain a longer period."

"Obtain! have done my utmost, mademoiselle, for I knew how 
desirous you were of prolonging your stay with the Countess."

"Certainly. But-"

"But your parents were inflexihle."

"You say, Madame, that my parents-"

"Would never grant above a fortnight."

"You say that my parents have granted me-"

"Yes, only a fortnight; nothing could induce them to deprive 
themselves for a longer period of the pleasure of your company 
at home"

"A fortnight! Madame la Baronne, are you sure?"

"I am sure, mademoiselle, they will not allow you to stop any 
longer; make your arrangements in consequence; I shall take you 
back in a fortnight; we have settled it so."

"Settled it!"

"Yes mademoiselle, I am bound in honour"

"Settled! Madame?"

"Irrevocably so, mademoiselle. In the meantime I shall come and 
see you every day, as you may well expect. I shall visit your 
friends almost daily, likewise, so that you will hear of them as 
frequently as they will of you. I am to sup with one of them 
this evening."

"I knew of that; with one of my grandparents, if I mistake not."

"You are very right, mademoiselle; I shall mention you to him, 
and let him know about your absence from home."

"I shall be very much obliged to you."

"I doubt not but, at first, this long separation will alarm him, 
as it has the rest, but I shall reconcile him to the idea."

"That will be doing me service."

"I warrant you he will not be angry."

"I will take your word.

I could but be very much surprised at the artful and bold manner 
in which the Baroness had introduced me, and was going to leave 
me with the Countess, whether I would or not, as might be said. 
I shall not presume to say that I was sorry for it, few people 
would give me credit; but, at least, oh, my Sophia, I can 
protest that I mentally determined at that same moment to 
continue upon good terms with Madame de B***, that I might, 
according to future circumstances, be speedily made acquainted 
with the result of her inquisitive researches, and behave in a 
proper manner.

The Count, who had heard every word of my dialogue with Madame 
de Fonrose, asked whether my friends were now residing in Paris. 
The Baroness replied that they had come incog., for particular 
reasons she was acquainted with, but which she must not reveal.

I was seated at table between the Count and his lady; every now 
and then the Countess would catch hold of my hand from under the 
tablecloth, while our knees stuck close to each other's. M. de 
Lignolle must have noticed our being frequently abstracted if 
Madame de Fonrose, continually on the watch and ever 
complaisant, had not kept up the conversation, and many a time 
have put us on our guard, and awakened us from our reveries. 
When the dessert was brought up, however, I was no longer 
allowed with the least propriety to continue silent.

The Baroness, whether she wished to divert me from the object 
which engrossed too much of my attention, or that she took 
pleasure in plaguing me a little, took it into her head all on a 
sudden to strike a blow at me more difficult still to parry than 
all the former ones had been. "Apropos," she said, "you 
undoubtedly have heard of the grand piece of news: the Chevalier 
de Faublas has been released from the Bastille."

"Who! The Chevalier de Faublas?" said the Count"

"Don't you recollect the history of that gay youngster, who 
dressed in woman's clothes, got into the Marquis de B***'s 
hôtel."

"Yes, I do."

"And that young rake has been set at liberty! Why don't they 
confine him for life?"

"You are too severe, Count; he is said to be a most amiable 
youth."

"A notorious libertine who ought to have been flogged in the 
public market-place."

"The Baroness then asked me: "You don't speak, Mademoiselle de 
Brumont; are you of the same opinion as the Count?"

"No, Madame, not quite so, no-that Chevalier de Faublas whom you 
are speaking of I should deem excusable, if he be still very 
young, unless he has been guilty of some of these heinous 
offences"

"He has committed enormities," vociferated M. de Lignolle. "You 
are not informed of his history, I find, mademoiselle; I shall 
recount it to you: First of all, he left off the clothes of his 
own sex, and pretending to be a female, went into the bed of the 
Marchioness de B***, almost under the nose of her husband. Was 
not that abominable?"

"Permit me to stop you here, sir; this does not appear to me to 
be probable in the least. Is it possible that a man should look 
so much like a female as to be mistaken for one?"

"The case is not ordinary; yet there have been instances of it."

"If you were not so positive," said the Countess, "I would not 
believe it."

"You must though, for it is a matter of fact. At any rate, that 
Marquis de B*** is no better than a silly fool, with his 
physiognomical science. It is the knowledge of the human heart 
which is requisite."

I interrupted him again: "It appears to me, sir, that if you had 
been in the place of the ill-fated Marquis, that Chevalier de 
Faublas could not have made a dupe of you."

"Oh, you may rest assured of that. I am an observer, I am 
acquainted with the human heart, and no affection of the soul 
escapes me."

"We know that well," said the Baroness; "but returning to our 
young rake, you will be much astonished when I inform you that 
he is obliged to the Marchioness for his liheration."

"To Madame de B***!" cried the Count"

"To Madame de B***!" I exclaimed myself, shamming extraordinary 
surprise.

"To her very self," resumed the Baroness, coolly. "Everybody 
will have it so."

The Countess got up abruptly. "What! she said to me, was it the 
Marchioness?-"

She spoke so loud and so quick, she looked so surprised, uneasy 
and chagrined, that fearful lest she should address to me some 
imprudent reproach or some dangerous question, I hastened to 
interrupt her: "Apply to the Baroness," I said; "what are you 
asking me about? A story that I know nothing of, a mere fable; 
for how can it be imagined that the Marchioness ever dared-"

"I speak no more than the truth. I cannot but find it very 
natural that a young inexperienced female, a pure virgin, void 
of passions and hlameless, should deem an event of the kind 
quite scandalous, and that her innocent heart should induce her 
not to believe it. I cannot even help blaming the Countess, who 
has some knowledge of the world, to have been just now inclined 
to question her demoiselle de compagnie,<49> so inexperienced a 
person as that young lady must be, relative to a certain matter. 
But that M. de Lignolle, a man of parts, a man of sense, who has 
a thorough knowledge of court, of women especially, that M. de 
Lignolle, a profound ohserver, an excellent judge, should call a 
fable a fact, very uncommon no doubt, but not unprecedented, and 
which will appear most probable to him who is no stranger to the 
corrupt morals of the present age: is more than I can conceive."

"But allow that I should have made a particular study of the 
disposition of Madame de B***, whom I have no more than heard 
of."

"I, most unfortunately, have often met her in my way. I might 
dispute her native and acquired accomplishments; but most of the 
young court nobility will have it that she is a far more 
insinuating, artful and skilful dissembler than any of them: 
they are to be believed. Some will allow that she is witty, 
others that she is possessed of great talents; all agree 
generally that she was intended by nature to intrigue; some 
again wonder at ambition exercising such a tyrannical empire 
over a heart which they think was made to indulge milder 
passions, while others, seeing her continually attending 
business of high importance, are at a loss to conceive owing to 
what miracle she has any time left to carry on her amorous 
connections. What everyone cannot be tired with admiring in her, 
is a continual medley of that audacity which distinguishes the 
strong, and of that cunning which seems to be the portion of the 
weak only. She sometimes astonishes either her enemies or her 
rivals by the boldness of her doings; she also will frequently 
harrass them with tranquil patience and endless perseverance. 
She at times will act like an angry tigress, that rushes upon 
and overpowers the huntsman; or as the hypocritical cat lurking 
for whole hours to seize upon its prey. As a proof of her 
extraordinary capability, I shall only quote the manner in which 
she rose again triumphant, subsequent to her last dreadful fall.

"When her intrigue with the Chevalier de Fauhlas made so much 
noise, everyone thought she was ruined; she alone retained 
spirits enough not to despair. I should attempt in vain to tell 
you by what means she succeeded to persuade her cornuted and 
discontented husband, that he was not made a fool of; but 
certain it is that they now live upon good terms. This 
reconciliation, however, is the most trifling success she had in 
view; as soon as she had pacified her credulous husband, she 
then thought of liberating her charming lover. How did she go to 
work for this purpose, do you know? Let me tell you. M. de --, 
who had many friends on account of his being possessed of some 
little merit, and a very considerable fortune, had been in love 
with her for a long time in vain, and with no better success, 
had strove to become a member of the administration.  The 
Marchioness joined the party that procured M. de --'s 
appointment; after a hard struggle, which lasted four months, 
she had the minister dismissed, frightened one of the 
candidates, imposed upon another, and the fortunate competitor 
whom she served was at last appointed to fill up the high 
office. His benefactress then scrupled not to become his 
mistress.

"You appear to be astonished at that, Mademoiselle de Brumont? 
Alas! It was so, the fair victim resigned herself-she most 
generously has surrendered. Thus has Madame de B*** recovered 
her former credit, which increases every day. By this means the 
Chevalier de Faublas is let loose again upon the wide world to 
play some of his infamous tricks, if we do not keep a watchful 
eye over him."

Madame de Fonrose at last held her tongue; and as she only 
wished to puzzle me, she had occasion to congratulate herself 
respecting the fatal piece of news; fatal it was, for it cut me 
to the quick. However, when I reflected within myself, I thought 
it rather improbable that the adorer of Sophia, and the lover of 
the Countess, should be in love with Madame de B***. I 
nevertheless could hear from the botetom of my heart, a sweet 
voice crying out to me, that the Marchioness should have kept me 
in prison. In my excessive displeasure, I presumed to blame my 
friend for having done too much to serve me. Are those consoling 
moralists right then, who maintain in their daily publications 
that men are naturally ungrateful?

Madame de Lignolle, displeased at my sorrow, which might easily 
be noticed, said aloud: "You look very grave, Mademoiselle de 
Brumont."

"So she does," observed the Count. I returned no answer to the 
Countess, hecause the Baroness, so apt to guess at, and so quick 
in preventing the imprudent discourse of her friend, had already 
whispered to her, no doubt, all that she thought could pacify 
and make her keep silent. I seized the opportunity to address M. 
de Lignolle, and to impart a great secret to him.

"Sir," I said, "if my memory serves me right, you have, some 
time since, expressed a wish that nothing relative to amorous 
topics should ever be spoken in the presence of your lady."

"That is very true," he replied: "but whenever the name of that 
libertine is introduced, I am thrown off my guard, grow 
irritated, and am forgetful of my resolutions. I must return you 
thanks, however, for your good advice, which I shall abide by; I 
shall now speak of something else." He was most cruelly as good 
as his word, for he ohliged me the whole evening to guess 
riddles and to listen to long dissertations on the affections of 
the soul.

The Baroness withdrew at ten o'clock, to go and sup with my 
grand-parent, as she called him. At twelve, M. de Lignolle 
wished a good night to the Countess, and a sound sleep to 
Mademoiselle de Brumont. Out of those two contradictory wishes, 
one only could be fulfilled; the Countess spent a good night, 
precisely because Mademoiselle de Brumont slept but little.

Do not wonder at it, ye who remember that yesterday evening and 
this morning I had been rather busily engaged with Justine. 
Think of my too long confinement, think that the economical diet 
of celibacy, rigorously observed during one hundred and twenty 
killing days, must have prepared me to stand in a proper manner, 
the multifarious excesses of several happy nights.

You too, unhappy lovers, who, on account of your having found 
satiety in the arms of your beloved, can no longer conceive a 
happiness too much above your strength, receive, besides my 
evidence, a salutary advice, and take courage; get confined in 
the Bastille, stay there four months only, and when you get out 
again, you will see what you will be able to perform; with what 
eagerness you will fly to the knees of your mistress! Ah! how 
many times will you say to them: "I love you," if they speak the 
words only once! Ah! How handsome you will find them on your 
return, if you do but find them faithful!

Mine was, and swore she would continue so forever. I, for my 
part made her so easy in that respect, that on the next morning, 
all her jealous suspicions had vanished. We breakfasted most 
cheerfully together, as no third person was present to interrupt 
us. M. de Lignolle, prior to his departure for Versailles, 
whither he was going to spend a few days, recommended my keeping 
constant company with his wife, and to take great care of her.

It turned out, however, that she took care of me; her little 
hands dressed my hair, and adjusted my garments. True indeed I 
was not accoutred the most dextrously; yet I, in return, through 
gratitude, very unskilfully to be sure, but quite in style, 
returned similar services to those she had rendered me. The 
whole forenoon, was spent in that pleasing occupation. Number, 
if you possibly can, the moments of absence that prolonged our 
toils and the frolics that interrupted them. Madame de 
Lignolle's natural liveliness seemed to be redoubled; could 
Faublas, whom you know, behave more rationally than he did? 
Figure to yourselves our childish joy, whimsical caresses, and 
hoisterous transports. Imagine to what degree those freaks may 
have been entertaining, and our tricks frolicsome; our garrulous 
quarrels, our silent fights. Represent to yourselves our 
interesting sulky fits, and the voluptuousness of our 
reconciliation. Respectful companion, I have been playing my 
mistress an impertinent trick; and more infallibly to draw upon 
myself the punishment which I deserved, I pretended to make my 
escape. The Countess, who saw me running away hastened to follow 
me, and rushed close to my heels into the dark alcove, where I 
seemed desirous of hiding myself: an exclamation of hers 
announces that I am found out, but the conqueror was immediately 
conquered, realised too late the trap into which she had fallen, 
she fell and begged for mercy; I was inexorable, and gave her a 
kiss. Oh! you, whoever you may be, whom those sports alarm, if 
in spite of your severity, you condescend at least to be found 
equitable, judge us not according to the rigorous law by which 
men are governed; I am not yet eighteen, and the Countess is 
hardly sixteen; we are still children.

Madame de Lignolle had not wished to be denied to every comer. 
We received in the course of the afternoon a visit from Madame 
de Fonrose, who brought me news of my father; and that of the 
Marchioness d'Armincour, whom her niece had apprised of 
Mademoiselle de Brumont's return. The good aunt, delighted at 
seeing me again, overwhelmed me with compliments. I had inspired 
her with great esteem; she had not forgotten that I combined 
with the pretty common advantage of knowing, the rare talent of 
explaining everything, and that in an embarrassing circumstance, 
I had most powerfully assisted her, in giving her Eleanor<50> 
requisite instructions. The old Marchioness loved me so dearly, 
and loaded me with so many caresses, that I could not, without 
ingratitude, find her visit too long. I observed, that the 
Baroness who most likely did not do me justice, was endeavouring 
to prevail upon the good aunt, to go and sup with her; but when 
she perceived that her entreaties were superfluous, she 
determined to stop with us herself. Both our guests left us at 
twelve; the same pretty chambermaid who had dressed me, hastened 
to undo her work, and the female friend of the Countess, resumed 
his office as her lover.

When I say the Countess's friend, I am perfectly right. They 
knew in the family, I was no longer her companion only. At any 
rate, I firmly believe, that upon a similar occasion, every 
nobleman might, without degrading himeself, have filled a 
situation like mine. Why! In the morning, to preside at the 
lady's toilette, in the afternoon to chat with her in her 
boudoir, and to enter her bed at night, I see nothing in that, 
which a youth highly born would find hard to do, or might not 
honourably perform. For my part, I know that I fulfilled the 
duty of my office with pleasure, and void from the apprehension 
of derogating from my nobility. In every respect, I found myself 
quite as comfortable at Madame de Lignolle's, as at my own home.

As at my own home!-every now and then, but not continually. No, 
father, no. Notwithstanding, two days only had elapsed since we 
parted, I wanted to see you again. Oh, my Sophia! I was anxious 
to call at Justine's, to enquire whether Madame de B*** had 
heard of you, and the very idea of the troubles that you 
endured, embittered my reprehensible felicity.

It was on account of my wife, that at daybreak, I had a serious 
quarrel with my mistress. "I believe you are weeping," cried out 
the wondering Countess; "what is the matter with you?" To 
confess that I was lamenting the absence of Sophia, would have 
been acting most cruelly; I preferred uttering an officious 
falsehood: "I grieve, my Eleanor, on account of my being obliged 
to leave you for a few hours."

"Leave me! What for?"

"To pay a visit."

"To whom?"

"Not to my father, for he would not let me go, and I wish to 
return: but to my sister."

"To your sister! my beloved; you need not be in a hurry."

"It cannot be postponed; I must see her to-day."

"Must you?"

"Indeed I must."

"Are you sure?"

"Very sure."

"Well then, I shall go with you."

"What a queer idea! Would you have us be seen together in the 
streets of Paris? If someone was to know me?"

"We shall let down the blinds."

"Be it so, but must not we get out and in again? Besides, could 
I, with any propriety take you to the convent what would it look 
like!"

"I shall wait in the street"

"Don't give it a thought."

"So you will not allow me?

"I would with all my heart, but-"

"You impose upon me."

"My sweet pretty dear, can you believe it?"

"I do: you intend playing me some foul trick."

"Eleanor!"

"It is not to your sister's you are going, but to the infamous 
Marchioness, or, perhaps, to that little hussy, de Montdesir."

"My dearest Eleanor!"

"In case you should have any appointments, you shall not fulfil 
them; I forbid your going out."

"You forbid me!"

"Yes, I do forbid you."

"Madame, assume those airs with M. de Lignolle, so long as he 
will allow you; as for me, I declare I will not put up with 
them, but will go directly."

"And I declare, sir, that you shall not go out at all"

"I shall not?"

"No."

"We shall see then.

I was about jumping out of bed; with her right hand she caught 
hold of my hair, and with her left pulled the bell so violently 
that the wire broke. Her maids being frightened came running up, 
when she cried out to them: Tell the Swiss<51> to keep the gates 
of the hôtel exactly closed, and not to let out any of my female 
attendants.

This mode of keeping within doors a lover appeared to me so 
novel that I was forced to laugh at it. My good humour pleased 
the Countess, who burst into laughter also. This delirium of joy 
lasted some minutes; after which we got up, and when I was 
dressed we began to quarrel again.

"Eleanor, I am going; I give you my word of honour that I shall 
return within two hours."

"Mademoiselle de Brumont, take my word, my Swiss will not let 
you go out."

"Are you really in earnest, Madame?"

"Quite in earnest, sir."

"Countess, I shall not attempt to force the passage, because, 
adding an act of imprudence to that you have already committed, 
would be notoriously exposing you; but remember the constraint 
you put upon me; think that you will not always have it in your 
power to keep your lover at home in spite of himself; and that, 
when once he is free, he will delay in returning to resume a 
yoke that you have rendered too heavy."

"Ah the monster! He threatens to forsake me! Faublas, if you do 
not return, I shall fetch you back; I will go to all your 
mistresses, successively-to Madame de Montdesir, to slap her 
face; to the Marchioness, to claim you from her husband; even to 
your wife, if requisite, to declare that I am your wife, 
likewise-yes, your wife! That M. de Lignolle has only married my 
fortune-it is you who have truly married me, you alone, my dear, 
you know it well! Wherefore do you wish to go out, and become 
unfaithful? While you were in the Bastille I had no appointment 
with any one-my sole occupation was to call on you, feel 
impatient, and groan! Is it Madame de B*** who expects you? 
Confess it, and I shall forgive you, provided you do not go. 
What advantage has that Madame de B*** over me that you give her 
the preference? She is beauteous, but I am handsome? Is she 
endowed with talents?-you are not aware of all mine-I sing well, 
I dance better still! and, if you wish it, will immediately 
perform on my piano all the sonatas of Hedelmann and Clementi! 
Is she possessed of wit? I have my share; if she loves you, I 
love you more?-I am younger! More blooming! More amiable! I tell 
you so-believe me-you laugh, Faublas! Well, do not go out, and 
we shall laugh, chat, and play together! We shall run after one 
another, exchange kisses, fight, and amuse ourselves as we did 
yesterday! Stop with me, my beloved; I promise you this day will 
appear as short as the preceding one!"

"All you say, Madame, is of no avail. You keep me by compulsion: 
but take care your prisoner does not make his escape; for, upon 
being liberated from his fetters, he will break them asunder."

"Dare you repeat? Put my courage to so dreadful a trial, and you 
will see, perfidious youth! I shall go in pursuit of you 
everywhere; shall surprise you with one of my rivals-will kill 
her!-kill you-kill myself! And to the last moment of my 
existence, at least, shall prove that I adore you, ungrateful as 
you are! Great God! Where am I? I no longer know myself! 
Faublas, my dear, do not be angry; do not go out. You will not 
speak, you push me away from you. Ah, forgive me, I beg of you. 
See, look, I weep, I am on my knees before you!"

I felt moved; I helped her up and comforted her. We entered into 
a kind of negotiation, and a capitulation took place. I obtained 
that the gates should be left open, but she obtained that I 
should not go out.

On the following day, I felt my inquietude to increase; and 
determined to see Justine, whatever might be the consequence; I 
spoke to the Countess about my sister. The endless dispute was 
getting hot, when a loud rap at the street door, announced the 
return of the master of the hôtel. M. de Lignolle came running 
to the apartment of his wife, and cried out from a distance: 
congratulate me, ladies, I have brought from Versailles the 
certificate of a pension of six thousand livres."

"For whom?" asked the Countess."

"For myself," he answered, with an air of great satisfaction.

"I am very glad of it, sir, since you look so highly pleased, 
but what is a pension of six thousand francs to you?"

"I could not obtain more."

"You don't comprehend me," she resumed, with great composure. 
"Far from complaining of the smallness of the pension, sir, at 
your having petitioned for it, you who were possessed of about 
twelve hundred thousand livres in landed property, and to whom I 
have brought twice as much for my marriage portion."

"One is never too rich, Madame."

"Ah! Sir, so many good folks are not sufficiently so! Why not 
leave the court's bounty to reach those who are in want of it?"

"True," replied the Count, rubbing his hands, "there were a 
number of amateurs: I am not the only one who has been favoured. 
The first was d'Apremont, you know him."

"One of his estates brings him sixty thousand livres per annum."

"De Versenil."

"He is a governor of a province."

"D'Herival"

"His uncle, formerly a secretary of state, has overloaded him 
with riches, which he squanders away, and with honours of which 
he is undeserving."

"There is Flainville."

"The immense wealth bequeathed to him, he has made fourfold, by 
means of stock-jobbing."

"Next comes a M. de Saint-Prée-but no, I am wrong, that one has 
obtained nothing."

"What a pity," I said, "he is a worthy man."

"Do you know him?"

"I do, Madame. He has been in the army, is a man of courage and 
of merit. You could not hear of the many wounds with which he is 
covered, or of his misfortunes, without feeling highly 
interested. I don't suppose he is rich."

"Quite the reverse, he is very poor."

"His eldest son, however, has been admitted at l'Ecole 
Militaire, and his youngest daughter at St. Cyr."

"Has he a large family?"

"Three more of his children are nearly starving with the father 
in a sorry village in Languedoc. Now tell me, is not it dreadful 
that courtiers who are in opulence, should deprive that 
unfortunate family of their honourable and last resource?"

"This said, she turned towards her husband. Are you not 
ashamed?"

"Ashamed! At what? If that gentleman is in distress, let him 
complain; if he is forgotten, let him show himself. What is he 
doing in the country; why does he not come to Versailles, and he 
seen at the Oeil-de-boeuf; am I to go and fetch him? He has 
served a few campaigns; what then? Have not thousands of 
officers been wounded also? At court, it is useless to make an 
exhibition of scars: you must produce friends, have patience, 
and become troublesome. If M. de St. Prée is not deficient in 
those respects, he will come in at his turn."

The Countess replied with great warmth: "But had it not been for 
you, his turn was come."

M. de Lignolle, with a tone of superiority, returned: "How 
childish! You have not the least knowledge of the world. 
Admitting, that to make room for that gentleman, I had 
withdrawn, others less delicate than myself would have kept him 
at a distance. Besides, if people were checked by a multiplicity 
of petty particular considerations, no one would ever think of 
himself."

Madame de Lignolle crimsoned, turned pale, and stamped on the 
floor: "Brumont, you hear him! I have no patience with such 
reasonings; I could jump out of my skin! Sir, as you rightly 
observe, I have no knowledge of the world, nor of the human 
heart: nor, thank God, of the art of fine reasoning; but I 
listen to my conscience, which cries out to me, that you have 
taken the ministers by surprise, imposed upon the king, and 
robbed the distressed."

"That expression, Madame"

"Yes, sir, robbed!"

Her husband wanted to leave the room, she kept him back, and 
with apparent composure, proceeded as follows: "If within a few 
days, you do not contrive to resign your pension in favour of M. 
de Saint-Prée, I protest that I will take care to have six 
thousand livres forwarded to him yearly, through an indirect 
channel, by way of a restitution."

"Just as you please, Madame, you are enabled to do so without 
pinching much: it would be at most one third part of the annual 
sum you have reserved to yourself for pin-money."

"Do not flatter yourself, sir, I shall not touch that part of my 
income. Although I am not to be called to an account, 'I shall 
repeat what I have already told you a hundred times; I would 
never forgive myself, if I were foolishly to spend twenty 
thousand francs in gewgaws of dress, when there are poor 
wretches on your estate that want bread, my savings I shall 
dispose of in a way better suited to my feelings. With regard to 
the debt to M. de Saint-Prée, which you have just contracted, 
you may discharge it with those monies we have in common. If you 
should leave me to settle that business, I shall pledge my 
diamonds; and when I shall have sent them to the Mont-de-Piété 
for you, we shall see whether you will not redeem them."

"No, Madame."

"No! Dare you say no to me! I shall repeat it over again, I will 
have it so, and so it shall be. Monsieur le Comte, let us live 
at peace, believe me, don't put me at defiance; I have 
relatives, I have friends, the right is on my side, a separation 
might easily he obtained; I know you can do without me, but the 
loss of my fortune, might occasion you bitter regret. Hear me, 
Brumont, you see before your eyes the most unfeeling and 
avaricious mortal. I am forced to quarrel with him every day, to 
prevent his committing acts of greediness or of injustice. We 
have been man and wife these six months, and I have not yet had 
the satisfaction once of seeing him assist a man in distress! He 
is never happy but when he can hoard up; gold is his God! He has 
but lately been adding to his fortune, which he is contriving 
means to increase; and for whose sake, pray? Of distant 
relations; for he knows not whether there are any poor in 
existence: and as for children, he will never get any, unless a 
riddle-"

The Countess, who had been very angry for some time, on a sudden 
burst into laughter, ready to split her sides. Suhsequent to a 
moment's reflection, however, she resumed: "Unless a riddle 
should be a substitute for a beloved child!"

"He is right, by the by, to like them, the making of them costs 
him nothing. But now that we are speaking of children, sir, let 
me tell you that I long to see my family again. Last autumn I 
wished to go and take a tour to Gatinois, you have kept me here 
to pay visits, and I have been informed that you have taken a 
trip there unknown to me. Now that I am made acquainted with 
your disposition, that mysterious journey alarms me. I insist 
upou the condition of my tenants undergoing no alteration. I do 
not wish the vassals of the Marchioness d'Armincour to have to 
complain of their having become those of the Countess de 
Lignolle. My good people! my aunt has brought me up among you; 
your honourable toils procured me joy, and my most agreeable 
occupation was to share in your innocent sports. She taught you 
to cherish me; she taught me to respect you; she taught me to 
derive happiness from yours, to be proud of your love, and rich 
in your prosperity. She would often say to me, (I delight at the 
recollection,) 'Eleanor, don't you find it very gratifying, at 
your time of life, to have as many children as there are 
inhabitants in this village?' Yes, they are my children; yes, my 
good people, I wish to bring back your mother to you; she will 
not appear too old yet, but I hope that now, as when she was not 
so full grown, you will feel gratified at her encouraging your 
labour, preparing your festivals, dancing at your balls, 
presiding at your hanquets, rewarding your laborious sons, and 
crowning your sweet Rosières.

Not long before, the Countess was laughing; I could now see her 
eyes filling up with tears.

"Sir," she continued, with great impetuosity, "I shall start 
tomorrow."

"Tomorrow! Madame? that is too soon; the season-"

"I beg your pardon, sir, the approaching spring will bring us 
fine weather: it is beautiful already. I shall set off tomorrow 
for my estate in Gatinois, stop there a few days, come back to 
fetch my aunt, whose business here will be completely settled, 
and then she and I shall proceed to Franche-Comté. I have a 
family also in that country"

"But, Madame-"

"I shall go tomorrow, I am determined. I shall take Mademoiselle 
de Brumont with me. If you are ready, you will accompany us. Are 
you otherwise engaged? Please yourself. I shall not want, either 
for my occupations or amusements, a man equally incapable of 
contributing to the happiness, or compassionating the miseries 
of anyone."

She immediately ordered her trunks and travelling carriage to be 
got ready. M. de Lignolle withdrew, discontented, but without 
offering any further opposition.



XX.

Meanwhile, the Countess was shedding tears. I could see the most 
tender concern depicted on her countenance, and the fire of 
wrath to be extinct. My heart was penetrated with delicious 
feelings, such as those with which her own seemed to be moved. 
Sensibility, the offspring of Providence, and sometimes of 
Adverse Fortune, sister to Compassion, and parent to 
Beneficence, is, I imagine, one of those virtues, which, for the 
everlasting propagation of our species, has been granted to us 
men, that we might be loved, and to you, our sweet companions, 
that you should, at every period of life, and at all times, be 
possessed of infallible means of pleasing us. I have always 
seen, that there was not a figure ever so old, but which might 
he made to reassume a moving expression; and its admirable power 
extends so far, that whilst embellishing the least handsome, it 
adds a thousand charms to the most beauteous. Judge then, how 
much, at that moment, Madame de Lignolle appeared to me more 
dazzling with attractions and youth, and wonder less at being 
told, that a cause, identically deserving of encomiums, produced 
reprehensible effects.

A few minutes after he had left us, M. de Lignolle returned to 
his lady's apartment. Most luckily, I had holted the door.

"You have locked yourselves in, he cried."

"We have, sir."

"Why so?"

"Because we have our riddle to begin over again."

"Is that a reason why I should not be let in?"

"I verily believe it is. I have already told you, sir, that I 
did not like to be disturbed when I was composing. Call again in 
a quarter of an hour, my lesson, perhaps, will be at an end."

That lesson, however, did not last so long; but after having 
received and given one, the tutor and the disciple had a little 
explanation, which it was not proper everyone should overhear.

"Eleanor, my charming friend, I have but just now heard you with 
transport delivering to your husband a lecture on virtues which 
I idolise, but that are unknown to him. You are become dearer to 
me on that account, you appear to me prettier still."

"Why, my aunt has always told me the same; she has constantly 
reepeated to me, that a look of kindness would deck a female 
much better, than all the hats in Mademoiselle Bertin's shop. 
She was right, since my lover can find it so. Oh! How pleased I 
am!" she cried, jumping through joy, "how happy I am to be good, 
since it makes me look more amiable in your estimation! I 
promise, Faublas, to be more and more so every day; I am 
imperious and irritable; people might think I am ill-tempered, 
though at bottom there is not a better-natured woman in the 
world. I am worth my weight in gold. Believe me, every day you 
will find me possessed of some new accomplishment. You will see. 
I tell you so. Tomorrow I shall take you with me into the 
country, are you glad of it?"

"I am delighted, my little dear."

"Wherefore little? Not so very little, I think. Don't you find 
that I have grown in the last four months?"

"An inch at least."

"Oh! I hope I shall grow again. Yes, I shall grow, be sure of 
it. That will give you pleasure, will it not."

"Great pleasure, most assuredly. To resume the question you were 
just now asking me, I am delighted at going into the country 
with you; but if you wish to have me go tomorrow, you must allow 
me to go to Adelaide's this day, and to go there unaccompanied."

This brought on the renewal of our dispute, which this once 
ended to my advantage; I even had the good fortune to make the 
Countess sensible of the impropriety of her lending me her 
carriage. A hackney coach was sent for. I directed the coachman, 
to take me to Adelaide's convent, but at a few paces from the 
hôtel, I begged of my Phaeton<52> to take me incog. to 
Justine's.

The lazy girl was still in bed, gossipping with M. de Valbrun. 
As soon, however, as Mademoiselle de Brumont was announced, they 
hoth cried aloud to her: "Walk in." I was welcomed in a friendly 
manner. I cannot tell whether the Vicomte quite free from 
jealousy, was as delighted at seeing me in his mistress's bed-
room, as he was pleased to declare he was, but I know well, that 
Madame de Montdesir made unsuccessful endeavours to prevent M. 
de Valbrun seeing, that she preferred M. de Faublas to him. The 
poor girl, still a novice in her line of business, could not do 
justice to her part. I confess that it was not with a view of 
assisting her that I spoke to her of my own affairs. She 
appeared sorry to inform me that she had no intelligence to 
impart relative to the Marchioness, but she promised to have her 
apprised of my going to -- with Madame de Lignolle. The Vicomte 
engaged not to let the Baroness know in what place he met with 
me.

From the Palais Royal I went to the Rue Croix-des-Petits-Champs, 
to my sister's convent. To make my appearance before her in my 
new disguise would have caused great affliction to my dear 
Adelaide, and would have been comitting a useless act of 
imprudence. I scribbled a note, which I had conveyed by the 
portress, to inform Mademoiselle de Faublas that her brother was 
going to spend a few days in the country.

Madame de Lignolle and I did really set out on the next day at 
an early hour. The Count, having some business to attend to, 
would make us hope that it was impossible for him to join us for 
a whole week. I shall not attempt to describe my young 
mistress's raving joy on being on the road with me; neither 
shall I tell how amused I was during my journey; but you are 
well aware that one never finds it tedious to courir la 
poste<53> with a beloved mistress. It was near five o'clock when 
we arrived. We had not dined; I longed to sit down to table, but 
the Countess was anxious to look into some arrangements which 
she deemed essential. We began by examining the apartment that 
had been prepared for her. She ordered a second bed to be put up 
close to hers. It was so deecided that, for the future, 
Mademoiselle de Brumont should have a bed wherever Madame de 
Lignolle should have hers placed.

In the meantime the report of our arrival had been spread over 
all the villages on the estate of the Countess; and on the same 
evening there was a great concourse of visitors at the castle. 
Madame de Lignolle did not receive the tedious and ceremonious 
visits of petty country nobles, proud of their antique 
nothingness, nor of enriched plebeians, more vain still of their 
newly-acquired privileges; her numerous court was composed 
entirely of those men who are almost everywhere kept at a 
distance, and everywhere respectable, whom most of the "gentry" 
have persuaded that the first of all arts was an ignoble 
occupation. Less credulous, and more happy, each of the honest 
husband-men that I saw appeared to be inwardly conscious of his 
merits in particular, and, in geneeral, to be proud of his 
profession. All of them in the presence of Madame de Lignolle 
displayed a modest assurance; all of them had become men again 
since a woman had protected them. All, indiscriminately, while 
congratulating themselves upon the Countess's return, lamented 
not seeing the Marchioness, and prayed to heaven to repay the 
niece for all the benefits which the aunt had overwhelmed them 
with. Crowding round my charming mistress, the wives loaded her 
with thanks and praises, the young maids covered her with 
flowers, and the children would kiss her wearing apparel. Madame 
de Lignolle, deserving of the affection which she inspired, had 
remembered all their names. To aged Thibant she addressed her 
kind thanks; to good Nichols an obliging enquiry; a flattering 
compliment to the young Adèle; and a sweet caress to little 
Lucas. She wished to know all about their private concerns, if 
prosperous. You would have taken her for an affectionate mother, 
just returned into the bosom of her happy family.

"Eleanor," I said, "my dear Eleanor, you deserve to be the 
object of general cheerfulness, for you appear to enjoy it."

"So I do, I assure you; my emotion is truly heartfelt. Never, 
during the whole winter, had any tragedy produced upon me so 
poignant an effect. Tell me, then, wherefore so many opulent 
people, who, on their estates, do no good to any one, will go 
when in Paris to the theatres to be moved by fictitious 
calamities?"

"They do not understand them, my dearest; at our theatres 
plebeians alone shed tears. The fashionable gentry do not even 
know when the performers are on the stage; they go to the house 
to point their glasses at each other from the boxes. You may 
well imagine they are not entertained; but for a few hours they 
become forgetful of the ennui which devours them."

"You are perfectly right, I think I have noticed as much several 
times; I accordingly have fixed upon a determination. I shall 
spend most of the year in the country, and lay out in good deeds 
the money that a box would cost me at each of the three houses."

"Ah! My beloved, how short the days will appear then! Ah! if you 
go continually in search of the unhappy, you will not have a 
moment to lose. You will be a gainer also, I believe, on the 
score of pleasure; interesting scenes will meet you. How could 
you not be continually amused and affected, when you will have 
unceasingly, either tears to wipe off, or transports of joy to 
moderate?"

"Well, once more I am determined I shall continue among my 
tenants in the country-provided my Faublas does not leave me, 
provided he be always faithful to me."

"How could I be otherwise, my dearest? Where could I find, with 
more virtues, so many-"

I could not say more. Oh! My Sophia! A recollection prevented me 
from ending the sentence.

"So then you will always love me," resumed Madame de Lignolle, 
in a low tone of voice."

"Always."

"You will never think of any other?"

"Of you alone. But only see, my lady Countess, how pretty those 
country lasses are! How handsome those young fellows look! I 
should feel inclined to think there are many children got here, 
and fine children too, the fathers look so happy in their 
situation."

"There is no doubt of it. Commerce, so fatal to the human 
species, on account of the dangerous toils it occasions, the 
long sea voyages it requires, the frequent wars it necessitates; 
commerce daily deprives agriculture of labouring hands. A 
destructive calamity which it brings in its train, namely, 
luxury, will also carry off from our land one-tenth part of the 
choicest men to plunge them forever into the abyss of capital 
towns, wherein whole generations are extinct. What have we left 
for the cultivation of our deserted cornfields? A few miserable 
slaves, condemned to be oppressed by the higher classes, who, by 
means of an iniquitous distribution, having reserved for 
themselves idleness and respect, leave for their vassals poverty 
and contempt, labour and taxes. If distress is injurious to the 
mind, grief is not less so to the body. Gnawing sorrows stamp 
upon the countenance everlasting marks, more hideous than the 
wrinkles of old age, or the deformities of ugliness, marks of 
reprobation, which an ill-fated parent transmits to his 
posterity, equally condemned, like himself, to all manner of 
opprobrium. Thus it will inevitably occur that the individual is 
bastardised at the same time that the species is reduced. 
Wherever you see the peasantry to be in small numbers and ugly, 
you may boldly affirm that they are made miserable."

While I was holding out with the Countess a conversation which 
was duly calculated to enhance the esteem and regard I bore her; 
upwards of a hundred covers had been laid upon an immense round 
table on the green, which was speedily illumined. The musicians 
were just arrived, and the impatient youth of both sexes were 
waiting for the signal. Madame de Lignolle took a genteel young 
man by the hand; I followed her example, and the ball commenced.

The supper hour came too soon, to the great sorrow of the 
dancing master and for the lovers; but to the great satisfaction 
of fathers and mothers, who upon similar occasions, are more 
eager to sit down to table than their children are. Madame de 
Lignolle wished me to assist her in doing the honours of the 
feast. We withdrew, however, after all the guests having drank 
the health of their hostess, and of her beloved aunt; the old 
men began their songs to Bacchus, and the young, hymns to the 
God of Love.

I must tell you, as a secret not to be repeated, that rather 
fatigued in consequence of the exertion I had gone through the 
two preceding nights, I relished during the whole course of this 
one, no other pleasure but that of quietly sleeping by the side 
of my wondering Eleanor. M. de Lignolle, had he been in my 
place, would have done neither more nor less; therefore far from 
being proud of it, I plead guilty. But make yourselves easy: 
love, always righteous, had decided that on the next morning my 
youthful mistress was to be amply indemnified.

It was not twelve o'clock; for several hours already the lively 
Countess had dragged me through every part of her park; a jardin 
Anglais invited us to enjoy some repose in one of its shady 
bowers; a cool breeze gently agitated the foliage of the cedar 
and willow tree.

A thousand birds perched on their intertwined branches sang the 
pleasures of spring; a rivulet, alternately rapid or tardy in 
its course, caressed with its silver stream the flowers that 
grew on its shores. At the bottom of a dark harbour formed by 
the interwoven wreaths of lilac, roses, and honeysuckle, was a 
mysterious grotto.

I was drawing close to it when, judge of my surprise, I read at 
the entrance this inscription: Grotto of Riddles.

"Grotto des Riddles!" I exclaimed."

"Grotto of Riddles!" repeated the Countess: "we need not ask," 
she added, with a loud burst of laughter, "whether the Count has 
been here last autumn." She then resumed in a majestic tone: 
"Grotto of Riddles! Will you dare to enter it, Faublas?" And her 
eyes, full of fire, invited me to make amends for the last 
night. I had the audacity to penetrate with her into that place 
of delight; a bed of moss seemed to have been prepared there by 
the hands of Venus, and it received the two lovers. During some 
minutes we heard neither the birds, nor the zephyrs, nor the 
stream. The sweet grotto had just been rendered deserving of its 
apellation, which perhaps we were going to confirm, when the 
approach of a profane intruder compelled us to suspend our 
transports.

It was M. de Lignolle who surprised us by his sudden arrival. 
"Ha! Ha!" he said, "you were busily engaged at work here!"

"Yes, sir, have not you given us leave?"

"Undoubtedly."

"It is immaterial to you then in what place."

"Exactly so. But, Madame, you look quite confused; did I come 
mal-à-propos?"

"Mal-à-propos! No, not quite. We are thinking of you"

"How so! What! While composing a riddle?"

"We never make one but you are in it for something."

"How so?"

"How so, I cannot tell. At any rate, make yourself easy: it is a 
mere trifle, which ought to concern you a little, but about 
which you are not concerned in the least."

"Why, faith, Madame, this is too difficult. I don't comprehend 
you."

"Very proper it should be so, perhaps at a future period you 
will know more about it. Now let us have done with riddles. You 
have settled your business very expeditiously; you are come very 
quick."

"I have settled nothing. I intend going away the day after 
tomorrow. I am come because I longed to see you first, and next 
to revisit this estate, which for a number of years has been 
very ill managed."

"Very ill! You will never manage it better. I do not wish any 
change to take place."

"I would wish to reform it."

"No reformation. I tell you so beforehand, I will not suffer it. 
Sir," she added, as she left the grotto, "you perhaps have a 
riddle to compose, we don't wish to disturb you."

"Don't let me interrupt you Madame, yours-"

"Is finished, we perhaps were going to begin a second, but here 
you come like a jealous man!"

"I beg of you, Madame, it is proper I should withdraw, if the 
place pleases you."

"By no means, stop here, she replied with a laugh, it will 
please another time: don't be uneasy about it, we shall be no 
losers."

Madame de Lignolle proposed my accompanying her in the afternoon 
to go and visit her tenants. In the nearest village we entered 
the house of one of her farmers. "Bastien," she said, "you did 
not come to sup with me, but I am come to ask you whether you 
will give me à gouter<54>. Wherefore did not you come yesterday 
with your comrades? Don't you love me any longer?"

The good man cast down his eyes, with an embarrassed air. His 
wife, less intimidated, answered: "My master told me he could 
not have the honour of seeing our lady; that pleasure was denied 
him, because he did not wish to break her heart with a recital 
of his troubles; and he assures me, that she knows nothing of 
them."

"It is because I know nothing of them, that he must make haste 
to inform me. Come, Bastien, you and I are old friends, come, 
child, come and sit by me, and speak out."

The poor fellow, after some hesitation, at last said: "I have 
renewed my lease, and your steward has increased my rent."

"Increased your rent! By how much?"

"One hundred pistoles."

"Bastien, speak the truth, how much did you clear annually?"

"Two thousand francs."

"So, then, now you have only one hundred pistoles profit?"

"No more."

"If I am not mistaken, you have a family of five children?"

"Since we saw you, Madame, it has pleased God to favour us with 
one more."

"A high favour, indeed, for a poor wretch who can only earn one 
thousand francs. She then turned towards me: The father, mother, 
and six children! To feed and clothe all of them, no more than 
one hundred paltry pistoles? I know, that by means of pinching a 
little, that trifle, in this part of the country, may be made to 
suffice; but never to treat a friend, never to have a bit of a 
relish, not to be allowed to spend a single sou but for 
indispensable articles; and after many years' labour and 
parsimony to have nothing left to portion the daughters, and to 
enable the sons to commence business; no, my good folks, no, it 
shall not be. Dumont, I beg you will tell La Fleur to go 
immediately and inform the steward that I am waiting for him 
here."

When I returned, I heard the Countess saying: "Keep up your 
spirits, Bastien, and bring me some cream, for Mademoiselle de 
Brumont is a great lover of it, and so am I."

He brought us two large salad-dishes full. I believe that the 
Countess would have had an indigestion, if her fun had not 
interrupted her swallowing. She could not resist the temptation, 
at every second or third spoonful, of daubling the face of her 
companion with the nice liquid, who returned the compliment. 
This childish play amused us, we laughed like two madcaps, and 
were still at it when the steward arrived.

The Countess immediately resumed her gravity. "Sir," she said, I 
would wish to know wherefore, without consulting me, you have 
increased the rent of this good man?"

"Madame, I know the intentions of Monsieur le Comte."

"I understand you, but you have forgot, that by using such means 
to flatter him, you might be sure of displeasing me in the 
highest degree. Hark, I do not intend to argue with M. de 
Lignolle upon the subject; you have committed the fault, it 
rests with you to repair it. If, before twelve o'clock tomorrow, 
you do not bring me a new lease, whereby the rent is continued 
on the former footing, you shall not sleep in the castle."

"Madame!"

"No reply: begone."

The husband, wife, and eldest daughter, threw themselves at the 
knees of the Countess, and bathed her hands with their tears. 
Judge of my emotion, when I saw Madame de Lignolle shedding also 
delicious tears over the hands that squeezed hers. In the first 
transport of my enthusiasm, I flew into her arms, pressed her to 
my bosom, gave her several kisses, and exclaimed: "Adorable 
child! How dearly I shall love you!"

"My good friends," she said, "this is carrying matters too far: 
rise, rise up, I entreat you. If gratitude is a debt, Brumont 
has just been discharging yours. The riches of the whole globe 
could not pay for the pleasure I enjoy."

They arose; we left them; and the remainder of the cream was 
forgotten.

Although the too rapid transition from a very interesting scene 
to a very ludicrous one, should occasion you great surprise, and 
even make you angry for a moment, I cannot refrain from relating 
the comical incident which occurred on the night following.

The Countess knew that M. de Lignolle had taken for himself the 
apartment adjacent to ours; but the light-headed fair lady had 
not observed that only a thin partition separated her bed from 
that in which her husband still laid awake. By the questions he 
addressed to his wife, I leave you to guess at the cause of the 
noise he had heard: "Are you incommoded, Madame?"

"Who speaks to me?"

"I"

"What? Do you ask of me?"

"Whether you are incommoded?"

"Incommoded, do you say? Not in the least"

"I heard you complaining, just now."

"I did not complain, sir, I assure you; but, perhaps you 
yourself were dreaming."

"At any rate, I am wrong to be alarmed; if you wanted anything, 
your women are not far off."

"And Mademoiselle de Brumont is here, close to me, sir."

"Oh! What! Does Mademoiselle de Brumont understand attending a 
woman who-"

"Better than all the women in the world put together."

"Have you had occasion to try her, Madame?"

"Several times, sir."

"Already!"

"Yes; and I can vouch, that my women and yourself, sir, would 
have let me die, for want of being capacitated to give me that 
attendance which she has so skilfully lavished upon me."

"That being the case, I may sleep in full quiet."

"Sleep! Sleep!"

"I wish you a good night, Madame."

"I return you thanks; it has had a tolerable good beginning."

"Good night! Mademoiselle de Brumont."

"Trust to me for that, sir."

This, however, was a warning for the lively Countess not to sigh 
so loud, if she happened to sigh again; and, especially, not to 
call me by any other than my maiden name, whether she was 
pleased to receive some further assistance, or that she imagined 
she had only thanks to return me.

It was broad day-light when we awoke. Madame de Lignolle 
proposed taking a ride in the carriage, and going to join her 
husband, who, from an early hour, was gone out to enjoy the 
pleasures of the chase. We started. At about half a league from 
the castle, we got out of the coach, as the Countess wished to 
walk up a steep hillock. We were near reaching its summit, and 
Madame de Lignolle's servants at a pretty good distance behind, 
when we were surprised at seeing a man on horseback, who had 
come full gallop, stop as soon as he had reached us, and view us 
with a scrutinising eye. "What does the fellow want?" asked the 
Countess.

"I am bearer of a letter to Mademoiselle de Brumont."

"Give it to me."

"I have been ordered to deliver it into Mademoiselle de 
Brumont's own hands."

"I am the person."

"No, it is not you: it is he, he added, pointing to me."

"How, he!"

"Yes, he! He then threw the note at me, and set off as quick as 
he had come.

I opened, and read it. What is the matter? Faublas, she 
exclaimed: you turn pale!

"Nothing: nothing at all, my dearest."

"Let me see that billet."

"I cannot"

"No?"

Before I could be aware of her intention, she snatched the 
cursed letter out of my hands, and pocketed it.

We returned to the castle; but notwithstanding my most earnest 
entreaties, she would not give up the letter. The Countess 
bolted herself and me in her apartment; and having on a sudden 
entered a dressing closet,<55> she locked the door, and nothing 
preventing her any longer, she perused the fatal epistle. It was 
a challenge conveyed in the following words:
You were for a long time Mademoiselle du Portail; you are 
now Mademoiselle de Brumont; I have always read in your 
countenance, that for your whole life-time you would make 
it your business to impose upon married men, and to seduce 
their wives. I have it in my power, by divulging your 
secret, to have a second person interested in my cause; but 
then you would think that I am afraid. If you are not in 
reality become a female, you will, three days hence, on the 
10th of the present month of March, repair to the forest of 
Compiègne, in the centre of the second cross-road, on the 
left-hand side. I shall be there from five to seven in the 
evening, unaccompanied either by friends or servants: I 
shall take no other weapon than my sword. 
(Signed.) LE MARQUIS DE B***.

Madame de Lignolle had not disappeared for above two minutes 
before she returned and flew into my arms. "You must go, my 
dear," she said; "I am not a woman who would advise you to 
anything contrary to strict honour. We will have our dinner, and 
then set off; shall we not?"

"Yes, my dear."

"On the 10th! This is the 9th; you have nearly forty leagues to 
travel over; you have not a moment to lose? Tell me!"

"Yes, my dear."

"Well, we shall reach Paris in the evening. You will be at 
Compiègne at about five, and before dark you will have killed 
the Marquis. What say you?"

"Yes, my dear."

"But do not miss your aim; kill him; it is a matter of material 
importance; kill him, he is acquainted with our secret. You 
conceive how dangerously we are situated! You conceive?"

"Yes, my dear."

"It is a cruel thing, however, to take away a man's life-to have 
to reproach one's self with the deed! No, Faublas, no; do not 
kill him; only wound him; and then exact his word of honour that 
he will not tell about us. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, my dear."

"And you will return immediately to apprise me that the affair 
has been completely settled. I shall be waiting for you in 
Paris; you will return immediately, will you?"

"Yes, my dear."

"Had not I better go with you? I see no impossibility; what do 
you think of it?"

"Yes, my dear."

"But he always says yes! He answers without hearing me?"

I heard very well, but could not comprehend her. Alarmed at this 
misfortune that threatened me, I reflected with deep despair 
that a duel would be the occasion, a second time, of my leaving 
my country, to part from my friends, the Marchioness, my sister, 
my father-alas! From my Sophia!-and-shall I speak it?-to forsake 
the little Madame de Lignolle, whom I found daily more amiable 
and more interesting.

"Faublas," she continued, "tell me what makes you so uneasy? Is 
it because you must leave me for a few days that you are made 
miserable? I am as much grieved as you are, my dear, but your 
absence will not last long. I shall see you again after tomorrow 
morning, shall I not? Speak to me."

"Yes, my dear."

"You pronounce that 'yes' in the same tone as before, sir! And 
do not listen to me! Faublas! You do not listen to your 
Eleanor?"

"Yes, my dear."

"Great God! How dejected he looks! What can-alas!-But indeed if 
a misfortune should happen!-If, on the reverse, it was the 
Marquis de B*** who-but no, it could not be so; my lover is the 
most courageous and expert of all men! Faublas you will kill 
him! I tell you so! You will kill him! Answer me."

"Yes, my dear."

"Again that 'yes!' which puts me out of patience, that 
exasperates me, sir."

"Have done, my Eleanor, you hurt me."

"Answer; speak to me, then; tell me, my beloved, what causes 
your inquietude?

"My inquietude! Can you ask such a question? Eleanor, a duel!"

"He is right! Great God! To leave France! Do not leave it, my 
friend; come with me, you will be much better at my home than in 
a foreign country. If he was going to be arrested; to be 
confined; if we were to be separated forever! Ah, Faublas, I beg 
of you, do not suffer yourself to be arrested, to be taken to 
prison again. Do not wait till you are taken. Hasten back to 
Paris; come to your friend's; and, if they should presume to 
follow you to my house, if they should be so daring, leave it to 
me; they will have me to deal with, and you also, Faublas. I 
shall protect you; you will protect me; we shall be two against 
them!"

Madame de Lignolle, in her extreme agitation, would give me a 
thousand similar advices, which it was no easy matter for me to 
abide by. A visit, at last, was announced.

"I am not at home," she cried.

"Madame," replied the servant, "it is the rector of our parish."

"The rector! Do not send him away; let him come upstairs."

She ran to meet him at the door. "You are come just in time, 
worthy sir; I was going to send for you. I shall not ask you 
what you have done with the money my aunt left you the last time 
she was in the country: I am well aware of your prudence keeping 
pace with your integrity. I have only been here a couple of 
days, and have noticed the inhabitants looked equally 
comfortable and thankful; my heart felt content. I shall not, 
however, conceal from you two causes of deep affliction; the 
Marchioness, you know, has always objected to any of her tenants 
being reduced to a state of servitude. I understand, 
nevertheless, that to be the case of poor Antonio. I have heard 
that he was a man of good character, undeserving of the 
misfortunes which have compelled him to give up his little farm, 
and to go out to procure work from his neighbours."

"All that is very true, Madame."

"Well, suppose we make him a present of a few acres of land? I 
have also observed that old Duval's cottage was falling to 
decay. The poor veteran, perhaps, cannot afford to have it 
repaired; it has been the habitation of his forefathers; he has 
lived happy there; I wish he may there continue so for the 
remainder of his days; let us spend a few louis-d'ors to attain 
that purpose. Also, If I have not been misinformed, the road 
that leads to the next town wants the pavement, already begun, 
to be completed. Will twelve hundred francs be sufficient to 
have the work done?"

"I believe so, Madame."

"Well, let it be finished this year."

She took up a pen, wrote a few lines, and returned to the 
respectable ecclesiastic.

"Here, doctor, is a draft of four thousand francs upon my 
steward. You will have the goodness to take out of that sum what 
will be wanted for the fore-mentioned expenses; the remainder 
you will distribute according to circumstances among the most 
necessitous. I know not how to apologise for giving you so much 
trouble; I know that my children are yours; it would procure me 
infinite pleasure to share with you the task of assisting them, 
but indispensable business summons me to Paris."

"Nothing disastrous, I hope, Madame; you have been weeping. Oh! 
My God! Be just; load this generous woman with prosperity only; 
the overthrow of her fortune would replunge a hundred families 
into a state of indigence! Oh, my God! For whom would you 
reserve riches, if you were to impoverish such as make the best 
use of them! Who, then, in this world could expect to be happy, 
if so many virtues were not to be rewarded with felicity?"

M. de Lignolle returned from his shooting excursion a few hours 
after the Rector had left us. He had commenced a long history of 
his good shots, when his lady informed him that we were going to 
have our dinner, and then to set off. The Count was surprised, 
yet pleased at the intelligence; although he had intended 
reeturning to Paris only on the morrow, he had no objection, he 
said, to start one day sooner, that he might have the pleasure 
of our company. The Countess, who had preferred travelling with 
me alone, tried to persuade her husband not to be so positive; 
but unfortunately he had already reckoned that some expense 
might be saved by travelling together; and the Countess, 
probably, did not think it proper upon this occasion to exercise 
her authority.

In truth, a more useful opportunity of saying: "I insist upon 
it," soon occurred. We had just done dinner, when the steward 
came to beg of the Count to sign Bastien's new lease. Monsieur, 
at first, refused. Madame grew angry. The dispute, though hot, 
was not of a long duration, and M. de Lignolle, though sighing 
aloud, finally did sign.

We at last took our departure. The deep reverie of Madame de 
Lignolle, clearly expressed that she was thinking of the reverse 
that threatened our amours, and yet, I believe, that my 
inquietude and sadness surpassed hers. That fight, condemned by 
righteous laws, but commanded by tyrannical honour, that fatal 
duel which I was going to fight, tormented me most shockingly. I 
know not what presentiment, at once sweet and cruel, foreboded 
that the most interesting moment of my life was near at hand, 
that a few minutes longer, were to bring me into the most 
embarrassing situation, which could ever be experienced by a man 
of lively feelings, and who had to struggle with events, and his 
passions.

We had already travelled a couple of leagues, I discovered from 
a distance, the city of Nemours, and close to us, the steeple of 
Fromonville church. Madame de Lignolle on a sudden, was taken 
ill. The indisposition which she complained of caused me to 
shudder at once with inquietude and pleasure: she was sick. How 
much joy, how much grief for me! My Eleanor was with child-she 
undoubtedly was! But I was going to leave her! I was going to 
fight! In the course of three days, perhaps I should be forced 
to forsake at once, all! My mistress, child, country! My father! 
and my Sophia! Sophia, whom I no longer adored alone, but whom I 
adored still.

A thousand divers thoughts, thus collectively harassed my miud; 
a thousand opposite feelings thus oppressed my soul: yet they 
were only a prelude to the dreadful agitations which my Eleanor 
was going to share with me.

Her husband was foremost in advising, and I myself pressed her 
to leave her berlin<56> for a moment, and to take a little 
exercise. She knew the country, and said that she felt strong 
enough, and wished to walk as far as the bridge of Montcour, 
where she ordered her coachman to proceed, and wait for us. She 
would not suffer her women, who followed in an open carriage 
behind, to get out and accompany her. We left the high road, 
went through Fromonville, as far as the sluice. The Countess had 
just refused taking M. de Lignolle's arm, but leaned upon mine. 
We walked slowly over the green turf, which in that part covers 
the borders of the canal.<57> My Eleanor, still indisposed, 
would every now and then bend down her head, which rested upon 
my shoulder, she pretty frequently would also send forth a 
tender sigh, and a gentle complaint. Her languishing, yet 
satisfied look, while informing me that she knew the cause of, 
and cherished her illness, seemed to solicit my love, rather 
than my compassion. And, I must confess it, less alarmed for the 
moment at the dangers of her situation, than delighted at the 
happiness of being a father, I viewed, with more gratification 
than terror, the alteration of that sweet face, which an 
interesting paleness rendered prettier still. Thus thinking of 
each other only, we could see nothing of the delightful 
landscape, which M. de Lignolle admired so much.

On a sudden a doleful cry, proceeding from a private house which 
I had not seen at first, struck my ears, and penetrated to the 
bottom of my heart. Great God! What a voice! I rushed on 
suddenly. Through some iron bars which stopped my course, I 
perceived, at the further extremity of a large garden, under a 
bower, a young person in a swoon, whom two women carried into a 
distant building, the door of which was immediately closed. I 
could not distinguish the features of the unhappy creature, but 
I have seen her long dark hair reaching the ground; I have seen 
that elegant shape which can only be hers! That dolorous scream 
also, I thought I knew it again. I fancied I heard that scream a 
second time, that lamentable groan which she could not help 
uttering when in the convent of the Faubourg Saint Germain, 
cruel satellites prevented me from expiring in her arms. While 
laying fast hold of the gate, which I shook, as if I wished to 
pull it down, I ceased not crying out: She has fainted away, I 
could scarcely hear Madame de Lignolle, who begged of me to mind 
that she was fainting also.

A country girl happened to pass by, who seeing the uneasiness I 
was in, said to me: "'Tis because she is ill."

"Who?"

"That young miss."

"What is her name?"

"I would tell you, miss, but I don't know."

"Who are those women?"

"I leave you to guess; only think, they don't speak as we do."

"How so?"

"Why? I can't tell, how could I, since the rector of our parish, 
who knows as much Latin as his prayer-book will hold, don't 
understand it more than my pocket; they speak such a brogue, 
that old Nick himself could not make head or tail of it"

"Are there any men in the house?"

"Every now and then I can see one, who looks to be the father of 
all the rest."

"Is he old?-Not so very old, but of a mature age."

"Does he speak French?"

"He! Oh! he is much worse. He does not speak at all; he is a 
bear, begging your pardon, and when I go near his den, he looks 
as if he were going to swallow me up. There is a servant also, 
who is no youngster neither, but will chatter Iroqueze like the 
rest."

"How long have those strange people lived in these parts?"

"Why, somewhat about three or four-"

Madame de Lignolle, beyond herself, did not allow her time to 
end her sentence: "Hold your tongue, you gossip, and go about 
your business; now you, mademoiselle, do you intend to stop here 
all day, till such time as we are lost?"

The Count, who most fortunately did not comprehend the true 
meaning of those equivocal words, "till such time as we are 
lost," said, in vain, to make her easy, that it was impossible 
we should be lost, though in a dark night, in a common high 
road. He repeated it to no purpose; she was alarmed, she uttered 
lamentations, she exclaimed: "Don't you hear me, my dear? Could 
you forsake me in my present situation? Must I be reduced to 
implore the commiseration of strangers as they pass by me?"

I looked at Madame de Lignolle, and shuddered, I no longer 
beheld that interesting countenance, whereupon lively pleasure 
checked the signs of slight pain; her features were convulsed. 
Burning anger blazed in her eyes; pale terror discoloured her 
cheeks, she could 'hardly stand on her trembling legs, she 
shuddered through every limb.

What she had been saying to me, and the situation in which I saw 
her, brought me back to my proper senses. I was struck 
immediately with the numberless dangers that threatened us, on 
the formidable spot where I obstinately would stop. If my ears 
have not deceived me, if the emotion of my heart does not impose 
upon me, it was my Sophia whom I have heard to groan, it is her 
whom I have seen ready to breathe her last; she undoubtedly has 
uttered that scream of despair only when under a perfidious 
disguise, she knew her unfaithful husband again. Since my wife 
is in that house, du Portail is there with her; the lover of 
Madame de Lignolle will not be able to escape being recognised 
by the man who has so often seen the metamorphoses of Madame de 
B***'s lover; and my inflexible father-in-law, if he perceives 
me, will look out for another retreat tomorrow, and carry away 
from me my adored wife-adored although betrayed! M. de Lignolle, 
too, who is already asking me wherefore I am concerned about 
those women, who speaks of going to enquire who those foreigners 
are, may at the first word of an explanation, equally easy and 
fatal, discover the twofold secret of my sex and of my name.

The multiplicity of those dreadful considerations terrified me; 
and in my sudden fright, I was as prompt to retire from the 
gate, as I had been eager a moment before to break it open.

Within my left arm I pressed the right arm of the Countess, and 
with my right hand seized the left of her inquisitive husband; 
then, without weighing in my mind whether the one was willing or 
the other had strength to follow me, I dragged them both to 
upwards of two hundred yards from the dangerous house. There I 
stopped; doubtful how to act, I turned round, and my sad looks 
were cast towards the place which I had just run away from. 
Alas! A forest of poplar trees, friendly, perhaps, concealed 
from me the walls wherein I left, a prey to black despair, the 
dearest object I had in the world! My heart then grew 
contracted, I had no further occasion to conceal my tears, I 
could weep no longer.

Meanwhile the Countess, under a pretence that quick walking did 
her good, pressed me to help her to proceed. I was then obliged, 
at the same time, to support my unhappy friend, ready to fall at 
every step, to dissemble my extreme anxiety, and to answer, in a 
satisfactory manner, M. de Lignolle, who kept asking me 
questions as he hopped after us.

We reached Montcour. The overtired Countess stepped into her 
carriage, and only opened her mouth to bid her coachman to drive 
as quick as he possibly could to Fontainebleau, where she 
intended to take post horses. M. de Lignolle, quite out of 
breath, kept silent for awhile, so that I was left at liberty at 
last to probe the wounds in my heart, and to indulge my poignant 
reflections.

Faublas, whither is that rapid vehicle carrying you? Cruel man! 
Whither are you going so fast? Whom have you left behind? 
Separated four months since from him she idolised, she called on 
him every day with tears in her eyes. However, the tortures of 
absence might have been soothed by the consoling idea, that a 
faithful husband groaned likewise. How much more miserable, now 
she is obliged to think the ungrateful man forsakes and runs 
away from her. This morning, no doubt, she cherished the author 
of her woes; this evening she must hate him. Oh! Sophia! Sophia! 
When you will read within my heart, you will only pity me, 
forgive me, and adore me again. Your rival, it is true, now sits 
by the side of me; but behold the grief which my pledged love to 
you, the love I feel for you, occasions her: what a sorrowful 
situation she is in! After shedding floods of tears, for fear of 
breaking out in bitter reproaches, she would not speak a single 
word to me, not even to complain of her sufferings. Her inflamed 
eyelids are weighed down; a cruel drowsiness overcomes her, the 
stillness of death is but too apparent? My dear Eleanor, how I 
pity you!-how I love you!

What have I been saying? Oh, Sophia, cease to be alarmed. When 
the moment is come, you will see whether I hesitate between my 
wife and my mistress. Eleanor, you will not consider it a crime 
if I leave you to go to her. My Sophia's accomplishments are not 
inferior to yours, and I am bound to her. Dread not, however, 
Eleanor, your friend entirely forsaking you. Could your lover be 
such a monster as to forget his having made you a mother? No, my 
dear, I will come secretly at times to bewail your miseries. We 
shall no longer spend whole days together under the same roof, 
but-What projects! Oh! Who will pity me? Who will settle my 
irresolution? Oh! Who will prevent my fatal sensibility making 
perpetually wretched two objects nearly adorable to the same 
degree. But where am I wandering again? I shall not be allowed 
to divide myself between them, I shall lose them both.

I shall only pass through Paris without stopping. Perhaps I 
shall never see Fromonville again. Honour summons me to 
Compiègne, to Compiègne, whither I am going to meet-no, not 
death-I could face undaunted the Count and Marquis, united 
against me, for a similar cause, no, not death, but exile, which 
in the present moment is to me far more dreadful. Execrable 
power of opinion! It is with a view of immolating an enemy, 
justly irritated, that I quit at the same time two beloved 
women; it is inflexible honour which commands the odious 
sacrifice! A barbarous prejudice compels me, although I would 
have resisted any other inducement, or the most excruciating 
pain.

"Mademoiselle," cried out M. de Lignolle, "let us see, whether 
you can guess this?"

I answered in a low tone of voice: "The deuce take the whole 
race of riddles!" And aloud: "Your proposal is very 
unseasonable, for I am as stupid as an owl."

"Quite womanlike, I know you by that; they are as cowardly as 
hares: at the least scratch they think that death is staring 
them in the face. See, now, the Countess suffers more from her 
apprehensions than from illness; but in truth it is not an 
illness, but a mere temporary indisposition, the common effect 
of a country jaunt, the spring; and who knows? Of a rather 
violent exercise. To be sure, mademoiselle, you go on with her 
at such a rate! Take my word for it, mind what I say to you, it 
will hurt her. Perhaps, however, it is only an excessive good 
health, an apoplexy of humours, of propitious, benign humours. 
It is a clear case, and by no means alarming. Yet she grieves, 
and why does she? Because her soul is affected, because the 
souls of females are liable to be so, whether they be married or 
single; and as you love the Countess, at least I think so, and 
without boasting I am a tolerably good connoisseur; as you love 
her, I say, you grieve at her grief, so as to grow stupid, 
according to your own saying; though I imagine you don't mean to 
be thought so. At any rate, however, you are unable to guess my 
riddle, because your soul is likewise affected, and thus it will 
take place, that the greatest operations of the mind depend upon 
the minutest affections of the soul."

"That may be, sir, but I beg you will leave me to indulge my 
reveries."

I repeated my supplications to this effect several times, prior 
to our reaching Paris, where we arrived at three o'clock in the 
morning. The Countess, scarcely allowing her husband to enter 
her apartment, hastened to dismiss her women, and, when left 
alone with me, flew into my arms. "Faublas, speak the truth; is 
not it that you have found her again?

"It is, my dear."

"How unhappy I am! Answer me: Could it be possible for you to 
intend forsaking me?"

"Forsaking you, my Eleanor! How could I? Who could be loved by 
you and not adore you, not burn with a desire of seeing you 
again?"

"That is exactly what I will say to myself when I think of you, 
and I am continually thinking of you. So, then, my dear friend, 
you expect to return from Compiègne here, without stopping 
anywhere, without going anywhere else?"

"Without going anywhere else? But my wife?"

"Well! Your wife?"

"My wife, who so long since-"

"He wishes to go and join her!"

"My wife-"

"How happy she is to be his wife! To have a lawful right because 
she has said 'yes' or 'I will' in a church, for that is the only 
difference. You have seduced and deceived me, as you have her, 
yet I am satisfied, and idolise you the same as she does. And do 
you imagine my being sick is a matter of no consequence? You 
have given me a child. Monsieur, I do not complain; I don't say 
that I am sorry for it, quite the reverse. I am well aware that 
my character will be impaired, that perhaps it will be the ruin 
of me. But let them divest me of my rank and property; I agree 
to it with all my heart, provided they allow me to retain my 
liberty and my lover. Yes, all things duly weighed, I am 
delighted at being made a mother; in the first place, it is an 
advantage I shall have over your Sophia, and, next, you must 
love me better, for I love you the more for it. And yet, 
ungrateful man, you dare to think of leaving me in my present 
situation!"

"My dear friend, only think that I am ignorant myself of what is 
to become of me; this evening, in all probability, instead of 
returning to Paris, I shall be obliged to leave France."

"In vain do you endeavour to persuade me; it is at Fromonville 
that you are in expectation of finding an asylum! I declare, 
sir, that if you go there you must drag me after you. I declare 
that I will accompany you to Compiègne, that I will follow you 
everywhere, that I will stick to you as if I was your shadow. 
Perfidious man, you will have, I swear, no other means of 
getting rid of me, but to immolate me by the side of your 
antagonist."

"I beg of you, be pacified; listen to me."

"I will listen to nothing. You want to leave me; I shall keep to 
you in spite of yourself. I shall even use violence. We are 
going to Compiègne, that is a settled business; and as for 
Fromonville, if I cannot prevent you from returning there, I 
hope you will not attempt preventing my following you thither. 
However, you are not there yet; a good thrust may not allow you 
to go there in such a hurry. My stars! What have I been saying? 
No, Faublas, I rather wish you should not be killed. Defend 
yourself well: we shall see afterwards who, of Sophia or of me, 
shall carry the day; do not suffer yourself to be wounded, as in 
your first duel; rather kill him; pray do kill him. I shall be 
there, my dear, I shall help you with my advice, and encourage 
you by my cries; you will fight before me, under my eyes, before 
the mother of your child; you will be invincible. Why do not you 
answer? Speak to me."

"What would you have me answer, when you listen only in a blind 
rage, and plan the most irrational projects? Eleanor my dear 
Eleanor! Is it possible you should go to Compiègne, and not 
expose yourself?"

"Quite possible, for it shall be so."

"My dearest, act rationally. Admitting that you were able to 
bear the fatigue of that second journey, and that, by an 
inconceivable good fortune, nobody should recognise Madame de 
Lignolle travelling post with the Chevalier de Faublas; I ask it 
of yourself, can I suffer you to witness a bloody scene at a 
time especially when your critical situation demands particular 
attention?"

"Particular attention, no doubt! That is the reason why it is 
incumbent upon me to follow you to Compiègne, and why you must 
not go to Fromonville. What will become of me when I am informed 
that you are gone to meet your antagonist, and perhaps my female 
enemy? Tormented by the most dreadful inquietude at every moment 
in the day, I shall behold my lover either unfaithful or dying. 
Alas in whatever manner my lover is taken from me, if I lose him 
what is life to me? Faublas, I beseech you, pity me, pity your 
child, pity yourself; dread my rage, do not drive me to despair. 
Faublas, I conjure you, promise me that you will not see Sophia 
tomorrow; promise that I shall see the Marquis with you this 
evening."

She was on her knees before me; she kissed and bedewed mine with 
tears. The most unfeeling of mortals could not have resisted 
her. I promised all she asked for.


 
XXI.

Notwithstanding we were to set off before dawn, yet we could not 
determine to sit up all night. Madame de Lignolle wanted 
consolation no less than repose. We went to bed; to the painful 
agitations of a too long day, succeeded the sweet agitations of 
too short a night: and the Countess, exhausted with fatigue, 
finally went to sleep. That was what her unfortunate lover had 
been waiting for: compassion had induced him to utter a 
falsehood, and imperious necessity forced him to break his 
promises.

By the feeble light of the rising sun, I removed, cautiously, 
the sheet which enveloped me; by gradual motions, I reached the 
edge of the bed; my feet already touched, or rather skimmed the 
ground; the bedclothes were replaced gently; and, on that couch 
where love lately heaved happy sighs, and enjoyed still repose, 
a forsaken lover was left to groan bitterly.

I was very slow at dressing myself, for fear of making a noise. 
However, I had got quite ready, and was going. I was seized, on 
a sudden, with a deadly shivering! I entered Mademoiselle de 
Brumont's room, that room which led to the private staircase. I 
entered it, and could feel my heart to fail me. Irresolute, I 
stopped; I then, alternately, turned round, withdrew, and 
advanced again. I attempted to fly away, and drew near again. 
Great God; is it a mistake? Has she not spoken? Has she not 
mentioned my name? Let me listen. Yes, this time, I have heard 
her very plain: it is Faublas, it is her friend whom she calls 
in plaintive, dolorous accents. Amiable, and dear creature! A 
dream informs her of my flight; she is agitated by a dreadful 
dream-alas! Too true. I felt a violent agitation myself, stooped 
towards her, my mouth murmured an adieu, my lips nearly pressed 
hers, I dropped a tear upon her uncovered breast-alas! I had 
reached the private staircase.

I had the misfortune to meet M. de Lignolle in the yard, just 
going to step into his carriage."

"Ah! ah! So early?"

"Yes, sir, I am going out."

"What! Without the Countess?"

"She is tired, she is fast asleep, she knows that I have some 
business that will keep me out all day."

"Are you going by yourself? and on foot!"

"I shall call a coach."

"No, mademoiselle, I shall take you wherever you want to go."

"But, sir, it will take you out of your way; you are in a hurry

"Never mind."

"Permit me--I shall suffer no such thing."

While I stand contending with M. de Lignolle, to evade his 
troublesome politeness, the Countess may awake, and make a 
terrible bustle; I yielded consent, in consequence of that 
reflection; I got into the cursed carriage; M. de Lignolle did 
the same, and desired me to tell the coachman where I wished to 
be carried. I thought, at first, of saying my sister's convent; 
but, upon second thoughts, directed him to take me to the house 
of Madame de Fonrose.

When arrived at the Baroness's door, I got out of the carriage; 
and, as I was going to enter the hôtel, I saw M. de Belcourt, 
coming out, incog.

He knew me again, and cried out: "I have found you, at last! It 
must be chance, then."

Trembling, I interrupted him: "Father, that gentleman whom you 
see in his carriage, I beg leave to introduce to you; he is the 
Comte de Lignolle, the husband of that young lady, at whose 
house-"

The Count, who had heard us, hastened out of the carriage, threw 
his arms round my father's neck, and congratulated him, upon 
having a daughter who guessed every riddle that was presented to 
her. He next added, "We return her to you for four-and-twenty 
hours, but hope that tomorrow you will do us the pleasure of 
bringing her back yourself."

M. de Belcourt wished to be excused, but M. de Lignolle 
persevered: "Mademoiselle de Brumont must return, for my wife is 
ill."

"I am sorry for it," replied the Baron, out of patience; "but-"

"But," continued the other, "you need not be alarmed. It is only 
a temporary indisposition; she has been sick: that proceeded, I 
believe, from her having taken, these last few days, too much 
exercise with your daughter, who you know, is active, and of a 
strong constitution. The Countess is still in her teens, mind. 
However, as I told you before, it is nothing. Nevertheless, it 
might become serious, if Mademoiselle de Brumont did not return; 
because, my wife, who is very fond of her, would grieve; her 
soul would be affected, sir, and when a woman's soul is 
affected, good bye I there is nobody at home!"

"I must repeat, sir, that I cannot promise."

"I will not leave you till you have given me your word."

"I beg-"

"Ah! I beseech you, M. de Brumont-"

The Baron, yielding to his natural impetuosity, exclaimed: "Let 
me alone, sir." Then casting at me an angry look, said: "Is it 
not shocking that I should be continually exposed in this 
manner?"

I shuddered, and threw myself into his arms. "Oh! Father! 
Remember la Porte Maillot."

These few words rendered him more composed, and he immediately 
begged a thousand pardons, and returned as many thanks to M. de 
Lignolle.

This latter gentleman, meanwhile, stood amazed at the anger 
which the supposed M. de Brumont had so given vent to. In order 
to remove all his suspicions on the subject, I thought it 
advisable to whisper to him, in a mysterious tone, the following 
insidious confidence; "Madame de Fonrose has informed you, that 
certain family business compelled my father to live incog. in 
this country, and yet you wish him to go and see you! And call 
him aloud by his name!"

"Ah! How sorry I am that I have been so forgetful," said the 
Count to the Baron.

"And I, for having been so rude," replied the latter.

"I beg you will not mention it, I have been to blame; but 
wherefore refuse your daughter returning to my wife? Well, since 
you can't bring her yourself, promise at least to send her 
back."

"I promise," resumed M. de Belcourt, "to exert my endeavours so 
that you may have no occasion to repent for your extreme 
politeness."

"The business is now settled. I am satisfied. But you have no 
carriage; shall I see you home?"

"I then answered him: We thank you. But I want to speak to the 
Baroness; I hope my father will step up with me; it is something 
particular I have to say to her."

He drove off. When his carriage was at a distance, we got into a 
hackney coach, which, whilst carrying us from the further end of 
the Faubourg Saint Germain to la Place Vendôme, afforded me full 
time to indulge my reveries. Solely engaged in thinking of the 
despair of my wife, forsaken on the preceding day; of the 
approaching miseries of my mistress, whom I had been unfaithful 
to that very morning, I seemed to be attentively listening to 
the salutary representations of M. de Belcourt. Vain sounds 
struck my ears; I was awakened from my lethargy only by the 
following words of the long reprimand; "The miseries of Sophia, 
whom you forgot."

"No, I do not forget her, no. Her miseries are great, no doubt, 
but they will be of no long duration. Tomorrow, yes, tomorrow. 
And you, father, this very day. Ah! must beg your pardon, I am 
beyond myself. You are getting out here, father. You are going 
to see Adelaide?"

"I am."

"I am not going to show myself in the parlour in my present 
costume. I shall go home and change my dress, and then-farewell, 
father. Oh! You, whom I love as much as she does! Adieu."

"How so, my friend are you not coming to join me?"

"To join you! Ah! Yes, to join you! Father, embrace me then, 
forgive me, for all the chagrin I occasion you."

"With all my heart, but pray-"

"Indeed I would wish to behave better; but I cannot resist. You 
will have the goodness to kiss my sister for me, won't you?"

"You will discharge your errand presently yourself."

"Yes, father"

"I shall see you again tomorrow."

"What does he mean? Are you deranged?"

"True indeed, I speak at random. Farewell, I am sorry to leave 
you, adieu! You will hear from me in an hour."

I reached home. Jasmin was standing sentry at the door; the 
fellow laughed at seeing me in female attire; and apprised me 
that Madame de Montdesir had already sent twice that morning to 
enquire whether I was returned from the country, and to 
recommend I should be desired, immediately upon my arrival, to 
go to her house. "Very well! This agrees with my plan. Quick, 
Jasmin, dress my hair."

"Like a man's, mademoiselle?"

"Yes."

The business was soon done.

"Jasmin! A pen, ink, and paper. Quick. Whilst I am writing, make 
haste to get everything ready for me to dress from head to 
foot."

"In man's clothes, mademoiselle?"

"To be sure. Next you will get my horse, and your own ready 
also."

"And am I to go with you sir?"

"Yes."

"So much the better, I shall have some fun. We certainly are 
about some frolic."

"Jasmin, you must reach me my sword."

"Ah? So much the worse, for if we are going to fight we shall 
kill somebody. The poor little Marquis, methinks I see him, down 
he comes. That was his own fault, though, for we did everything 
to spare him; you carried it too far! Since that one is not 
dead, his soul must have been screwed into his body."

"Jasmin, make haste; we haven't a moment to lose; above all 
things don't go and blabber."

"I had rather be hanged, sir, than divulge your secret."

I was writing to my father, and giving him all the information I 
possibly could respecting Sophia's place of retirement, and my 
letter was concluded in the following manner.
Go, father, I beseech you, set off immediately for 
Fromonville! Let not du Portail escape you a second time; 
whatever his motives may be, see my father-in-law, speak to 
him, soothe him, that he may restore to us his admirable 
daughter; bring my dear Adelaide back with you, pray do 
bring her back. The two friends will be so glad to meet 
again! Let the presence of Adelaide be to Sophia the 
forerunner of Faublas's return, let the tender caresses of 
the sister prepare her for the transports of the brother, 
of that brother who adores her, by whom she is idolised. 
The extreme tender feelings of Sophia require to be nicely 
managed. Spare no pains, I beg of you, to inform her of our 
re-union, without endangering her health. She now is 
plunged into deep despair; her joy would kill her. I 
confide into your hands, father, my dearest interest; I 
recommend her to your care, the most respectable, the most 
beautiful, the most amiable creature in the world, I 
recommend to you my beloved. 
 Oh! That I could myself now fly to Fromonville Alas! I am 
going elsewhere. Need I tell you that an indispensable 
affair imposes the obligation upon me. Yet be not alarmed. 
Tomorrow, before twelve I shall be near my father, near my 
wife; I swear by Sophia and by you."

I dressed myself, and sealed my letter, which a trusty man was 
commissioned to take to Adelaide's convent, and to deliver into 
M. de Belcourt's own hands. I ordered Jasmin to go and wait for 
me at La Porte Saint Martin, and ran to Madame de Montdesir's.

I found there, not Madame de B***, but Vicomte de Florville. 
"Here he is at last," he said. I apologised for having kept him 
waiting, and thanked the Marchioness, who had sent for me just 
at the time when I was anxious to know how I could procure the 
happiness of a few minutes' conversation with her. I added, that 
I had brought from the country a grand piece of news.

"What is it?"

"I have seen Sophia."

She turned pale, and cried out: "That is impossible!"

I informed her, in a few words, of the retreat which du Portail 
had selected, and how, by mere chance, I had the good fortune to 
find it out. The Marchioness looked uneasy while listening to 
me; I entreated her to send immediately to Fromonville some 
people to watch du Portail, and follow him everywhere; for I 
apprehended, lest my father-in-law still intended, and might 
find the means of avoiding M. de Belcourt's pursuit.

"How comes it," she said, in a faltering voice, "that you do not 
go yourself?"

"I cannot, an affair of importance calls me to another part."

She resumed, with a more calm air, and in a tone of greater 
assurance: "What! Has Madame de Lignolle already acquired such 
an empire over you?"

"It is not Madame de Lignolle who tears me away from Sophia; an 
indispensable duty."

"Speak it out; can't I know?"

"Believe me, my dear mamma, it breaks my heart to keep a secret 
from you."

"This is giving me a broad hint, Chevalier, that I should be 
guilty of indiscretion if I were to ask any further questions. I 
condescend to believe, that I have no reason to complain of so 
much reserve. I am going to issue the most pressing orders that 
du Portail should be watched from this evening, and that he may 
not stir an inch without my being informed of it directly; 
either I, or little Montdesir, in my absence," she added, with a 
deep sigh."

"In your absence, mamma! Are you going to quit Paris?"

"Presently, my good friend."

"That is very unlucky for me! How sorry I am to lose you, 
especially at a time when your advice and assistance would have 
been so requisite! Where are you going?

"To Versailles, first."

"To Versailles in this dress! Mamma, it appears to me to be the 
frac Anglais<46> of the charming Vicomte, whose name I had 
borrowed, and which you embellished on the day we went to Saint 
Cloud together?"

"That may be," returned she, affecting not to be certain. "Yes, 
I believe it is the same."

"And from Versailles you intend proceeding to?"

"Chevalier, it is with regret I am forced to repeat your own 
words: Believe me, it breaks my heart to keep a secret from 
you."

"But, will it be a long journey?"

"Perhaps, my good friend, perhaps, she answered, in broken 
accents, and that is the reason why, prior to my undertaking it, 
I ardently wished to bid you adieu."

"Adieu! Mamma; my dear mamma, you make me quite uneasy, you look 
sad, pray entrust-"

She interrupted me on a sudden: "Respect my secret, I did not 
attempt to force yours. I do not even pretend to guess at it. 
Go, Faublas, go and return content, if possible. I cannot be 
explicit, I cannot speak of the approaching event, nor mention 
the apprehensions that discompose me, the wishes I presume to 
harbour! But my friend, my dear friend, how cruel if we were 
never to see one another again."

"Great gods! You sigh! Your eyes are bedewed with tears!"

"Adieu, Faublas, adieu, my dear child. I grieve at leaving you; 
remember it, if some great misfortune was to happen. Do not 
forget, the Marchioness de B*** lost you on account of an act of 
treachery, and that she became the victim of a base man, who 
called himself your friend. Do not forget, above all things, 
that she never ceased bearing you the most tender friendship; 
the most tender, repeated she, squeezing my hand.

She gave me a kiss, and ran away from me. I remained confounded 
at what I had just heard; and in the first moment of my 
surprise, I repeated some of the expressions that had escaped 
Madame de B***: Go, and return content; I cannot tell the wishes 
I presume to harbour; how cruel if we were never to see one 
another again. It is beyond a doubt. Madame de B*** knows that I 
am going to fight, and who my adversary is! The wishes I presume 
to harbour! Those wishes she could not express, without 
committing a crime. I, perhaps, am excusable, for endeavouring 
to find out her secret, her most secret thoughts."

How cruel if we were never to see one another again. You will 
see me again, Madame de B***, you will see me again, rest 
assured of it; you being the prize of the contest, the day will 
be mine.

Imprudent Marquis! How audacious to challenge Faublas to the 
field of honour! How rash your attack upon a life so powerfully 
defended! The destinies of three charming women are linked with 
mine.

Justine, who now came in, perhaps intended to give me some 
encouragement, in her way, but it was already so late, that I 
could not have listened to her, although I had been so inclined.

At the Porte Saint Martin I found my man,who accompanied me as 
far as Bourget; there I bade him take my horse back to Paris, 
and applied for post horses.

I reached the forest of Compiègne, and the appointed spot, 
before the clock struck five. For some minutes I had been 
walking up and down, when, on a sudden, two men came up, and 
clapped each of them a pistol to my breast. They next asked me 
whether I was a gentleman.

I hesitated not to answer in the affirmative. "Since it is so, 
sir, have the goodness to cover your face with this mask, and to 
stand witness to a fight, which is going to take place between 
two persons of high rank. Give us your word of honour, don't 
speak a word, but remain motionless during the contest, and 
whatever may be the issue, never to reveal it."

"I will not boast, sir, my being a man of very high rank; 
though, in truth, besides being possessed of a large fortune, I 
bear an ancient name. I myself have an appointment here to 
fight. Perhaps you have been led into an error, perhaps I am 
intended to be one of the performers in the unhappy scene, which 
you wish I should be a tranquil spectator of?"

"We shall soon know, sir, whether it is to be so, but till such 
time as we have ascertained the fact, please to put on this 
mask, and to give your word of honour."

You may easily conceive that I did, and promised to do all they 
were willing to dictate.

For about an hour I had been in that situation, which began to 
cause me some inquietude, when I thought I heard a noise towards 
the extremity of a walk that joined the high road. The moment 
after, I saw a post-chaise, surrounded by several masked and 
armed men, enter from the same side the cross-road where I 
stood. It appeared to me, that this gang, which at first I 
imagined to be composed of assassins, had just secured the 
servant and postilion, and compelled the master to get out of 
the chaise. Dreading lest he should be massacred before my eyes, 
actuated by a rash zeal, I was going to fly to his assistance; 
the two men who watched over me only kept me back by saying: 
"The critical moment is come, think of what you have promised."

In the meantime the unknown person, still surrounded, was 
advancing towards us most steadily, and with an air of great 
composure. The nearer he approached, the more I thought I 
recollected the features of a young man whom I had not seen for 
a long time. When he had got to a short distance, one of my 
keepers went straight up to him, desired him to stop, and said: 
"A man of honour complains of your having done him a mortal 
injury, and intends to claim immediate reparation; if he falls, 
he promises that no particulars of the fight shall ever be made 
known to anyone; in case he should survive his wounds, he 
engages to return to the same spot as soon as he is cured, to 
maintain the contest, which can only be completely settled by 
the death of one of the parties. Make a similar engagement, 
Monsieur le Comte; and swear upon your honour to fulfil it."

"What!" replied the young man, "Is Lord Barrington offended at 
my leaving England without having taken leave of his august 
spouse? It must be confessed that husbands all over the world 
are queer people. This outlandish husband especially appears to 
me to be a great oddity; did he wish me to entertain an 
everlasting blaze for his languishing lady? Besides, if he bore 
me malice, why did he not tell me so in his own country? 
Wherefore did he not come to Brussels, where I stopped a long 
time, having heard that he was in search of me? Why, at the 
expiration of six weeks, comes he with this frightful apparatus, 
to attack me in my own country, when I am just returned to it? 
At any rate, I hope we are not going to fisty cuffs."

By his voice, his countenance, and his lively discourse, as well 
as by his sneers, I could no longer doubt of his being 
Rosambert. Then only I began to surmise the strange truth: Oh! 
Madame de B***, for you it was that my heart throbbed! However, 
I took great care not to exhibit by any motion, or to express by 
any words, my extreme surprise, and my profound terror: I was 
bound by oath.

Rosambert was now presented with a horse, which he was invited 
to mount; and with a pistol, which he was desired to load 
himself. The Count soon mounted the horse; and while loading his 
pistol, said to those who encircled him: "Yes, you are right; 
this is the favorite mode of fighting among those sons of 
Albion. With the exception of the pistol, I stand highly obliged 
to the noble lord; he makes me a thousand years younger than I 
was. Indeed, gentlemen of the Round Table, the heroical parade 
which we are now exhibiting, exactly resembles an adventure of 
King Arthur! In imitation of the champions of old, you stop 
travellers on the high road, to make them tilt with you." 
Rosambert then casting a look at me, continued: "This genteel 
cavalier, who stands solus, without opening his mouth, or 
meddling with your bravados, who is he? A gentle damsel whom I 
must relieve; or some great princess in male attire? I should 
like it better, for my part. But where is the giant, the famous 
giant that I am to cut in halves?" The stranger, who had 
hitherto been the spokesman, then said to Rosambert: "Swear, 
Monsieur le Comte, to stick to the terms agreed upon."

"Foi, de gentilhomme!<56> Gentlemen, I do."

One of my keepers gave the signal, by firing a shot. We 
immediately perceived an individual approaching at full gallop 
from the other extremity of the avenue. Rosambert waited for him 
undaunted; but whether he relied too much upon his taking a good 
aim, or that he did not entirely retain the sang-froid requisite 
upon those occasions, he fired at his antagonist from too great 
a distance, and missed him. The other, on the contrary, with 
more skill and intrepidity, fired almost immediately, but yet 
fired last. The ball whistled close to Rosambert's ear, carried 
off one of his curls, and struck his hat so as to make it drop. 
The Count, catching hold of it, exclaimed: "He is quite in 
earnest; this masked opponent aims at my brains."

His adversary's face, the same as mine, was concealed under a 
thin piece of paste-board; but I could not help shuddering when 
I saw the same frac Anglais,<46> in which, on that same morning, 
the Marchioness had appeared before me at Justin's lodgings.

The Vicomte de Florville, for I could no longer entertain any 
doubts, had turned round, full gallop, to reach the extremity of 
the avenue. Rosambert, who did not lose sight of him, said: 
"That is truly my lord's national frock; but, by St. George; I 
do not see his round belly. Gentlemen," he added, in a tone 
expressive of spite and audacity, "I never could have presumed 
to offer such an offence to an Englishman, as to imagine he 
would fight by proxy. I shall try, however, although the best 
shot in the three kingdoms had been sent against me, whether 
there is no possibility to prevent a foreigner, were he one of 
Old Nick's tribe, to have occasion to boast of being victorious 
over a Frenchman, without incurring some danger. Where art thou, 
my dear Faublas, who never missed a flying swallow? Oh, that I 
were possessed, on the present occasion, for the honour of 
France, and to punish a traitor, of thy quick sight, and steady 
hand."

The Count, having loaded a second time, a new signal was given. 
Rosambert, this time, did not remain motionless: he spurred his 
horse forward, and the two adversaries, meeting half way, fired 
at the distance of five or six paces. The Count's ball only went 
through the collar of the coat of his antagonist, who, more 
succesful, fractured his right shoulder, and brought him to the 
ground.
 
Illustration: His antagonist  fractured his right shoulder, and 
brought him to the ground.

The conqueror, immediately taking off his mask, produced before 
the eyes of the stupefied vanquished, the face of Madame de 
B****.

"Look! Base traitor!" said the Marchioness, "Know me again, and 
blush! You die by the hand of a woman! You showed courage and 
dexterity only to insult her!"

Rosambert appeared, for a moment, to be overpowered by the pain 
he suffered, and the disgrace of his defeat. He cast a wondering 
look at the Marchioness; but, resuming his natural disposition, 
addressed her in broken accents, his voice being nearly extinct: 
"What! My fair lady, is it you that I am so happy as to see 
again? How times are changed! Our last interview, to speak the 
truth, I found more entertaining; and so did you, my beauty, 
though you might pretend to deny it. Ungrateful creature! Was it 
here-was it in this way that you were to disable a complaisant 
young man who, in former days, went from Paris to Luxembourg, 
for the sole purpose of procuring you some pleasing occupation?"

"Rosambert," replied the Marchioness, "in vain are you striving 
to dissemble your rage, and the pain you endure. Heaven is just; 
I am entitled to congratulate myself; I have reaped a double 
revenge; your punishment, which now commences is not near being 
at an end. Remember our terms; remember that my enemy is to keep 
my secret wherever he may go, and bring me back my victim on 
this very spot."

The Count, lifting up his head, with great difficulty, turned 
towards me: "This young man, he said, is certainly the Chevalier 
de Faublas."

"Faublas!"

I took off my mask, and went up to him. "First let us embrace," 
he continued. "She has overpowered me, my friend; be not 
surprised at it; it is not the first time that she has brought 
me down. And while I was invoking your name, sir, here you 
stood, your wishes were not in my favour, but against me: I 
forgive you, however. She is such a lovely creature! Come and 
see me in Paris, if I do but reach it time enough just to get 
buried there."

The Marchioness then took me aside, and said to me: "Chevalier, 
pardon my mysteriously concealing from you the peril to which I 
was going to be exposed, and the artifice I have used to oblige 
you to witness it. My lover, alas! had seen the offence offered: 
I deemed it proper my friend should be present at the 
reparation. Faublas, I knew well, still felt so concerned in my 
behalf, that he would have willingly espoused my quarrel, but 
he, perhaps, would not have esteemed me so far as to think me 
worthy of maintaining it myself. Yet," she added, with a mixture 
of joy and pride, "I have just evinced, that half a year back, I 
did not take an engagement above my power to fulfil, when 
reduced to the hard necessity of living merely to gratify my 
revengeful spirit, I took the oath of surprising you by the 
manner in which it was to be accomplished."

"Now, Faublas, what appeared to you equivocal, or obscure, in my 
discourse of this morning, is clearly explained. You may 
conceive what apprehensions I was a prey to, when, with tears in 
my eyes, I asked my friend whether it would not be a cruel thing 
never to see one another again. You must be no stranger to the 
inquietude that tormented me, when Sophia's lover informed me 
that he had just found her again. Ah! believe me, I comprehended 
immediately that du Portail might have recognised you on the 
road to Montcour; I should feel extremely sorry if this trip to 
Compiègne had left your father-in-law time to carry away your 
wife once more. Faublas, if such a misfortune has happened, be 
not so unjust as to charge your friend with the sad accident. 
Consider, that when I had a challenge under the name of M. de 
B*** delivered to you, nothing could induce me to guess, that on 
your return with Madame de Lignolle, you were to meet Sophia. 
Reflect, moreover, that there was no further necessity this 
morning of sending you back to Fromonville, since it would have 
been impossible for you, though you had travelled ever so quick, 
to arrive there before the faithful emissaries which I 
immediately dispatched, with express orders to watch every 
motion of M. du Portail, if he still inhabited the same retreat; 
or to go in pursuit of him if he had left it Now that there is 
no impediment to detain you, go and-"

Madame de B*** was interrupted by screams that seemed to issue 
from Rosambert's post-chaise, which had remained in the cross-
road, towards, though at some distance from, the main road. We 
all ran, with the exception of the surgeon, who was busy in 
dressing the Count's wounds. As we drew near, we perceived 
behind the Count's vehicle, a gig, in which we saw a female 
struggling very hard; she was held by the same masked men who 
had secured Rosambert's postilion and servant. "My stars!" she 
exclaimed, "It is all over then! They were not able to conquer, 
and have murdered him! Ah!" she said, with a joyful exclamation, 
"There he is! There he is!" Then in a mournful tone, "Perfidious 
man! It is true, then, that you have been so cruel as to take 
the advantage of my being asleep!"

The Marchioness asked me in a whisper, whether that was not the 
young Countess?

I answered yes, and rushed into the arms of my mistress.

"Is it all over?" resumed the Countess: "I have heard several 
shots. Who are those people that have stopped me? You were to 
fight with swords! I am all in a tremble, seized with fright. 
Where is your antagonist? Is the day yours? He was not to bring 
anybody with him, wherefore all these people, these weapons, 
these masks? How glad I am to see you, my dear. How frightened I 
am. Barbarous Faublas! How angry I am with you, for having left 
me in so base a manner."

Thus did Madame de Lignolle by the disorder of her questions, 
announce the confusion of her ideas: that in her person may 
easily be described. You might have read in her looks, so lately 
mild, now gloomy and dazzling, successively and almost at a 
time, the sweet mistakes of hope, the deadly reveries of fear, 
the intoxication of happy love; the rage of betrayed love; you 
might have seen in her countenance, the wonderful mobility 
whereof alarmed me, all the impetuous passions militating 
against each other; each muscle seemed to be agitated by a 
convulsive movement, the expression of each sentiment passed as 
quick as a flash of lightning.

"Would you believe it!" she continued; "I have slept, though you 
were no longer there! I slept till noon! But what sleep! Great 
God! Horrid dreams disturbed it! You ran away from me at every 
moment, and I then found myself surrounded by dreadful objects 
only; the Marquis, the Marchioness, your wife! Your wife! I am 
your wife! Am I not, my dear? Never forget it, sir! The Marquis, 
have you killed him?

"No, my dear."

"Come," said Madame de B***, whom this conversation most 
probably rendered uneasy, "Come, Florville! Mount your horse! Be 
mounted! Quick! You have no time to lose!"

"What do you mean, with your no time to lose?" exclaimed the 
Countess, casting a terrible look at the Vicomte de Florville; 
"is he losing time when he is with me? Who is that saucy youth?"

"A relation of M. de B***."

"Hear me, my dear; I am afraid of all that family. Oh, how much 
I have suffered since yesterday! What a torture to be 
continually fretting for myself for him! Unceasingly to be 
thinking of that rival who wishes to rob me of him! Of that 
enemy who threatens his life! Have you wounded him?"

"No, my dear."

"You have not even wounded him? Sir, only think, I had 
prescribed him though to wound the man! But how comes it? 
Perhaps the Marquis has not arrived yet?"

"Florville," resumed Madame de B***, "hours are flying, it is 
getting dark"

"What does this stranger trouble his head about?" replied the 
Countess. "Faublas, do not listen to him, stay here. How much 
have I suffered since yesterday! How fatal will love turn out 
when it ceases being happy! How unbearable will its tortures 
appear when there is no sharer in them!"

"What are you saying, my Eleanor? How I grieve at your sorrows!"

"Do you! Well, if it is so, I shall feel comforted; I am 
satisfied, let us begone."

I repeated the words let us begone.

"Chevalier," cried out the Marchioness, "are you forgetful of a 
pressing duty summoning you?"

"Alas! It is not in Paris that you are wanted."

I got loose from the Countess's arms, and from the shaft of her 
gig, leaped upon the horse which the Marchioness was presenting 
to me. "He is going to fight!" said Madame de Lignolle. I will 
follow him! I wish to be present at that fight!"

The Vicomte, anxious to quiet her, answered: "Make yourself 
easy, he is out of danger; the fight is over."

"Over! repeated she, sorrowfully, "Over! He is at Fromonville 
then? The ingrate forsakes me once more! The barbarian 
sacrifices me!

She wished to stop me, the Vicomte's men stopped her. She 
uttered screams of inquietude and of rage; she fell senseless to 
the bottom of her vehicle.

Alas! Who could not have pitied the too feeling woman, and been 
melted at sight of her sufferings? I shuddered at her perilous 
situation. The Marchioness did not attempt to oppose my 
dismounting, and getting into the Countess's gig again; I even 
felt extreme emotion at seeing Madame de B*** lavish attention 
upon Madame de Lignolle. With one hand she supported her head, 
with the other she rubbed her face and temples over with 
spirituous waters; with her own handkerchief she wiped off the 
cold sweat that moistened her forehead; poor child! She said, 
"See how extinct are those eyes, which but a moment since shone 
with so much lustre! What paleness overspreads those cheeks that 
I have seen coloured with so blooming a vermilion: poor angel!"

"You alarm me, my dear! do you think there is any danger?"

"Danger? Perhaps. The Countess is of a violent temper, and she 
already seems to love you much."

"Very much, indeed! Besides, of late she has been slightly 
indisposed; she frequently is sick."

"What!" cried Madame de B***, "is she with child already? So 
much the better." But this effusion of lively joy soon made room 
for a tone of commiseration: she then continued thus: "So much 
the better-for you; but for her! For her it is a dreadful, 
fatal, cruel event; attended with many dangerous consequences."

"She is really exposed; but how much am I to be pitied too! What 
a state of embarrassment I am in! The one is here dying lest I 
should leave her, and the other grieves because I have left her. 
Tell me, then, what am I to do! Let me hear what I am to 
determine?"

"Just now," she interrupted, "I invited you to begone; I now 
confess that if I were in your place, I should be equally at a 
loss to resolve the question. It is proper you should consult 
your own heart, but you must also be actuated by circumstances."

"Consult my own heart; there I find only irresolution and 
strife. With regard to circumstances, are they not, on either 
side, equally perplexing, pressing, and imperious Oh, my dear 
friend 1 I beg of you, pity the situation I am in, it is really 
cruel! Put an end to my perplexity; advise me."

"What can I say to you? The laws which duty imposes are not to 
be misinterpreted. It is true, however, that it would appear 
cruel to forsake the Countess, situated as she is. She is of a 
violent disposition, you believe she is with child, and the poor 
little creature loves you, as you must be loved, a great deal 
too much! To go now, would certainly be delivering her up to 
agitations which might cost her her life. It seems to me 
probable, that Sophia, being of a much milder temper-Sophia, 
long since accustomed to your absence, to her being forsaken, 
will perhaps, support less impatiently-yet, I would not warrant 
it so. It is very possible that your wife, not seeing you 
return, and thinking herself deserted forever, may become a prey 
to despair."

"To despair! Yes!" repeated Madame de Lignolle, in a feeble 
voice, and who had just recovered the use of her senses-"to 
despair!"

She knew me again, and said: "Is it you, Faublas! You have not 
left me, then! You have acted right: stay here, I insist upon 
it, stay here. You, barbarous unknown," she said to the 
Marchioness, "Leave us. Cruel man, you do not feel for my 
miseries. You never have wanted another to pity you! You have 
never loved, then-"

The Vicomte, laying hold of her hand, interrupted her: "If you 
knew to whom you are addressing that reproach; if you knew that 
Madame de Lignolle, although very miserable, is less to be 
pitied than the unhappy creature who is now speaking! I, too, 
have experienced a similar flame to that which devours you. I 
also have known the transient delight of love, and its 
inconsolable regrets. Countess! Unhappy Countess! You have much 
more to suffer, if you are doomed to suffer as much as I have!"

My eyes happened to meet those of the Marchioness; they were 
bathed in tears; and the sight of them caused my heart to throb.

"Can it be true," she continued with greater vehemence, "that a 
malignant deity presides over human destinies, and takes an 
abominable pleasure in making the most unequal distribution of 
his precious gifts? Is it true, that, by means of the refinement 
of a barbarous calculation, he is prodigal only towards a very 
small number of privileged mortals, that he might more certainly 
torment the immense crowd of individuals maltreated by his 
avarice? What! Tell me, young man, has an unmerciful deity, who 
has favoured you too highly, endowed you with graces that 
attract, wit that seduces, talents that are envied, beauty which 
is admired, feelings that please, and eyes that charm the soul-
with all these accomplishments, besides a thousand more, the 
collection whereof, perhaps, has never shone but in you, merely 
with a view of causing your rivals to despair, and of torturing 
your mistresses? Constancy, that single virtue you are deficient 
of, has that jealous god refused it to you in order that, in 
this world, no female might expect high felicity without a 
mixture of sorrow; and that no man can be an absolute model of 
perfection? What! Are all of your same sex, who, as yet 
unacquainted with you, would presume to contend for the prize of 
valour, or of tenderness of heart, are all such as nature has 
favoured the most necessarily to appear as having incurred only 
his displeasure, when the moment of comparing them to you is 
come? What! Must all the fair who happen to see you, be 
invincibly compelled to love you, without the least delay?-Alas! 
And reduced to repentance of the longest duration? Oh, destiny!"

The Countess had listened to the Marchioness with a mixture of 
attention and surprise. "Whoever you may be," she said to her, 
"love is well known to you. You speak of it as I might do 
myself. Now I am reconciled to you a little; but allow us to 
leave you. Let us begone, Faublas; let us begone. What! You are 
struck dumb?-won't you come?"

Still agitated by various apprehensions, and as many desires, I 
cast my eye upon the Marchioness, expressive of my irresolution, 
and to what degree I wanted her to guide my determination.

The Vicomte comprehended my meaning, and explained: "Truly I 
would not hesitate; I would go to Fromonville."

"To Fromonville?" interrupted the Countess.

"Tomorrow," resumed the other; "but this evening I would return 
to Paris with Madame de Lignolle."

"That is what may be called good advice exclaimed the Countess; 
I approve highly of the latter part; and you, Faublas?"

"So do I, my Eleanor."

In the first transport of her joy, Madame de Lignolle embraced 
Madame de B***; and I confess it was not without a lively 
pleasure, that, during some minutes, I felt united, and pressed 
the hands of those two charming women within mine.

"Sir," resumed the Countess, addressing the Vicomte, "we are 
going to bid you adieu; but, before we part, permit me to ask 
you a question. I am jealous, and I plainly confess it. You were 
nearly weeping just now; you are unhappy in your amours, and it 
is the Chevalier's fault. Do me the service to inform me who the 
fair lady is, whom the Chevalier has seduced from you. Sir," 
pursued Madame de Lignolle, who was at a loss to guess at the 
cause of the embarrassment which the Marchioness could not 
conceal, "you will excuse his friend for thinking that he 
deserved being preferred; but at least I believe, and I do not 
aim at paying you a compliment, that you merited the lady."

Hesitating for a while, "Sir," she continued, "I beg you will 
conclude the unasked-for confidence; you have nothing to 
apprehend for your secret, you have been made acquainted with 
mine."

"Madame," answered the Vicomte, who had settled in his own mind 
the answer to be returned to the very interesting question: "In 
a moment of anxiety one is liable to complain of a thousand 
things."

"Ah! Pray tell me what mistress of yours Faublas has?"

"Madame, as this gentleman has been telling you, I am related to 
M. de B***; I adored his wife."

"His wife! Do not mention her! I detest her!"

"You are ungrateful then, for she loves you."

"Who told you so?"

"Herself"

"Does she know me?"

"She has had the pleasure of seeing and of speaking to you."

"Where?"

"That question I must not answer."

"Never mind! Yes, she is wrong to love me, for I repeat it over 
again, I abominate her."

"May I ask for what reason?"

"For what reason! She is a dangerous woman!"

"Her enemies will protest she is."

"An intriguer."

"Courtiers will report she is"

"Not handsome enough to be so much spoken of."

"Women will say that of her."

"A woman of gallantry."

"She wants neither wit nor attractions. How were it possible not 
to make of her the heroine of some adventure?"

"Some! She has had a thousand."

"Are any favourites of hers mentioned?"

"There are, indeed! I, who see very little company, know of 
three."

"Will you please to name them?"

"The Count de Rosambert"

"A true coxcomb, he always denied it."

"A palpable reason! Faublas."

"Oh! As for that one, I do not dispute it."

"The third, M. de --"

"M. de --!" inquired the Marchioness, whom I saw at the same 
moment several times to blush and to turn pale.

"Yes, M. de --, the new minister, to whom she surrendered her 
person, to obtain the Chevalier's release. What I am saying now 
hurts you?"

"M. de --", resumed the Marchioness, with less perturbation, but 
more conspicuous astonishment.

"That hurts you!"

"I can see that you are still deep in love."

"M. de --! this is a very new charge."

"Because the intrigue is of no ancient date."

"But at least, there should be some evidence."

"How can there? They did not call any witnesses."

"Yet, Madame, you presume to certify-"

"Because everybody does."

"Everybody! Chevalier, you knew of it then?"

"I have been told so, Vicomte, but I would not believe it."

"That does not signify," returned he, "with a discontented air, 
you ought to have let me know."

"To be sure," said the Countess, "to apprise a man of honour of 
the bad conduct of a coquette, who imposes upon him, is 
rendering him a great service. I sincerely pity you, sir, for 
having been caught in that lady's net, you seem to be deserving 
of a better lot. Let us now return to what concerns me. You are 
no longer uneasy about the Chevalier, I hope?"

"I beg your pardon, Madame, I am."

"Mind that, sir," exclaimed the Countess, looking at me. "Does 
he visit the Marchioness often?" she asked the Vicomte.

"Sometimes."

"You see, sir, you go to her sometimes! So then he is still in 
love with her?"

"A little, I believe."

"So then, sir, it appears you are in love with her!"

The Vicomte interrupted her, saying: "You must not quite abide 
by my assertion, however, I am a party concerned, perhaps I 
don't view things in a fair light."

"Oh! You do though, sir, you can't be mistaken. As for you, 
Faublas, I shall know how to prevent your visiting that coquette 
and loving her!"

"We are going to leave you," she pursued, addressing Madame de 
B***. "After the scene which you have just witnessed, I rely 
upon your keeping my secret, although I were not to beg of you 
so to do; for the whole of your appearance is truly 
prepossessing."

"If I had room for a third person in my gig, I should be very 
happy to offer you a seat."

"I confess I should be proud of being further acquainted with 
you. Come and see me at Paris. The Chevalier will oblige me by 
introducing you. But you may do better still, come by yourself, 
you don't want anybody to introduce you. Come, and I promise, 
since it really grieves you too much, never to speak ill to you 
of the Marchioness, though she is a wicked woman."

We departed. I gave a few louis d'ors to the postilion who took 
us back to la Croix-Saint-Ouen, where the Countess had hired 
him, and who promised not to speak a word of all he had seen. 
Madame de Lignolle thought it incumbent upon her to silence, by 
dint of a remuneration, her man-servant, La Fleur, who she had 
been obliged to take with her, and who of course was made 
acquainted with our amours.

My youthful companion meanwhile loaded me with caresses, which I 
repaid in kind: with reproaches that I was no longer deserving 
of: and with questions which it was impossible for me to answer. 
In vain did I observe to her, that she ought to be satisfied at 
her lover being neither killed, wounded, nor obliged to leave 
her and his native country: she disapproved the secret which I 
was bound to keep by my word of honour, which, she said, I 
should not have given.

The Vicomte de Florville naturally became the topic of our 
conversation. The Countess, who appeared to observe most 
attentively the impression her discourse made upon me, said: 
that young man is very amiable!"

"Very amiable, indeed."

"Adorned with graces."

"Very much so."

"A pleasing countenance."

"Very agreeable."

"A very handsome face!"

"Yes, very handsome."

"His voice is as sweet as yours."

"I think so."

"His, however, is rather too clear: it seems to want a 
something-"

"He is but a youth."

"You are right. How old may he be? Sixteen?"

"At most."

"Never mind," repeated she, with affectation, "I find him a 
charming young man."

"Charming."

"He seems to have a deal of wit, and exquisite feelings."

"He has, my dear."

I thus spoke by monosyllables, for fear of saying too much; and 
affected great indifference, in order to remove all manner of 
suspicion.

"Will you have the goodness to answer me otherwise," said Madame 
de Lignolle, in a pet."

"What is the matter;"

"The matter is that your sang-froid hurts me."

"My sang-froid!"

"Yes, I seem to have paid particular attention to that young 
man; I speak of him in high terms, and you do not appear to be 
alarmed in the least."

"What should I be alarmed at?"

"That is what I complain of. You do not manifest the least 
inquietude!"

I replied, laughing, "Because indeed, my dear, I can find no 
occasion."

"How so, sir, wherefore should not you feel a little jealous? 
For my part I am of a jealous disposition."

"I shall repeat it, my Eleanor, the Vicomte cannot alarm me."

"Don't laugh, sir; I don't like people to laugh when I am 
speaking reason to them. Be pleased to tell me wherefore the 
Vicomte cannot?"

"Wherefore? Because he is a mere child."

"Would you have people think that you are old?"

"My security besides is founded on the esteem with which you 
inspire me."

"The esteem, sir, the esteem! Let me have less esteem, and a 
little more love. I have often heard it said, at the time when I 
did not comprehend it, and now that I understand it well, I am 
sensible it is but too true; one is never truly in love unless 
one is very jealous. Become jealous if you wish to please me."

"Be you content, Madame, then; I confess that I was very uneasy 
while you were surveying the Vicomte."

"That," she interrupted, by giving me a kiss, "that is what I 
call speaking plain; that is what you should have said at first. 
Nevertheless, Faublas, you need not be alarmed. I only admired 
the Vicomte, that I might admire you more. I was saying to 
myself: That youth looks very well, but my lover looks still 
better. The face of my lover is not less charming, and he has a 
much finer shape. One may observe in his countenance, in his 
whole person, I know not what, more imposing, more stately, 
which astonishes without causing terror. That does not frighten 
me, it gives me pleasure-he has wit! And feelings! Could the 
Vicomte be possessed of as much as you, who keep me all day long 
laughing, and sometimes makes me shed tears! Then it is that I 
feel very happy, for you are not like other men who make game of 
our tears: on the contrary, my good friend, you console me by 
sharing in my grief; you know what it is to weep; you can weep 
too. Be perfectly easy. I know you to be as much superior to 
that young man, as he appears to be above all those I have ever 
seen. Tell me, does your father love the Vicomte?"

"Very much."

"Well, he ought to have your sister married to that young man. 
They would make a charming pair."

"This idea, which appears so very simple, never would have 
occurred to my mind. To be sure, I see some obstacles in the 
way: the Vicomte is smitten with his Marchioness."

"'Tis a great pity. Do you know why I invited her to come to my 
house? I shall tell you, for how could I conceal anything from 
you? He is jealous of you, for he is in love with Madame de 
B***."

"He will let me know if you visit her."

"A good contrivance, certainly! I am not to be duped by your 
shammed gaiety! You don't laugh from the bottom of your heart, I 
know. I have ever intended to prevent you from visiting that 
wicked woman, and chance has just supplied me with means, which, 
I never would forgive myself if I were to neglect."

We were proceeding towards Paris, it is true, my Sophia; but do 
not fret; be comforted, it was also towards Fromonville. Sophia, 
I was going again to your rival's home in quest of one of those 
nights which I fancied were so short; but pardon me. Believe me, 
I thought less of the pleasures of the next night than of the 
delight of the day following, of that day when, in the arms of 
my wife, I should at last enjoy that supreme happiness so long 
wished for. Rejoice, my Sophia; it is true that at this very 
moment I receive a kiss from Madame de Lignolle; it is also true 
that this sweet favour is the reward of a sigh which Eleanor had 
surprised; but, oh, my Sophia, rejoice that so tender a sigh I 
did not heave on her account.

We left off travelling post at Bourget, that same village where 
I had dismissed Jasmin; we took the Countess's horses which had 
been left there at an inn, and which soon brought us to Paris. 
It may easily be conceived that Faublas, now dressed in such 
clothes as he should have always worn, could not go to Mme. de 
Lignolle's to represent Mademoiselle de Dumont, previous to 
having changed his dress, at Madame de Fonrose's house, 
therefore we determined to alight.

"Naughty, cruel children," said the Baroness. "Whither have you 
been?"

"We are half-starved," replied the Countess, "let us have a bit 
of supper.

While we were beginning to carve a fat fowl that had just been 
brought up, Madame de Fonrose was saying to Madame de Lignolle: 
"I called at your hôtel at dinner time, and was much alarmed 
upon hearing that, exasperated at Mademoiselle de Brumont's 
flight, you were just gone in search of her. It was a few 
hours," she added, addressing me, "since M. de Belcourt, in 
company with Mademoiselle de Faublas, had paid me a short visit. 
Both were setting out for Fromonville, through a conviction that 
you were gone there to fight. They did not imagine that any 
other interest, short of that of honour, could prevent your 
running with them, to throw yourself at the feet of your wife. 
They both trembled for you; both, I must tell you openly, will 
be a prey to deadly inquietude, if you have not joined them 
before the middle of the day; it will soon begin to dawn."

The Countess could think no longer of her meal, which she had 
hardly begun. She interrupted the Baroness, to declare she could 
not suffer me to leave her; she even added that it appeared very 
surprising that Madame de Fonrose, who pretended to be her 
friend, would take the liberty in her presence of giving such 
advice to her lover. The Baroness was not in the least at a loss 
to find an excuse. "If you adore the son," she said, "I love the 
father. M. de Belcourt would never forgive me, if in a 
circumstance of this kind, I was to keep his son away from him. 
Besides, my dear friend, what do you demand of the Chevalier? 
That he should violate, to no purpose, all the laws of common 
decorum! I am far from advising him to commit a base action; I 
do not prescribe his forsaking you; I advise him to go and meet 
Sophia, to bring her back, and after that to behave like a true 
man of the world, like the best husbands, who know how to 
conciliate the love they bear to their mistresses, and the good 
proceedings their wives have a right to claim. If he were to 
adopt another mode of conduct, it would be the ruin of you. Tell 
me, for instance, can the Chevalier continue to live in the 
house of his mistress, when his wife will be no longer absent? 
Is he thus publicly to expose the despair of the one, and the 
favours granted by the other? Admitting that you were so blinded 
by your passion as to expect from him such an extravagant 
behaviour, and that he were weak enough not to refuse you, I ask 
you whether everybody would not soon know that M. de Faublas has 
turned himself into a female under your roof, because he had 
grown tired of being a man in his own home! I shall not speak of 
M. de Lignolle; let us hope that the protecting God of lovers 
will do in favour of that husband as much as he generally does 
in behalf of others; let us hope that that worthy husband will 
be the last man in Paris to know that you have rendered him an 
object of ridicule; but will his friends view with tranquility 
that he is daily made to be laughed at?"

"His friends! What care I for his friends!" answered the 
Countess, who so far had only opposed tears and nonsensical 
exclamations to the prudent counsels of the Baroness.

"What care you?" replied Madame de Fonrose. "Alas! But do you 
expect to detain the Chevalier, in opposition to the sobbings of 
his widowed wife, who will not fail to claim him, 
notwithstanding the inexhaustible gossiping of your loquacious 
aunt, who will come every morning to stammer out her gothic 
principles; in spite of Captain de Lignolle, that famous man who 
might leave his plundering crew to ride hither post, to frighten 
you with his broad mustachios and long sword: regardless of the 
public, ever jealous, indiscreet, uncautious, that will forever 
be trumpeting either those follies which ought not to be 
mentioned, or revising scandalous tales which should always be 
buried in oblivion; that public, which, respectful to no one, 
not even to themselves, will ridicule the husbands whom they 
pity, protect the wives whom they blame, and severely condemn 
those faults with which they daily amuse and feed their 
malignity; finally, notwithstanding the Baron, who-"

"In spite of the whole universe, Madame."

"What an answer? Are you out of your mind, or do you think I 
exaggerate? M. de Belcourt, of whom I was going to speak to you, 
is little known to you. If you provoke him too far, he is 
capable of forcing his son away from your very bed-room."

"And if people are not afraid of carrying matters with me-"

"What will you do?"

"I will kill myself."

"What a nice resource! I pity you. I pity you, since you are not 
sensible that it is better to sacrifice for a moment a precious 
object, to recover it afterwards, and possess it undisturbed, 
than to expose one's self by keeping it a few days too long, to 
die from the regret of having lost it."

Madame de Fonrose was still speaking, and to no purpose, when we 
heard a carriage entering her yard. It could only be that of M. 
de Lignolle, I had time to embrace my friend, to seize a leg of 
a fowl, and to make my escape into the dressing closet of the 
Baroness.

A moment after I heard the Count enquire of the ladies how they 
were. Wondering at his wife, who seldom eat out, not having 
returned home at three in the morning; he had guessed that she 
had supped at the Baroness's, and was taken ill there. He asked 
her whether she had been able to join Mademoiselle de Brumont 
that day.

"I have, sir, and I hope she will return to my house."

"She certainly will," he interrupted, "for I have exacted a 
promise to that purpose, from her father. Till such time as she 
does come, think, Countess, that it is late; accept a seat in my 
carriage."

"I am much obliged to you," she replied, dryly, "I don't wish to 
return home before daylight"

I might easily have heard the end of that conversation, in which 
I was concerned. Sophia, dearer interests still occupy my mind.

The all-powerful seduction of the object present, ceases for a 
moment to act immediately upon me; and that decisive moment may 
fix in your favour a victory which has remained too long 
uncertain. Your rival is no longer by the side of me to make me 
forgetful of your troubles, by the sight of her sorrows; and of 
your love by her caresses. Her voice alone strikes mine ear, but 
reaches not my heart; filled up with the recollection of you, 
Sophia, I have just seen you fainting away: dying! I have gazed 
upon your charms, and been penetrated with your despair! I have 
shuddered at the pains you endure; the idea of the felicity that 
awaits us has caused me to shiver!

Whoever is reading my narrative with some attention, must 
remember, that not long since a pretty chamber-maid dressed my 
hair exactly in the same closet in which I was now standing. 
That same reader will also recollect, that on that day, pressed 
by the desire of meeting the Countess and escaping the Baron, I 
was conducted by a private staircase into Madame de Fonrose's 
yard. Now, on the reverse, to join my father and fly away from 
my mistress, I felt, in the dark, to find my way out of the 
house, which I knew something of, I reached the private 
staircase nest the yard, and soon after I got into the street.

Replete with tender solicitude, M. de Belcourt had guessed at 
what no other father could have foreseen. "As it was not 
impossible," he said, when setting off, "that some particular 
reasons might compel me to return through the metropolis, the 
porter had been ordered to sit up all night in waiting; and my 
servant to keep a poet-chaise ready for me. The Baron and his 
son were too much liked for the commands of the one, and the 
interest of the other to be neglected. Upon my arrival at the 
hôtel I had only to step into my chaise, and my faithful Jasmin 
insisted upon accompanying me as a courier. At every post-house, 
in consequence, there were always horses ready; and, thanks to 
my prodigality, the postilions did not complain of being called 
up too early; they would call me monseigneur, and we flew on as 
if we had had wings.



XXII.

I had travelled that same road two days before; but what a happy 
change in my situation had thirty-six hours only produced! I am 
not now going to a foreign land, there to regret my native 
country; I carry not with me the remorse of having immolated an 
enemy, who sought a too just revenge. It is at Fromonville that 
my father, ere long made easy by my presence, will press me to 
his bosom. There it is that my wife presently-"We shall never 
arrive! Postilions, drive on!"

Presently I shall cover her with kisses, embrace her knees, 
solicit the reward of my extreme tenderness. Adelaide, it is 
true, will be there. Can't we send her away? What! Must we defer 
till night? What an age! But the night! The night! I shall never 
spend one more delicious! "How slow these hacks go! Postilion, 
why don't you go on?"-And tomorrow, tomorrow I shall be on this 
road again! But I shall have Sophia by my side! I shall bring my 
wife back to Paris! I shall take her to my parental home! to the 
chamber of Hymen, close to that du celibat<59> which will be 
empty! Forever empty! I shall leave my wife's apartment no more! 
There I shall spend the day-my whole life! I shall hear her tell 
over and over the recital of the sufferings she has endured 
whilst separated from me! And I shall relate a hundred times 
over what I have suffered, all the misfortunes that have 
befallen me. Ah, no! I will not tell her how much the 
Marchioness is to be pitied, and how tenderly I commiserate her 
affliction. Sophia, who is of a suspicious disposition, might 
feel uneasy; and I propose not only to remain faithful to her, 
but to spare her the tortures of jealousy. Neither shall I 
mention the Countess. The Countess! She is now very lonely! Very 
much astonished! Very sad! She is weeping; and accuses me of 
being a barbarian! In truth, I ought at least to have spoken a 
few words to her, to let her know, to prepare her-"What a rate 
this fellow drives me at! Postilion! You fly! Gently, gently! 
Whither are you going so fast?"

"To Villeneuve-Ste. George," he replied, holding his horses, "on 
the road to Fontainebleau, to Fromonville."

"To Fromonville! That's right! Well! Why do you stop?"

"Is it not you?"

"See, what a deal of time is lost I go on; use your whip, and go 
faster!"

"Gently! Go faster! You don't know your own mind. Hitherto I 
have been driving full gallop; I can do no better."

"You are right, my friend, perfectly right; but I beg of you, go 
a little faster.

The chaise, which I cursed a thousand times, rolled for seven 
hours longer. At length, I discovered the bridge of Montcour, 
and, on the road to Fromonville, two beloved persons, I soon 
receive their embraces, and partake of their joy. One of them 
enquires whether I have not been dangerously wounded; the other, 
whether I am obliged again to leave France? No, my dear 
Adelaide, I am not wounded. No, father, we shall not leave our 
country. But I beg of you, let us run. How many thanks I am 
bound to return to you. You have left her to come and meet me 
how kind! Come, let us fly, present her husband to her, witness- 
What! Father, you cast down your eyes with sadness! What! 
Sister, you weep! 

It is all over! Sophia! Absence! She has not been able to resist 
her being forsaken."

"She still breathes," exclaimed the Baron, but-"

"She loves you, interrupted my sister, but-"

"I understand you! This is the third time then that her tyrant 
has robbed me of her."

They returned me no answer; both continued silent; attentive, 
however, to prevent, lest the effect of a first movement might 
cost me my life, M. de Belcourt seized my sword and pistols; 
Adelaide stretched out her trembling arm to support her brother, 
whom she had seen to turn pale and stagger. My dear beloved, you 
are not strong enough! Faublas has just fallen, almost lying, 
upon that same turf which two days before he scarcely skimmed 
over, when to follow a mistress, now deserted, he hurried away 
from his wife, whom, on the present day, he regrets so vainly 
too!

"Adelaide! Alas! I entreat of you, pity your brother. Father, 
leave me! Let me die! She is taken away from me! She thinks I am 
guilty! Sophia does not know whom I have left for her; Sophia 
does not know that I would give one half of my existence to be 
allowed to consecrate to her the other half. She is carried away 
from me! She believes I am guilty! let me die."

Meanwhile, Adelaide was holding me within her arms, and 
lavishing upon me the most tender caresses; the tears, which I 
could see watering her eyes, softened the bitterness of those 
that I shed, and my father soothed my affliction by sympathising 
with me: "Too dear, and too unhappy son," he said, "will not the 
most ardent passions cease tormenting thy stormy youth? And 
adversity, which so long since has taken the charge of offering 
thee cruel lessons: will adversity, henceforth, leave me no 
other duty to perform, than to offer thee consolations, either 
too weak or totally impotent? Oh, my eon, I pity thee, but thou 
owest me also some compassion."

"Father, is it known, at least, what is become of her? Which 
way, on which road has she been carried off by her ravisher? You 
don't answer me! It is true then that I have lost her entirely, 
that I have no hope left! Now a long interval stands between us; 
the day before yesterday I saw her yonder! Yonder, sister, look, 
my dear Adelaide, look, and your sobs will redouble: from this 
spot you can discover the gate which my weak hands could only 
shake, that gate which I ought to have broken down. Your friend 
was there, my dearest. Now we are separated by a long interval! 
Sophia! Sophia! A persecuting god presides over our amours. One 
might say, that he sometimes points out to you your husband, 
only in order that you may feel more acutely the pain of his 
absence; that he allows me to have a glance at you, merely, to 
awaken in my heart the grief of losing you: yes, that cruel god 
occasionally brings us near one another, but to enjoy the 
dreadful pleasure of parting us afresh.

"I fly to Luxembourg, my lover follows me there; a few hours 
after she finds a father, who, on the following day, carries her 
away from her husband! Through a thousand perils I penetrate as 
far as the convent wherein she is confined; and I am allowed to 
admire her only for one moment! Chance at last brings me near 
her new prison: a dolorous scream informs me that my wife is 
there, that she knows me again, I myself can see her, and I see 
her dying, and yet honour-honour! At least I thought so. Fatal 
Marchioness! This is not the first time that you have made us 
miserable. Imperious honour summons me away, and when I return, 
I have lost my whole! Sophia's ravisher! Is it possible a father 
should act contrary to nature? The barbarian! What has he more 
to reproach his adorable and unhappy daughter with? Of what 
fault does he accuse me but that which my marriage has made 
amends for?

"Of what crimes, but those which my miseries have expiated? 
Wherefore would he have two married lovers perish, consumed by 
their useless desires? Why would he wish to plunge both his 
children into the same grave? Oh! Father! Father!"

"This once," he said, "du Portail did not go away from us 
without apprising me of his motives and his determination. A 
letter that he has left for me.-"

"A letter! Let me see it; show it to me, then."

"Let us first, my good friend, reach the nearest village."

We entered an inn at Montcour. The Baron wished to read my 
father's last letter to himself; but compelled to yield to my 
entreaties, he handed it over to me:

Since your son once more has discovered my retreat, since 
he obstinately perseveres in pursuing his victims, it is 
requisite, Monsieur le Baron, I should inform you, at 
least, of all the misfortunes of my daughter, that I should 
reveal horrid dealings.
You know into what a nearly unavoidable snare my Sophia was 
allured: you will never forget in what place, and how the 
unhappy Lovinski found his long-wished-for Dorliska, less 
deserving of blame than of pity, though ever so guilty. 
Baron, the rape of that unfortunate, and no less 
respectable child, was not the most heinous offence your 
unworthy son had committed.

"The most heinous offence of your unworthy son! What 
expressions! What a shocking imposture! You shuddered at it 
yourself, father! Monsieur le Baron, I protest it shall be 
washed off in the blood of the calumniator. But what have I 
said? He is your friend! He is the father of Sophia! Make 
yourself easy, sister; fear not, father! Forgive the first 
transport of surprise and of anger! forgive-"

"Hand it to me," said the Baron; let me go on with the letter."

"Oh, no! Allow me, I beseech you.

The day on which I bestowed upon him his beloved, at the 
very moment when preparations were making for their union, 
I heard, in the High Street of Luxembourg, a stranger 
inquiring after the Chevalier de Faublas; and 
notwithstanding her disguise, I knew her to be the first 
who trained your son in the detestable art of seducing the 
wives, and deceiving their husbands. She was come, most 
likely as agreed upon, to join in the place of his exile, 
the murderer of her husband.

"Great God! Father, I can take my oath it is not true! I was 
ignorant of the Marchioness intending to follow me to 
Luxembourg. I did not know-"

"I willingly think so, my son. I cannot think you are capable of 
committing the black outrage which du Portail has so promptly 
suspected. But he is a father, and an unhappy one. We must 
excuse him, pity him, strive to find him out again, and to 
soothe him-go on."

At this fatal apparition, I foresaw all the misfortunes 
that threatened my Dorliska; I saw but one way of rescuing 
her from the danger of opprobrium, and of being publicly 
deserted; I, however, reached the church, doubtful as yet 
whether I should adopt a resolution which I deemed most 
violent. An audacious rival, a total stranger to decorum, 
appeared nearly at the same time with us before the altar. 
Sacrilegious woman! In the face of that God who hears the 
oaths of husbands, she was come to summon him to violate 
all his!
What did your cruel son, the unworthy pupil of a shameless 
woman, the base seducer of a defenceless girl, expect? What 
did he expect when he tore her away from the respectable 
retreat which her virtues embellished, when he obtained 
from the other the pompous sacrifice of a corrupted world, 
by which she was idolised? What did he expect! To make an 
exhibition of himself before all Europe; to become 
intoxicated with the glory of dragging, fastened to the 
same car, a seduced maid and an adulterous wife; to 
associate his two mistresses to similar diversions, to a 
similar ignominy; to carry from country to country 
Mademoiselle de Pontis, who had to share a universal lover, 
and public contempt, with the Marchioness de B***?

"Mademoiselle de Pontis to share public contempt with the 
Marchioness de B-! Ah, father I what an imposture! Ah, sister! 
What a blasphemy!"

Such were his objects, which I had foreseen; the execution 
whereof I prevented. Thanks to my vigilance, Dorliska was 
saved: but events have justified all my suspicions. It has 
never been known exactly what became of the Marchioness 
during the six weeks that your son continued in the 
vicinity of Luxembourg. They were undoubtedly living there 
together.

"Is that true?" said Adelaide.

"It is true that Madame de B*** would come to see me now and 
then; but I did not know it was she who came."

"How so?"

"My dear, that is what I cannot explain; it would require too 
much time."

"I am not satisfied with that answer. I find it obscure; what 
pains me most is that M. de Portail is sometimes right, when he 
addresses to you his reproaches; that proves that you have 
behaved extremely wrong towards my dear friend. I tire you, 
brother? Well, let us see. Go on."

She was seen, with unprecedented effrontery, to re-appear 
at Court, a few days after the return of her lover to the 
capital; and although all her intrigues could not prevent 
the Chevalier being sent to prison, everyone knows that it 
is by means of prostituting her person that she has 
procured his release.

"By means of prostituting her person! No, father, I cannot give 
credit to the assertion! It would be too painful for me to 
believe it."

"Weak-minded youth!" he replied; "what can I care for the grief 
you might feel upon the occasion? Resume your reading!"

What use did he make of his liberty! Sophia not returning, 
her place must be filled up by another. The Chevalier de 
Faublas is not a man to be satisfied with one single 
conquest; he must absolutely have two victims at a time, 
two victims at least. What I am at a loss to conceive is, 
that after having recently discovered my retreat he has 
thought fit to come and exhibit to Sophia the new rival 
whom he prefers to her.

"Whom I prefer to her! While it is for Sophia that I forsake the 
Countess! The Countess who is now calling after me, and who 
mourns! The Countess! Ah, father! If you knew how dear I am to 
her! What feelings she is possessed of I how lovely she is! How-
"

The Baron interrupted me: "Do you know, sir, what you are 
speaking to me about?"

"I am wrong, father, I am wrong, but I find myself in so 
embarrassing a situation-I beg you ten thousand pardons."

That inconceivable step, the motions whereof I cannot guess 
at, is most likely the forerunner of some other iniquitous 
mystery, which will be discovered at some future period. 
Who is that young person in whose company I have recognised 
your son, dressed in female attire? Some simple maid, whom 
her innocence will not suffer to protect, or some 
inexperienced wife, whose rising virtues he is going to 
corrupt. Who is that middle-aged man that accompanied them? 
Some unfortunate husband whom he will blast with ridicule 
and shame, or a credulous, confiding father whose 
friendship he will betray.
Baron, you are also a father; but you appear never to be 
willing to remember it. I shall tell you candidly, your 
indulgence is inexcusable. Dread, my dear friend, being 
soon brought to shed tears of blood on account of it; dread 
lest heaven, tired at last, should punish at the same time 
the disorderly conduct of the son and the excessive 
weakness of the father; dread lest one day in his anger, be 
may send an avenger to my daughter, and a seducer to yours.

"An avenger to his daughter! Du Portail, I shall see that 
avenger whom you announce! Du Portail, if he is tardy in coming, 
Faublas will go and fetch him!"

"Be calm," exclaimed the Baron; "you were promising just now"

"How, sir, not satisfied with threatening me in an indirect 
manner, he, besides, dares to insult my sister! A seducer to my 
dear Adelaide!"

"See, my friend, how inconsiderate and cruel passions will 
render us: the bare idea that Adelaide can be seduced throws her 
brother into high rage! He will not forgive it to the man whose 
daughter, replete with the love of virtue, was yet induced to 
commit the most blameable excesses of criminal amours! Faublas, 
on account of a surmise which he finds offensive, speaks of 
arming against his father-in-law; and yet at Luxembourg Lovinski 
did not think of avenging the misconduct of his Dorliska upon a 
foreign ravisher!"

"Allow me, father, to be informed of his final determination."

Let my example at least be to you a useful warning. I 
contributed myself to the wanderings of the Chevalier, and 
although I was but an involuntary accomplice, it was not 
long before I was punished for it. All the misfortunes that 
overwhelm me proceed from that ungrateful young man and his 
mistress, whose criminal amours I continued a tranquil 
spectator of. Engaged soon after in an unjust quarrel, I 
had the mortification of violating the wisest law of an 
hospitable state that had supplied me with friends, and 
almost a mother country; my hands, besmeared with blood, 
made my unjust cause to triumph;<60> I myself, in short 
escorted my daughter in her elopement, and assisted her 
ravisher in degrading her. Ah! How much less to be pitied 
than myself is the adored wife, whose tragical end I 
bewailed twelve years ago! She reposes in peace in the 
forests of la Sula; a premature death has protected her 
against the sad misfortunes which pursue her daughter, and 
her friend. 
Thanks, however, be given to Thee, Eternal Providence, 
whose decrees are ever to be blessed; thanks be rendered to 
thee, merciful God, even in thy persecutions. Thou did'st 
ordain that Lovinaki should survive Lodoiska, that he might 
one day offer her abused daughter an assistance, alas! Very 
tardy; to oppose at least her complete shame, her 
approaching disgrace; to protect Dorliska against the last 
humiliations which her unpitying seducer kept in reserve 
for her. 
Yes, my sullied daughter, however, has escaped becoming 
notoriously disgraced. My child may constitute the 
consolation, joy, and pride of her father.

In this part I was interrupted for a moment by my sobs; 
"Certainly," I exclaimed, "the pride of her father, of her 
family, and of her husband!" Then, leaving out a word which a 
father never ought to have written, which a husband was not to 
repeat, I read over again that phrase which coloured, in some 
degree, my resentment and grief, that sentence in favour of 
which Sophia's lover forgave du Portail the horrors imputed to 
the son of the Baron de Faublas. I next resumed my reading.

Yes, my sullied daughter has escaped becoming publicly 
degraded. My child may still constitute the consolation, 
joy, and pride of her father. Adorable girl! The excuse 
lies in the virtues she has remaining, in her regret for 
those she possesses no more."

Her regret! What! Sophia! Is it possible you should regret! 
Alas! I thought absence alone was to excite regret! This is the 
blow which hurts me the most poignantly.

My tears began to flow in greater abundance. Adelaide wept also; 
but the Baron seemed willing to take back the fatal letter. I, 
therefore, was obliged to arm myself with renovated courage to 
proceed reading it; and was cautious when reading another 
consoling phrase, to omit, as I had done before, some words 
which in my opinion should not have been inserted.

Her excuse lies in the virtues she has remaining in her-
and, shall I speak it? in the numberless invaluable 
advantages which nature has so prodigally lavished upon her 
seducer, that wonderful young man that we would all have 
admired, if he had exerted towards doing good, one half of 
those efforts it must have cost him to act wrong; if he had 
been willing in a proper manner to apply to the practice of 
virtue, the rare qualifications he abused, to perpetrate 
heinous crimes.

I have given you, Baron, an account of my just motives, I 
shall now proceed to inform you of my irrevocable 
determination.  From the impenetrable retreat in which I 
have sought a refuge, I shall always watch my persecutor. 
My Dorliska is infinitely dear to me; I adore in her, the 
living image of a wife, whom I regret daily. Judge, whether 
I do not wish her most ardently to be happy. Ah with what 
transport would I sacrifice to her fondest desires the 
resentment of my personal injuries! But the man who seduced 
his lover, shall never obtain his wife, but after having 
deserved her, and whoever availed himself of Sophia's 
innocence to impose upon her, shall never deceive me. I 
have too well learned how to dread his artful mistress, 
even to trust to mere outside. In vain would he now be at 
the pains of assuming the man of good morals, I would only 
consider him as an hypocrite, so long as the Marchioness is 
an inhabitant of this world. I give you my word of honour 
for that; although Faublas should appear entirely reformed, 
he shall not see Sophia again, till such time as righteous 
heaven has ordained the confinement or death of Madame de 
B***.

But I dwell upon suppositions which flatter without 
blinding me. I speak of an amendment which I do not expect. 
No doubt but a God, too equitable to encourage great 
disorders by granting impunity, has in reserve for the 
Marchioness a memorable catastrophe. But that example of 
her punishment, though it were exhibited this very day to 
alarm all such as resemble her, would come too late for 
your son. Your son was no sooner corrupted than he became a 
corrupter. He will grow worse, daily more and more in the 
company of his associates, who are professional libertines. 
He will be seen coolly to prepare with them those base 
tricks which they have called roueries.<61> In default of 
husbands, and fathers who seldom know how to be revenged, 
ennui, infirmities, and sorrows, will soon attack him in 
his exhausted prime. Though young he will be afflicted with 
premature old age; and if he does not attempt his own life, 
he must fall by the sword of an enemy; he must unavoidably 
meet with an untimely end.

Meanwhile, I shall have laboured without ceasing to cure my 
daughter of her fatal passion. The same God that pursues 
the wicked, watches over the righteous. When Sophia's 
persecutor, heart-rent with remorse, descends into his 
grave, she, reinstated in her own estimation, will breathe 
a new life: my attention will also contribute to heal the 
wound in her heart. Subsequent to dreadful storms, I shall 
see her enjoy days of sunshine; my Dorliska will transfer 
to me her lees lively but milder affections. The happy 
moment will come, when her reason will confirm what her 
excellent natural disposition has already whispered to her: 
a daughter, such as she is, can have nothing to regret, so 
long as she has such a father left as I am. 
"I remain, with an esteem which the errors and wrongs of 
your son have not altered, Monsieur le Baron, 
Your friend, 
LE COMTE LOVINSKI.

Surprise, inquietude, and even despair, had supported me during 
the perusal of this long and cruel letter.

When I had finished reading it, I collected all my powers to ask 
M. de Belcourt how far my wife had been followed; and he had no 
sooner answered me, that she had not possibly been traced beyond 
La Croisière,<62> than I fainted away.

I soon recovered the use of my senses, owing to my sister's 
attendance upon me; my spirits were revived when I heard the 
voice of my father. This dear parent, flattering me with hopes 
which, perhaps, he did not entertain himself, urged me to 
commence, in company with him and my sister, researches which, 
he said, would prove more successful. While he was speaking to 
me, my whole attention was drawn upon a paper that had fallen 
almost under my feet, by the side of my sister. It was the 
Countess's letter, which my father had neglected to put in his 
pocket; I thought of picking it up unperceived, had the good 
luck to succeed, and felt as highly pleased as if I had got 
possession of a treasure. The letter was abominable, and it was 
unjust: I was very much maltreated, but at every line I could 
see the name of Sophia. The cruel and so dear paper, however, I 
captured. Ah! Faublas! Ah! wretched Faublas! where were you to 
lose and to find it again?

An unforeseen accident was very near detaining us at Montcour. 
As we had just stepped all three into the carriage, to reach at 
least the village of La Croisière, Adelaide, too delicate to 
undergo, at the same time, the fatigue of a long journey, and 
the sorrows of her brother, besides her own agitation, felt, on 
a sudden, very much indisposed.

"Those steeples which you can see from here, father," I said, "I 
know again, they belong to Nemours. Twenty minutes at most, will 
take us to that town, where we shall find every assistance my 
sister can stand in need of."

We alighted at an inn, where we had scarcely attended my dear 
Adelaide for a quarter of an hour, when a courier enquired after 
me, and presented me with a note, written by an unknown hand, 
and containing the following intelligence:
"The Vicomte de Florville sends information to the 
Chevalier Faublas, that M. du Portail, who, towards the 
evening, the day before yesterday, had left off travelling 
post, at La Croisière, has, notwithstanding, procured post 
horses again at Montargis, on the following midnight."

Come, father, let us run! Let us fly! You, sister, are not able 
to follow us!"

"Can I," said the Baron, "leave my daughter at an inn alone, and 
on a sick bed?"

"You are right. How sorry I am myself to leave her! Yet father, 
so pressing an interest calls me. Ah! Permit me to set off 
immediately, let my servant alone accompany me. You have my 
pistols and my sword, give them to Jasmin, and forbid his 
returning them to me. Your commands will be respected. Rest 
assured, however, that such a precaution is superfluous; restore 
my arms, and be easy; I will use them neither against myself, 
nor against Sophia's father. Fear nothing from my irritability 
if I should meet him, nor from my despair, in case I should not. 
Sophia's husband will not attempt to obtain her from du Portail, 
except by means of a speedy justification, supplications, and 
tears, if requisite! I renounce all other means. Though he were 
unable to meet his father-in-law, though he should still find 
him unjust and inflexible: your son, though he were doomed to be 
the most miserable of all lovers, will live for the sake of his 
sister, and of you. Faublas promises it to his father! The 
Chevalier swears it."

M. de Belcourt, agitated by many inquietudes, could not, as 
speedily as I had wished, fix upon a determination. He dreaded, 
perhaps, the danger of leaving at his own discretion, a young 
man of an impetuous temper, whom fresh adversities threatened 
with new trials; and most undoubtedly he formed a determination 
from his apprehending, lest, in case he would persevere to 
detain me, my painful impatience should prompt me to commit 
still greater excesses. He, nevertheless, only granted me the 
long sued for permission to go, but after having exacted my 
formal promise, if I should make any discovery, to acquaint him 
with it immediately; that on the contrary, I engaged to return 
speedily, as soon as I found it probable that longer researches 
would be superfluous; and finally, that whatever was to take 
place, I would let him hear from me every day.

"Adieu, sister, my dear Adelaide, farewell. Believe me, I am 
very sorry to leave you in your present situation. You will be 
so kind as to send me a bulletin every day; father I beg of you-
"

At the same time I was so uneasy about my sister's state of 
health, mine was not much better. Two days filled up by painful 
excursions; nearly ninety leagues travelled over in less than 
thirty-six hours; one night out of two entirely lost in 
journeying on; the other employed in amorous sports; the 
agitations of the mind and heart, more overpowering a hundred 
times than bodily fatigue; less would have been wanted to 
overpower me; and, indeed, my courage and hopes alone supplied 
me with strength.

Notwithstanding we had travelled with all possible haste, yet we 
could not reach Montargis before seven in the evening, and there 
not one single horse was left in the stables of the post office. 
I had met with a similar disappointment at Puy-la-Lande; but I 
had forced the postilion from Fontenay to proceed further.

Here, in spite of my offers, prayers, and menaces, the cursed 
lazy fellow refused going on, producing the regulation to 
convince me that I could not compel him to go beyond two stages.

Whilst my servant was calling to my relief and help all the 
infernal spirits, I was making enquiries. The post-master told 
me that, in fact, a man of a mature age, a very young lady, and 
two foreigners, came to procure horses in the middle of the 
night, nearly forty-eight hours since; but he added, that they 
had only been taken to a distance of half a league, in a cross-
road, where they had got out of their carriage. I interrogated 
the postilion; he was unable to tell what was become of them, 
but offered to conduct me exactly to the spot where he had left 
them. I was forced to walk it, tired as I was. Alas! I was put 
to unnecessary trouble; no one had seen my Sophia!

Sad and dejected, yet unable to give up my last hope, I 
endeavoured to persuade myself, that M. du Portail, for fear of 
being pursued, might, by means of horses, stationed purposely in 
different parts, have taken a long circuitous tour, to go a 
little further on the same road, and then proceed on his 
journey. I therefore despatched Jasmin to fetch post-horses from 
the next office, with an injunction to have them brought, with 
all possible speed, to such an inn, at Montargis, which the man, 
who was going to take me there, indicated, so as to prevent any 
mistake.

"Sir," said the maid, "would you wish to have any supper?"

"I want it, but do not feel in the least inclined. Show me a 
room; give me a light; I wish to be left quiet."

Quiet! When love has raised within my breast the most raging 
storms! When a violent fever already caused me to shiver and to 
burn! Quiet!

Where shall I go to fetch it? The most is near at hand which is 
going to destroy my last hopes! M. du Portail has an advance of 
thirty-six hours over me; he seems to have neglected nothing to 
evade my pursuit. I shall never see her again!

The events are also leagued against me. Madame de B*** gets into 
a scrape precisely when I stand most in want of her all-powerful 
assistance: my sister takes it into her head to be ill at the 
moment when the Baron was my only support. It is all over with 
me: the propitious star which favoured my enterprises has 
withdrawn its influence from me. The days of my success are gone 
forever! Formerly, fortune anticipated all my wishes: now, she 
delights in opposing my most important designs. It is not a 
twelvemonth since everyone might have envied my destiny; but I 
shall, ere long, be made the object of universal pity.

Universal pity! Yes, I am, in fact, the most unfortunate of all 
mortals. I shall never see her again! Not satisfied with 
carrying her away from me, he is labouring, he says, to cure 
her, and to this effect imputes atrocious offences to me. Could 
she imagine, for a single moment, that I was capable of 
committing them? Could she believe that I am deserving of her 
resentment or her contempt, worse than her hatred. Her contempt! 
To be despised by Sophia! I shudder at the murderous idea.

Has ever anyone been so unfortunate in his amours? It is enough 
that a female should notice me, and that I should feel 
interested in her behalf, for mere chance and fate to wage a 
most cruel war against her. Madame de B***, whom they all 
accuse; Madame de B***, whom their implacable enmity pursues-
what has she done so reprehensible? She has loved me too 
tenderly. That is the offence which they will never forgive. 
They want to forbid my ever seeing again the dear woman that has 
already been too severely punished! They pretend to force me to 
abhor her! They are not satisfied with having contaminated her 
when in the prime of life, made her miserable, and perhaps 
abridged her days of existence, they would wish me to rejoice 
at, and boast of it! They are bent on my wishing her a premature 
death! How barbarous! Their jealous rage, I suppose, will soon 
attack the Countess, too, for she adores me, and I cherish her. 
The Countess! The Countess is in the family way! Oh, my child! 
My child! Alas! Never, never will my father call him his son! My 
Sophia will not bring him up! Adelaide will refuse to caress 
him! He will not bear the name of Faublas! and, perhaps, his 
birth will cost the mother her character, her life! Spare this 
once, cruel gods! Persecuting gods, respect her! She is my 
Sophia! In vain do I implore them! They already arm her own 
parents against her; they prescribe and command parricide. I can 
see Absence and Calumny digging her grave! I see my wife 
descending into it, and she is no more than fifteen! My destiny 
had ordained it so! The dearest victim was to be sacrificed the 
first!

By this means love, which had procured me pleasures, and 
promised happiness, will now only leave behind bitter regret, 
inconsolable chagrin, and, what is more horrid still, I shall 
have occasioned the death of all who have loved me! Unhappy 
wretch! Let their former troubles be avenged, and their last 
tortures be prevented! Let my death prevent theirs! Let a 
suicide-!

Destiny, not I, will have perpetrated the crime. Let Faublas be 
immolated to save his three children; let them be saved by 
separating their destinies from his: I shall then not perish 
wholly, part of me will remain. They will have it in their power 
to forget me and live. Forget me! Never! Neither Sophia, nor the 
Countess, nor the Marchioness, nor any one. Every creature will 
retain the recollection of my devotedness. The husbands, 
meanwhile, joyful at the mourning of their wives, will 
congratulate themselves upon my not having lived long-not above 
a short day! The fathers, trembling for their sons, will not 
fail in exaggerating the errors of my life, and the horror of my 
death; they will delight, especially, in observing, that I had 
scarcely made my appearance upon the earth. But what care I for 
the triumph and cruel joy of the former; for the terror and 
false pity of the latter? What do I care? Ah! that once, only 
once, two lovers deserving of being so, two true lovers stopping 
before my tomb for one moment, should recollect my very short 
errors, and the glorious death that will have expiated them all; 
let them grant me a tear, and pity me; that, in the first 
paroxysm of their commiseration, they may say: "This generous 
youth died for many! Had he not deserved being able to love one 
alone, and living to make her happy?" Let two lovers say so, let 
Eleanor and Sophia repeat it, and my manes<63> will be consoled.

But who will console my father? My father! Wherefore does he 
leave me to myself at this dreadful moment? Wherefore does he 
suffer my Sophia to be carried away from me? Du Portail, you 
must return her to me; you shall return her to me, or your 
blood-I am mad! I speak of subduing him, and cannot even join 
him! From his retreat, which he says is impenetrable, Lovinski 
braves my menaces, equally impotent as my researches! It is 
myself who must die.

Poignant regret for a treasure irrecoverably lost, cruel desire 
of a vengeance not to be obtained, how insupportable you are to 
me! How you rend a heart susceptible of mild passions only. In 
vain would I escape your fury. Pursued by frightful thoughts, 
surrounded by horrid spectres-are they remorses? Are they 
furies? By what transports am I agitated? I feel uncommon 
powers! My rage is proportionate to my strength! I could crush 
to atoms, and annihilate that hell which is called world. I 
could bury myself under its ruins!

I could, I will! What are you going to do? Stop! Eleanor, whom 
you are going to immolate, and Sophia! Sophia! Your lover, your 
child, your wife, the Marchioness, entreat you also to spare 
them. Your father and your sister embrace your knees. My hand 
trembles, my strength fails me. I must sit down! How hot I feel! 
How thirsty! Oh, my God!

Here is the letter in which my unjust father-in-law 
prognosticates my tragical end! I just meet the similar passage: 
he does not attempt his own life, he must fall by the sword of 
an enemy, he must meet with an untimely end! Barbarian! Your 
predictions are commands, commands which I am going to fulfil! 
But, ferocious tyrant, you yourself will not be able to refuse 
pitying me, when you will see, that previously to my putting the 
fatal sentence in execution, I have almost erased it with my 
tears.

How gloomy the stillness that reigns around me! How alarming the 
profound silence! A concentrated despair! The image of death! 
Why am I left here alone? Where is my sister? Who keeps my 
father away? What is the Marchioness about? What is become of my 
Eleanor? How came they not to unite, to prevent her being taken 
away from me again, or to force his returning her again to me? 
But they all at the same time desert me. I am robbed at once of 
my only consolation. I have no relatives, no lovers left. Such 
among my friends as think of me, shun my presence; and they who 
do not shun my company, forget me. I am now left solitary, quite 
alone in the universe! Well! Death I have left me! Death is less 
dreadful, than the situation I am in.

Oh! My father! I was forgetful of my promise; one of the pistols 
that you had returned to me, had just been placed on the same 
table as du Portail's letter. I took, I know not why, cruel 
pleasure in contemplating alternately the sentence and 
instrument of my death, brought to the last degree of despair, I 
felt neither agitation, remorse, nor terror: my last hour, 
perhaps, was come.

On a sudden, my door flew open; and I leave you to guess who 
rushed towards me: guess whom I press to my bosom, who lavishes 
caresses on me, whom I overwhelm with my thanks! "Look," she 
said to me, "you voluntarily occasion me the bitterest sorrows, 
and I come running to comfort you: as soon as you have it in 
your power you make your escape, whilst I am never tired of 
coming first to meet you."

You have imagined, perhaps, for a moment, that I was embracing 
the most cherished of the three. Alas! No, Sophia was not 
restored to me; but I had found again that wife, almost as much 
so as my own, young, handsome, sensible, and unfortunate, I had 
found Madame de Lignolle.

You are no strangers to my impatience, and her giddiness, my 
prompt ardour, and her vivacity. Gently squeezed between her 
arms, could I still think of plunging into an eternal sleep? My 
blood boiled already with a desire quite contrary to that of 
destruction, and the fever of despair turned entirely to the 
profit of love.

Everyone knows in what a shocking state the chief article of 
furniture is generally found at those country inns. Now who will 
take the trouble of apologising for the Countess and the 
Chevalier, qu'un même desir entrains sur le grabat le plus 
miserable. [Who were forced to a most wretched pallet by the 
same desire] I might observe, for the justification of them 
both, that those which Morpheus prefers, are not the most 
agreeable to Venus: this once, however, I shall pass 
condemnation respecting a fact which I would have kept secret, 
if the concatenation of events had not compelled me to relate 
it. I shall therefore confess, that in the present instance, 
both the sacrificer and the victim were equally guilty of 
blameable precipitance; that the latter with too great 
irreverence was immolated au pied d'un autel qui n'avait pas 
même de rideaux [at the foot of an altar without even any altar-
cloths.]; I shall own especially, that prior to commencing the 
ceremony of the grand sacrifice, Faublas ought at least to have 
shut the gates of the temple against profane intruders.

We were worshipping the deity whose fires consumed us, when we 
were disturbed in our devotions. The room door was opened on a 
sudden, and someone precipitately entered the place. A voice 
which was expressive of mingled surprise and pain, a voice which 
I thought I recollected, let immediately escape this very single 
exclamation: "Good God! What do I see!" Alas! For my part I 
could no longer see anything; I had not even strength enough to 
move and try to look at the intruder. Whether the plaintive 
accents of that voice, still dear to me, had produced over my 
whole frame so sudden a revolution, or rather whether nature 
finally exhausted by so many extraordinary fatigues, accumulated 
within so few days, was now too weak to support the last 
efforts; I dropped senseless into the arms of the Countess, who, 
plunged into a swoon of a most desirable kind, was unable to 
assist me.

I recovered my spirits upon hearing the jolting of a berlin. A 
favourable moonlight afforded me the opportunity of viewing, in 
all its details, the situation I was in. To speak the truth it 
appeared to me sweeter than I felt my illness to be painful. My 
man's clothes had been taken off, and my female attire put on 
again; I was almost extended at full length in the carriage, on 
the back seat. On the same side in the right corner, Madame de 
Lignolle, who had scarcely elbow room, supported most of my 
body, truly become a burden; my weary head rested on her bosom; 
with both her hands she covered my frozen forehead; over my 
face, which was kept warm with hers, were poured tears and 
kisses; the vivifying breath of a lover, reanimated the 
uncertain breath of my life nearly extinct.

Facing both of us, on the front seat, almost in the left corner, 
a youth, whose charming countenance, exhibited certain symptoms 
of a great alteration, supported my legs on his knees, and by 
means of stooping a little, gently leaned upon mine. He was 
endeavouring to warm my hands, that were watered with his tears, 
by holding them within his. He seemed to undergo with uncommon 
fortitude, the most fatiguing posture. He was waiting with 
inquietude, though not impatiently, the moment when his friend, 
opening his eyes at last, would repay his attention with a look.

"Good evening, my Eleanor! And you, Ma-" (I stopped) "my friend, 
dear Vicomte, generous Florville! How are you this evening?"

They both answered me by their caresses, by their sobs, by the 
moving expression of their alarms, and of their hopes.

"Vicomte, I have not been mistaken, then? It was you who 
surprised us?-"

"It was!" she interrupted, with a sigh.

"Truly, I am quite ashamed," said Madame de Lignolle: "Most 
luckily, the gentlemen knew nearly-but it signifies not! What a 
difference! Sir, I conjure you do not mention it to anyone, not 
to the Marchioness de B*** especially. I beseech you, for you 
would mortify me to death!"

He replied, in a tone of great feeling: "You may rely, Madame la 
Comtesse, upon the most inviolable discretion."

"It is this young gentleman," resumed Madame de Lignolle, "who 
yielded you assistance first; it is he also who has taken the 
trouble of dressing you, for common decency would not allow me."

"Sir! He is laughing," interrupted the Vicomte.

"Ah, so much the better," said the Countess, with an exclamation 
of joy, "most likely he suffers less. I truly admire him; his 
liveliness never forsakes him; Faublas is always laughing; 
sometimes he weeps too! My lover knows how to weep!"

The Vicomte was satisfied with saying: "I know well he does!

After a moment's reflection, Madame de Lignolle embraced me 
tenderly.

"Sir," she said to me, "you laugh at your mistress speaking of 
decency after having been surprised in your arms, and yet I am 
right. Could a female dress you when still in a state of 
confusion, in an inn, and before a number of spectators, whom 
your accident had brought upstairs? The Vicomte, by taking that 
care upon himself, has rendered me essential service, he has 
helped us both at the same time. Thanks to him, no stranger has 
witnessed the disorder I was in, and the troublesome visitors 
speedily retreated. You were dressed from head to foot in the 
twinkling of an eye. It is impossible to find a more 
complaisant, more attentive friend: or a dressing-maid more 
expeditious, or more clever. Indeed, Vicomte, you possess, in 
the most supreme degree, the art of assisting and of dressing 
women. But, my dear, admire his foresight! Hoping to meet us 
together, he had brought with him the clothes you now have on."

I was listening with a secret pleasure to the Countess praising 
the Marchioness. "Dear Vicomte, you are, in fact, the most 
generous, and the most attentive friend. How shall I express my 
gratitude?"

"Take care of yourself, do not speak, keep from all manner of 
agitation," he answered.

"Did my servant meet you at that inn?"

"No."

"What! Are my father and sister to see me come without previous 
notice?"

"Hold your tongue; I know they are at Nemours; we shall send 
them word tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow! Where are you taking me, then?"

I am ignorant of the answer that was made; I had a relapse of my 
lethargy, which was agitated by horrid dreams, and lasted longer 
than the first attack; when I awoke, it was broad day-light, and 
I felt very weak.

I recollected the chateau in Gatinois, the apartment of Madame 
de Lignolle, her bed-that charming bed, in which Eleanor's lover 
had lately passed two nights with her. There it was that 
Mademoiselle de Brumont now laid languishing in bodily pain, and 
mental sorrow. On his right side, Florville, in deep despair, 
was sobbing, and kneeling by the side of the bed; she held a 
handkerchief over my eyes; her hands were extended towards me, 
and her head reclining on my bolster. I beheld, on my left, an 
object no less deserving of my compassion; this was my Eleanor; 
her hair was dishevelled, her eyes half dead, lifted up towards 
heaven, she looked extremely pale; it was my Eleanor, who, 
rather stretched than seated on the bed, sobbed as she said: 
"The cruel man, if he spoke of his wife, only! But he wishes for 
my most detested rival! He unceasingly calls after that Madame 
de B***, whose name I cannot bear; he calls to her as often as 
he does his Eleanor! Alas! I thought I had to put up only with 
his love for Sophia; I did not imagine he bore a true attachment 
to the Marchioness! How does he manage to love so many at a 
time? I can only adore one man! I can idolise him alone! What 
female could I have to dread, if the ingrate would repay my love 
with a proportionate affection?"

The Vicomte, entirely awakened from the state of torpor in which 
I had seen him plunged, replied: "Why, but, Madame, you have him 
now under your own roof. You already have, over those you term 
your rivals, the advantage of being a mother; and ere long you 
will have the greater advantage still of having saved his life. 
Are you not happy to have him in your house?"

"I am," she exclaimed, with a transport of self-gratification: 
"I shall save his life, that his wife had exposed, that the 
Marchioness would have curtailed. It will be my happy lot, 
perhaps, to prolong and to embellish his existence. To me it 
will be consecrated, for it will be my property. Yes, let me 
save his life; let me use this new mode of making myself 
beloved, since all others prove insufficient; let me fasten, 
with this new knot, the bonds that unite us already; let 
gratitude coalesce with love in the heart of my friend, to 
secure to me a preference which I have merited. I must save him; 
but it will be in my power-if his illness was continually to 
make new progress!-if his fever was to redouble!-if, as just 
now, in the excess of a transport of rage, he offered to jump 
out of bed, to leave this apartment, to run after Sophia, whom 
he imagines he can see, to Madame de B***, whom he thinks he can 
hear! By what means can I expect to quiet him, when I myself am 
so disabled? So laborious a night! A night partly spent in the 
liveliest alarms! I feel quite exhausted! You, Vicomte, are 
stronger than I am, and possessed of more presence of mind; yet 
you look quite overpowered. Alas are both his friend and his 
lover out of spirits? Oh, my God! supply us with fresh powers! 
But I am imploring you in behalf of a passion which you condemn 
Which you condemn? Ah, you are unjust Look within my heart, and 
judge! Judge! Have mercy on a weak mortal! If, however, my 
prayers should not be heard! If Faublas should breathe his last! 
If he should! I shall not have to reproach myself with his 
death; it will be his wife, no, his unworthy mistress, the 
Marchioness de B***! The remembrance of Sophia occasions him, in 
fact, lively agitations; but I can see very plainly it is the 
recollection of Madame de B*** that pursues, torments, and 
inflames him. She is the one who makes his blood boil! Who kills 
him! If Faublas should die, I will go to that wicked woman: 
'Your inordinate passion,' I shall say to her,'has destroyed the 
most perfect object that heaven ever created; your artificial 
rage has deprived me of the mortal whom I idolised; Take this! 
Receive the merited prize of your villainies!' This said, I 
shall kill her; I next shall go to the tomb of my lover. I shall 
go! No longer shall I weep! I shall plunge a poniard into my 
poor heart!"

Thus would Madame de Lignolle, in her grief, apprise me of my 
dangerous situation. What I mistook for a lethargy, were the 
slumbers attending my fever; what I called dreams was a real 
delirium.

I felt extremely tired; and, in order to procure some relief, by 
changing my posture, I tried whether I could not sit up in my 
bed. My two nurses, seeing me move, caught hold of both my arms, 
and uniting their efforts, kept me in the position which 
incommoded me so much.

"Wherefore do you wish to leave your friend?" said the 
Marchioness.

"Stay there," cried out the Countess: "Stay there! Do you hear 
me?"

"Eleanor, my beloved, I do not want to go away; make yourself 
easy."

"Ah," she said, embracing me, "so then you know me again. Stay 
there, I beg of you; do, I shall take great care of you; do, you 
will be supplied with all that you may want."

I addressed Madame de B***: "And you, too, my dear beloved; keep 
up your spirits."

"His delirium is not yet over!" interrupted Madame de Lignolle.

"Quite the reverse," resumed the Marchioness, "I believe he is 
perfectly recovered. He addresses the Vicomte, and yet it is to 
the Countess that he is always speaking! He looks at me, to be 
sure, and sees you all the while! What have you then to complain 
of!"

"My dear Florville, what o'clock is it?"

"Twelve."

"Twelve? Countess, have you sent word to my father? Have you 
sent to enquire after my sister?"

"My messenger ought to be back," she answered.

At that same moment we heard a noise in the passage: it was La 
Fleur, just returning from Nemours. The Countess ran to open the 
door of her apartment for him, and shut it again as soon as he 
had got in.

He had seen M. de Belcourt: my sister was much better; my father 
was to come in the evening to pay a visit to the Countess.

"Very well, La Fleur," she said, "but speak the truth: Did 
Julien set off immediately after I had ordered him to take his 
horse, and inform M. de Lignolle in Paris, of our arrival here?"

"Before two in the morning he did, Madame."

"Very well, my man, leave us; hark, La Fleur, take this money, 
and hold your tongue. Send up, directly, M. de Despeisses, who 
must be downstairs."

This M. Despeisses was not long coming. He felt my pulse, looked 
at my eyes, desired me to put out my tongue, and with the 
greatest assurance declared there was not the least appearance 
of danger. He only added that his patient wanted rest. The 
Countess, in the first transport of her joy, jumped at the 
doctor's neck, kissed, and immediately dismissed him.

For some minutes Madame de B*** had appeared involved in most 
serious thought. She at length, however, spoke, in order to give 
Madame de Lignolle an advice, not altogether disinterested. 
"Most fortunately," she said, "there is no further occasion for 
us both staying with the Chevalier. Would it not be advisable 
for you, Madame la Comtesse, to go and lie down, without taking 
off your clothes, on the tent bed, in the adjacent closet?"

"But yourself, sir-"

"I am in no hurry," replied the Vicomte; "I am not by far so 
worn out with fatigue as you appear to be; besides I shall have 
plenty of time in the afternoon. You, Madame, will have the 
Baron's visit to receive."

The Countess declared she would not leave me; and I believe that 
the solicitations of the Marchioness would have proved of no 
avail, had I not, in support of them, urged my pressing 
entreaties; and, even then, Madame de Lignolle, before she 
complied, exacted from us a promise, not to let her sleep above 
two hours.

After we had kept silent and quiet for some moments the Vicomte 
left me without making the least noise, walked tiptoe several 
times round the apartment, looked, I know not under what 
pretence, through the window of the closet, in which the 
Countess had retired, and then, resuming her accustomed seat at 
the head of my bed, said to me, in a whisper: "She is fast 
asleep." She then added, with an air of inquietude: "Chevalier, 
I have a thousand things to say to you: but beware of 
interrupting me, do not grow uneasy, only listen to me."

Here Madame de B***, collecting herself a little, seized one of 
my hands, which she held between hers; and cast a tender look at 
me.

She at length began to speak to the following purpose: "See 
whether I am not entitled to accuse destiny! I, whom for the 
last six months have been, and am now forever condemned to 
repentance, indifference and regret, could see but one 
consolation within my reach, namely, that of contributing to 
your felicity, have recently become the author of all your 
miseries. I would willingly sacrifice for my friend, what I hold 
dearest, and it is through me that he has lost what be cherished 
most! Am I miserable enough? For a long time past you must have 
ceased loving me, Faublas; in future you are going to abominate 
me."

"I cease to love you!"

"Don't speak so loud," she interrupted, "or rather do not speak 
at all. Don't offer to speak, my good friend, it hurts you. 
Faublas," repeated she, "you are going to hate me;" and as she 
perceived I was ready to interrupt her again, she hastened to 
add: "but no, no, it would be too unjust. Faublas, since you do 
not wish to find me reprehensible or guilty, re-say to yourself 
for my justification, what I said to you in the forest de 
Compiègne. Ah! Your friend must own it, in order that she may 
feel less unhappy, she deems it essential that you retain no 
resentment against her."

"Oh, you, who are ever dear to me, believe me, I only retain the 
remembrance of an incomparable generosity, of an unparalleled 
delicacy, and, shall I speak it? Of a -"

The Marchioness, who probably was afraid of hearing me utter the 
word, interrupted me bluntly: "Of a friendship which will last 
as long as I live. I understand you well; but don't speak, 
Faublas; dread all manner of agitation. Suffer me to speak 
alone; allow me to let you know how busily engaged I have been, 
for your interest. I thought, since our separation in the 
forest.

"Tormented by the apprehension of not being able to prevent the 
cruel event which I dreaded, I hastened to arrive soon enough, 
that I might offer you all the assistance a friend could 
bestow."

She then added, in a tone of great sadness: "It is true that I 
was taking a useless trouble; love already afforded you 
consolation: a more cherished woman-"

"More cherished! You could not vouch for that, for, indeed, I 
know not what to think of it myself."

"What?" she answered, pretending to misunderstand my meaning, 
"You don't love Madame de Lignolle as much as you do Sophia?"

"As much as I do Sophia? No, undoubtedly. Neither Madame de 
Lignolle, nor-" I believe I was going to say, "nor Madame de 
B***"

She prevented me. "But, sir, don't speak so loud! Must I tell 
you so a hundred times? Faublas, you will awaken the Countess, 
you will do yourself injury, my friend! I have forgot what I was 
saying to you."

"That you had hastened to come in order to offer me 
consolation."

"To console you! I did not say that! To assist you, Chevalier. 
In fact, as soon as Madame de Lignolle had taken you away, as 
soon as Rosambert-"

"Apropos, what is become of him?"

"I had him conveyed to Compiègne, to the house of a friend I 
have there."

"Of one of your friends?"

"Yes, of my friends. The surgeon spoke of venturing the journey 
to Paris, but I opposed the Count being exposed to the fatigue 
of such a long travelling, neither would I suffer his being 
taken to an inn; perhaps he would not have been attended 
properly, and in his present situation, the want of due 
attention might have cost him his life. The traitor deserves to 
die, but the death-blow I am to strike; I shall not trust to the 
common accident of life for the care of chastising him; that 
concerns me alone. What I wish for most-"

"But hear me: are you not afraid of the consequences? Can you 
rely upon the discretion of so many people?"

"Do, my good friend, hold your tongue, you tire yourself. I have 
used the common means, which are no bad ones; I have 
magnificently purchased secrecy: promises and threats have been 
lavished at the same time as gold."

"Those precautions are not always sufficient"

"Silence. I have taken others," she continued, with an air of 
embarrassment, "and that is the reason why I returned to Paris, 
where I lost a few hours, but as soon as I was at liberty again, 
I flew towards Fromonville, where I thought of arriving before 
you, as you were to stop that night at the Countess's. Half way 
I met one of my emissaries who was going to Paris to apprise me 
of what his companions had discovered at Montcour. He had 
attentively examined all the travellers he had met on the road. 
From the intelligence he brought me, I was informed, not without 
some surprise, that you were far before me, and that Madame de 
Lignolle was also several stages in advance of me. Upon hearing 
this piece of news, I made double haste, and would have reached 
Montargis before the Countess, only I could procure no horses at 
Pui-la-Lande."

"Oh! Yes, but she arrived first; and even, apropos of that 
circumstance I must return you many thanks, and beg your pardon 
especially; you found us. How came I to neglect shutting the 
door? How-"

"Chevalier, have the goodness to spare me the particular 
details; and believe me; let us have nothing more to say about 
that adventure-"

"Permit me, however-"

"I will not permit anything; you will not speak one word more 
upon that subject, if you retain for me the least-"

The Marchioness stopped a moment, to find out the proper 
expression she was to use. It was the word esteem, which she 
pronounced first; that of respect she only hazarded afterwards, 
in a trembling voice, and with almost an air of humility.

Yes, I entertain for you great esteem, high respect, much 
friendship-"

"I understand you, say no more. Faublas, I am fully rewarded; 
the certainty of your complete recovery is the only thing 
respecting which I want to be made easy in my mind. You have 
been speaking a great deal too much, take some rest; try to 
sleep, if it were only for a quarter of an hour, I beg of you, I 
insist upon it.

Although she had not ordered me, I should have soon been forced 
to ask her leave to do so. But my painful slumbers did not last 
long. I awoke so soon and so suddenly, that the Marchioness was 
quite disconcerted: I surprised her shedding tears over a paper 
which she hurried to conceal from my sight.

I took the liberty of asking her: "What is this fatal piece of 
writing which occasions your tears thus to flow?"

"Alas! Wherefore should I tell you?" she answered with a sigh.

"Undoubtedly," I returned with some bitterness, "the time is 
past when you kept no secrets from your friend.

"Secrets from you! If I had, I should have but one, and that, 
Faublas, you might guess without much trouble; but that, through 
commiseration as well as through delicacy, you should help me to 
keep."

"Commiseration! what a word!"

"It is the proper one. My sorrows-"

"I will endeavour to comfort you."

"But if now," she exclaimed in a fit of despair, "if now, more 
than ever, I am not to be comforted, let me conjure you, my good 
friend, not to put any more questions unto me; ask me nothing 
more; leave me to bewail my troubles by myself: complaints and 
tears are my last resource! And yet I had thought myself capable 
of bearing patiently the hard trials reserved for the most 
unhappy of women, the most unfortunate of all women! I was proud 
enough to think I was forever secure against the injustice of 
men, and adverse fortune! How silly I was! On this day at least 
my sad experience has convinced me of a truth that I had always 
suspected, and which consoles my weakness: that that courage of 
which men are so proud, is the most easy and common. It is easy 
when prompted either by a spirit of revenge or glory, to expose 
one's life for a moment; it is not so to endure, with an equal 
perseverance, several unexpected misfortunes. Many other 
reverses greater still, equally unforeseen, and as undeserved, 
had not entirely overpowered me; wherefore does this present one 
crush me beyond recovery? I cannot account for it, but my heart 
is oppressed by an enormous weight; if I obtain not a speedy 
relief it will be all over with me, I shall be totally undone, 
let me weep, my dear friend, allow me to sob and groan."

I wished to speak; but to hinder me she stopped my mouth with 
her hand. I caught hold of that sweet and pretty hand, I 
squeezed it, I kissed it, I placed it on my heart, greatly 
agitated.

One would have thought that Madame de Lignolle had been waiting 
for this moment: she rushed out on a sudden from the closet in 
which I imagined she was fast asleep. The first thing I did was 
to push the Marchioness away from me. She, forever wonderful 
upon pressing occasions, preserved more presence of mind than I 
did. Persuaded that it was too late, she would neither withdraw 
her hand, nor change her place.

"You would have suffered me to sleep till tomorrow," said the 
Countess. Then looking at the Vicomte, she added: "What is the 
matter?"

"A palpitation," he answered coolly."

"A palpitation! But you weep! Is a palpitation dangerous, then?"

"Not so in general; but in his present state every agitation may 
be attended with bad consequences."

The Countess then addressing me: "Do you feel worse, my 
dearest?"

"Quite on the contrary, I feel better."

"Because you see me?"

"Because I see her who is dear to me, her to whom I have caused 
too great sorrow, her whose inquiet tenderness watches to 
prolong my days."

"You have said enough," interrupted Madame de B***, who squeezed 
my hand; "she understands you; she is repaid for her attention."

"I understand him, undoubtedly," exclaimed the Countess, 
embracing me; "but never mind, let him go on, he speaks so 
well."

Notwithstanding the Countess manifested a desire to hear me 
talk, I remained silent. What could I have said more? I had just 
explained myself in such a manner as to please everyone present.

This satisfaction, however, did not last long, on account of M. 
de Lignolle arriving much sooner than he was expected. Julien, 
who was dispatched after him, had met him on the road. He 
enquired after me with eager interest; but the air with which he 
looked at the Marchioness rather alarmed me. "This gentleman," 
said the Countess, "is an intimate friend of Mademoiselle de 
Brumont." The Count, nevertheless, appeared equally uneasy and 
surprised: "A friend!" repeated he. The Marchioness immediately 
said: "We have been friends from an early age."

"I suppose, sir, you are a nobleman?"

"I am a Vicomte."

"Vicomte of?"

"Florville."

"That is a new name to me."

"Can all names be known?"

"I don't wish to boast, but there are very few unknown to me." 
He then took a seat; and casting a contemptuous look upon the 
Marchioness, added: Your family most probably is not very 
ancient?"

"My great grandfather's grandfather was admitted into the king's 
carriage."

"Ah! Ah! Sir, I am your most humble servant." He rose from his 
seat, and advanced to pay his compliments. "You seem to be very 
young."

"I am not of age; nothing near it."

"The day will come."

"How came we to have the good fortune of the gentleman paying us 
a visit here in the country?" he asked of his wife."

"How? Why-but it would happen that-good fortune would have it, 
that-"

The Vicomte seeing the Countess so perplexed, said: "Shall I 
tell how?"

"Do, pray."

Madame de B*** then began thus: "For a long time Mademoiselle 
had given me the hope of seeing her come and dine with me at my 
house. She hitherto had deferred being as good as her word, 
because she must have taken a pretty long ride."

"Where do you live, then?"

"At Fontainebleau. I spend eight months out of the twelve there; 
as I have an apartment in the king's palace." M. de Lignolle 
bowed to her.

I heard the Marchioness with as much pleasure as surprise. Was 
it the same woman who, but a moment before, lamenting some new 
misfortune, appeared to strive in vain to suppress her groans, 
stifle her sobs, and resist her despair, I now saw, but a moment 
after, with an admirable sang-froid, play her tricks upon the 
Countess! Was it her whom I likewise now heard, with a steady 
voice, a tranquil countenance, and a tone of truth, telling M. 
de Lignolle an extempore, ingenious, and probable story? Oh! 
Madame de B***, how well you know, according to circumstances, 
how to compose your face, dry up your tears, dissemble your 
passions; in short, how to have a proper command over yourself! 
Oh! To what a degree have you, within a moment, justified and 
increased the high opinion I entertained of your abilities?

She proceeded as follows: "Mademoiselle, however, came 
yesterday."

"Ah!" exclaimed the Count, addressing me, "that was the 
indispensable business which forced you to be gone for a whole 
day! It was for a party of pleasure that you left the Countess, 
who was confined to her bed, and seriously indisposed! Were I in 
her place, I never would forgive you."

The Marchioness resumed: "She came, and, to make me more happy 
still, she brought the Countess with her."

"What!" said M. de Lignolle to his wife, "have you dined at the 
house of a young gentleman who was an entire stranger to you, 
and from whom you had not even any invitation?"

"A truce to your morality if you please, sir, and hear the story 
to the end."

"You may easily conceive how delighted I was at seeing the 
ladies. Alas! My joy was of no long duration, Mademoiselle felt 
ill in the afternoon. We thought at first it would be nothing; 
but she grew worse in the evening. We were at that time very 
much embarrassed, as you may well imagine; for there was no 
possibility of a young lady who was ill, continuing under the 
roof of a bachelor. Most fortunately, Madame la Comtesse, who is 
possessed of great presence of mind-"

"-Much less than yourself, Vicomte, I must do you justice-"

"determined upon having Mademoiselle brought here, where she had 
the goodness to allow me to accompany her."

"Wherefore here sooner than to Paris?" said the Count to Madame 
de Lignolle.

"Wherefore? Why, faith, ask the Vicomte."

He replied immediately, "because it would have been a journey of 
fourteen long leagues, whereas from Fontainebleau to this place 
is only seven."

The Count, who found that was no bad reason, remained silent for 
a while: he seemed to observe with particular attention M. de 
Florville and Mademoiselle de Brumont. He at last said:"Since 
you are a friend of Mademoiselle, you must understand guessing 
riddles?"

"I do, sir," replied the Marchioness, "but not at present, if 
you please; I do not feel in the least disposed."

This answer M. de Lignolle would take it in his head, threw a 
new light upon the business; he drew the Countess aside; but we 
listened attentively, anxious to know what he had to say.

"Madame, that young man is not the friend of your demoiselle de 
compagnie.<49>

What will you have him be then?"

"He is her lover, Madame."

"That is an excellent idea of yours!"

"Don't laugh, Madame, you know I am a connoisseur."

"I know you pretend to be one."

"I believe it is proper to keep a watchful eye over Mademoiselle 
de Brumont."

"Do you say so, sir?"

"She should be watched close."

"I intend as much."

"That Vicomte is young, he has a pretty face; he does not seem 
to want wit, nor manners: I can read something of a high rank in 
his countenance and deportment, I must have seen him somewhere; 
he has all the look of a seducer, Madame."

"I admire, sir, the sagaciousness with which you can read 
through people at one glance."

"That is the result of being acquainted with the human heart, 
Countess! I am afraid little Brumont has already been made the 
dupe of that young man."

"Don't you tell me such a thing!"

"What became of her the day before yesterday?"

"She spent the whole day at her father's."

"Are you sure of that?"

"I am."

"But yesterday, that dinner in the country? That looks very much 
like a private secret appointment."

"I don't understand what you mean by a private secret 
appointment, sir."

"A private secret appointment is-a secret appointment, is-it was 
a private secret appointment; believe me."

"But once more, be explicit."

"I am: a private secret appointment is the meeting of two 
persons-"

"We were three, though"

"I am thoroughly persuaded, that in consequence, they were 
provokingly deranged."

"Have I acted wrong?"

"You ought to have consulted me."

"Well, go on, sir."

"I have many proofs already, of that young man's inclination 
towards that young girl."

"Come, out with them, quick,"

"His eyes are red, because he has been crying; his eyes have 
wept, because his soul was affected; his soul was affected, 
because his sweetheart has been taken ill; he therefore loves 
Mademoiselle de Brumont."

"Your logic is pressing, sir."

"And his soul must be deeply affected, since he would not guess 
my riddles. Don't laugh, Madame! This is a serious business: 
look sharp after your demoiselle de compagnie<49>; either 
dismiss her at once, or don't lose sight of her for a minute."

"Be it so, I prefer not parting with her"

As to that young man, I shall desire him very politely, to take 
himself home again."

"I beg you will not, sir."

"But, Madame, only consider.-"

"No buts, if you please; I will not."

"So much the worse for you, Madame; those young folks will play 
you some foul trick, I tell you so beforehand."

M. de Lignolle left the room rather discontented with his lady, 
but much pleased with himself. The Countess then returned her 
best thanks to the Vicomte. "You have," she said, "most ably 
extricated me from the extreme trouble I was in; and next to 
Faublas, you are the most witty and amiable young man in 
existence."

He answered: "Lose no time in complimenting me: you are still 
threatened with impending danger, which you must think of 
warding off. The Count is here, the Baron is coming; if they 
should meet at the same time, they may enter into an 
explanation, the consequences whereof you must dread."

"You are right, but what is to be decided?"

"Send word to M. de Faublas not to come."

"Ah! I shall be glad to see and to speak to him."

"I shall, nevertheless, take the liberty of representing to 
you."

"Let me tell you, sir, all your representations are useless: if 
the Baron had not promised to come, I would send for him."

"That being the case, I must find some means then of sending M. 
de Lignolle away."

She had him called, and she said wished for some game. Delighted 
at her expressing such a wish, the Count made haste to eat his 
dinner, and set off to go shooting. The Marchioness, now quite 
easy in her mind, went to rest on the tent-bed in the closet, 
the place, which an hour before, was occupied by Madame de 
Lignolle.

The Countess and I had not been enjoying the pleasure of a tête-
à-tête for a quarter of an hour, when we heard a loud rap at the 
door. Judge of our surprise and apprehensions; it was M. de 
Lignolle, already returning. He hallooed out: "Quick, open the 
door, I have brought you Madame de Fonrose, yes, Madame de 
Fonrose, who was coming to see us; I met her as I was getting 
out of the park. How happy!"

The Countess was going to the door.

"A moment, my dear Eleanor, stop a moment, let me tell you, it 
is Madame de Fonrose! Don't speak to her of the Vicomte."

"Why not?"

"Because, my dear, I should have told you of it sooner; but I 
was so ill, I did not give it a thought. The Baroness and the 
Vicomte are sworn enemies. It appears that Florville has been 
making love to her, and although she did not ill-treat him, they 
quarrelled, and detest each other. You may open the door now; 
somebody knocks again: above all things, mind what you will be 
saying; don't speak of the Vicomte."

"No, no, make yourself easy.

I can here relate, verbatim, one of the most singular scenes I 
ever witnessed, and in which I was a performer: true, indeed, 
the situation I was in did not allow me to hear all that was 
said; but such details as had escaped me then, I have heard 
since, from the very mouth of her whom her imprudence and ill-
fate reduced to act the chief part in it.

The COUNT (as he entered.) Where is the Vicomte?

The COUNTESS. Hush!

The COUNT. What do you mean?

The COUNTESS. Hold your tongue!

The BARONESS (looking at Madame de Lignolle with an air of 
surprise.) Do I interrupt you, Countess?

The COUNTESS. Not in the least.

The BARONESS (to Faublas.) Well, how is this dear child?

The COUNT. It is nothing, I tell you; a little fever.

FAUBLAS. I have dared to flatter myself that my father-

The COUNT. Your father is a very strange man, mademoiselle!

FAUBLAS. How say you, sir?

The COUNT. How! He descries me from a distance! On a sudden he 
gets out of his carriage, and runs across the fields as if he 
had seen the devil; that I call being savage to a degree!

The BARONESS. We have already been telling you a hundred times 
that M. de Belcourt had secret business.

The COUNT. What! Upon my estate?

The BARONESS. No, but in the neighbourhood.

The COUNT. Ah! At M. de Florville's, perhaps?

The COUNTESS. Why don't you hold your tongue?

FAUBLAS (with great warmth, to the Baroness, who stood gazing at 
Madame de Lignolle.) How comes Madame la Baronne to be in this 
part of the country?

The BARONESS. A messenger was despatched last night to let me 
know that your father was in great want of my immediate 
services.

FAUBLAS. To be sure; is my dear Adelaide better?

The BARONESS. Much better.

The COUNTESS (to Faublas.) Don't speak too much, take care of 
yourself.

The BARONESS. What an alteration in one night!

The COUNT. One night? Say several, Madame; for believe me, the 
origin of this illness is of no recent date. Those two ladies, 
during their first coming to these parts, thought only of 
amusement, and God knows how they have enjoyed themselves, all 
day long running about the park; returning, out of breath, to go 
and begin over again! Madame, they would play like two children, 
and fight like two school-boys; and at night-Oh! It was quite 
another thing in the night.

The COUNTESS (laughing.) Do you think, sir, you are telling 
anything new to the Baroness?

The COUNT. At night, their beds were in the same room, and, 
would you believe it instead of sleeping, they were forever 
whispering. They did nothing but chat. What I am going to say, 
Madame, is exact to the letter; they did nothing else but chat; 
I could hear them very plain, because, you see, there was only 
this thin partition between us. Now every rational being may 
conceive that, going through a deal of exercise in the day-time, 
and to undergo a deal of fatigue in the night, is enough to kill 
one. The Countess, on her return to Paris, found hereself very 
ill in consequence; she was afflicted with the sick-headache, 
and has been sick, too.

The BARONE88. You have been sick, Countess?

The COUNTESS. Pooh! that's nothing.

The BARONESS. Take care, though.

The COUNT (delighted.) Is it not true that she must take care of 
herself? Mademoiselle, who enjoys a stronger constitution, has 
stood it longer; and, perhaps, if she had rested herself at our 
house, instead of going to that Vicomte de Florville's-

The COUNTESS. Hold your tongue, I tell you!

FAUBLAS (with great warmth, to the Baroness, who still looked 
amazed.) Madame la Baronne!

The BARONESS. Well I what's the matter?

FAUBLAS. A secret! (speaking very low) you have passed through 
Nemours?

The BARONESS (speaking low.) There it was that I found your 
father. I left my waiting-woman with Adelaide.

The COUNT. Yes, I think that if he had not dined at the 
Vicomte's-

The COUNTESS. He will not hold his tongue!

The BARONESS. I understand. These ladies did not wish to let me 
into the secret. I must, then, inform them that I knew of it. I 
know that they dined yesterday at Fontainebleau; the Count had 
told me of it.

FAUBLAS (with a sign of intelligence to the Baroness.) Madame la 
Baronne knows the Vicomte?

The BARONESS (with a cunning look.) Do I? What a question you 
are asking me! He is a very fine fellow, has an elegant 
deportment, wit-

The COUNTESS (in a whisper to Faublas.) Methinks she does not 
speak ill of him.

FAUBLAS (in a low voice.) Mere dissimulation; wait a moment.

The BARONESS. The grandfather of his great-grandfather has 
mounted in the king's coach.

The COUNTESS (low.) You are right. I believe she speaks 
ironically.

FAUBLAS (low.) Undoubtedly she does.

The BARONESS. Notwithstanding, I know a great defect in him.

The COUNTESS. Ah!

The COUNT. What is it?

The BARONESS. At least, I have my authority: the Count has just 
told me the poor young man knows not much about riddles.

The COUNTESS (with bursts of laughter.) That is the reason, 
perhaps, why you are angry with him?

The BARONESS (looking at the Countess and the Chevalier.) Am I 
angry with him?

FAUBLAS (with a sign of understanding.) Certainly, you have 
quarrelled; would you wish to keep it a profound secret?

The BARONESS (cunningly.) Be it so! We had quarrelled, I 
confess; but, indeed, he has used me very ill.

FAUBLAS (low, to the Countess.) You see! (Aloud, to the 
Baroness.) I did not wish his being mentioned to you, but since 
the Count-

The BARONESS. Yes, we have ceased being friends, (to the Count, 
after a moment's reflection), and, candidly speaking, that is 
what prevented my accompanying the ladies, for they had asked 
me.

FAUBLAS (low to the Baroness.) Mighty well!

The COUNTESS (low to the same.) Very clever; I return you 
thanks.

The COUNT (pacing the room, to the Baroness.) These ladies-these 
ladies would have acted very right, if they had followed your 
example (to the Countess); but where is that gentleman?

The COUNTESS. He is asleep.

The COUNT (looking through the closet window.)-Truly, there he 
is on the tent-bed, with his clothes on.

The BARONESS. Shall I not see him?

The COUNT. If you wish to see him, go in.

FAUBLAS (with impetuosity.) Don't go in! He is overtired, and 
wants rest.

The BARONESS (wondering.) My gracious! How fiery, mademoiselle! 
You will do yourself injury.

FAUBLAS (apparently composed.) What an idea! To go and disturb a 
youth who has been up all night?

The BARONESS (observing the Chevalier.) Is it impossible to go 
near him without making a noise, and, at the same time, grieving 
you?

FAUBLAS (in a faltering voioe.) I am out of the question; but, 
if you should awake him; if-

The BARONESS. If I awake him, he will go to sleep again. there 
will be no great harm done.

FAUBLAS (much embarrassed.) No great harm! No great harm! I say 
there would be a great harm done.

The BARONESS. You may say what you please, mademoiselle; I am 
very curious to see your intimate friend, whom you are so 
apprehensive of my disturbing. (She rises.)

The COUNTESS (with a cunning air.) To what purpose? you know him 
very well.

The BARONESS. I wish to see whether he is much altered since I 
saw him last. (She draws near the closet.)

FAUBLAS. Stop her.

The COUNTESS. Why, perhaps she loves him still; she wishes to 
have the pleasure, at least, of looking at him; what should 
prevent her?

FAUBLAS. Don't you know the Baroness? She will make such a 
bustle.

The COUNTESS. What then? Wait a bit, I am going to speak to her. 
(She runs to Madame de Fonrose.) Go in, look at him, if you 
like, but don't awake him, for he must be tired.

I leave you to judge of my situation; I had not one single 
reasonable objection to urge, and my weakness kept me in bed; I 
laid upon thorns; the Baroness was already near the glass door, 
and I could scarcely conceal my extreme inquietude. What a 
fortunate obstacle composes me on a sudden! I perceived the 
Vicomte had locked the door of the closet. The Marchioness, 
therefore, was safe! No, alas! No, that precaution will not save 
her; Madame de Lignolle has just given her key to Madame de 
Fonrose.

As soon as the Baroness had got in, I heard the following words: 
"Yes, that is a pretty face enough, but it is exactly the one I 
know."

"No!-Yes!-Not at all!-But is it?"

"That it is-the very one. I durst hardly to suspect as much. The 
adventure appeared to me too incredible. Awake, charming young 
man! Come, Monsieur le Vicomte! Come and join the company: come, 
come then, I shall lend you my hand."

It was her arm, however, which Madame de B*** seized as a 
support, for she was so sleepy as to be unable to stand.

Whoever, only once in his life has been awakened suddenly from a 
profound sleep, knows well what I have so imperfectly described. 
One cannot pass suddenly from that state of death to a state of 
life: the eyes at first open, but they continue obscured by a 
thick cloud: the ears do hear, but catch only the minutest parts 
of the words that are conveyed to them, and of which they alter 
the nature; it is especially in the brain that the confusion is 
extreme. They happen to be at the same time loaded with recent 
ideas, the remnants of an interrupted dream, and ideas often 
contrary to the former, and which are transmitted by a 
loquacious intruder. From this unforeseen shock the inevitable 
result is a total confusion.
It is in that excess of disorder that we look without seeing, 
that we listen without comprehending, that we speak without 
thinking; but, expect not that I shall explain what mechanical 
instinct causes to move a body without a soul. Such did Madame 
de B*** appear when supported, or rather dragged, by Madame de 
Fonrose, she entered the room in which we were.



XXIII.

The Marchioness at first cast around her a stupefied look. What 
object has struck her eyes? Is it a dream that torments her? Her 
mouth utters a few incoherent words; and tired with a first 
effort, her eyes close again. Soon after, for the second time, 
her hands drop down, and she re-opens her weighed-down eyelids. 
Madame de B*** is enabled to consider anew the female phantom 
whose presence creates her surprise. She has recovered, at last, 
the entire use of her senses; a more composed survey convinces 
her that it is no dream, but that she has fallen into the hands 
of her most mortal enemy.

It was less difficult, however, to surprise and attack Madame de 
B*** than to intimidate and overpower her; it was she who 
commenced the contest: it was Madame de Fonrose whom the first 
blow was aimed at.

The MARCHIONESS. Although I was in greater want of rest than of 
visits, I am delighted to see you, Madame la Baronne.

The BARONESS. Delighted is saying a great deal, I apprehend M. 
le Vicomte exaggerates.

The MARCHIONESS. You are so modest, Madame!

The BARONESS. You are so polite, sir!

The COUNTESS (to the Baroness.) You are not so yourself; 
wherefore did you awake him! had begged of you, Madame. Let me 
tell you that I should be very much displeased if you were to 
pick a quarrel with him in my house.

The BARONESS (with a laugh.) Do scold me, I advise you.

The Marchioness, astonished at what the Countess had been 
saying, looked as if she was asking me for an explanation. I was 
going to give it her in a whisper; the Baroness prevented me.

The BARONESS (running between the Marchioness and Faublas.) No, 
by no means, if you please. I doubt not but you have many things 
to say to one another; but you must speak aloud! Well! Do I 
disturb you? Speak, M. le Vicomte, you who have been better 
trained.

The MARCHIONESS. Madame is going to persuade me I am. no one 
knows more about it than she does, her suffrage is worth a 
thousand; her long experience-

The BARONESS (in a faltering voice.) Long! Would not one think I 
am a hundred years old!

The MARCHIONESS (apparently concerned.) Ah! I beg pardon, I have 
hurt you, Madame.

The BARONESS. Hurt me! Not in the least.

The MARCHIONESS (ironically.) I have though. Madame has 
retreated, Madame has ceased the attack, to think of the 
defence. Ah! How sorry I am!

The BARONESS. You need not grieve much, for there is no harm 
done. (To Faublas.) You do not speak, my fair young lady.

FAUBLAS. I am listening to what is said, I suffer much, and I am 
waiting.

The COUNTESS. And I likewise wait very impatiently for the end 
of this contest.

The COUNT. For my part, so far, I don't understand much about 
this quarrel. what I can see very plain is, that your souls are 
all affected.

The BARONESS (to the Countess and Faublas.) This contest tires 
you. Keep up your spirits, it will not last long. (Pointing to 
the Vicomte.) I am certain this gentleman will have the 
goodness.to put an end to it presently, by bidding us farewell.

The COUNT. I have caught it at last. You are of my own opinion; 
it is a love affair of these young persons!

The COUNTESS. You presume, Madame, in my house, to use an 
individual so bad, to whom I lie under the greatest obligations!

The BARONESS (laughing.) The greatest obligations!

The COUNTESS (giddily.) To be sure, the greatest. Had it not 
been for him, all Montargis-

The COUNT. All Montargis!

FAUBLAS (with great hurry.) It is all Fontainebleau, Madame 
means.

The COUNTESS. Yes, yes-All Fontainebleau-all Fontainebleau.

The MARCHIONESS (to the Countess.) How so? We might have 
procured assistance for Mademoiselle there. It was much better 
undoubtedly to leave that place; but when I advised you so to 
do, I only rendered you a very little service.

The COUNTESS (low to the Baroness.) How witty he is!

The BARONESS. Be it so; but notwithstanding all you may say, 
Countess, I wish to become entitled to your everlasting 
gratitude; I wish to rid you of that gentleman.

The COUNTESS. What an obstinacy!

The BARONESS. Don't be angry. Hear me, I appeal to the Vicomte 
himself; he will own-

The COUNTESS. Your behaviour, Madame, is very strange, quite 
unpardonable; and although this gentleman had been guilty 
towards you of fifty infidelities-

The BARONESS (laughing.) Infidelities! He!

The COUNTESS. Certainly.

The BARONESS. Infidelities towards me? He!

The COUNTESS. Yes, infidelities towards you. Do you think I am 
ignorant of his having been your lover?

The BARONESS. He! My lover?

The COUNT. Hush! Hush! Don't let us speak of those things. I 
don't like such topics of conversation.

The COUNTESS. Indeed, sir, I admire you. What has this to do 
with what you dislike!

The BARONESS. He! My lover? What a pleasant story! (She bursts 
out laughing.) Countess, pray inform me who told you? Little 
Brumont, probably. (To Faublas.) Cunning little miss! How! 
Truly, don't you know better? How could you presume to make me a 
present of the kind? Would you be so daring as to repeat the 
burlesque accusation before my face?

FAUBLAS. Why not? If you force me.

The BARONESS. Well answered! And you, M. le Vicomte, will you 
dare also to maintain it? Indeed, that would be the only thing 
wanted to render this adventure truly ludicrous.

The MARCHIONESS. Madame, there are conquests which a young man 
publishes through vanity. There are des bonnes fortunes [strokes 
of good luck] which prudence will not allow him to acknowledge 
having fallen to his lot. It rests with you to decide whether I 
can be indiscreet.

The BARONESS. Why, truly I consider that you would be strangely 
puzzled if you were obliged to reveal all your conquests. 
Without compliment, I believe they have already been numerous; 
at Versailles for instance, you are in a fair way-

The COUNT. Exactly so! There it was that I saw him.

The BARONESS. Is it not owing to women introducing you, that you 
are patronised by the Minister?

The COUNT (low to the Baroness.) Oh Oh! But if he is patronised 
by the Minister, you must not speak to him as you do; you should 
keep upon good terms with him.

The MARCHIONESS. There are some folks who don't believe it, and 
who notwithstanding will set the example. The lady, meanwhile, 
has eluded answering my question. she has not presumed to 
determine whether I should be indiscreet.

The BARONESS (in an ill humour.) I have decided you should.

The MARCHIONESS. You act from modesty! I refuse your decision; I 
demand that we call the votes.

The BARONESS. I agree to it. Let us see. Monsieur le Comte, 
speak first.

The MARCHIONESS. No, no, you do not understand me. When the 
accused party is a person of your consequence, it is not before 
a small committee that the enquiry is to take place; in a case 
of that sort, the court, town and country, are to be applied to.

The BARONESS. That is too impertinent.

The COUNTESS. You deserve as much. Why did you awake him? Why do 
you offer to turn him out of my house?

The BARONESS (to the Countess.) To speak the truth I ought not 
to be angry, for it is only to be laughed at; what might amuse 
me much is to see you side with them against me. However, there 
must be an end to all this. I am expected (she looks at her 
watch) I have no time to lose. Monsieur le Vicomte would not 
walk back home. he is of a delicate constitution, I beg of him 
to hand me down to my carriage, where he will not object to take 
a place. I engage to carry him back to Fontainebleau. is that 
polite enough?

The MARCHIONESS. I am very thankful for the obliging offers of 
Madame la Baronne; but since Madame la Comtesse will permit, I 
shall stay here.

The COUNTESS. You are right.

The BARONESS (to the Countess.) He is right, undoubtedly, and 
you do very well to applaud him. (To the Marchioness.) Are you 
in earnest?

The MARCHIONESS. Quite so. I shall stay here so long as 
Mademoiselle is in danger, and I shall not be troublesome to the 
Countess.

The BARONESS. Do you expect I will leave you here?

The MARCHIONESS. I can't see by what means you can force me to 
go away.

The BARONESS (angrily.) How audacious1 Only think, I need but 
speak one single word.

The MARCHIONESS (with great composure.) You will not speak it 
out?

The BARONESS. Who will prevent me?

The MARCHIONESS. A moment's reflection. I am well aware that you 
are acquainted with my secret; but look round, and tell me what 
advantage could those to whom you reveal it, derive in 
consequence?

The COUNTESS (low to Faublas.) What does that mean

FAUBLAS. That concerns your husband. I will explain it to you by 
and by.

The MARCHIONESS (to the Baroness, in a friendly tone.) The 
Countess is light-headed; in a fit of rage she might forget 
herself; I beg you will not provoke her.

The BARONESS (low.) I shall find means to send M. de Lignolle 
away.

The MARCHIONESS (aloud.) I do not believe it.

The BARONESS. Who will prevent me?

The MARCHIONESS. That lady, mademoiselle, and myself.

The BARONESS. Monsieur le Vicomte, let us both go out together.

The MARCHIONESS. No.

The BARONESS. I will speak out.

The MARCHIONESS. I defy you.

The BARONESS. I had heard prodigious encomiums on your 
incomparable merit; but Fame, who publishes feats of gallantry 
deserving of being kept in memory, and who commonly exaggerates-

The MARCHIONESS (ironically.) Do not flatter me. That Fame has 
not spoken to you about me. You know well she has no longer time 
of speaking of anyone else, since you have made it your business 
to find her occupation.

The BARONESS (ironically.) She, nevertheless, has some leisure 
hours left to chatter about you. She says that after having 
selected from the throng the fortunate object of your affection-

The MARCHIONESS. Selected from the throng! So much the better 
for my mistress and for myself. It is an example which I set to 
some females of my acquaintance. They, when they take a lover, 
do not select him from the throng, but make him an additional 
member.

The BARONESS. You will never be ranked among them. you who 
distinguish yourself by so many divers talents; you, who, 
according to circumstances, know so well how to change your 
tone, temper, behaviour, name, and so-

The MARCHIONESS. Hush! take care, Madame la Baronne, your sang-
froid has left you, you are going to say something; (looking at 
the Countess and at Faublas) you will expose us; take care. It 
is seldom dangerous to hold one's tongue; but frequently it is 
perilous to speak.

The BARONESS. A word in your ear, if you please, Monsieur le 
Comte!

The MARCHIONESS (to the Countess.) Believe me, Madame, allow no 
secrets.

The COUNTESS (to her husband.) I will not have you speak to her.

The BARONESS. But-

The COUNTESS (to the Baroness.) Neither shall you speak to him.

The BARONESS (to the Count.) Since it is so, I beg your pardon, 
but I must beg of you to leave us for a moment.

The MARCHIONESS (to the Countess.) Do not let him go.

The COUNTESS (to her husband.) I will not have you leave the 
place.

The COUNT (muttering.) Never mind, you need not mention it; 
nothing escapes me. I can see, notwithstanding her assuming a 
good countenance, that the Baroness's soul is affected; with 
regard to that young man, since he has so much credit with the 
minister, I conceive he must not have occasion to complain of 
being ill-treated in my house. But I know the world. a man, a 
master of the house especially, always commands respect; (aloud) 
so, then, I must stay to prevent quarrelling?

The MARCHIONESS. Yes, do stay.

The COUNTESS. Stay.

FAUBLAS. Stay.

The BARONESS. Since everyone will have it so, stay then. This 
turns out in a pleasant manner; it would occasion me too much 
ill-humour, if I were not amused. (She laughs very heartily.) 
Countess, give me your hand; they are playing you some trick; 
let us shake hands, for I am made game of also.

ALL TOGETHER. Explain.

The COUNT (rubbing his hands.) I entertained a confused idea, 
and was saying so to the Countess. They are making game of her. 
(To the Baroness.) But I should not be sorry to know in what 
manner. Explain it!

The BARONESS. Why, truly, they know I cannot explain. I am 
sensible I must wait. Well! Patience. (She takes a chair.)

The MARCHIONESS. You were expected, Madame.

The BARONESS. The observation is not very polite, Sir! however, 
on account of your being rather awkwardly situated, I forgive 
you. I confess I was anxious to take you away with me, but since 
your going is so positively opposed, I demand being permitted to 
stop with you.

The COUNTESS. Just as you please.

The MARCHIONESS (to the Count.) I beg you will not keep 
standing, sir. (She reaches him a chair.)

The BARONESS. Madame de Lignolle does not mind that excess of 
attention.

The COUNT. Quite the reverse, I am very thankful. (He reaches a 
chair to the Marchioness.)

They all sit round my bed, and their respective countenances 
deserve being noticed.

The Countess divides her affectionate attention between the 
Marchioness and me; and if sometimes she seems to recollect that 
Madame de Fonrose is present, it is to show her discontent, 
either by a sulky look, or a disobliging monosyllable.

M. de Lignolle absolutely neglects the Baroness; the whole 
attention of the courtier is directed towards M. de Florville, 
upon that young man who was in such high credit with the 
minister; he approaches, caresses, and strangely importunes him.

The Vicomte receives with modesty the thanks of Madame, and 
almost with dignity the advances of Monsieur. By the entire 
security which he affects, one would have thought that he had 
forgotten his danger and his adversary; but the less he seems to 
pay attention to them, the more I presume he keeps them in mind. 
Every now and then Florville casts at the Baroness a proud, 
imperious, and triumphant look; would it not be 
incomprehensible, however, if the Marchioness, exaggerating to 
herself her advantages, and losing sight of her position, should 
consider an enemy as beaten who had not yet left the field of 
battle! As for me, timid warrior, wondering at the first 
success, I dread the second attack; though the courage of my 
ally inspires me with confidence, the indefatigable obstinacy of 
her antagonist intimidates me; and doubtful which of the two is 
to carry the day, I hope, I tremble, I admire, and observe in 
silence.

The Baroness, though single-handed, makes game of them all. She 
punishes the Count, who impolitely neglects her, by praising 
enthusiastically whatever he says; to be revenged of my 
perfidious tricks, she darts at me, by stealth, a reprobating 
and caressing glance: a look which seems to convey at once 
congratulations and reproaches. To the unjust anger of the 
Countess, she opposes only long bursts of laughter; and with a 
bitter and threatening smile, she beats back the majestic glance 
of her haughty rival.

I see her at last involved in deep thought; next she rises from 
her seat, goes into the gallery, calls one of her servants, 
gives him orders and as she returns to us, is heard to say 
aloud: Let my coachman get ready.

"Let my coachman get ready?" Did she really speak those words? O 
my guardian genius! O protecting angel of the Marchioness! I 
return you thanks, the victory will be ours.

In compliance with the Count's desire, and the Baroness allowing 
it, the old topic of conversation was resumed. M. de Lignolle 
invited Florville not to neglect riddles, commenced a pompous 
eulogium on the affections of the soul, and of the soul of a 
courtier. A quarter of an hour had elapsed: on a sudden, we 
heard a fowling piece fired, and in the yard of the chateau, 
cries of "To arms! Poachers! Poachers!"

At this hue and cry, M. de Lignolle thinks no more of riddles, 
the Vicomte, or the court, but rises, leaves us, and rushes on 
in a great hurry. The Countess, either to quiet or to detain 
him, offers to run after him; but Madame de Fonrose stops her, 
saying:

"Don't be alarmed, it is only a trick of my conception, to call 
away your husband, and in spite of you, to turn your rival out 
of doors."

The COUNTESS. My rival?

The BARONESS. Alas! Yes, my poor dear child! You suffer yourself 
to be made a dupe of! Only look at the supposed young man. By 
the shape, and the features, can you mistake a female? Can you 
witness her artifice, her perfidiousness, her incomprehensible 
audacity, and not know?

The COUNTESS. The Marchioness de B***! Great God!

The MARCHIONESS (to Faublas.) I leave you with regret my friend; 
but I shall hear of you. (To Madame de Fonrose, in a menacing 
tone.) Rely upon my gratitude, Madame la Baronne? And yet keep 
my secret, beware of exposing me by divulging this adventure. 
(To Madame de Lignolle.) Adieu, Madame la Comtesse; if you are 
reasonable enough to harbour no resentment against Vicomte de 
Florville, he engages not to reveal your unguarded conduct to 
the Marchioness de B***.

She went out; the Baroness followed her.

In order to form a just idea of the raging transports of the 
Countess, it would not suffice to be as irascible and violent as 
she was; one must, besides, burn with a like fire to that which 
devours her. At first, the excess of her amazement suspended the 
excess of her fury; but the frightening calm did not last long, 
and the explosion was terrible. I saw Madame de Lignolle shiver 
and turn pale; then on a sudden, her whole frame appeared 
agitated by a convulsive motion; her throat swelled, her lips 
trembled, her eyes were inflamed, her face turned of a purple 
violet colour: she attempted to cry out, but could utter only 
stifled groans, her feet beat the ground, her weak fist got 
bruised against the furniture, she tore her hair off; she even 
dared to lift a sacrilegious hand against her charming face, 
whence blood immediately issued from several scratches. What an 
accident for herself and for me; but I could not have foreseen 
that cruel effect of her despair.

Worn out as I was, I collected powers enough to be able to get 
out of bed, I tried to drag myself close to her: the unhappy 
creature did not even see me. She rushed towards the door, and 
in a stifled voice, said: "Let her be brought back to me, that I 
may be revenged! That I may tear her to pieces! That I may 
murder her!"

"Eleanor! My dear Eleanor!"

She heard me, turned round, and saw me in the middle of the 
apartment; beside herself, she hurried towards me: do you wish 
to follow her? Well go! Go perfidious man, and never let me see 
you again! What can detain you? She is waiting for you! She is 
waiting for the reward of her enormities. Go to enjoy with her 
my disgrace, your ingratitude, and her infamy. Go, run: but 
remember that if I can meet you together, I will immolate you 
both."
 
Illustration: I fell prostrate and on my knees and on my hands.

She had seized my arm, which she kept shaking with all her 
might; I fell prostrate on my knees and on my hands. She cried 
out: but it was not a scream of rage. Anger had already made 
room for fear.

"Eleanor, how can you imagine that in my present situation, I 
should think of following her? I wished to join you, my beloved, 
I wanted to justify myself, to sue for forgiveness, to offer you 
consolation. Eleanor, hear me, be calm, I beg of you! for my 
sake, for your own sake, spare your many charms; spare that skin 
so soft, so white, and those little sweet hands, those long 
floating hairs, that so charming face! Oh I you, whom the god of 
love purposely made so handsome, beware of altering one of his 
most pleasing works, respect a thousand attractions formed to be 
caressed, and procure the most exquisite pleasures."

Whenever you have the misfortune of making your mistress angry, 
you must endeavour to soothe her immediately; and whoever, in 
such an occurrence, feels incapable of acting, should at least 
say something, and for want of having it in his power to do 
better, he ought, as a substitute for tender caresses, to urge 
passionate encomiums, and season the flattering discourse with 
all the warmth the consoling action would have been susceptible 
of. Such is the ordinary advice which love suggests, and that 
love inspired me to abide by: yet I cannot positively affirm 
that the Countess was appeased by that alone. It appeared to me 
very plausible, that fear, after removing anger, had made room 
for compassion, and that my tender-hearted friend, moved at the 
sight of my situation, more than by my fair words, forgot my 
wrongs, to think only of my danger. Be it as it may, if I 
understood the cause, the effect was not to be misconstrued. 
Madame de Lignolle raised me up, supported me, helped me to get 
into bed again, and then sitting close to me, she leaned towards 
me, and hid her face on my bosom, which she watered with her 
tears.

The Countess changed her attitude when she heard Madame de 
Fonrose approaching. "Gracious God!" exclaimed the latter, What 
a face!" And after applying a handkerchief to the face of her 
friend, she added: "Madame, I have told you many a time already, 
that when a young handsome woman was angry she might weep, 
groan, scold her maids, quarrel with her lover, and plague her 
husband; but that she must spare her own self, and, above all 
things, her sweet face. I, nevertheless, thought that in the 
first access of your passion, you would have acted rashly. But I 
could not have stopped with you."

"What is become of Madame de B***?" asked Madame de Lignolle.

"She nobly refused my carriage, which she had no occasion for. 
The sly Vicomte had made himself quite at home in your house: he 
kept a servant of his, dressed in gay clothes, in your hall, and 
a pair of horses in your stables."

"What a woman!" exclaimed the Countess, with extreme vivacity; 
"How audacious in her behaviour! How impudent in her discourse! 
When I met her at Compiègne, she told me she was a relation of 
the Marquis de B***, and you too, sir, you made me believe so! 
You have imposed on me most shamefully! What had brought her to 
Compiègne? Answer me! You keep silent-you are a traitor! Get you 
gone, leave my house, begone directly! I was such a simpleton as 
to give them credit! She followed us on the road, joined us at 
Montargis-in what a situation did she find me there My stars! As 
long as I live I shall be ashamed of myself, and weep through 
rage!"

"What I think more provoking still, is to be forced to 
acknowledge that if I had arrived a few moments later; yes, only 
some minutes later, it would have fallen to my lot to have 
surprised my unworthy rival in the arms of a perfidious-for he 
loves all those he meets with: whether the Marchioness or the 
Countess, what signifies to him? Provided she be a female. How 
many mistresses do you want? Do you wish me to have several 
lovers? Don't attempt to justify yourself! You are destitute of 
delicacy, of honesty, of good faith! Get you gone immediately, 
and never let me see you again!"

Madame de Lignolle's former rage returned by degrees; I 
trembled, lest her husband should come back. The Baroness, to 
whom I imparted my apprehensions, quieted me. "The supposed 
poacher," she said to me, "is my running footman, in a disguise. 
He is possessed of a pair of light heels, and is favourably 
inclined. He is aware of the Count going in person after him, 
and will procure that gentleman the pleasure of a long race. He 
will find exercise in plenty for the amateur, and I warrant you 
that we shall have as much time as we can wish for."

Meanwhile, the Countess, who did not listen to us, was going on: 
"She surprised me; she seemed as if she pitied, and wished to 
serve me. I addressed a thousand insignificant compliments to 
her, was lavish of ridiculous thanks, and this gentleman allowed 
me to proceed. He even did more than that; he coalesced with her 
to make game of me. But you, Baroness, wherefore did not you let 
me know who she was, as soon as you had found her out?"

"You are making your jokes upon this occasion. Do not I know 
enough of you to be well satisfied that no consideration 
whatever could have silenced you: that you would have burst out; 
and that, too, even in the presence of your husband."

"Undoubtedly, in the face of the whole universe; I would have 
exposed the insolent creature; I would have put her to the 
blush; I would-"

"Let me tell you, Madame, instead of wasting time by quarrelling 
with her, you should have summoned up your servants, and have 
had her thrown out at the window."

"Ah, to be sure, I had at command that very simple and genteel 
mode of getting rid of her, without making a bustle, or 
scandalising the public! But, indeed, one does not always think 
of what might be done! I did not give it a thought."

"This impostor," continued the Countess, "looking at me, has 
made fools of us both, my dear Baroness: it was he who told me, 
as a secret, that that woman was your lover. If he had confessed 
to me that, formerly, you had been a man, I would have believed 
him, and yet that is the manner in which he has abused the blind 
confidence I reposed in him! He shall never betray me again, 
however! Let him begone, I detest him! And will see him no 
more!"

"How will you have him go?"

"When I reflect that that odious Marchioness has stopped here 
all night, with me near him and, besides, part of the day!" (She 
screamed aloud.) "Heaven forgive me! I left them tête-à-tête for 
a whole hour! For an age! Tell me, sir, what were you about 
together? Speak! While I was asleep what took place?"

"Nothing my dear; we conversed."

"Oh, yes! Conversed! Do not imagine you can impose upon me 
again; speak the truth, tell me what you have done together; I 
insist upon it-"

"Countess, interrupted the Baroness, laughing, you suspect him 
of having committed a crime, of which-without offering him any 
offence-of which, for four-and-twenty hours, he has been 
absolutely incapable."

"Incapable! He? never! When I returned, sir, she said you had a 
palpitation, and her hand-she must be very bold to dare to lay 
it on your heart-her hand!-and you must be very kind to suffer 
it! That heart is mine; it belongs to no one else-. Alas! What 
do I say? The ungrateful man! The flighty young man! He gives 
himself up to everyone indiscriminately! I am certain that, 
during my sleep-yes, I am positive; but I expect the avowal from 
your own mouth; I iusist upon it; I had rather be made certain 
of my miseries, than to continue in a state of dreadful 
uncertainty. Faublas, tell me what you did together. Hear me; if 
you confess, I will forgive you. Own it, sir, own it, or I shall 
discharge you; yes, I am determined. I will discharge-I will 
dismiss you."

"Wherefore dismiss her?" said M. de Lignolle as he was coming 
in. "You must not; I am even very sorry I went out, for you have 
sent away the Vicomte."

"The Vicomte! Once forever, sir, I declare to you, that I will 
never have him mentioned in my presence."

"Ah! but what ails you, Madame? Your face-"

"My face is my own, sir, I may do whatever I like with it; 
meddle with your own business."

"Be it so; but I repent having left this apartment; you have 
been availing yourself of my absence"

The BARONESS. It has not been long; the poacher has suffered 
himself to be caught much sooner than I expected.

The COUNT (throwing himself in an armchair.) Caught, indeed! The 
best runner could not achieve it in four-and-twenty-hours' time. 
Ah! what a devilish man! Since he is no bird, he must be the 
devil himself. Imagine a stag that has just started! Why, 
Madame, he ran as fast! He then would come back again. I could 
see him within pistol-shot; and, presto! At a hundred yards 
distance. When you would have thought him very far, he seemed as 
if he had dropped from the sky, you had him under your nose; he 
really put my men at defiance.

The BARONESS. But you, sir?

The COUNT. This alters the case; I was always at the head of his 
pursuers. This rascal easily found out whom he had to deal with; 
when I got close to him, he took to his legs with double 
efforts; it would have given you pleasure to see how afraid he 
was of me! Ten times I was on the point of catching him! But, 
notwithstanding he has made his escape. I remembered the 
Vicomte, and gave it up. Now that I am off, I dare to say all my 
servants will be unable to come up with him.

The COUNTESS (to Faublas.)Why will you not confess?

FAUBLAS. I swear there was nothing done.

The COUNTESS. Own it, or I will dismiss you.

The COUNT (to Faublas.) Never mind; give Madame that 
satisfaction; it will cost you nothing; confess.

The BARONESS (to the Count, with a laugh.) Do you know what you 
wish him to confess?.

The COUNT. Why that the Vicomte is a very agreeable young man! 
Most likely!

The BARONESS. Most likely! What do you mean?

The COUNT. How is not that plain language? I mean, that most 
likely mademoiselle finds the Vicomte is a very handsome fellow. 
(To the Countess.) But though she did confess, that is not a 
sufficient cause for you to dismiss her.

The COUNTESS (to her husband.) For God's sake let me alone, or I 
shall be angry. (To Faublas.) Confess.

The COUNT (to Faublas.) Oh! I beg of you, do confess. You do. We 
all here do. You may tell the Vicomte that I find him so; and do 
not forget to let him know that his going away has occasioned me 
severe regret; that he will always do us great pleasure whenever 
it will please him to come and see us, either in Paris, or-

The COUNTESS. If ever he dares to show his face in a house of 
mine, I will have him turned out.

The COUNT. I wonder at you; just now you espoused his cause most 
violently! I wish you could know your own mind.

The COUNTESS. You, sir, who now speak, were of a contrary 
opinion an hour ago.

The COUNT. For an hour back a great change has taken place.

The BARONESS. Quite so.

The COUNT (to the Baroness.) Don't I speak the truth, Madame? 
You have some knowledge of the world, you, Madame, and I don't 
doubt but that you guess at my motives for viewing things under 
a different aspect. (Much lower.) I thought at first that this 
M. de Florville, although of a tolerable good family, enjoyed, 
like most young men of his time of life, a very indifferent 
existence; I therefore could not see of what advantage 
Mademoiselle de Brumont's partiality to that youth could be 
productive. It is a maxim of mine that a man of rank more than 
any other, must be on his guard against new acquaintance, so as 
never to form but such as may be profitable. Now listen to this, 
Madame: that man who, upon no occasion, cannot be useful to us, 
must sooner or later be doubly burdensome to us, because, as he 
has nothing to give, he always ends by asking for something; in 
the course of ambition especially, whoever does not help, must 
necessarily check and consequently retard our march; that is the 
reason why I did not wish to form a connection with the Vicomte. 
But you tell me that he is in high favour at Versailles, and 
that has caused my disposition to be altered. I don't wish to 
meddle with your contentions, with the quarrels among women; 
neither is it my province to examine whether the means adopted 
by that young man, for his promotion, are very delicate; the 
essential object for me is, that they be very powerful. (Pretty 
loud.) Methinks, that M. de Florville, in that respect has 
nothing to wish for; it appears to me that, favoured as he is by 
nature, and so situated as to turn those advantages to profit, 
he cannot but rise high and very quick too. His acquaintance I 
consider as extremely precious for Mademoiselle de Drumont, who 
must think of getting a fortune, and for me who long to augment 
mine.

The COUNTESS. Go you, sir, and all your fine calculations. Go 
to. I am beyond myself! I repeat to you, sir, that I will never 
hear of that-

The BARONESS (interrupting her.) Impertinent creature! (To the 
Count.) That is the manner in which she treats him now.

The COUNT (to the Baroness.) Indeed! It is your fault, and I 
repent having gone out (in a low voice.) You know that at 
Versailles, one must be unceasingly soliciting-

The BARONESS. The worst that may happen is to obtain nothing.

The COUNT. By dint of importunity you always succeed provided 
you have friends, that is understood and as a proof, I have 
lately carried off a pension of six thousand francs. But Madame 
de Lignolle has insisted upon my resigning it to M. de St. Prée. 
Oh! I confess that has hurt me. The Countess is a child who does 
not know the value of money: she imagines that a man who is 
worth one hundred and fifty thousand livres a year, has no 
further occasion for the king's bounty; you, Madame, in whom she 
reposes great confidence, ought to make her a few 
representations on that subject.

The COUNTESS. All that you say is useless. I am no more to be 
made a dupe of by all your idle tales, but I insist upon your 
confessing all your wrongs. Do confess, or I will dismiss you.

The COUNT. Endeavour to make her comprehend also, that far from 
discharging Mademoiselle de Brumont, she ought to treat her with 
redoubled politeness, attention and regard, and above all things 
to invite M. de Florville to come as frequently as possible.

The COUNTESS. Sir, you have your apartment, I beg you will be so 
kind as to let me be quiet in mine.

The BARONESS (to the Count.) We are not at liberty here, we are 
interrupted at every minute; let us go somewhere else.

The COUNT. Be it so, with all my heart, because you understand 
reason-but wait a little.

The COUNTESS. Will you confess?

The COUNT. Before I go, I wish to give you good advice; you, 
mademoiselle, confess; for if it is not so it will soon be, we 
believe it, and so must you in the end. You, Madame, whether she 
confess or not, do not discharge your demoiselle de compagnie, 
for I am read in the affections of your soul, and you would be 
overwhelmed with grief an hour after. With regard to the 
Vicomte, I shall mention him to you no more; I shall make it my 
business to settle with him.

We were left by ourselves. Madame de Lignolle obstinately 
persevered in exacting an avowal of my supposed offence; 
whereas, under a persuasion that telling a falsity could answer 
no purpose, I persisted in speaking the truth. Chagrined, 
however, at my protestations being made in vain, I tried a last 
effort which was crowned with success.

"My beloved, I repeat it, and take my solemn oath, I think but 
seldom of the Marchioness, since I think continually of you; 
since you have been mine, Madame de B*** no longer belongs to 
me. This day, the same as yesterday, I was her friend only, and 
tomorrow it will be the same. Tell me, under the impression of 
what error could I think of her when I am by the side of you! 
Can it be possible for me to regret any of the advantages she is 
possessed of, when I see you endowed with a thousand 
qualifications she is in want of? Notwithstanding all her 
accomplishments, must she not envy all your natural endowments? 
Don't you look handsomer with your rising charms, your 
unaffected graces, your seducing sprightliness, than she is to 
be found beauteous on account of her dazzling youth, her lofty 
manners, her proud deportment? Has she, my Eleanor, a soul 
equally compassionate and liberal as yours? Do you believe that 
I can ever forget the joy of your vassals upon your return, the 
gratitude of your tenants, the praises your respectable rector 
saluted you with? I have witnessed them, and my heart enjoyed 
the sight; you are here the object of general worship; you are 
for all those good people a beneficent providence, which never 
requires being asked for anything, but which commands unceasing 
thanks. Could your lover be the only one to refuse doing justice 
to your virtues? The only one to repay your kindness with 
ingratitude? Don't you believe it, beware of believing it. 
Believe rather, my adorable friend, that I wish I were permitted 
to go with my Eleanor, far from every other seduction, and 
inhabit for the remainder of my life, the humble cottage which 
the Countess de Lignolle has had repaired for old Duval. Cease 
complaining and suspecting me; cease to dread too weak a rival; 
I esteeem her, but I revere you; I retain some friendship for 
her, and the most tender love for you; it is true that for a 
time I have spent happy moments in her company: but I have since 
enjoyed delicious ecstasy in yours; in short, Madame de B*** 
might now offer me pleasure, whereas from you alone, my Eleanor, 
I can expect happiness."

Happiness! Thus engaged in drawing a parallel between two rivals 
almost equally seducing, but whom nature had gifted in a very 
different manner, I was forgetful of another woman more favoured 
still, who united in her person all the virtues and attractions 
of both; I was forgetful of Sophia, and so wildly prepossessed 
that I expressed wishes inimical to our being re-united 
together. Ah! I dare not hope that the avowal of so enormous a 
fault may ever be a sufficient reparation in the estimation of 
others as it is in mine own.

The more I became culpable towards my wife, the more occasion my 
mistress had of being satisfied. "Very well! said the Countess, 
throwing her arms round my neck, "If you had held out such 
language at first, you would have persuaded me immediately! 
Since you love me, and that you don't love her, I am content; 
since you have not committed an act of infidelity with her, I 
forgive all the rest."

"But I don't forgive you; you have not spared my property, the 
most valuable part of my property! You have been tearing your 
face!"

"Will you love me less on that account? It would be very wrong 
of you, for if I am less handsome, I am become more 
interesting."

"I will have none of that interest. Promise me that you will 
never commit similar excesses."

"And you, Faublas, promise that you will never make me angry."

"Ah! upon my honour!"

"Well," she said, laughing, "see how good-natured I am; I engage 
never more to fly in a passion."

The Count, who was coming in at that moment, exclaimed: "God be 
praised! She has confessed at last."

"She has confessed!" repeated the Baroness with surprise.

"Not at all" answered the Countess, who clapped her little hands 
together, and jumped for joy.

"How!" resumed M. de Lignolle, "She has not, and yet you are in 
such good spirits!"

"Exactly so, and the very reason is because she has not 
confessed."

"This," said the deep observer, "is beyond my conception. I 
however will deduce at least the truth of this principle: that 
the soul of a female is absolutely enigmatical."

"I shall draw no conclusion," said Madame de Fonrose, "but shall 
retire with an easy mind and content."

When she called upon us on the following day, M. de Lignolle had 
left the castle. Letters come from Versailles in the morning had 
induced him to set off immediately; and although we entertained 
not so high an opinion as he did of the important business that 
summoned him to court, yet we attempted not to keep him at home, 
or have him postpone his departure.

The Baroness instead of congratulating her friend, damped her 
joy; my father had commissioned Madame de Fonrose to bring me 
back to Nemours, where he was waiting for me with my dear 
Adelaide, who had entirely recovered from her late indisposition 
and fatigue.

The first word the Countess spoke was to express that henceforth 
we were never to part; and when the Baroness had forced her to 
acknowledge that I was bound to obey my father, Madame de 
Lignolle, appealing to M. Despeisses, the surgeon, maintained 
that my extreme weakness would not allow my being taken away. 
She declared in addition, that so long as my existence was 
threatened, she was determined to nurse me herself until I 
should be in a state of convalescence, and that no human force 
should oblige her to part from her lover before he should be 
entirely recovered. Madame de Fonrose after having urged 
prayers, representations and menaces, went away rather 
dissatisfied at obtaining no more.

On the next day, my father called for me himself. As soon as M. 
de Brumont was announced, the Countess dismissed all her 
atetendants, and ran to meet my father. "See," she said in a 
joyous and caressing tone, "come nearer to him, he is no longer 
confined to his bed; there he is in an armchair, look at him! We 
have been pacing round the room several times. He has had a good 
sleep. He recovers his strength, he is getting better, much 
better. You are indebted for his preservation to my vigilance, 
and for his recovery to my care; I have guarded him against his 
despair, I have saved him from his illness; through me be lives, 
for me he is bound to live-solely for me-and for you, sir, I 
agree to it, but not for you alone."

The Baron addressed me: "To what difficulties do you expose a 
father who loves you! Is this what you had promised me? Was it 
in this place that I was to meet my son?"

Madame de Lignolle interrupted him: "Cruel man! Would you have 
preferred finding him dead at Montargis? When I went to join him 
there, he was by himself, delirious, holding a pistol in his 
hand. Sir, I must repeat it to you, I saved him from his 
despair. Alas! It was not however the grief of having lost me 
that deprived him of his rational faculties, that rent his 
heart."

My father continued speaking to me: "Since Madame de Fonrose has 
not been allowed to take you away yesterday, I am come myself 
to-day."

"He won't listen to me!" cried the Countess; "He even scorns 
returning me a word of thanks! How ungrateful! Not even a word 
of politeness! Sir, though you may refuse proper acknowledgment 
of my services, think at least of the attention and regard that 
are due to my sex, and remember that this is not Mademoiselle de 
Brumont's house."

"In order that I should think myself obliged to you, Madame, it 
were requisite I should be acquainted with your dealings only, 
and ignorant of your motives; you have done everything for this 
young man, but nothing for me. As to Mademoiselle de Brumont I 
don't know her, I am come here to fetch the Chevalier de 
Faublas, the husband of Sophia."

"Of Sophia! No, sir, mine! I am his wife! Oh! I am his wife!" 
(she kissed me) "and your daughter, she added and laying hold of 
one of his hands, which she kissed: "pardon me for what I have 
been saying; forgive my inconsiderate behaviour the last time I 
was at your house; excuse my inexperience: remember only that I 
love you, and that I adore him. Let me tell you, I was extremely 
anxious to see you again, and to speak to you. I will inform you 
of every particular. For some days past a great change, a very 
happy change has taken place. The bonds which link him to me are 
now indissoluble: in less than nine months hence, you will have 
a grandson. Hear me, listen to me. Yes, it will be a boy, a 
pretty boy, lovely, generous, sensible, lively, witty, intrepid, 
replete with grace and beauty like his father. Hear me now, 
don't attempt to withdraw your hand. Are you sorry for my 
carrying in my bosom a pledge of his love? Or could you think-. 
Oh the child is his; his own, you may rest assured of that; it 
is not M. de Lignolle's, never has M. de Lignolle-. I protest 
that no one had ever married me, before Faublas. Ask him, if you 
think I speak an untruth. No one before him had, neither shall 
anyone after him espouse me."

"Unhappy child!" said the Baron at last, whom extreme 
astonishment had kept silent for a long time: "What transport 
misleads you? And how can you reveal to me similar confidences?"

"It is you, exactly, whom it is incumbent upon me to choose as 
my confidant; you, who only view me as the mistress of your son; 
you, who knowing only of Madame de Lignolle's frolics and 
foibles, form the most unfavourable idea of her character, and 
judge her most rigorously. It is true that I have suffered 
myself to be seduced-but in what manner, and by whom? Look at 
him first, and tell me whether I am not excusable? To speak the 
truth, his victory was carried in an instant, but that is 
exactly what renders my defeat justifiable. If I had calculated 
my defeat, it would not have been so prompt, and perhaps I would 
not have yielded at all, if I had known what it was to contend. 
But, in my profound ignorance, I understood nothing about those 
matters; I was only a married woman nominally. Do you doubt it? 
Ask Faublas, he will confirm it; he will tell you that it was 
him who taught me love! Can you conceive how a young person, 
thoroughly simple, totally innocent, unacquainted even with the 
privileges of Hymen, could have known and observed her duty? I 
took a lover as I had taken a husband, without reflecting, not 
from curiosity, but yet, I confess, determined by the desire of 
being revenged as soon as possible, for an affront which was 
represented to me as unpardonable. I took the Chevalier first, 
because he happened to be there at the critical moment; and 
next, because I know not what natural instinct apprised me of 
his being very amiable. You now may be sensible, sir, that 
although I may have strayed, yet I am not criminal. If, at my 
first step, I have happened to fall, the fault rests with those 
who, when they opened a new course for me to run over, left me 
there in the dark, instead of directing me and supplying me with 
a proper light. If ever I am unhappy and degraded, it will be 
the fault of Destiny which has sacrificed me, and of Chance, who 
has served me too late. Ah wherefore did he not offer himself to 
me a few months sooner, since he was to be the creator of my 
existence? Why did he not come on the first day of last spring 
to that Franche-Comté, where, for the first time, I felt ennui 
in my aunt's company, when I felt agitated by an inquietude 
entirely novel, consumed by an unknown fire, devoured by the 
want of loving, of loving Faublas, of loving him alone? Why did 
he not come, then? I would immediately have bestowed upon him my 
fortune with my hand; my person and my heart I would have given 
up to him, and would have been his lawful wife then! And, for 
the remainder of my life, I would have been, of all wives, the 
most happy and the most respected!

"But, alas! He did not come! Another presented himself-and what 
another! Great God! He was introduced to me; I was told: This 
gentleman wishes to marry, and suits you; a maid must not 
continue so; become a wife. I, without even enquiring what it 
signified, promised to become one, and so I did one evening, at 
the expiration of two months. But it so happens, that I have two 
husbands; that the one who bears the title cannot perform the 
duty, and that he who performs the duty cannot enjoy the title. 
What am I to do in this distressing case? To sue for a divorce 
from M. de Lignolle, or to break upon a sudden with Mademoiselle 
de Brumont? The former of those two measures, equally extreme, 
by covering me with indelible ridicule, would have disturbed my 
tranquillity; the latter would have cost me my happiness, by 
reducing me to widowhood all my lifetime. I was therefore not so 
very wrong in suppressing my resentment against the unworthy 
husband, and in manifesting my contentment to the seducing 
lover. How could I help entertaining a higher opinion of him 
daily? How, from the bottom of my heart, could I forbear 
disliking the other more and more? Where is the possibility of 
expelling disgust and contempt, when it is that M. de Lignolle 
who constantly inspires them? By what means am I to trace the 
paths of virtue, when it is Faublas who unceasingly impedes my 
approach? You are made sensible now, Baron, that I am compelled 
to keep forever, the husband I detest, and the lover I adore. 
Now that I have presented to your view the faithful picture of 
my situation, you will, I hope, renounce every unjust prejudice 
injurious to my character. If ever, on the contrary, it should 
happen that the public were to watch my conduct, and to find it 
reprehensible, you will not give me up to the precipitancy of 
their decision. Ah! I beseech you, become the defender of Madame 
de Lignolle; show her to them such as she really is; tell 
everyone that her errors are not to be attributed to her; that 
her parents and relatives alone are responsible; and that 
fatality is chiefly to be accused."

"Madame," answered my father, with deep concern, "your 
confidence I deem very flattering, though bestowed upon me 
rather inconsiderately. I conceive that your excessive 
petulance, upon certain occasions, may serve you as an excuse; 
neither shall I conceal from you that I have been moved to 
compassion by the imprudent candidness of your avowals. I have 
hitherto blamed your irregularities, I now compassionate your 
passion; but you certainly do not expect me to approve of it; 
but do not flatter yourself that, although my indulgence should 
be carried so far, the public, who account for nothing the 
protection granted by the weak to the vicious, that public would 
judge you with less severity. If, therefore, you consider their 
opinion as something, if you are jealous of not forfeiting the 
friendship of your relatives, if you are desirous of preserving 
their esteem and your own, of obtaining the sentiment of a good 
conscience, stop on the declivity of the abyss towards which you 
proceed rashly between two guides, always blind, and oftentimes 
perfidious, namely, Hope and Security. Stop, if it be not too 
late. My duty, Countess, is to try mildness to bring you back to 
the practice of your obligations, and if you will not listen to 
me, to use my authority to compel my son to fulfil his. Both you 
and he have taken your oaths at the altar to love someone alone, 
and that someone is neither you nor him. You have both promised 
that same God not to love each other. Eternal respect is due to 
oaths: yours, although you have violated them, are not annulled. 
Faublas no more belongs to you, than you belong to Faublas; and 
as your love for him cannot make you cease being the wife of M. 
de Lignolle, in the same manner the frequent infidelities of 
which the Chevalier has been guilty of towards Sophia, will not 
prevent his continuing to be her husband. To Madame de Faublas 
he has bound his faith; to Mademoiselle de Pontis his love.

"No, sir, no!" interrupted the Countess, "for he adores me; he 
was telling me so but just now. Let me tell you, I shall not 
dispute his being the husband of another; but you confess, also, 
at least, that I am his wife,-and the mother of his child-that 
is what I am delighted at! That is what allows me over him an 
indisputable claim. It is an advantage I have over Madame de 
Faublas. How I envy the fate of Madame de Faublas! How far 
better is her portion than mine! She can boast of having him for 
her husband! She bears his name, his dear name! Ah! What has 
that Sophia, so highly favoured, done so commendable, to have 
deserved obtaining Faublas? And what had poor Eleanor done so 
very reprehensible as to deserve the torture of marrying M. de 
Lignolle?"

"Believe me, reproach not Destiny on account of your 
wretchedness; accuse your own weakness, and prepare, by means of 
a courageous situation, to recover entirely from it. In order to 
triumph over a fatal passion, cease to see the object of it."

"Cease to see him! I had rather die!"

"Cease to see him; you must try this only mode of avoiding the 
dire misfortunes which threaten you."

"I had sooner die!"

"Countess, I am going to afflict you, but, I canuot conceal it 
from you any longer: the present circumstances impose upon me a 
painful duty. I am compelled, if you refuse agreeing to the hard 
sacrifice which I advise, I must neglect nothing to force you to 
accomplish it."

"Mighty powers!"

"I shall take the Chevalier away directly."

"No, you shall not, you will not be so cruel!"

"I shall take him away, if requisite."

"It is not requisite! Who obliges you?"

"The necessity of securing him against too powerful seduction."

"Could you find it in your heart to reduce me to despair?"

"I shall have fortitude enough to restore peace to your mind."

"You wish to deprive a woman of her lover!"

"It is you who wish to rob a father of his son."

"Me!" she replied, with great volubility; "By no means! Don't be 
deprived of him. Stay here; who told you to go away? If I have 
spoken the word, I did not mean it. Stop with us, it will give 
me infinite pleasure, and to him likewise, for I love you much, 
but he loves you still more than I do. Stay with us, I will give 
you a very comfortable apartment, richly furnished; that of my 
husband; I have also a room for your daughter. Send for her; he 
will be glad to see his sister; let her come, and Madame de 
Fonrose also, the whole family. Let your whole family come and 
settle in my house, there will be room for them all-all, except 
Sophia!"

"Well," she added, addressing me, "you don't speak a word? Join 
me, to entreat his stopping with us."

"But, what is she saying?" Cried out my father. "Will you permit 
me to speak in my turn?"

"There is no occasion for long speeches," she replied, with 
great vehemence; "Answer plain: Yes."

"No, Madame"

"No?"

"The Chevalier positively must go"

"Positively?"

"Indispensably"

"Indispensably? In that case I shall accompany him; let us go 
all three."

"She is not in her proper senses."

"How, so, sir: Why do you say so, pray? I was very willing to 
keep you in my house. Why would you refuse to receive me in 
yours. Do you suppose it would be conferring too great an honour 
upon me? De you think-"

"She is entirely deranged! Faublas, prepare to follow me."

"Take care you don't," she said to me; she next addressed my 
father: "You must take me with you, sir, or you shan't take 
him."

"Countess, to what extremity do you wish to reduce me? What! 
Shall I be compelled to use force?"

"Force! You forget yourself! I shall use force. Ah! This time 
you are not in your own home! I, in my turn, will ring for my 
servant to come up."

"If it were possible, Madame, that my determination was not 
irrevocably fixed, what you have just given me to understand, 
would have sufficed to make it so."

"How so? Have I given you offence? It must have been most 
innocently, I swear. Whatever comes uppermost in my mind-out 
with it. Impute to my vivacity alone what may have hurt you in 
my discourse; indeed it proceeds neither from malice nor 
reflection. Think, remember that it is a terrified woman who is 
speaking to you, a mere child, and a child of yours! Your son's 
wife! Your daughter! O you, whom I am so delighted in calling my 
father, do not take my husband away from me-no, it is Faublas 
whom I mean; I have agreed to his not being my betrothed 
husband. Baron, do not take away Faublas, I beseech you! If you 
knew in what agony I have spent twenty-four hours by his 
bedside! How many times I have trembled for his life! and when, 
through my care, he has been brought to life again, when I begin 
to be revived with him, you would be so barbarously ungrateful 
as to part us! Alas! Less unhappy if he had died, I should have 
been at least permitted to follow him at the same hour into the 
same grave. Do not take him away, Baron: ere long, perhaps, you 
would repent, and your regret would be useless. I am sensible of 
it, neither am I afraid of saying it, I might, in a fit of 
despair-you are not aware how far, to what extremities my 
despair might carry me! Don't take him away, have mercy upon a 
mother; yes," she said, embracing his knees, "it is in favour 
of, for the sake of my child that I implore you!"

My father replied, with extreme agitation: "What are you doing, 
Madame? I beg you will rise, and not continue in that posture?"

"Ah," she pursued, "you feel for my sufferings! Wherefore would 
you deny it? Why would you wish to conceal it from me? Don't 
push me away from you so-don't turn your face aside from me, 
only speak a single word."

My father, in fact, was labouring under such emotion that he 
could not speak; but he beckoned to me to follow him, upon which 
the Countess ceased to weep, and her tender ejaculations were 
converted into accents of rage. "I see you," vociferated she, 
rising, "you seem to pity me, and only betray me, you wicked and 
ungrateful man!"

The Baron then stammered out these few words: "Did you not 
understand me, my son?"

"No," she replied, most impetuously, "neither will he, because 
he is not perfidious and unmerciful, like yourself!"

"Chevalier, quit this room."

"Mind you do not!"

"Faublas, it is a friend who begs of you to go."

"Faublas, it is a lover who entreats you not to forsake her!"

The Baron, seeing that I hesitated, said, in a very firm tone: 
"I command you!"

The Countess, observing that I did not show sufficient 
indocility, cried out to me: "I forbid you."

Alas! which of the two was I to obey?"

"Oh my Eleanor! It is with a broken heart that your lover 
disobeys you; but how can a son resist his father's order?"

Madame de Lignolle, surprised and grieved at seeing that I was 
leaving my seat, was advancing to lay hold of me: but the Baron 
stopped her: she then tried to pull the bell, he prevented her: 
she hoped at least to be allowed to call out: with one of his 
hands, he stopped her mouth: she immediately fell senseless into 
the chair I had just left.

My father supported me on his arm; and we reached the courtyard. 
There I saw in our carriage, a female, who hid her face; it was 
Madame de Fonrose. The Baron said to her: "You have not a moment 
to lose; go to your friend, who has just fainted away: we are 
likewise in a hurry to go, and it is impossible we could wait 
for you. Have your dinner at the Countess's, and this evening 
she will lend you her berlin to carry you home." This said, the 
Baroness left us, and we drove off.



XXIV.

For a long time, my father remained plunged in a deep reverie; I 
next heard him heave a sigh, and mutter the following words: 
"Poor creature! I pity her." He then cast upon me an 
affectionate look, and in a pretty firm tone, although still in 
a faltering voice, said: "I forbid you, my son, seeing Madame de 
Lignolle any more."

I found at Nemours, my dear Adelaide; at the sight of her 
sorrow, mine was renewed. Oh, my Sophia! I had lost you; but, 
notwithstanding Madame de Lignolle daily became dearer to me, 
you still were the one I preferred.

Madame de Fonrose returned to us in the evening; she had been at 
great pains to bring the Countess to recover her senses; and no 
little trouble to dissuade her from coming to quarrel with us. 
The Baroness, addressing my father, added: "I believe she is 
capable of committing all manner of excess within a short time, 
if regardless of her youth and unhappy situation, you refuse 
this young man leave to go, seldom indeed, but sometimes at 
least to offer that poor child the only consolation that may 
render her existence supportable."

My father, whom I was observing most attentively, made no sign, 
either of approbation or of discontent, in answer to the 
Baroness. I felt very much agitated during the whole night, as 
might well have been apprehended. On the day following, we 
returned to Paris, where I found three letters already come. The 
first was from Justine; my Eleanor had written the second; and 
as for the third, you will be obliged, the same as I was, to 
guess whom it came from.
-0-
I am informed, that Monsieur le Chevalier will return in a 
state of convalescence; I beg he will call upon me as soon 
as possible. He is desired to be so kind, as to let me know 
when. I may expect his visit, by a note, to be forwarded on 
the preceding day.
-0-
Your father is a naughty man; do you suffer as much as I do 
from his ill treatment of us? I must tell you, my friend, 
that if you do not wish my sorrows should carry me away, 
you will hasten to recover sufficient strength, to come and 
see me. Let me only see you, and I shall be satisfied. For 
two days past that the cruel man had parted us, I have been 
dying with inquietude, impatience, love, and ennui.
-0-
Monsieur le Chevalier,-The poor young gentleman is going; 
but he says it will give him pleasure if he can but bid you 
adieu, and that he has something of importance to 
communicate; that perhaps, through spite, you will not come 
to see him, which makes him quake through fear; and that is 
the reason why he has commissioned me to ask you. According 
to a custom of the law of nature, a dying man is indulged 
in all his whims; and with due regard, you, who are as he 
says, possessed of genteel behaviour towards everyone, you 
must bear a very hard soul within your heart, to refuse so 
trifling a matter to a friend, who is not void of 
indifference for you. It is in consequence of my waiting 
for you, to introduce you to my master, in order that you 
may cure him of his itch for talking, and have him resume 
and tune his jocular pipes: he who was always as merry as a 
cricket, is now-a-days, as dull as an owl. By the by, it 
would not be amiss, without interrupting your conversation, 
to give him, every now and then, a tight tug, for he has 
taken it in his head that would do him good. You must take 
care, however, not to smother him, for he is still very 
weak all over his body. To have done with it at last, you 
have no time to lose, since the surgeons contend that he 
may die in my arms from one moment to another, like a 
farthing rushlight. That is the only reason why it would be 
totally impossible for him to wait long, till convenient 
for you; but that would not proceed from unpoliteness on 
his side, nor too great impatience neither; but do you see, 
when He above calls us, we must quit the company without 
ceremony or bargaining. In consequence of what I have been 
saying, if you have no objection, I shall send you his 
carriage, which he has not used since he has kept his bed; 
by this means, I shall expect you undaunted, as I remain 
most respectfully 
Monsieur le Chevalier, 
Your very humble and obedient servant, 
ROBERT, his valet-de-chambre.

I called Jasmin: "Go," I said, directly to Madame de Montdesir."

"Ah! Ah! The lady whom you always keep waiting, as she is 
forever sending after you."

"Thank her for her note; tell her to present my respects to the 
person who desired her to write it, and let her forward this 
letter to that same person, observe that it is signed Robert-or 
rather, I shall put it under cover. You understand me? This is 
to be delivered to Madame de Montdesir."

"Yes, sir."

"You next will go to the Countess de Lignolle."

"Ah! the handsome little brunette, so droll, so alert, who the 
other day in the boudoir, gave you a good slap on the face. That 
woman must love you dearly, sir?"

"So she does, but you have too retentive a memory. Hark: you 
must not go in at Madame's, you will ask for her servant La 
Fleur; you will tell him that I adore his mistress."

"Since you bid me tell him so, he must know it already."

"You are right, he does know it."

"It is therefore proper that La Fleur and I should be upon good 
terms. If I were to offer him a glass of wine, sir?"

"Offer him two, to drink my health; Jasmin, you understand. me?"

"Yes, sir, you are the most amiable and most liberal."

"La Fleur must remember to inform Madame de Lignolle, that I 
shall wait upon her as soon as I have concerted with Madame de 
Fonrose the means of procuring my female attire, and of going 
out without the Baron seeing me."

"That part of my errand I shall not forget."

"Lastly, you will go to Monsieur le Comte de Rosambert."

"So much the better. That is another jovial youngster. I grew 
tired of not seeing him."

"Jasmin, if you would have the goodness to listen to me? You 
will speak to Robert, his valet de chambre, and apprise him, 
that notwithstanding my weak state I shall go and see his master 
tomorrow. I accept the offer of his carriage, Robert may send it 
to me in the morning at ten o'clock."

"Very well, sir."

"What! Are you going?"

"Undoubtedly."

"How so? To Madame de Lignolle with your livery on?"

"You are right. A plain dress, what a silly fellow I am!"

"You will tell all those people that I did not write, because I 
felt too tired."

"Yes, sir."

"Stop a bit. If M. de Belcourt should enquire where you are, I 
shall tell him that I sent you to M. de Rosambert; we must not 
mention the other errands."

"To be sure, amorous connections are your own concern only. Your 
father must have nothing to do with such business. But he will 
find that I have stopped long! He will scold!"

"Never mind, my good fellow, hear him with patience; above all 
things do not offer to reply."

"That is what hurts me though; I don't like to be scolded when I 
do my duty."

"The testimony of your conscience will make you amends; besides, 
can you object to suffer a little for my sake?"

"For your sake, sir, I could put up with anything; you will see 
what I can do and endure for your sake!"

My generous man was as good as his word; notwithstanding he 
returned in a state of violent perspiration, far from grumbling 
when the Baron complained of his tardiness, he nobly confessed 
that he had loitered on the road. Oh! Good Jasmin! What would 
thousands of young men of family give to have a servant like 
you!

M. de Belcourt did not leave my room that night, until he saw me 
fast asleep. Owing to my troubles I awoke at daybreak. I gave a 
sigh to the Marchioness; many a poignant regret to my Eleanor: a 
thousand sweet and cruel recollections to my Sophia. But, judge 
of my inquietude when wishing to peruse the epistle of her 
ravisher, I could not find it. I had my woman's clothes brought 
to me, and searched every pocket! The precious paper was not 
there. Ah! Without doubt I have left it at Madame de Lignolle's! 
And if it has fallen into her hands!-Merciful God!

Rosambert's servants came to fetch me at an early hour. It was 
Robert who introduced me into his master's bedchamber. "You may 
speak to him a little, he said, in a mournful tone, he is not 
quite dead yet, but the poor young gentleman will not carry it 
long-he but just now had a burning fever. Oh, I beg of you, sir, 
don't contradict him, adopt all his ideas."

"Whom are you thus whispering to?" asked the Count, in almost an 
extinct voice.

The valet de chambre answered: "It is Monsieur Chevalier de 
Faublas."

Rosambert, as soon as he heard my name, made an effort and 
lifted up his head; it was not without great difficulty that he 
stammered out the following words: "I see you again! I shall, 
therefore, enjoy the consolation of imparting to you my last 
sentiments! Come, Faublas, draw near to me. Confess without any 
partiality: Is not that ticklish Amazon a great savage and a 
romantic creature, thus, for a mere affair of social pleasantry, 
to take the life of one of her most constant adorers." Here 
Rosambert recruited his spirits; his articulation, which at 
first was weak, slow, and embarassed, became, on a sudden, loud 
and distiuct. "That Madame de B***, he continued, that Madame de 
B*** who is so well acquainted with the world and its ways; with 
gallantry and its code; with the rights of our sex, and the 
privileges of her own; tell me, could she not, in good 
conscience, calculate that on account of the success of her last 
attempt, she and I were entirely quits. Punished in proportion 
to the offence she had committed, could she not inwardly confess 
to herself that, in truth, we should mutually forget the little 
tricks with which she first had enlivened the grand work of our 
rupture in one evening, and when, authorised by her example, I 
thought myself entitled to patch up a reconciliation adopted and 
revoked the same night, and at the same moment? How came it, 
then, that, forgetful of the general law, and of her own 
priuciples, she has formed the strange determination of coming, 
like a lunatic, at the peril of her life, so dear to love, and 
attack mine, which is not quite indifferent to the God of 
Amours? Who has suggested that truly infernal design? Honour? It 
is not at the place where I struck Madame de B*** that she ever 
would have thought of placing hers. She is too well versed in 
the widely differing science of words and things. It must, 
therefore, have been the demon of self-love! That I knew, every 
degraded female was ever ready blindly to follow its absurd 
advice. Yet I could never have guessed that it had power enough 
to invite a fair lady to murder whoever might be proud of 
gaining over her some advantage which might have hurt her 
vanity.

"I protest to you, my friend, that my only regret is to have 
offered to Madame de B*** a too lenient affront only. I do not 
pretend to say, nevertheless, that my behaviour, upon that 
occasion, was totally irreproachable; but I maintain that you 
alone had a right to complain of me. Faublas! What shall I say? 
I could not withstand the temptation, I only considered the 
sweet pleasure of catching the artful woman, as she had escaped 
from me, by a variety of strange perfidious artifices. Those 
considerations, which might have stopped me, did not even occur 
to my mind, entirely occupied with the idea of my whimsical 
thoughts of vengeance, and it was not till I had found my 
mistress again that I acknowledged having wronged my friend. 
What a dreadful punishment, however, has followed the most 
pardonable of all faults! What an enemy has espoused the quarrel 
of Faublas! And how that enemy has avenged it! Alas! Did 
Rosambert, for having inconsiderately occasioned you some 
transient trouble, deserve dying, at the age of twenty-three, at 
the hand of a woman?"

These last words were spoken in so feeble a voice, that I needed 
all my attention to be able to hear them. My heart was moved 
with compassion. "Rosambert, my dear friend, I pity you."

"That is not enough, he replied, you must forgive me."

"Oh, from the bottom of my heart."

"You, moreover, must restore me to your former friendship."

"With great pleasure."

"You will come and see me every day, until it is over with me."

"What an idea! At our time of life, nature has so many 
resources! Hope!"

"Why, truly, we always hope; but, notwithstanding, some fine 
morning we must bid our friends adieu."

"Repeat, Faublas, that you forgive."

"I repeat."

"That you love me as you did formerly?"

"As I did formerly!"

"Give me your word of honour."

"Upon my word of honour."

"Promise, above all things, that without speaking a word of it 
to the Marchioness, you will come, just to see me breathe my 
last."

"Rosambert, I promise."

"Foi de gentilhomme?<58>"

"Foi de gentilhomme.

"Well! He exclaimed gaily, you will pay me more than one visit. 
Come, Robert, open the sashes; draw the curtains, help me to 
rise. Chevalier, you don't congratulate me! Is not my valet de 
chambre a man of talents? What say you of his style of writing? 
Would you believe it, his letter has cost me ten minutes of deep 
meditation? My physicians told me yesterday, they would be 
answerable for my life. M. Robert immediately took up his pen: 
Why but, Faublas, wherefore this cold and serious air? Are you 
sorry for my recovering once more? When you forgave me this day, 
was it upon condition that I should get buried tomorrow? Do you 
find that the horrid woman who has overpowered me has not 
inflicted sufficient punishment? In order that you should be 
fully revenged, was it requisite that she should kill me? I did 
not kill her when her life was at my disposal: I only wounded 
her delicate person! Gently wounded her-Oh! Very gently!-I was 
certain she would not die of it, but I am very sorry she felt so 
grieved at her trifling accident as to become crazy in 
consequence. Was it because I had once beat her in her own art, 
that despairing forever of being able to use the arms of her 
sex, she took up those of mine to attack me? It is true that she 
has lately acquired the immortal glory of having almost 
dislocated M. de Rosambert's shoulder; most undoubtedly she 
derives infinite honour from her prowess, but as to profit, I do 
not see any. Faublas, I tell you now, as a secret, and at some 
future period, perhaps, the Marchioness herself will condescend 
to own it; by changing the nature of our combat, Madame de B*** 
has hurt herself more than she has me. When an old quarrel 
exists between two young persons of different sexes, love takes 
great care to revive it, never to put an end to it. The two 
charming enemies become irreconcilable, cease not to pursue one 
another, to join, and to engage. Everybody knows that in this 
contest, which seems to be unequal, it is not the weakest 
antagonist who triumphs the less frequently. If, sometimes, the 
female warrior, overtired, is seen to totter for a moment, the 
successful wrestler then wears himself out; neither does it fall 
to his lot to be capacitated to dissemble his defeat, to 
palliate it by excuses, or to rise more formidable after having 
had a fall. Alas! It is all over! I must no more measure arms 
with Madame de B***. The foolish woman has entrusted the 
sanguinary god of war with the care of managing our interests, 
and her revenge. Venus will no longer summon us to her sweet 
exercise; Mars henceforth will ordain our struggles-serious and 
bloody struggles. Instead of Cupids, we shall in future have 
Furies to be our witnesses, and the high road will be our field 
of battle, instead of a boudoir; our arms, even those courteous 
arms, of which we both, close to each other, made so jovial a 
use, will be exchanged for murderous pistols, which, at a 
distance-"

"Pistols! What! Will you go to Compiègne a second time?"

"Will I! How can you ask me such a question?"

"What, Rosambert! Would you go and fight a woman?"

"You are cracking your jokes: that woman is a grenadier! 
Besides, I have promised-I have promised, Faublas, it matters 
not to what god."

"How so, Rosambert? Will you go and expose your life-to 
threaten!"

"Your opinion therefore, Faublas, is that I am not in conscience 
bound?"

"Certainly!"

"Well, make yourself easy; it is mine likewise; I believe that 
our most scrupulous casuists would not deem me bound to fulfil a 
ridiculous and barbarous engagement, exacted by force, and 
surprised by artifice: I prefer leaving my heroic adversary 
glorying at my defeat, to committing myself with a woman, to 
send her into the other world, or to revisiting myself a foreign 
country. You moreover know, that I am not of a sanguinary 
disposition, that I hate duels, and I verily believe, that if I 
were obliged to fight again, death would appear to me preferable 
to a second exile. Ah, my friend! How tedious have been the days 
of our separation! Gracious God! What a dull country is that I 
am come from! How dull that England, so boasted! Go there, if 
you like discoursing on philosophy, talkative politicians, and 
lying daily papers. Go there, if you wish to see noblemen at 
fisticuffs with their chairmen in the arena of pugilism: popular 
farces in the double sanctuary of the law<64>, churchyards on 
the stages, and heroes on the scaffold. Go to London, endeavour 
to find out our manners and fashions, strangely disguised, or 
exaggerated most ridiculously by awkward imitators. Go, Faublas, 
and may you fashion automaton petits-maîtres! May you give life 
to their female statues! Should you, modern Pygmalion, succeed 
so far, how soon will they satiate you with pleasures, granted 
without obstacles, tasted without art, and repeated without 
variety! How they will overwhelm you with unlimited gratitude, 
and endless affection! I would venture a bet, that on the second 
night, you will find satiety in the arms of an English woman. 
What is there more frigid than beauty, when graces do not supply 
it with motion and life? What is there more insipid than love 
itself, if it be not enlivened by a little inconstancy and 
coquetry? That Lady Barrington, for instance, is a Venus-but I 
feel too much fatigued now; I shall relate to you tomorrow, the 
history of our eternal connection, which would have lasted to 
the present time, if I had not brought it to a conclusion by 
means of a new and ludicrous scheme.<65>

"Chevalier," he added, holding out his hand to me, "I wanted to 
see you and to revisit France again. My happy country, I shall 
find it so, is the only country for pleasure. We do not enjoy 
the right of bringing our peers to the bar; but every morning, 
at the toilette of some fair lady, we commence the trial of a 
novel, published on the preceding day, or the new piece which is 
to be performed on the next. We do not harangue our parliament 
houses, but in the evening we go and decide at the play-houses, 
and in company: we do not read thousands of daily publications; 
but the scandalous chronicle of each day, enlivens our too short 
suppers.

"I confess that it is not by their noble stature, and the 
dignity of their deportment, that our French women generally are 
remarkable; they possess that which is less admired, but more 
sought for; their shape, their figure, the vivacity of nymphs, 
the carelessness, taste, and elasticity of the graces; they are 
endowed from their birth, with the art of pleasing, and of 
inspiring us all with the desire of loving them 
indiscriminately. They may be reproached, indeed, with being 
totally unacquainted in general with those great passions, which 
in London, in the course of a week, will bring a romantic 
heroine to her grave; but they know how to commence an intrigue, 
and to put an end to it in proper time; they know how to provoke 
by means of giddiness, to elude by artifice, to advance in order 
to engage, to retreat with a view of hastening their defeat when 
they wish to make it certain, to defer it, that it may be 
enhanced in value, to grant gracefully, to refuse with 
voluptuousness, occasionally to give, sometimes to allow a 
theft, continually to excite desires, never to extinguish them; 
frequently to retain a lover by coquetry, sometimes to bring him 
back by inconstancy, in fine, to lose him with resignation, to 
dismiss him skilfully; either through caprice, or for want of 
occupation to take to him again, to lose him a second time, 
without ill humour, or without scandal to forsake him again.

"Ah! I wanted to see my native country again. I daily become 
convinced of it; in my country alone, I shall find mistresses 
alternately fickle and affectionate, frivolous and rational, 
passionate and decent, timid and bold, reserved and weak; 
mistresses who, possessed of the great art of reproaching 
themselves at every instant under a different form, occasion you 
to relish a thousand times, the keen pleasures of infidelity; 
dissembling, deceitful, and perfidious mistresses, as witty and 
adorable as Madame de B***. The fortunate fair of Versailles and 
Paris, are alone allowed to meet with elegant young men, void of 
pretension, handsome without foppishness, complaisant without 
meanness, frequently inconsistent, only because an opportunity 
will offer, indefatigable, though apparently effeminate, and 
with a modest air enterprising to an extreme; young men who 
surprise and ingratiate themselves with the one by their high 
sentiments, with the other by their sprightliness, with a third 
by their audacity: with the mistrustful and timorous Emilia in 
her very drawing-room, which is open at all times; with the 
coquet Arsinoë, not far from the conjugal bed, where the jealous 
husband is watching; with the innocent Zulma in the alcove, 
where her watchful mother is just gone to sleep; young men, who 
favoured with the most expansive sensibility, can idolise two or 
three women at a time; in short accomplished lovers, such as 
Faublas, and-"

God forbid me! I was going to quote Rosambert; but I stop: I am 
sensible it would be polluting two great names, were I to 
associate my unworthy one to them.

"Must I speak alone forever? Come, my good friend, take a seat, 
and speak in your turn. Tell me, what has become of the fair 
Sophia?"

"Alas!"

"Unhappy husband! I understand you. What have you done with her 
rival?"

"With her rival? With her rival? Why-but-"

"That's it," he added, laughing, "he feels inclined to ask me 
which: that is as it should be. When he made his entrance into 
the world, he was endowed with every qualification, and his very 
first adventure brought him into celebrity. Happy mortal! Let us 
see how many mistresses he has got; let us count Sophia's 
rivals; how many are they?"

"Only one, my friend."

"One! What I does the Marchioness still hold you in her chains?"

"The Marchioness! Hold, Monsieur le Comte; I don't like to hear 
you speak of the Marchioness."

The tone in which I had made that answer, announced I was in an 
ill-humour, which however was calmed, for I still loved 
Rosambert, and his cheerfulness always pleased me. But his many 
questions to be informed of what had happened to me since our 
separation, were superfluous. I had fortitude enough to refuse 
gratifying his curiosity.

When he saw that I was ready to go: "You do not consider, he 
said, that without being at the trouble of asking, I shall 
henceforth be made acquainted with all your doings. Thanks to 
myself, to the Marchioness, and above all, thanks to your 
superior merits," he added, "with a laugh, for I do not pretend 
in the least to depreciate your abilities, you are become so 
notorious a character that the public will inquire with 
curiosity what becomes of you; but till such time as I hear from 
that public of your good fortune, Chevalier, I believe it is 
incumbent upon me to repeat it: if you love your wife, take care 
of Madame de B***; your wife, I apprehend, will never have a 
more formidable enemy. Farewell, Faublas! I rely upon your word, 
I shall expect you tomorrow; and remember well that the 
Marchioness is not to know that we are good friends again. 
Adieu."

As I had just returned home, I received a note from Madame de 
Montdesir. The Marchioness had commissioned her to inform me 
that the surgeons having two days since permitted the Count to 
be removed to Paris, he must not of course be so bad as 
described to be in the pretended letter of the pretended valet 
de chambre. Madame de B*** desired me, in consequence, not to 
pay a visit to Rosambert, as requested.

"I-I shall not-tell her I shall pay him that visit."

Such was the insidious answer which the tardy messenger took 
home with him.

Meanwhile, the recollection of Sophia haunted me without 
interruption; and, as soon as I was left by myself, a thousand 
regrets assailed me; I must confess, however, that the sweet 
hope of soon embracing my Eleanor, and perhaps also, for I 
should not conceal from my reader one-half of my feelings, 
perhaps also the desire of seeing the Marchioness again, 
lessened my chagrin and contributed to restore my powers.

The frequent messages brought by La Fleur and from Justine made 
me conscious that on both sides I was expected with an almost 
equal patience; but alas! If ever you have experienced to what 
degree passions, when opposed, become more ardent, pity the 
lover of Madame de Lignolle and the friend of Madame de B***.

M. de Belcourt, moved at the sorrows I was allowed to mention, 
but unfeeling for my secret sufferings, lamented with me the 
loss of Sophia, but would not hear the stifled complaints which 
the absence of Eleanor drew from me. Notwithstanding my indirect 
solicitations, and the representations of the Baroness, my 
father, inexorable this once, persevered in not leaving me at 
liberty for a moment. He would come and sit in my apartment 
during the whole forenoon, and in the afternoon accompanied me 
when I went out to take a walk. In this manner was my 
convalescence prolonged for a whole week.

On the Friday before Easter, a beautiful morning announced that 
the last day of Longchamps would be magnificent. Madame de 
Fonrose, who came to dine with us, proposed going to the Bois de 
Boulogne; "We shall take the Chevalier with us," she said to my 
father. Too unhappy in my mind to seek boisterous amusements, I 
was preparing to beg to be excused; but a look from the Baroness 
decided me to accept; and M. de Belcourt having left us for a 
moment, Madame de Fonrose imparted the news, so much the more 
agreeable as least expected:

"She is going, because she hopes you will."

"The Countess?"

"Who then? Perhaps you would rather it were the Marchioness?"

"No, no. The Countess! I shall have the happiness of seeing 
her!"

"Of seeing her! Is that all you wish for?"

"All I wish for-yes, since it is impossible to-"

"To! She interrupted, and if it were not impossible to-"

"I would be in heaven!"

"In heaven," repeated she, "well, you will go to heaven! But let 
us agree upon what is previously to be done here below. First of 
all, don't think of burying yourself in a dark berlin with that 
wearisome Madame de Fonrose, and that troublesome Baron de B***, 
you don't hear me?"

"I beg your pardon, I am all attention."

"I believe him! He quakes with impatience! He looks as if he 
would wish to devour my words!. You will arrive on your charger. 
After you have capered for a while at some distance from a gig 
in which your friend intends to come; after the Countess has got 
intoxicated with the pleasure of seeing you, all at her ease, 
managing your beautiful horse with infinite grace; hers, whether 
she governs it worse or better, will run away with her on a 
sudden. For a time, without moving forward, you will not lose 
sight of the fugitive vehicle; but a moment after, your own 
horse will run away with you too, not in the same direction, 
though, sir."

"Not in the same direction!"

"No, yet don't fret; after long windings, an hour after-a whole 
hour, the animal that is not quite stupid will bring Faublas 
exactly where his Eleanor will be waiting for him; I leave you 
to guess."

"To her house, perhaps?"

"What an idea! Is it really you who have been speaking? To mine 
own home, young man. There you will find only my Swiss and my 
Agatha, two good folks who never see, say, or hear but what 
pleases me; people whom I can be answerable for."

"To your home! How thankful."

"Truly, she said, in a tone almost serious, I hope you will act 
like rational beings. If I thought you were going only to play 
childish tricks, I would not permit you to enter my drawing-
room. (She burst out laughing.) But I know you both. Your time 
will, be devoted to business of importance, you will be making 
one, two, or three riddles, what do I know all that Faublas is 
capable of doing? Hold, here is the key of my boudoir. No 
scandalous behaviour, of all things; my character-"

"I am very tender of a good character!"

M. de Belcourt returned; we spoke of Longchamps again; I 
manifested an extreme desire of making my appearance there on 
horseback. My father observed that too violent an exercise might 
prove injurious; but he made no further objection, when I 
represented that I should be spared the greatest fatigue, if he 
condescended to take me in his carriage as far as the Grille de 
Chaillot. It was farther still, it was at the entrance of the 
wood, that Jasmin went to wait for me with my horse. The Baron 
at the moment I left his carriage, knew the Porte-Maillot again, 
and as if he anticipated the hazardous meeting that awaited me: 
"This," he said with a deep sigh, "is a spot that will be 
present to my recollection forever! Here I have spent one of the 
most painful and one of the sweetest moments in my life."

I hastened to look for Madame de Lignolle, met her within a 
short time, and she likewise soon saw with a pleasure, not 
easily to be described, her lover pass close to her gig. Ye 
young folks who enjoy the triumphs of Faublas, make ready for 
him your warmest congratulations. He who already was ravished 
with the pleasure of beholding the Countess, and of being 
admired by her, had still the additional happiness of 
overhearing several people, as they looked at her, exclaim: "Oh! 
What a charming little woman!" If such as paid her a compliment 
so pleasing to my ears, had paid the least attention to me, they 
might have observed that I thanked them with a smile, a proud 
smile which seemed to answer: "She is my Eleanor! That woman 
whom you find so charming is mine;" and without being sensible 
of it, I repeated: "Charming little woman! Charming!" That 
eulogium was intended for her alone. Her dress, her vehicle, her 
attendants have no share in it. Her attendants! She has but one 
single servant, the confidant of our amours, the discreet La 
Fleur. Her carriage! It is the little gig that brought her to me 
in the forest of Compiègne. Her dress! It is never extravagantly 
rich, but always elegant and tasteful. She is come hither as she 
is seen at home, decked in all her native attractions. How 
becoming that gown of linen, less white than her skin. How I 
like to see her wear instead of diamonds, those flowers, symbols 
of her adolescence hardly commenced; those early blossomed 
violets, and those rose-buds, which seem to have naturally grown 
upon her head. Ah! In the midst of worldly pomp, how delighted I 
feel to behold her in plain attire, and in the most modest 
equipage, the benefactress of a thousand vassals.

But what Deity is that, carried in a superb whisky,<66> which 
persecuting chance has placed exactly before the Countess, in 
the long and double row of carriages? And who is the nymph that 
occupies the brilliant phaeton, which comes immediately behind 
the Countess?

I went up first to the magnificent car: a superb female offered 
herself to my view in all the splendour of dress, and all the 
lustre of beauty. The first sight of her imposed on all a 
silence of admiration; the brief exclamations of enthusiasm were 
next heard; those were followed by a slight murmuring, when on a 
sudden everyone repeated: "Yes, there she is; that's her, that's 
the Marchioness de B***."

Who, however, contended with her for the honours of the day at 
Longchamps? The pretty woman in the phaeton. Negligently seated 
in a lilac-coloured shell, silver plated, she carelessly handled 
the reins, so rich that one could hardly believe her delicate 
hands were capable of supporting the weight of them for a long 
while. She appeared playfully to curb four piebald horses, 
superbly caparisoned, covered with flowers and ribbons; four 
horses full of mettle, which proudly raising their heads, and 
beating the ground with their feet, covering their bits with 
foam, seemed to feel indignant at being led by a woman and a 
young lad. Everyone could discover that the nymph's countenance 
was not that of a person of rank, and that she had more éclat 
than real beauty: but no one could tell whether there was more 
indelicacy in her deportment than wantonness in her looks; 
whether there was more opulence than elegance in the unbounded 
luxury of equipage and dress. At any rate, Madame de B***, could 
you have guessed that, that woman loaded with plumes, embroidery 
and diamonds, mounted on a triumphal car, surrounded by young 
noblemen, pursued by the joyous applause of the crowded 
multitude, was the little girl who for a twelve month had been 
your waiting woman? M. de Valbrun must have ruined himself! I 
passed several times near Madame de B***'s whisky: she looked as 
if she had not seen me, and I had prudence enough not to bow to 
her: but curious most likely of ascertaining whether I had come 
there on her account, the Marchioness cast her inquisitive looks 
on all sides. As she turned round she saw in her humble gig 
Madame de Lignolle, whom she honoured with a gracious smile; and 
on her splendid car Madame de Montdesir, whom she cast a 
protecting glance at. There was every reason to believe that 
Madame de B***, so near the Countess to whose jealous vivacity 
she was no stranger; and not far from Justine, who might indulge 
some imprudent familiarity, did not think herself safe. What is 
certain is, she got out of that line, and drove a little higher 
up. Perhaps she determined upon this measure, because she 
perceived at a distance her husband advancing towards me.

I intended at first to retire, that I might avoid meeting the 
unwelcome Marquis, but upon second thoughts, apprehensive lest 
he might, without a cause, suspect me of being afraid, I 
proceeded along, I even thought proper to advance slowly, and to 
look fiercely at the enemy, as he drew near me. I 
notwithstanding was resolved, as well may be imagined, to let M. 
de B*** pass by, in case he did not accost me.

He did though. "Monsieur le Chevalier, I am very glad that 
chance-"

"Say no more, Monesieur le Marquis, I understand you; but what 
signifies that word chance, pray? methinks it is not quite 
impossible to meet me about the town; and besides, whoever has 
anything very pressing to say to me, is always sure of finding 
me at home."

"Why, indeed, I wished to go to you."

"Who could have prevented you?"

"Who? My wife."

"Why then sir, you now think the Marchioness was wrong?"

"Not very wrong, in one sense. She had her reasons, you may 
depend on it."

"Her reasons?"

"To invite me not to pay you a visit; whereas I had mine for 
wishing to meet you somewhere."

"Our meeting then, as you were saying just now, is very happy?"

"So it is, because I wanted to have an explanation with you."

"Directly, if you choose, M. le Marquis."

"With all my heart."

"Let us withdraw."

"I have no objection. 

"But I must beg your pardon a moment."

"For what?

As I was going, I thought I could not dispense bowing to Madame 
de Lignolle, and giving her to understand, by my signs, that I 
would soon return.

M. de B*** resumed: "You are continually looking on that side. 
Most likely it is that handsome lady in the phaeton that engages 
your attention. I am come in your way."

"No untimely jokes, M. le Marquis."

"I don't joke. Let us stop here."

"Here! the place will not be comfortable."

"Why not? Nobody will hear us"

"But everybody will see us."

"What does that signify?"

"Yon think it is immaterial; well, just as you please, I suppose 
you have brought your pistols?"

"My pistols?"

"To be sure. Neither you nor I have swords."

"What do we want with pistols or swords, M. le Chevalier?"

"Are we not going to fight?"

"To fight! Quite on the reverse, sir: I repent having fought you 
before."

"Indeed!"

"I repent having quarrelled with you without cause or reason."

"Ah!"

"To have been the cause of your exile."

"Ah! Ah!

"And subsequently of your imprisonment."

"You must own, M. le Marquis, that I could not have guessed all 
that."

"That is the reason why I have been looking after you ever since 
your liberation from the Bastille."

"Indeed you are too kind."

"And as I told you before, I would have gone to your house if my 
wife-"

"The Marchioness was very right to dissuade you; it would have 
been carrying matters too far."

"I believe not! In my opinion, a gentleman cannot be too hasty 
in repairing an offence. You have experienced it yourself; I am 
very irascible, a single word throws me into a rage, I am angry 
before I hear an explanation, but the moment after I am calmed, 
and candidly acknowledge my having been wrong. All my friends 
will tell you I gain by being known; at bottom I am a good-
natured soul."

"I am fully convinced of that."

"Say you forgive me."

"Are you in earnest?"

"I beg you will speak the word."

"I shall never be able to-"

"What! You will never forgive me."

"That is not what I mean."

"Listen to me. I have confessed my wrongs, let me now mention my 
good offices: I have been the promoter of your emancipation from 
the Bastille."

"You! Monsieur le Marquis?"

"My very self. I threw myself at my wife's knees, to prevail 
upon her to solicit your release."

"And you succeeded in persuading her?"

"Why truly, it was not without great pains; however, I must do 
her justice: she afterwards took the business to heart as much 
as I had, and pressed the new minister with unrelenting ardour."

"She is said to be in high favour with the new minister?"

"In very high favour! They sometimes are closeted together for 
hours; that wife of mine is a woman of great merit; I knew her 
well when I married her; she had a promising look, and the 
Marchioness has fulfilled all that those looks of hers had 
promised. Apropos, if you should wish for some situation, or a 
pension, or a lettre de cachet-"<67>

"I thank you kindly"

"You need but speak the word: Madame de B*** will have a private 
conversation with-"

"I return you a thousand thanks"

"Now, to return to our first business, but you don't listen to 
me!"

"I was looking yonder, at that elderly lady: is not she the 
Marchioness d'Armincour?"

"I don't know her"

"It is her; pray, Marquis don't let us turn our eyes that way 
again."

"I understand you well! You don't wish to be obliged to go and 
pay your compliments to the dowager."

"I would not like it much."

"I shall resume my former subject: through me you got liberated 
from the Bastille; and had not I already been used according to 
my deserts? Had not I received a thrust from your sword?"

"I assure you, I was exceedingly sorry to have been forced."

"That was a masterly thrust! Do you know it nearly cost me my 
life?"

"I give you my word of honour, it would have been to me an 
eternal subject of sorrow."

"So then, you bore me no animosity?"

"Not the least."

"How then do you refuse to forgive me?"

"I am quite ready to forgive and forget"

"I am happy to hear it, M. le Chevalier."

"And do you forgive me also, M. le Marquis?"

"If I forgive you! But, from my wife's own declaration, in the 
whole of this affair, your wrongs towards me were but very 
slight, and towards herself very-very slight indeed."

This conversation, which at first I thought rather unpleasant, I 
now found very amusing, it excited my curiosity; yet I was 
sensible that Madame de Lignolle, wondering already at my 
absence, must be waiting for my return with killing impatience, 
and, if I delayed much longer, attempt some nonsensical trick.

"M. le Marquis," I said, "now that we have made it up, let us 
join the throng."

"We shall talk more at our ease here."

"We shall be quite as well yonder."

"I was right when I said that the pretty lady stuck to his 
heart!" exclaimed M. de B***.

In fact, it was near the damsel in the phaeton that I brought 
him back; but it was the lady in the gig, who drew my whole 
attention, and I have no need to tell, that she was delighted at 
seeing me again. I, nevertheless, could perceive, that the 
stranger whom she observed was following me, occasioned her some 
inquietude. Madame de Montdesir also appeared extremely 
flattered at the new homage which I seemed to pay her, by 
returning a second time, to swell the number of her admirers; 
but as soon as she recognised her former master in the cavalier 
who accompanied me, she smothered some bursts of laughter, to 
cast upon us both very significant glances. Meanwhile the 
Marquis was saying to me again: "Towards the Marchioness and 
myself your wrongs were but very slight, such as any other young 
man-"

"Is it not true, sir, would not everyone in my place, have acted 
as I did?"

"Undoubtedly. But it was M. de Rosambert, who, through the 
whole, has behaved uncommonly ill; of course, I will never make 
it up with him. M. du Portail is not altogether free from blame 
neither."

"He is not, indeed."

"So you confess it now?"

"Most assuredly."

"On that fatal day, when I met you all in the Tuileries, M. du 
Portail should have preserved more presence of mind, have drawn 
me aside, and have informed me that the honour and repose of a 
whole family obliged him to speak that untruth: could I have 
guessed?"

"Certainly not"

"Your sister would not have done amiss neither, if she had 
whispered a word in mine ear; but the young lady was afraid, her 
father was there. You, M. le Chevalier-"

"Ah! Me now!"

"Let me hear what you have to say!"

"No, no, speak yourself."

"After you."

"By no means, M. le Marquis, I have interrupted you."

"Don't mention it, go on."

"Go on yourself"

"I beg of you."

"Let me request-"

"Well then! You, M. le Chevalier, were not bound to tell me a 
secret; of course, it was rather unbecoming in you to apprise me 
of the little slips of your sister. This hurts you, but I am no 
babbler! I have given my word of honour-and beware of being 
angry with the Marchioness, I have not surprised your secrets 
from her, in the first place! It was not for the mere sake of 
gossiping, that she entrusted me with them."

"I believe so, I believe that the Marchioness is incapable of 
committing an act of inconsiderate indiscretion."

"Incapable! You have spoken the word. The wanton doings of your 
sister, a dangerous frolic, which M. de Rosambert had advised; 
and the last story, told by M. du Portail, had, in my 
estimation, strangely exposed the Marchioness. Oh! I have begged 
her pardon a hundred times, and I reproach myself daily; I 
accused my wife, the most virtuous of women! If it were only 
from principles, one might question-but, he added, speaking very 
low, her virtue is solid, it proceeds from a frigid 
constitution; for, would you believe it, through mere 
complaisance it is, that Madame de B*** will grant me now and 
then a night; to me, who am her husband, and whom she adores! 
Yet I accused her. It was requisite, therefore, that for the 
sake of her own justification, she should relate to me your 
little family troubles, which I was partly acquainted with 
already."

"What occasions me great satisfaction, M. le Marquis, is to hear 
from your own mouth, that I was not held to reveal to you the 
slips of Mademoiselle du Portail."

"Say no more, Mademoiselle du Portail, you see that I am 
acquainted with the business."

"Well then, Mademoiselle de Faublas, since you will have it so."

"That's it."

"In the first place, you should not; and next, if you had 
appeared disposed to solicit an explanation, I, who in a pet, 
was anxious to fight it out, would, perhaps, have been so unjust 
as to suspect you of wanting courage. It is most essential for a 
young man to display undaunted steadiness in his first affair of 
honour; and in this, I said so to the Marchioness, who was 
forced to acknowledge it, you behaved in every respect as the 
bravest of men. You are a man of true courage, and whoever is a 
connoisseur must read it in your countenance. I entertain a very 
high esteem for you, and so does my wife. I would willingly 
invite you to come and see us; but the public are so stupid! 
Whenever they have been pleased to allot such a lover to such a 
woman, they never will retract. I find numbers of people, who, 
through mere complaisance only, do not contradict me when I 
affirm to them that I am not-and though you were to protest the 
same yourself, they would not believe you, and yet no one, 
except the Marchioness, knows as much about it as you do. But 
only observe the extreme difference: now that I am made easy in 
my mind, concerning your adventure, you, and a hundred thousand 
young men more amiable still, if there are any, would take their 
solemn oath in vain, before they could persuade me that they 
have obtained the favours of the Marchioness. I have already 
told you how many reasons I had to be convinced of Madame de 
B***'s virtue; there is another, which alone appears to me as 
strong as all the rest put together: I sometimes take it into my 
head to look at myself in the glass, and I don't find in my 
physiognomy one feature, one single feature that indicates my 
being a-By Jove! M. de B*** does not perceive at all, that he 
looks like a fool! And M. de B***is a knowing one. But pay me a 
little more attention; your eyes are constantly turned towards 
the fair damsel! Methinks that she now and then looks at you. 
Nay, she winks at you!"

"Not at all, Marquis, it is you whom she challenges."

"I don't think so; you are a much handsomer man than I am. At 
your time of life I did not look amiss, but now you have the 
advantage of blooming youth. I believe, however, that you were 
not mistaken, that I have my share in glances of the princess. I 
must confess, candidly, that I begin to feel rather awkward! 
This is quite a new thing to me; she must not have been long on 
the town. What's her name?"

"Her name? I can't tell."

"Where does she live?"

"I don't know."

"But yet you knew her?"

"Ah! As those creatures are known, by reminiscence-yes, I think 
I recollect my going frequently to sup at a certain house, 
where, sometimes finding her within my reach, I would set her to 
play, much about the same time as I had taken a fancy to one 
certain Justine, you know!"

"Yes, yes, one of the Marchioness's women, that little jade whom 
you would come to cajole even in my hôtel. Oh! You young rake, I 
behaved too kindly at the commissary's."

"Say whatever you please, M. le Marquis, I cannot be persuaded, 
that beauty is entirely unknown to you. Do me the pleasure, 
therefore, to draw nearer, and to look at her full in the face."

"Why, faith, you are right: I have seen that sprightly little 
face. We were speaking of Justine just now; this girl has a 
false air about her."

"Methinks there is a great likeness"

"Great! No"

"I find it so."

"Oh but" he cried, most vehemently, "you are no physiognomist! 
Since we are now speaking of likeness, do you know of two 
individuals, between whom I find a very striking one? Your 
sister, and you."

"Ah! That may be well mentioned."

"The most clever might be deceived. I, who am the first in the 
kingdom for the science of physiognomy, have been mistaken, 
several times mistaken! It appears, that your sister is very 
fond of pleasure. When she is tired, pale, and worn out, one may 
then find out the difference between you two. But when she 
enjoys her good health and spirits, the devil himself might see 
you side by side, without being able to determine which is 
which! Apropos, will you mention our meeting to your sister?"

"If agreeable to you."

"Do me the pleasure to tell her, that notwithstanding the 
grievous mistakes which her first disguise had occasioned, I 
love her with all my heart; and although your father is rather 
hot, he may rely upon my sincere esteem: even tell M. du Portail 
that I hold no grudge against him."

"M. Connoisseur, look in that gig before the phaeton, look at 
that young woman; that is a sweet figure; that is what may be 
called a charming little person! Not so finely dressed as the 
other, but much prettier, and she does not look like one of the 
frail sisterhood."

"A lady of fashion? Zounds! I know that livery! I am very glad, 
he added, in a tone of inward gratification, that for a long 
time also, this lady has been repeatedly looking at us. One 
would think that she wishes to speak to us."

Madame de Lignolle, indeed, was out of patience, and endeavoured 
to make me understand, by her signs, that I must, at any price, 
get rid of my troublesome companion, to go instantly and join 
her at the place of rendezvous, whither, tired of waiting, she 
was going herself. Several times yielding to her natural 
impetuosity, the Countess would rise, and stand nearly out of 
her gig. In the meantime, Madame de Montdesir, from the top of 
her vehicle, could notice the impatience of her rival. I do not 
think that it was possible for her then to see that it was 
Madame de Lignolle who attracted my whole attention; but no 
doubt she suspected as much.

It was with a view of ascertaining the truth that she 
immediately had her postilion ordered to quit the line, and to 
try to pass before the gig. During a few seconds, he kept close 
to it on the same line, and then passed before it. Justine, who 
then saw plainly Madame de Lignolle, took the liberty of 
saluting her with an air of familiarity; she even dared, whilst 
looking at her with insolent affectation, to burst out into 
impertinent fits of laughter.
 
Illustration: The vehicle was overturned, the idol fell.

I felt indignant; I was going-I cannot tell all I was going to 
do. The Countess did not allow me time to expose her by 
avenging. Too high-spirited tamely to endure a similar insult, 
she immediately cried out "Gate!" pushed her horse on, and, with 
her whip, cut Madame de Montdesir's face, and at the same time 
ran so violently against the light phaeton that one of the 
wheels was broke. The vehicle was overturned; the idol fell; I 
apprehended for a moment lest her head might be broken also. 
Most happily, as she fell, Justine mechanically threw her arms 
forward, her hands prevented her face being much injured, which 
had already been maltreated more than enough. It so happened, 
however, that by an accident quite comical, the feet of the 
nymph remained, I cannot tell how, fastened to the upper part of 
the overthrown vehicle. In a like posture, therefore, nothing 
could hinder her petticoats from falling over her shoulders, 
while uncovering another part; and, sportful zephyrs having 
timely agitated the fine linen that remained alone over her fair 
skin, Madame de Montdesir exhibited-our delicate tongue prevents 
us-it would be an unpardonable act of rudeness to call by its 
name what Madame de Montdesir exhibited: I nevertheless shall 
say what I am permitted, namely, that the whole assembly, 
finding this modern Antinous<68> very pretty, applauded its 
apparition by loud clapping of hands.

Some young men, nevertheless, flew to the assistance of the 
unhappy sufferer; I myself felt moved at the sight of her 
discomfiture, dismounted to offer her a succouring hand.

"Wait a moment," said M. de B***, "I shall go with you, for I 
feel for her, and, as I told you before, I have seen that face 
somewhere."

"Now, Monsieur le Marquis, this I cannot put up with from a 
physiognomist. In good conscience, can you call that a face? 
However, whether you are obstinate in maintaining that it is or 
not, I declare that it is not entirely unknown to me, and I 
question your ever having seen it."

Justine had already been placed on her legs again, when I came 
close to her. "Ah!" she exclaimed, as soon as she saw me: "Ah! 
M. de Faublas! What a figure she has brought me to-"

I interrupted her, and said to her in a very low tone of voice: 
"My dear child, you have no more than what you deserve; yet mind 
not to mention the name of the Countess, for if you do, upon my 
honour, you will not get off at so cheap a rate."

"Ah!" replied Justine, with an accent of deep despair: "So then 
you think she has acted right!"

She had pronounced my name several times; several voices 
repeated it; it immediately was circulated through the whole 
assembly, and flew from mouth to mouth. On a sudden, the crowd 
which encircled Madame de Montdesir gathered round me, so that 
the Marquis and I had scarcely elbow-room enough to cross our 
horses, and could only proceed at a slow pace. The number of 
gazers increased at every minute. Young and old, males and 
females, horsemen and pedestrians, all thronged before me; 
carriages even stopped. Never did our most renowned heroes, 
Destaing, La Fayette, Suffren, and a thousand more, on their 
return from their glorious expeditions, see a more prodigious 
affluence of people collected around them in the public walks. 
And yet it was-oh, the most light-headed of all nations!-it was 
only upon Mademoiselle du Portail that you were lavishing such 
honours!

What young man, however, could have had such a command over 
himself as to reject the charms of such a triumph? I felt 
intoxicated for a while; for a moment I felt proud at the sight 
of so many young men, who, known to possess the art of pleasing, 
and famous on account of their amours, seemed to proclaim me as 
their supreme chief. The ladies especially, the fair ladies!-it 
was with transport that I saw I was the object of their 
attention. The lively desire of being still more deserving of it 
must have supplied me with additional graces in my deportment, 
and fresh expression to my countenance; with a milder look I 
must have answered their caressing glances, which seem to 
prognosticate forever sweet connections; with a more greedy ear 
I must have devoured the enchanting eulogiums bestowed upon my 
external personal merits.

But forgive me, my Eleanor; forgive my mistake; the illusion was 
not lasting. Could Faublas tarry for a long time at Longchamps? 
Could he stop long, detained by the twofold deceitful illusions 
of vanity and coquetry, when love, impatient love, was waiting 
for him in Paris, to procure no less flattering triumphs, and 
more solid enjoyments.

"M. le Marquis, what think you of our removing from this crowd?"

"I have not the least objection, most willingly; but how comes 
it that you are known by so many people?"

"You know this part of the world. Whatever is not absolutely 
common, occasions a great bustle, and even four-and-twenty hours 
will bring a man into high repute: our duel, my exile, my 
imprisonment-"

He interrupted me: "Was it a mistake? Was it not my name?"

"Yes, it was your name that rang into my ears, and which is 
repeated aloud by two thousand people."

"Two thousand! No!" repeated he, with apparent satisfaction: 
"Yet I do not wonder at it; I have such myriads of 
acquaintances."

"The rumour goes increasing; dear me, what a terrible noise!"

"It is because all these people are glad to see us together! 
Yes, I can read it in their physiognomies, they are pleased; it 
makes them happy to be certain of a reconciliation having taken 
place between us. In fact, it was a great pity that the two men 
in France the most-"

"M. le Marquis, I believe, as you say rightly, that they are 
pleased; but let us make haste, to avoid hearing more of their 
plaudits."

They were pleased, for they laughed with all their hearts; and 
there was no further doubt but their desultory applause was 
directed towards M. de B***. The Marquis, notwithstanding, 
appeared more delighted with their frolicsome transports than I 
had been proud of their homage. It was in spite of myself, but 
to the great contentment of my illustrious companion, that I was 
forced to follow the multitude to the very top of the line. 
There I succeeded, though not without great pains, to break a 
passage through the less crowded ranks of our admirers. There I 
bade adieu to M. de B***, who nevertheless followed me as close 
as his horse would carry him. Several other gentlemen kept 
galloping the same way; but it was not after him they were 
intently hunting this time, for they passed him without 
slackening their course. I, for a time, was in hopes of making 
my escape; but as, subsequent to long and useless windings, I 
was on the point of being overtaken, I thought it necessary to 
try more powerful means to disperse those troublesome pursuers.

I turned round to them; they were pages; I counted eight of 
them: "Gentlemen, what can I do to oblige you?"

"Allow me to see and embrace you," was answered immediately.

"Gentlemen, you are very young, but yet you are of an age to act 
rationally; wherefore then, I beg of you, hazard against a man 
of honour a bad joke, which may be attended with dangerous 
consequences."

"It is no joke," replied the youth who acted as spokesman: "We 
would be extremely sorry to offer you the least offence; but 
indeed we long to embrace Mademoiselle du Portail."

"No," interrupted a better-knowing one, "not Mademoiselle du 
Portail, but the generous conqueror of the Marquis de B***."

Whilst they were speaking to me, I cast an inquisitive look over 
the country; I already could discern the famous Marquis, who was 
gaining ground, and trembled for my rendezvous: "Gentlemen, I do 
not know Mademoiselle du Portail, but, let me tell you, I have 
no time to lose, therefore put an end to your fun; if it be 
absolutely indispensable that Faublas should be embraced by you 
all, I agree to it, with this proviso, however, that you will 
wait for, stop and detain, under some pretence or other, for a 
few minutes, that cavalier, whom you may perceive. You would 
even do me a great piece of service, if, for further security, 
you could prevail upon him to ride back with you to Longchamps."

As I was still speaking, a man, rather shabbily dressed, and 
whom I had at first mistaken for one of these young men's 
servants, drew near to me in a mysterious air. I then, 
notwithstanding his flopped hat covered the upper part of his 
face, recognised M. Després, the dear doctor of Luxembourg. He 
spoke very low: "Sir," he said, "I am not come here to embrace 
you, but I have made all the haste I could to inform you, that 
Madame de Montdesir begs you to give her a call for one minute 
only."

"Madame de Montdesir! Oh, yes! I understand! Tell her, my good 
friend, that I am very sorry, but that it will be two hours, at 
least, before I have it in my power to attend to her 
invitation."

The frolicsome pages collectively promised to stop, and to carry 
back with them the troubleesome horseman, who now was but at a 
very short distance. They gave me their word, embraced me, and 
saw me, with regret, depart from them in full gallop.



XXV.

It was high time I should arrive; Madame de Lignolle found the 
moments very long. As soon as she saw me, she loaded me with 
reproaches: "How unjust you are, my dear!"

"Is it my fault if that woman has the audacity-"

Yes, it is your fault. Why do you scrape an acquaintance with 
such creatures? Wherefore have you been unfaithful to me with 
that Madame de Montdesir?"

"What! Are you going to revive a quarrel long since forgotten?"

"Forgotten! Never! So long as I live, I shall remember having 
been silly enough to kiss the hand of that impertinent woman, 
who dares to avail herself-"

"You have punished her for it, you have cut her face sadly."

"I should have killed her."

"She was very near being killed; her carriage was overturned; 
and she fell from a great height."

"From a great height! Exclaimed the Countess with great 
inquietude: "Oh, my God! I perhaps, have hurt her dangerously?"

"No, but-"

I then, with a view of soothing Madame de Lignolle, hastened to 
relate Justine's misadventure; and I leave you, to think how 
amused the Countess was with my rapid but faithful narration, 
who, however, felt keenly, whether she was pleased or angry. I 
really dreaded she would be choked with laughing.

I pressed her within my arms, thinking that she was disposed for 
a reconciliation; but was very much mistaken; the cruel Eleanor 
repulsed her lover.

"You will forever be the most ungrateful mortal upon earth," she 
said in an angry tone. "I have been a whole age here, perishing 
with love and impatience. Yet it is to me that he leaves the 
care of inventing some scheme or other to procure a meeting."

"It is in vain, my dearest, that I have planned several."

"I succeed, at last, in finding a favourable expedient; I fly to 
that Longchamps, which I detest; I hurry there to see Faublas, 
solely that I may see him. Thither he comes, indeed, but it is 
to procure an opportunity of paying his court to my two rivals."

"Eleanor, I swear it was not so."

"And what a barbarous trick! The cruel man arranges matters so, 
that I, whose heart is torn by jealousy, find myself placed 
exactly between my two mortal enemies."

"What! Do you pretend to say that was my fault?"

"Yes, try, you story-teller, try to persuade me that it was 
owing to chance alone that Madame de B***'s carriage stood 
precisely before mine."

"Eleanor, I give you my word of honour. Madame de B*** was very 
right to go away; and so were you not to follow her! I had just 
seen her! One moment later, I would have given you both a lesson 
that you would have remembered long enough."

"My dear, if I had gone there for her sake, would not I have 
followed her?"

She, for a moment, seemed absorbed in deep thought, and 
immediately gave me a kiss; but on a sudden she cried out: "No, 
no! I am not as yet convinced! It is because you were 
indispensably obliged to assist Madame de Montdesir, that you 
kept me waiting here for upwards of half an hour!"

"No, my beloved; I have been kept a long time by that 
troublesome intruder."

"Who was speaking to you so vehemently, and whom you listened to 
apparently with so much pleasure?"

"Pleasure! By no means."

"What was that gentleman saying so remarkably fine?"

"He was speaking to me about my sister."

"Does he know her?"

"To be sure; he is a relation."

"A relation? This time, however, I believe you, because I have 
looked at him full in the face to ascertain whether he was not a 
female in disguise. Oh! You will never catch me again! I shall 
be on my guard."

"Apropos, my dear, tell me, did not you see your aunt at 
Longchamps?"

"No, I could see but you alone, whereas, sir, you paid great 
attention to all who surrounded you."

"I have paid some attention to the Marchioness, because I 
thought she was looking at me."

"Most luckily for us both she looks rather on the wane."

"But, Eleanor, if she could have known me again?"

"I don't think she could!"

"Faublas, it would be a most unfortunate circumstance-yet it is 
to be hoped she did not."

The Countess now spoke in a milder tone, and I soon convinced 
her of my being innocent. She then appeared to hear with 
transport my repeated protestations of love and fidelity; but I 
was no less grieved than surprised, when I saw her refuse my 
proving to her that my professions were sincere. "No, no!" she 
would say affirmatively, "You weep, my good friend! What 
occasions you to shed tears?"

"You no longer love me as you did."

"I love you more, sir."

"You never refused me then."

"No, to be sure, when you were in good health! You weep! Dear 
me, how childish!"

My so rational mistress now bade me kneel before her, that she 
might wipe away my tears with her kisses.

"Faublas, you must not weep, my man, it grieves me to see you. 
Let me tell you, my beloved, I still remember the day when you 
fainted away in my arms; your illness since must have caused you 
much fatigue; you have not been long in a state of 
convalescence; do you wish to die? Indeed, if you should, I must 
die also. Let me speak the truth, would it not be a great pity 
now? Both of us so young and loving each other as we do.Ah! I 
beseech you, Faublas, let us die as late as we can, that we may 
adore one another as long as possible. You laugh, sir! Am I to 
be laughed at when I speak rationally? Well now! You begin over 
again! You consider all I say as nothing; It is all the same to 
you? Have done, Faublas, have done, my dear, leave me, sir, go 
away. You will make me angry!"

"Hark! Listen to me. Summon a little fortitude on your side."

"Faublas! My dear Faublas," she added, after giving me the most 
tender kiss, "it is no easy thing for me to resist mine own 
desires, if I must at the same time triumph over yours; I cannot 
answer to muster strength enough."

My adorable Eleanor was very right to mistrust herself, since 
after a few moments of voluptuous struggling, since subsequent 
to a short silence more voluptuous still, she said to me in a 
trembling voice, and through half stifled sighs; "You are 
sensible of what has just taken place: well! When I came here I 
had determined to allow nothing of the kind." And she swore that 
at least it would not be repeated.

In the like manner as I have been publishing her defeat, I am 
bound in justice to publish her victory; notwithstanding my 
pressing efforts renewed at every minute, I never could obtain a 
second time from my scrupulous mistress to forget her chaste 
determination.

"My charming friend! Fortunate hours slide on very fast! It is 
already time we should part!"

"Already?"

"If I was to be too late, it would be impossible for me to patch 
up a probable story to tell M. de Belcourt."

"One moment longer," she exclaimed with tears in her eyes; "one 
other moment! Faublas, we must part for three days."

"For three days?"

"Tomorrow I shall set off for Gatinois."

"For Gatinois without me! What to do there?"

"Alas! Without you! It is your father, that father of yours, 
will be the death of me! That festival, how dull it will be! 
When I was allowed to believe that my lover was to embellish it 
by his presence, what a pleasing idea I formed of it!"

"Eleanor, your tears occasion me too painful a sensation. Dry 
them up .Wait, let my lips-. Tell me my sweet dear, what sort of 
a festival it is that you are talking of?"

"To stand in the midst of a thousand unfeeling people, and not 
meet the beloved object! To be surrounded by a crowd when you 
would wish to be in a desert!"

"Tell me about that festival?"

"Every year on Easter Sunday, every year since I was born, the 
Rosiere has received from my hands-last year I was still 
ignorant of what I was performing, I know it now! Now I do know 
it. I flattered my weakness with the hope that my lover would be 
there to console me, to support me in case I should happen to 
think, with secret dread, that I who was crowning virtue, was no 
longer virtuous myself. Alas! I shall not cease repeating it: it 
is not my fault; I shall say so forever: wherefore was I given 
away to that M. de Lignolle? What I am now speaking hurts you, 
my Faublas! But don't fret; I feel no remorse, not even regret: 
sometimes only, since your father, has been holding out to me 
his long speeches I surprise myself reflecting on the numberless 
dangers-make yourself easy however, so long as you love me, 
don't be afraid of my forsaking you: and when you have ceased 
loving me, when you will love me no more, my despair will supply 
me with a last resource."

"Be comforted. You weep! Come, my dear, come and give me a kiss, 
come, let us mingle our tears"

"I shall set out tomorrow; on Sunday the sad festival will take 
place; on Monday, at a certain hour everybody will return. I 
shall bring back with me my aunt, and Madame de Fonrose who 
loves us dearly; Madame de Fonrose and I will concert some 
stratagem that will bring us together in the evening of that 
same Monday."

Although it was late already; notwithstanding the Marchioness 
was waiting for me, and that my father might be out of patience 
on account of my absence, I repeated my adieus a hundred times 
to Madame de Lignolle, before I could leave her.

At last, however, we mustered strength enough to part, and I ran 
to Justine's lodgings to meet Madame de B***.

The Marchioness's eyes were red, she breathed with great 
difficulty, she looked quite dejected; she, nevertheless, saw me 
with some pleasure lay hold of her hand, which I immediately 
kissed twenty times over. "Was it totally impossible, she said 
with infinite mildness, for you not to make me wait so long?" 
And then, without giving me time to answer her, with apparent 
joy, and looking at me with an air of unbounded satisfaction, 
she added: "Here he is perfectly recovered. Who could imagine 
that twelve days back, this young man was dangerously ill? Would 
those ladies believe it, who just now at Longchamps wondered at 
his lily white and rosy complexion, who were not tired of 
admiring his beauty, the bloom of youth, his-"

Madame de B*** appeared obliged to use violence not to say more. 
Her looks on a sudden turned sad, uncertain, and pensive. In a 
feeble and languishing voice she proceeded: "I would not have 
ventured going if I had thought of meeting you there. But how 
could one have imagined that you were able to make your 
appearance in public, when little Montdesir had been waiting in 
vain a week for your apprising her of the day of your first 
visit."

"Ah! Don't accuse me! I had it not in my power to attend to your 
invitation. My father has followed me everywhere; even this day 
he went to Longchamps with me."

"Did not you see me there, at Longchamps?" she asked with a kind 
of inquietude.

"I did, but would not bow to you for fear-"

She interrupted me with an exclamation of joy: "I had presumed 
to flatter myself that he had known me, and that it was only 
from discretion-receive my best thanks: by that trait alone I 
could have known it was you whom I saw, the delicate friend of 
my choice."

"Wherefore, dear mamma, did you stop for so short a time only at 
that promenade of which you were the chief ornament?"

"The chief! No, no, I don't believe it: however, I only left it 
when I saw the crowd gathering round you."

"So then you may have witnessed Justine's misadventure?"

The Marchioness smiled. "Yes," she said, "I may have seen her 
accident. She next added in a very grave tone: "Has that 
accident punished her sufficiently? I shall be glad to hear you 
say in her presence, what is your opinion of the case, for which 
reason, if you are not tired of my company, we shall wait for 
her here."

We had not long to wait, for at that very moment the door of her 
antechamber was opened to her. A gallant cavalier was speaking 
to her very loud: "These young men accosted, and welecomed me on 
all sides; for my part I know not what it is to resist obliging 
manners, to the civilities of people that love me: in the 
meantime the other had a great advance over me. When I saw that 
I returned to Longchamps on purpose to meet you; I was struck 
with your physiognomy, child."

"Am I not mistaken," said Madame de B***, "is not this?"

"You are not mistaken. By his voice, and by his discourse I 
believe I know him again. It is him! It is him! Let us be off!

There was not a moment to lose; we ran to the door which 
communicated with the jeweller's. "My stars!" exclaimed the 
Marchioness, "what have I done with the key?" A lofty, though 
narrow cupboard, yet most luckily deep enough, placed in a 
corner, close to the fireplace, offered us a safe asylum. Madame 
de B*** got in first. "Quick Faublas!" I had but just time to 
rush in and to close the door after us.

They entered the apartment that we had just left vacant for 
them.

"Yes," he continued, "I was struck with your physiognomy; I 
longed to speak to you."

"So then you knew me again?"

"Directly! But how can you ask me such a question, when I know 
all faces by rote?"

"Ah, but the superb caparisoned horses, the brilliant equipage, 
the rich dress I wore, might have made me look quite a 
stranger."

"In the eyes of any other, but not in mine. You must have 
forgotten what a physiognomist I am. But now I think of your 
equipage, tell me, pray, who is the magnificent mortal who ruins 
himself to keep you? The Chevalier de Faublas, perhaps?"

"He! A perfect coxcomb!"

"Do you hear the impertinent hussy?" I said.

"Hold your tongue," replied the Marchioness.

"However," resumed M. de B***, "methinks that you winked to him 
at Longchamps?"

"To him, to that raw boy? I was looking at you!"

"You don't dislike me then?"

"Who could?"

"You are right, for to speak the truth, I am bearer of a most 
engaging physiognomy; I meet with none but people who love me; 
you might have observed to-day at Longchamps, the universal joy 
which my presence created. Everyone seemed to feel satisfaction 
at seeing me."

"No more than I did."

"Yet, my poor little dear, a very disagreeable adventure has 
just befallen you. Who is the woman who treated you so ill?"

"A little strumpet!"

"But do you hear this?" I said.

"Hold your tongue," said Madame de B*** again.

Her husband continued: "Her servant wore a livery."

"A borrowed, or hired one."

"Your elegant phaeton is very much damaged."

"I am sorry for it, and so much the more so as it is a present 
from a lady, a friend of mine.

At this part of the interesting dialogue, the Marchioness could 
not help repeating: "A lady, a friend of mine! How insolent!"

"Was it you, then, my charming mamma?"

"It was!"

"Well, permit me in my turn to say: 'Keep silent.'"

We lost some of Justine's words, before we heard her say: "To 
return from England on purpose!"

"A lady, a friend of yours," exclaimed the Marquis. "Zounds! You 
must have shown great complaisance to that lady?"

"I warrant you I have,-I hope, however-she is a lady of fashion, 
a lady of high rank, who is kept close at home."

"I understand, I comprehend now there is a stupid fellow of a 
husband, who has been made a dupe of."

"Or soon will be, Monsieur le Marquis."

"Dear me, what blockheads some husbands are! So you let her come 
to your bedroom that-"

"No, oh no! I am certain nothing dishonest has taken place 
between the two parties."

"Their intrigue has but just commenced then?"

"Quite the contrary, it is done away with; for a time it was a 
story worth knowing."

"Tell me, then, do! I am always excessively pleased when I hear 
the recital of the tricks played upon those stupid husbands!"

"The lady formerly has been connected with the young man, but he 
left her for another, and she wishes to induce him to return to 
her."

Here the Marchioness muttered, "What an impudent liar!"

"Oh dear mamma, please to keep silent!" and I ventured to give 
her a kiss which she could not help receiving. Meanwhile we had 
lost some other words.

"So far," was Madame de Montdesir saying, "she has not granted 
him the least favour, but the moment is near at hand when she 
will refuse him nothing."

"You are acquainted with all her secrets, I find."

"No, she is too mistrustful, and too artificious, she scarcely 
tells me anything, but I can see from her conduct-what do you 
laugh at?"

"At the countenance of those lovers, when they are together. I, 
who am a physiognomist, would willingly give a hundred louis 
d'ors to study at that time the expression depicted in their 
countenances. You ought to procure me that pleasure some day."

"To you?"

"To me."

"Impossible! M. le Marquis."

"Why so? I would hide myself somewhere."

"Impossible! I tell you."

"Though I were to creep under your bed."

"Under my bed! You could only see their legs then."

"You are right. Let me see! In a cupboard. You have cupboards 
here?"

"You see I have."

The conversation was taking a turn truly alarming; I was far 
from being at my ease, and I could feel the Marchioness to 
tremble.

"Wait a moment!" cried out the Marquis.

Most fortunately he went to that which was on the other side of 
the fireplace; and when he had looked into it: "This," he said, 
is exactly what I want. "A corpulent man could not get in, but I 
shall feel very comfortable. And, do you see, through the key-
hole I shall peep at the actors quite at my ease. Come, Justine, 
let me prevail upon you. I will pay you liberally for your 
condescension, and will keep the secret to myself."

"Upon my honour, if it were not totally impracticable, I would 
consent; for the novelty of the case alone."

"Is the lady handsome?"

"So, so, pretty well; but she thinks herself a beauty."

"A customary thing. And the gallant?"

"Oh! A charming young man! Quite so!"

"Handsomer than the Chevalier de Faublas?"

"Handsomer no, but quite as handsome, indeed."

"Do you know that I am jealous of the Chevalier?"

"How jealous? Do you still believe that the Marchioness-?"

"No, by no means. But you, my angel?"

"I! Ah! You are wrong."

"Formerly, though."

"Formerly my inclinations were not solid. However, I always felt 
highly prepossessed in your favour, M. le Marquis."

"I don't doubt it, I tell you my countenance produces that 
effect upon all the women."

"It does; your wife, for one, adores you."

"Adores me! You have spoken the right word. But do you know one 
thing? Nothing in the course of time becomes more tedious than 
those adoration. Madame de B*** may be considered as a beautiful 
woman, be it so, but the same woman forever! Besides, 
notwithstanding all her tenderness, the Marchioness is of a cold 
constitution; and I only value that in amours. I am young and 
want amusement. I shall sup here with you, my dear."

"Do you eat suppers?"

"Yes, I always sup, you must remember it, and I go to bed, my 
queen."

"Where M. le Marquis? Here?"

"No where else, this night, I assure you."

We heard a heavy purse to fall on the mantelepiece. "Presently," 
said Justine, "we shall move into the dining-room"

"Wherefore into the dining-room? Let us stay here; we are so 
comfortable! Have our supper brought up here. Before, and even 
during our supper, we may have a thousand interesting things to 
communicate to one another."

Madame de Montdesir rang the bell; "Quick," she said, to the 
servant, who had come up, "quick, lay two covers; no one to be 
admitted."

"So, beautiful mamma, you and I are also going to sup and to bed 
in this cupboard."

"Ah! My dear friend," she answered, "I am not yet recovered from 
my fright."

Now that I have weighed the matter in my mind, I wonder why I 
dreaded spending the whole night in that cupboard, where I must 
find myself so well? I have already told you, that it was not 
wide enough to have held us; so then, since it was requisite the 
Marchioness and myself should occupy the depth, would it not 
have been very extraordinary, if I had impolitely turned my back 
on Madame de B***? I therefore had placed myself in the reverse 
direction. The consequence was, that in this sweet posture, my 
lips would unceasingly meet hers, and that I could feel her 
heart to beat.

What man, though he were born in the frosty huts of Siberia; 
though clothed in a chastely absurd gown, he had been brought up 
in the hatred of love, and the dread of women; though he had 
been fed constantly on vegetables destitute of juice; though he 
had never been given any other liquor to drink but cooling 
emulsions; what man, allured by the powerful attractions of so 
pressing a temptation as that which agitated me, would not have 
felt his heart to be moved, his spirits to ferment, and his 
whole blood to boil? Mine burned within my veins; and you 
yourself, Oh, Madame de B*** yourself, Ah! what virtue could 
have resisted.

My first caresses, however, occasioned her a surprise, mingled 
with terror. "Faublas, is it possible! Think of what you are 
about! Sir! Sir!"

The Marquis, more promptly successful in his amours than I was, 
forced me to suspend the vivacity of my enterprises. The 
prevailing silence which reigned in the apartment would have led 
me to a detection, if I had offered to stir: "Methinks, my 
beauteous mamma, that your husband is unfaithful?"

"What do I care! Provided my friend retains some respect for me, 
provided he does not take the advantage of my truly chagrining 
situation, what do I care for the rest!"

Their close conversation, the same as ours, was interrupted by 
the servant, who laid the cloth upon a table, which we heard to 
be brought close to our cupboard. As soon as the supper was 
served up, Madame de Montdesir said to M. de B***: "Now that we 
are alone, M. le Marquis, let us have a little conversation 
together. I am glad to belong to you. It is a good fortune which 
I desired too ardently not to obtain it; but wherefore have I 
been obliged to wait so long for it? How came you not to pay any 
attention to me when I lived in your house?"

"What! Under my wife's own roof?"

"That was not it! Let me tell you, all you men are alike; be 
candid, you love me now because I am a something."

"You joke! Did I not see in your physiognomy that you would be a 
something? For you have a promising physiognomy, though a little 
spoiled this evening! That cut of a whip has marked you, but for 
a connoisseur that is a mere trifle; your features retain their 
original character. Justine, I assure you that I have already 
read in your countenance that you were to make your fortune; I 
have said to myself a hundred times when looking at you: I 
observe in the look of that girl, I know not what that will 
please me at a future period."

"Nevertheless, when six months ago you turned me out of doors!"

"I was angry. They wanted to make me believe that my wife-"

"Apropos, I am very anxious to know in what manner you have 
discovered her being innocent of the charge, for innocent she 
was. Is it not so?"

"I am certain she was, and, remember, I always maintained it."

"You have."

"But I would wish to hear from your own mouth, how you have 
acquired the proofs!"

"Why, Madame de B*** was compelled to supply me with all the 
information requisite. Listen to the narrative."

What the Marquis was going to say, must, in every respect, 
excite my lively curiosity; I therefore listened with redoubled 
attention.

"In the first place, M. du Portail has no children, that is 
true. Mademoiselle de Faublas, who is a very giddy, presuming 
young lady, had taken his name, to go to a ball in male attire. 
It is truly with Mademoiselle de Faublas, that the Marchioness 
got acquainted; and it is equally true, that it was Mademoiselle 
de Faublas who slept in my wife's bed. You, as you have at the 
time, repeated it to me a hundred times, know something about 
it."

"Certainly! I undressed her!"

"Besides, it was shocking in me to suspect that the Marchioness 
could so suddenly throw herself at the head of a young man whom 
she did not know. But let me mention to you a circumstance that 
I have recollected since, and which I shall take great care 
never to inform Madame de B*** of. My countenance produced upon 
the young person its ordinary effect: the lively damsel had just 
permitted me to pay her a visit in the night. I entered my 
wife's apartment; and in the dark, gently ran my hand over the 
bosom of the young girl-why by Jove, a male's bosom is of 
another make! You laugh!"

"Yes, I do laugh, because, because I think that Madame at that 
moment might have felt your hand, for she was in bed."

"Oh she was fast asleep; and most unluckily I made a noise, 
which awoke her too soon."

"Ah! Ah! So that quite on the contrary, it was close to the 
child, who, perhaps, still continued asleep."

"She did sleep."

"It was close to her that you kissed your wife."

"Exactly so, my little queen. It was not to be presumed that I 
had come there for nothing; besides, it would have been offering 
a kind of insult to the Marchioness if I had gone away without 
fulfilling my conjugal duty."

"I am very much astonished at Madame permitting such a thing on 
that moment! You must confess that decency-"

"The Marchioness that night was in a humour for it, because-"

"My dear love, I can bear witness that he tells a fib. Faublas! 
Pity me." [Said Madame B***]

"The jealous Marchioness," M. de B*** was saying when I listened 
to him again: "She is jealous, indeed, enough to frighten one!"

"Those are two substantial proofs, M. le Marquis, that it was 
Mademoiselle de Faublas!"

"But have you not some others besides?"

"Most assuredly: there was one which I had forgotten; it was 
Madame de B*** who recalled it to my memory: on the day 
following, we saw the supposed Mademoiselle du Portail home. She 
was obliged to take us to her pretended father; but there we 
found her real father, who used her as a young lady whose 
conduct is not very regular deserves to be treated. So that now 
I know that Baron de Faublas, I have had twice an opportunity of 
examining his disposition and his physiognomy; he is a hot-
headed, passionate, and sometimes a brutal man, a man who is 
incapable of paying any regard. If it had been the young man 
whom he had brought home so disguised, he would have cried out 
as at the commissary's: 'He is my son!'"

"So then it was Mademoiselle du Portail who came at night in the 
male attire, and the next day-"

"The next day? No, it was her brother"

"Her brother, I know. But have you been told why?"

"Because M. de Rosambert insisted upon his playing that foul 
trick. M. de Rosambert had his reasons, he was in love with my 
wife, and enraged at meeting with repeated rebuffs, wished to be 
revenged. He accordingly disepatched to the Marchioness the 
Chevalier, dressed in his sister's clothes; and availing himself 
of the circumstance, came in the evening, abused my wife in a 
most shocking manner, using such language as might create 
strange suspicions against her! I do not remember the particular 
details of that scene; my memory is rather shallow, except when 
physiognomies-but the Marchioness has assisted me, and I 
recollect that, in toto, the scene was dreadful. This behaviour 
of Rosambert, I think, was infamous; never will I keep company 
with the Count again so long as I live, or if ever I meet him, 
if he were to speak a word to me, believe me, Justine, I would 
challenge him."

"Do not attempt it! your lover would be frightened to death!"

"My lover! Whom do you mean?"

"Me."

"Well! Very well spoken!"

"Pray inform me, likewise, M. le Marquis-I beg your pardon for 
asking you so many questions-you must be sensible that I am 
delighted at finding that you no longer suspect either your lady 
or me, for you imagined that I had been telling you a pack of 
idle tales. What became of Mademoiselle de Faublas?"

"Mademoiselle Faublas! She began by forming an intimate 
connection with M. de Rosambert, and, after that, with others. 
She had appointments with this one, and that one, I am very 
positive, I found a letter which she had left in a certain 
place; and I have met the young person herself in a tête-a-tête 
in the vicinity of the Bois de Boulogne. The result of all these 
intrigues was, what might be expected, a child."

"A child, say you?"

"Yes, a child, I am sure of that too; I saw her in the family-
way, round, getting plump, with the physiognomy of a woman who-
am I not a true connoisseur? She then would hide herself under 
the name of Ducange, in the Hôtel of the Faubourg Saint Honoré. 
Notwithstanding these precautions, the father could not continue 
any longer ignorant of his daughter's loose conduct; and called 
a family meeting, the relatives, in order to secure the family 
from disgrace, came to a decision: the brother was appointed to 
show himself, from time to time, in public, in female attire, 
which would enable them to have it rumoured that it was the 
Chevalier de Faublas, and not his sister, who had frequented the 
ballrooms in divers disguises. M. du Portail was so 
condescending as to agree to that arrangement. So that 
slanderers have been imposed upon and silenced, with the 
exception however of Rosambert and two or three other bucks, who 
will never be made to believe that the damsel was a male. But 
what is truly abominable in this affair, he added in a 
mysterious tone, is, that they have procured abortion; if not, 
it must have been in consequence of some accident that the young 
person was brought to bed before her time. I am certain, at 
least, that they have hastened to exhibit her in the public 
walks. The day on which I met her in the Tuileries, she looked 
pale, thin, and emaciated. Consider, however, how many accidents 
combined on that day to bias my physiognomical knowledge. I find 
the young lady much altered; in a low voice, I congratulated her 
on her recovery; the father, who stood behind, heard me; 
exasperated at my being in the secret, he flew in a rage; the 
young man joined the group; and as it was the first time that I 
saw the brother by the side of the sister, was struck at their 
amazing likeness. The Chevalier called the Baron his father; the 
father cried out that M. du Portail had no children; M. du 
Portail told me the lie he had engaged to tell, and affirmed 
that it was the Chevalier who had always sported the cursed 
disguise. I then, bewildered by so many mistakes, and being very 
ticklish when my honour is at stake, flew into a passion, gave 
credit to their sayings in preference to my own eyes, accused my 
wife, and, what is still carrying matters further, I accused the 
physiognomical science and her of having deceived me. Madman-
like, I challenged the Chevalier, who has not been connected 
with the Marchioness, since he scarcely knew her; who was not, 
nor ever will be connected with her; neither he, nor any other. 
Nevertheless, the young man, interested in maintaining the 
contest, which had become a family business, entered into no 
kind of explanation. He accepted my challenge, and on the next 
day-"

The Marquis went on speaking; but as I had heard all I wished to 
know, I ceased listening to him. A more pressing interest 
commanded a sweeter occupation. Madame de B***, in a posture 
unfavourable for an attack, and by no means convenient for the 
defence; apprehensive, besides, of being overheard, dared hardly 
stir, and to my rapidly multiplied efforts could oppose but a 
very short resistance. So that, indeed, when after a few minutes 
had expired, her delighted husband repeated: "The Chevalier 
never has, never will; neither he nor others!"

I was very near carrying my point. The Marchioness herself 
seemed conscious of my approaching victory, since she addressed 
me in the supplicating tone of a woman who only wished to retard 
her defeat: "A moment! My dear friend," she said; "I only beg of 
you to grant me one single moment! Faublas! I had imagined you 
were susceptible of showing me more generosity!

"Heroism, my beauteous mamma, you should have said, would be 
wanted!"

"Cruel man! Will you refuse me one moment? Faublas, my beloved, 
let me have time to ascertain whether I am not in extreme 
danger; you would not wish to expose me! Let me know whether, 
upon hearing the least noise, they cannot come and surprise us? 
Where are they?"

"At supper."

"Make sure of it!"

"How can I?"

"Look."

"Where through?"

"The keyhole."

"That is no easy matter; there is not room to stoop."

"Try. They are at table."

"How do they sit?"

"Justine sits facing-"

"The cupboard?"

"Yes."

"And the Marquis?"

"Why he turns his back to us."

I had hardly done speaking, when the Marchioness, quick as 
lightning, disengaged herself from my arms, pushed our door open 
with violence, hurried out of the cupboard, rushed towards the 
table, which she overturned, and I could see no more. The door 
of the cupboard had been closed again, the lights were 
extinguished; but, stupefied as I was, I could hear the report 
of half-dozen slaps of the face given by the Marchioness, who, 
in a firm tone of voice, spoke as follows: "It becomes you well, 
indeed, insignificant little creature, whom I have raised from 
the dust and poverty, who, had it not been for me, would still 
be tending the pigs in your native village, and whom I might, 
with a single word, send back again to your dunghill; it becomes 
you well to forget the respect you owe to your benefactress, and 
to make her private conduct the topic of your secret 
conversation. I especially find you very bold to presume to 
seduce my husband to your libertine association.

"And you, sir; is it thus you repay my unbounded attachment? I 
had suspected that some projects of conquests brought you to 
Longchamps! I have had you followed, you have been seen! I have 
seen you myself go, without being put to the blush, to swell the 
shameful number of the followers of a courtesan, and in the 
crowd of her lovers, sue for the honour of obtaining the 
preference; you have been seen also conversing for a long time 
with a young man, to whom, if you had paid the least regard to 
me, you never should have spoken in public, nor even in private! 
You have been seen to return to console this nymph for the 
little accident which her impudence had been the occasion of, 
and fially preparing to bring her back in triumph to her home."

"Mademoiselle, whoever makes a trade of selling her person to 
the first comer, must expect to have no other servants but such 
as may be bribed by any newcomer; I have had yours generously 
paid; they have not refused to let me know your direction, and 
one of them has concealed me in this room, where I trembled, 
sir, from fear of seeing you enter the place soon with your 
mistress. However, I was determined this once at any price to 
obtain a certain proof of your daily infidelities; I had even 
made up my mind to leave my place of confinement only to 
surprise in bed my unworthy rival and my perfidious husband.

"I have not had patience enough to wait so long; besides you 
have spared me the trouble; neither do I wonder at it. This 
pretty lady is so deserving of your eager embraces! However, 
make yourself easy; I will be angry no more with either her or 
you; I already repent having been so violent against this girl. 
In future I shall know, upon similar occasions, how to retain 
more tranquillity; or, rather, this scene I promise you will be 
the last which the jealous Marchioness will ever indulge in; 
nay, to continue using your own very obliging expressions, my 
adorations will no longer fatigue you. At any rate, since at 
present I am informed that it was the mere desire of not 
insulting me that induced you to honour me sometimes with what 
you are pleased to call the conjugal duty, I need not repeat, 
through complaisance, what I have already told you with great 
moderation, that it was to me the most indifferent thing in the 
world. It is proper I should declare to you that I have truly 
immolated myself every time I have been compelled to discharge 
that duty, and that from this moment I think myself entirely 
dispensed from ever fulfilling it again. Little do I care for 
the weaker sex being interdicted, through a tyrannical custom, 
the sad and last resource against the offences of the strongest. 
I acknowledge no laws except those that are just; and no just 
laws but those which admit equality. It is too abominable to see 
the numerous acts of a husband's perfidiousness applauded, when 
the wife is disgraced for committing one single act of weakness. 
It is too shocking to think that I should have been condemned to 
perish broken-hearted in ignominious confinement, for idolising 
a lover the most deserving of my affections, and that I am bound 
to receive the embraces of an unworthy husband, on his leaving 
the arms of a prostitute! I swear it shall never take place. 
Remember, Marquis, the day on which false rumours and your 
odious suspicions accused me! Had I not justified myself, right 
or wrong, right or wrong," repeated she, with great firmness, 
"had I not justified myself, had I not convinced you of my 
innocence, you were going to exercise your right-the right of 
the strongest party. You already apprised me that our bonds were 
broken, that I was to be confined for life in a dreary prison. 
Well, sir, you pronounced on that day against yourself, for the 
offence you have been guilty of this day, not the sentence of 
your captivity, there are no convents for the reception of men 
in cases of this sort, but the sentence of our separation. You 
have just been signing that verdict, there on Justine's sofa. 
Madame de B*** protests it will be so, and you must know that 
Madame de B***'s resolutions never vary. I shall live in 
celibacy, but I shall live free; I shall no longer be the 
property, the slave, the tool of anyone; I shall belong to 
myself alone. You, Monsieur le Marquis, more happy still than 
before, will have, without any constraint, a hundred mistresses 
at a time, if you choose; all the women who will love you, and 
all the girls that may please you: this one excepted, however. I 
do not wish this one to be a gainer from your generosity: that 
is the only vengeance I will exercise. I shall only warn her 
that if she happens, were it but once, to receive you in her 
house, I will have her immured without mercy in a dungeon.

"You think Mademoiselle, I am doing you irreparable injury, 
don't you?

"Be comforted," she added, in a tone that must have given 
Justine to comprehend the true meaning of those equivocal words; 
"continue charming, clever, and faithful. Other people, richer 
and more liberal, will indemnify you with regard to wealth, for 
the loss of M. le Marquis. Others, believe me, will amply reward 
you for this indispensable sacrifice. I flatter myself, sir, 
that you will condescend to hand me downstairs, and return home 
with me."



XXVI.

"Yes, I comprehend you, Madame la Marquise," cried out Justine, 
on her return from conducting as far as her antechamber, the 
Marquis and his lady, and thinking herself alone: "I understand 
you! You will indemnify me for this sacrifice; well and good I 
shall be better of on that account, because then I may retain M. 
de Valbrun."

Whilst Madame de Montdesir was going on with her soliloquy, I 
continued in the cupboard; there I stood, wondering at all that 
had taken place, at all that I had just heard. Justine, 
meanwhile, burst out laughing: "They are gone," she said, "now 
let me enjoy it at liberty in full. What a good scene! When 
shall I see the Chevalier, to recount to him this? Ah what a 
remarkable good scene! How the deuce could I have guessed that 
woman was here in this cupboard?" She opened it, and found me 
there.

"What! This other too! Great God! Oh! My stars! I shall burst! I 
thought it was a good scene! This will make it much pleasanter 
still! So then, M. le Chevalier, you were in the secret! You had 
matched us! The Marquis, however, only loved me through 
reprisals! In fact, since you were shut up in that cupboard for 
an hour, side by side, face to face! M. le Chevalier, you have!-
you have not suffered to escape so propitious an opportunity of 
claiming your rights?"

"Justine, don't mention it: you see me still amazed at her 
presence of mind, at her successful boldness! It was by a 
diabolical trick, a womanly cunning, that she deprived me, 
robbed me of a victory which I thought was certain!"

"I am sorry for it, it would have been more droll still. It is 
comical enough, however, as it is. I invited the husband to 
chat, just as if his wife had been at a thousand miles distance, 
as if I had guessed that you, M. de Faublas, were quite near. Do 
you know that I heard him tell some very excellent things! 
Neither is what I have made him do, so much amiss-there-almost 
under the eyes of his wife-a revenge from heaven! For it was 
also under the eyes of her husband, that the virtuous lady once 
idolised you, as she just now, most pleasantly, gave the Marquis 
to understand. Ah! She is a masterly woman! She has been making 
him dreadful declarations! He has been forced to hear harsh 
truths. Poor man! She did not allow him time to recover his 
proper senses. I wished you had witnessed as I did, what a 
figure he looked, with his eye-brows sticking up, his mouth 
gaping, and his eyes stupidly staring; I dare say he will not be 
able to utter a single word before he reaches his home. What 
occasions me a lively pleasure," added Madame de Montdesir, 
"weighing in each hand a purse full of gold, is that I shall get 
rich if this should continue; the husband pays to caress, and 
the wife to beat me."

"How so?"

"Yes, that one I earned on my sofa, this the Marchioness just 
now, while the lights were out, very dexterously gave me with 
one hand, while with the other, she gave me a few little slaps 
on the face, which occasioned me more fright than they did me 
hurt. M. le Chevalier, if your Countess would at least pay for 
the blows she strikes-"

"Justine, never speak to me of the Countess, and rather try, if 
you wish we should continue friends."

"I will do everything in my power to gain that end," she 
interrupted, jumping to embrace me. "Come! Do you want proofs of 
my sincerity? Stop here; in fact I was not intended to sleep 
alone to-night, and without pretending to pay you any 
compliment, I shall think myself a great gainer by the change."

"Justine, I believe they are now far enough, and that I may go 
down without danger. Good night."

"What! Are you in earnest! What has become of your love for me?"

"That love, my pretty, has been gone several days since!"

"Ah! Then try to call it back one of these mornings," she said, 
negligently looking at herself in a glass over the chimney-
piece, and if it should return, you may return with it, and will 
always be welcome. But before you go, at least eat a morsel."

"A morsel? True, indeed, I am half starved! But no, it is 
getting late; my father must be uneasy: adieu, Madame de 
Montdesir."

As soon as I appeared at the door of the hôtel, the Swiss called 
out: "Here he comes! Here he is," hallooed Jasmin on the stair-
case.

"Is he not wounded?" asked the Baron, who ran to meet me."

"No, father; so then you saw me in the crowd with the Marquis de 
B***?"

"Yes, I did see you; in vain did I attempt to force my passage 
through the throng to join you; I have been returned home these 
three hours, and nothing could equal my inquietude. What has 
happened to you? How has your antagonist detained you so long?"

"I shall tell you: when we were able to withdraw from the 
brouhahas of the multitude, we were both very warm-"

"Have you killed him?"

"No, father, but he has forced me-"

"Another dreadful affair! Another duel!"

"Not at all, father, you won't let me finish: he forced me to 
follow him as far as Saint Cloud, to a friend's be has there, 
and who gave us refreshments"

"Refreshments!"

"Yes, father; M. de B*** is sorry he has quarrelled with me; he 
cannot be comforted for having done so without a cause; he has 
begged my pardon twenty times; he loves me, he honours you, and 
has desired me to assure you of his sincere esteem."

Upon hearing those last words, my father endeavoured to retain 
his gravity; but unable to succeed, he turned his back to me. 
Madame de Fonrose, who had not the same reasons to use 
constraint, laughed most heartily. She winked at me, to give me 
to comprehend where I had taken refreshments. The Baroness took 
her leave of us when her laughing fit was over. "I leave you 
before it gets late," she said, "because I must get up very 
early tomorrow, to go to the castle of the little Countess."

I can't tell whether Madame de Fonrose was more early than 
Madame de B***, but I was called up before seven to receive a 
note from Justine.
Monsieur le Chevalier 
M. the Vicomte de Florville is now with me; and dictates 
what I am writing. He is very sorry he was prevented, by 
more pressing business, telling me yesterday, in your 
presence, what he thinks of my behaviour towards the 
Countess. A girl, situated as I am, must have lost the use 
of her senses, to have been so audacious as to insult in 
public a lady of her rank. My nonsensical imprudence might 
also have exposed M. de Florville, for, had you not known 
him so well, you, M. le Chevalier, might have suspected him 
of having had his share in my odious proceeding. 
Nevertheless, M. le Vicomte has forgiven me; but he 
questions your being disposed to show me the like 
indulgence; and he apprises me, that if you refuse 
pardoning me, neither the patronage of M. de Valbrun, nor 
other more powerful considerations, will prevent my going 
tonight to sleep at --. M. de Florville kindly condescends 
to spare me the humiliation of writing the word omitted. 
I remain, with repentance, fear, and respect, etc. 
MONTDESIR."

I replied as follows:
Present my respectful homage to M. le Vicomte, assure him, 
my poor child, of all my gratitude; but tell him that he is 
uneasy in his mind without a cause; that I never could have 
taken it into my head that he were capable of using such 
means as those that were adopted yesterday, and by a woman 
of your description, to chagrin Madame la Comtesse. Do not 
fail adding, that I forgive you on account of the threefold 
consideration of the cut from a whip, of your fall, and of 
the slaps you received yesterday. So much said, fare thee 
well, my dear!"

Meanwhile, in the midst of the most extraordinary events which 
seemed to follow each other so close, purposely to be conducive 
to my speedy convalescence, by not allowing me to think of my 
actual situation, I enjoyed a moment of repose, which I 
consecrated entirely to my Sophia. Oh, my Sophia! Oh, my wife! 
No less cherished, and evermore regretted, when wilt thou come, 
by thy presence, to diminish and to annul the lively impressions 
which the tenderness and charms of thy rivals produce on the 
mind and heart of your still young husband, too weak to resist 
so many trials? But what have I been saying?-of thy rivals? 
Sophia, in truth, thou hast one only! That one, I cannot do 
otherwise: I must adore-and at least-at least, I will most 
certainly love alone!"

But what can mortal man oppose to destiny? My persecuting 
genius, at the very moment when I was forming the wisest 
resolutions, was preparing to impose upon me, as a law, several 
new infidelities, for the perpetration of which it will be seen 
I am not, without the greatest degree of injustice, to be found 
guilty of.

Madame de Fonrose, whom I thought was already at a great 
distance, came at twelve o'clock, to inform us that a slight 
indisposition having kept her in town, she was come to dine with 
us; and it was immediately agreed, that as soon as our dinner 
was over, we should go to the Tuileries. I declined joining the 
party.

Before we sat down to table, Madame de Fonrose, whom my father 
left alone with me for a few moments, said to me: You were right 
to refuse going with us; leap for joy, you will see Madame de 
Lignolle this evening."

"Is it possible?"

"Listen to me, and thank your friend. As I was sitting at my 
dressing-table this morning, a humorous idea occurred to my 
mind: I ran to impart it to the Countess; but ever too hasty, 
she was already gone. I then applied to the old aunt! I told 
Madame d'Armincour, that Mademoiselle de Brumont having but a 
moment obtained the unexpected leave of going to Gatinois, had 
dispatched me to request of Madame la Marquise to postpone her 
departure for a few hours, and to give her a seat in her 
carriage."

"In hers! And why not in yours?"

"A fine question! Because I sacrifice myself, in order that you 
may go, I must not. When the concert is over, I shall take the 
Baron home with me; and, that I may keep him there, I shall use 
means which I leave you to guess, young man! The Baron will 
oppose so much the less resistance, as knowing that Madame de 
Lignolle is absent, he cannot plead the danger of leaving you 
master of your own actions. M. de Belcourt will stop, I promise 
you; I even engage to keep him with me tomorrow, the whole of 
the day. I shall manage matters so, that he will not go home 
before midnight; try you to return by nine, that you can. 
Immediately after dinner, which I have had got ready at an early 
hour, your father and I will be off. Agatha then will come and 
dress you. That done, pop into a hackney-coach, and drive in 
great haste to Madame d'Armincour's. Don't lose her direction, 
and fear nothing.

"It will be six, perhaps, when you set off; but you will be time 
enough yet to spend a good night with the Countess. In the 
morning, you will assist at the festival, seated by the side of 
Madame de Lignolle, who most likely will be rather inclined to 
take a nap than to receive company. But there is no pleasure to 
be procured without some drawback: methinks I see her little 
face turned pale and fatigued, which will appear to you more 
interesting in consequence. However, have a little patience! You 
also will have your punishment to endure, for a lover like 
Faublas has always a good appetite. Notwithstanding, sir, you 
must quit the grand dinner! I am very sorry for it. At two 
o'clock precisely step into your post-chaise-do not fail, 
Chevalier! Do not yield to the solicitations of your giddy 
mistress, to expose her, disoblige me, and deprive yourself 
forever of the resources which such a friend as I am has in 
reserve for you-a friend-"

My father returning, the Baroness was compelled to change her 
conversation. At first, everything passed as smoothly as Madame 
de Fonrose had foretold. Before five o'clock, Faublas was 
disguised: at five precisely, Mademoiselle de Brumont scarcely 
applied the tip of her lips to the pointed chin of the old 
Marchioness, who returned the pretended kiss with a truly 
chagrining tardiness, and casting upon her a look which a tender 
curiosity seemed to animate. To make amends, Mademoiselle de 
Brumont gave a free embrace to a certain tall, slender, well-
made girl, who exhibited on her youthful countenance the 
brilliant hue of nature and pudicity.

"Madame la Marquise, this is a very pretty young lady!"

"She is Mademoiselle de Mésanges, a cousin to your friend. I 
have just fetched her from her convent to take her to the 
festival. Apropos of festival, you were not at Longchamps 
yesterday then with the Countess?"

"No, Madame. I am really delighted at Miss joining our party!"

"I saw somebody there that looked very much like you, resumed 
the tiresome gossip."

"Where, Madame?"

"At Longchamps."

"That may be."

"She is truly a sweet creature. It is high time that she should 
get married!"

"We are thinking of getting a husband for her," replied the 
dowager.

"And you, mademoiselle?" I asked.

"I," returned the innocent girl, and casting down her eyes, and 
crossing, with an embarrassed air, her hands, lower than her 
bosom: "Me! Why! That is no business of mine; I have been told, 
however, that I should be informed; and I have begged to hear of 
it when it was time."

"Yes, yes," exclaimed the Marchioness, we will let you know. 
Mademoiselle de Brumont here will speak to you. My old girl, you 
will speak to her, won't you? I do not wish she should meet with 
such a misfortune as has befallen my poor niece; it might so 
happen; indeed, she is totally ignorant," she added quite low, 
"she knows of nothing! I entrust you with the care of 
instructing her."

"With a deal of pleasure."

"Not yet, however, but when the time is come, I beseech you to 
employ your whole abilities."

"Madame la Marquise, you may rely upon me."

"Yes, I doubt not but I shall always find you disposed to render 
me services of the kind. I assuredly do not know of a girl more 
obliging than you are."

We departed, and as we were stepping into the carriage, I could 
not help making this observation, namely, that Mademoiselle de 
Mésanges had a pretty leg, and a very small foot.

As we were on the road, I had many an opportunity also of 
discovering, through a thin gauze, something very pretty. 
Neither could I abstain thinking, within myself, that he must be 
a fortunate mortal who was intended first to see that rising 
breast to palpitate with pleasure. It was with a deep 
mortification, however, that I soon made another discovery. I 
could read on the countenance of the young person, I know not 
what, less attractive than natural pleasing modesty, more 
senseless than plain ingenuity, a certain, I know not what, 
which seemed to apprise me, that love, so quick in general in 
enlightening the mind of a young girl, would be at great pains 
to innoculate a little wit into this one's.

However, whether through instinct or sympathy, Mademoiselle de 
Mésanges seemed already to be very partial to me, when we 
arrived at the castle. Everybody was asleep, one waiting woman 
alone sat up to wait for the Marchioness. The Countess had taken 
care to keep her own apartment for her dearest relatives: her 
aunt was to occupy her bed; she had ordered another to be put up 
for her young cousin, in the adjacent closet; that closet with a 
glass door, whither the reader will recollect that I have 
promised to bring him back more than once. With regard to 
Mademoiselle de Brumont, as she was not expected, there was no 
room kept for her in the whole castle, not one bed but what was 
occupied. Every year, at the period of this festival, generally 
brilliant, the Marchioness was in the habit of receiving her 
whole family; and this once, as will often happen in the 
country, some friends with them. The first word I spoke was to 
have the Countess called up. The old Marchioness was nearly 
falling in a passion; it was not becoming, she said, to have the 
rest of her child disturbed, young folks might sleep together, 
and not die in consequence of a bad night! The young damsel 
looked at me with a frown: I was a naughty girl to wish to have 
her cousin called up: would it not be more amusing to chatter 
together all night, than to go and sleep separately in a bed?

Oh, my Eleanor! I give you my word of honour that 
notwithstanding the bad night with which the aunt threatened me, 
notwithstanding the interesting conversation that your cousin 
promised to treat me with, I insisted upon going to you; but the 
Marchioness then, quite in an ill humour, absolutely forbade the 
waiting-woman showing me your apartment, and immediately gave 
her the tremendous order to undress us all three. Could I, tell 
me, go through the numerous galleries of the immense castle in 
search, from door to door, of the mistress, and awaken the whole 
company at two in the morning? Observe, besides, that the very 
expeditious maid already stripped your old aunt of all her 
wearing apparel, and could not be long in coming to me. Under 
what pretence, however, could I refuse her very dangerous 
services? Confess, my Eleanor, confess with a good grace, that I 
was obliged immediately to yield consent.

I hastened to undress myself, ran to the closet; and had already 
placed my foot in the very little bed in which the Demoiselles 
de Mésanges and de Brumont would certainly have found it 
difficult to procure room enough for them both for a whole 
night.

But, oh, heavens! What a thunderbolt comes to crush me? The 
cursed old woman has altered her mind! Most likely recollecting 
the talent I am possessed of in explaining everything, she has 
apprehended lest I should make a premature use of it with her 
Agnes. "No, though," she cried to me, in a hoarse voice, "upon 
second thoughts, it is with me you will come to bed."

Everyone may guess how I objected to the proposal; but it is 
proper I should conceal from no one that the young miss was no 
less hurt at this proposition than myself! "What, my kind 
cousin, for fear we should be a little incommoded, would you 
expose yourself to spend a bad night?"

"Do not be afraid of that, Mésanges; you know that I sleep very 
sound; nothing prevents my enjoying a good night's rest."

"How! Madame la Marchioness, would you show me such excessive 
kindness as to allow me to incommode you?"

"Not in the least, my angel, you will not incommode me at all; I 
observe that this bed is very large; you will see, we shall be 
very comfortable!"

That is exactly what I did not wish to ascertain. I attempted to 
repeat my caressing solicitations; but a positive "I insist upon 
it," closed my mouth.

Now, quicker still and more cruelly than before, I was forced to 
immolate myself: I was in my shift! If, however, you do not 
perceive at first sight, what I found very troublesome; if I am 
obliged to describe in its whole extent the state of extreme 
embarrassment in which I stood, how shall I manage not to 
violate in some degree austere modesty. You, readers, who are in 
want of penetration, show me at least some indulgence. Who among 
you, standing in my place, could have acted better than I did? I 
was obliged, as I had so many eyes upon me, to make the best of 
it; I was at a loss in what way to screen myself, but that 
presence of mind which had been called into action on so many 
occasions, now enabled me to cover with my hands all that was 
necessary to be concealed, without being confused. Mademoiselle 
de Brumont, in order to screen Faublas from all eyes, was 
therefore reduced to make the best of a bad bargain, to obey 
promptly; she was compelled, without any further deliberation, 
to leave the narrow couch of a novice maiden, to hurry into the 
wide bed, in which soon after a dame of about sixty years of age 
came to stretch herself down by the side of her.

Ah! Pity Faublas, pity him I never was he placed in a more 
chagrining situation. Yes, in this same bed, a fortnight back, I 
suffered less, when, undeserving of the affection of two lovers, 
I felt, under the eyes of the Countess and of the Marchioness, 
near dying from extreme weakness; whereas on the present day it 
is my recruited health that causes my apprehensions, and makes 
me miserable! How then! Can a sexagenarian, by the only reason 
that she is a female, kindle within my breast those devouring 
fires?"

But is it not rather because through a too thin partition, the 
nubile attractions of that child cause me still to feel their 
burning influence?

"Draw nearer, my darling, draw close to me," would my bed fellow 
say tenderly.

"No, Madame la Marchioness, no, it would disturb your sleep."

"You will never disturb me, my dear soul, I never feel too warm 
in bed."

"Well! Heat incommodes me."

"Why, that I believe is very possible! At your time of life I 
was the same."

"I don't doubt it. I have the honour to wish you a good night, 
Madame la Marchioness."

"I was like you, and when M. d'Armincour was pleased to sleep by 
himself, he did me service."

"Very well! Madame la Marchioness, I wish you good night."

"He rendered me a service truly when he would leave me "after 
having fulfilled his duty, that is understood-and I must do him 
justice, while be was young he complied easily to perform it. 
Oh! He was no M. de Lignolle! I wish you joy upon the occasion."

"I believe, Madame la Marchioness, it is getting late."

"Not too late. Come nearer, my pretty"

"I can't hear what you say,"

"What! Do you turn your back to me?"

"I do, because, because I can only sleep on my left side."

"The side of the heart! That is singular! It must check the 
circulation."

"To be sure it does, but habit-"

"Habit, my sweet, you are right! Now me for instance, since I 
was married; that is a long time ago."

"I don't doubt it."

"I have got into the habit of always laying so as I do now, and 
never could break myself of it."

"Perhaps that is so much the better for you, for the posture is 
not a bad one. Madame la Marquise, I have the honour to wish you 
a good night."

"You are very sleepy then?"

"I warrant you I am."

"Well then, my little heart, please yourself, there is plenty of 
room-but where is she gone? Quite on the edge of the bed"

She made a great motion: if my hand had not stopped hers, my 
stars! What would have been the consequence!

"Ah! Madame, pray don't touch me, you would make me jump to the 
skies."

"But, my chicken, don't get out of bed; I only wanted to feel 
where you were. Come in again."

"Take care"

"You must be very ticklish, my little dear?"

"Prodigiously so! Good night, Madame."

"So am I too. I don't know whether that is another habit. What 
do you think of it?"

"I don't believe it is."

"But, my dear, take care, you will fall."

"No."

"Whence proceeds this obstinacy? Wherefore not come near me? 
There is more room than is wanted."

"'Tis because I-I can't touch anything! If I were only to feel 
accidentally the tip of your finger, I should faint away."

"Zooks! that is a bad disorder. What will you do, then, when you 
get married?"

"I will not marry. I have the honour to wish you a good night, 
Madame la Marchioness."

"How could you have laid in that horse bedstead, by the side of 
young Mésanges?"

"You are right; I could not have laid quiet, Madame la Marquise; 
I wish you a good night."

"What o'clock may it be?"

"I don't know, Madame; but I wish you a good night."

At length the gossip became willing to let me hear, in my turn, 
that "good night "so pressingly solicited; but rejoice, Faublas, 
rejoice, thou wert not the only one who sighed for it.

As soon as the Marchioness had begun to snore, for there was 
that agreeable additional charm in the company of my charming 
bed companion, that she was heard to snore like a man, 
methought, that in a low voice I was addressed in the following 
words: "My dear friend!" I fancied it was a sport of my 
imagination; yet I lifted up my head, and watched for the least 
noise: a moment after "My dear friend" saluted my ears a second 
time.

"My dear friend, tell me yourself, what is the matter? Can you 
sleep?"

"No, indeed, I cannot."

"Nor I, neither, my dear; whence comes that? Whence?"

"Because, my dear, as you were saying not long since, it would 
be more amusing to have a little chat together."

"If you think so, come then."

"With all my heart, but the Marchioness?"

"My cousin? Ah! When she snores it is a sign that she is 
asleep."

"I believe you."

"And she sleeps in good earnest when she is asleep. Come my 
dear; come, then, you have nothing to fear."

"Ah! As I have told you, with all my heart, my dear, but your 
door is locked!"

"Certainly! My door is always locked, without that precaution I 
should be afraid."

"How, then, would you have me get in?"

"Why! It was not me who locked the door."

"I do not say it was you."

"It was not me, because I have not perceived at all that I was 
frightened at you, my dear."

"You are very kind, my dearest; but here I am, standing at your 
door, and rather thinly clad to hold a conversation."

"Ah! but it is the Marchioness who has locked me in."

"That does not prevent my beginning to feel cold."

"Ah! but the Marchioness has put the key in her pocket."

"Why, but I have not got her pocket"

"My dear, you can find it in the dark."

"In the dark, dear; well, I will feel for it."

"Do, my beloved; nearly at the foot of the bed, on the second 
armchair, on the left hand side; I have seen her place her 
pockets there."

"Why, my dear, did you not tell me so before?"

Without making the least noise, I found the armchair, the 
pocket, the key, and the keyhole. I found my dear friend, who 
received me into her bed to chat; my good friend who, to warm 
me, threw herself into my arms, and pressed me to her bosom. 
What a sweet child!

You, Goddess of my history I and of all the histories in the 
world, you who have condescended to take up my pen when I was 
necessitated to relate, in a decent style, the ticklish debates 
between the aunt and niece, the delicate multiplied questions 
the amorous instructions lavished upon the latter, O Clio! 
Worthy Clio, come! Come this day to describe the astonishment of 
the cousin, her first inquietudes, and her sweet errors! Come to 
recount something else! Come! The recital which I have further 
to make is, perhaps, more surprising, and more difficult than 
any of those I could not hitherto dispense gratifying public 
curiosity with.

For some minutes past we had been conversing most amicably, and 
I began to get warm again; a short time only elapsed when our 
conversation was interrupted by Mademoiselle de Mésanges, who 
made a start backward."

"What are you frightened at, my beloved?"

"Why, but both your hands are here on my neck, and yet I have 
felt-I felt something that seemed very strange to me!"

"Do you wonder at that? It is because-"

"I am fit to be married."

"My dearest dear, what shall I say to you? You have not hitherto 
been informed, because you are still too young."

"Ah! Since it must be so," replied my novice, "the Marchioness 
will have no occasion to inform me; so great a change will not 
take place without my being sensible of it."

"Yes, I laugh, I think they are playing their tricks upon my 
good friend Des Rieux."

"A good friend of your convent!"

"Yes."

"With whom you go and chat in the night?"

"When they forget locking me up."

"They are playing tricks with that young lady?"

"Certainly. They tell her every day that she is properly formed; 
I plainly see that is not true, and that it is because they 
expect something that they unceasingly postpone her marriage 
under divers pretences."

"Probably. How old is she?"

"Sixteen."

"Oh! too young still"

"But I am almost eighteen."

"And it is a long time since you have been fit to be married!"

"A twelve month, or nearly so."

"I suppose you do not tell anyone that you converse at night 
with that young miss?"

"I am not such a simpleton; they would soon deprive me of the 
means of doing so again."

"You, therefore, will beware of telling them that I came to have 
a little chat with you this night?"

"Don't be afraid. Apropos, there is a something that puzzles 
both Des Rieux and me vastly; you, certainly, my dear, will tell 
us what a man is!"

"A man! I would give anything in the world, my dearest, to 
know."

"Would you? Well enter the same agreement as Des Rieux and I 
have."

"What is it?"

"The first of us two who gets married, is to come the next day 
to tell the other all about it."

"Trust me, I join in the convention!"

"My good friend, you embrace me much in a like manner to what 
Des Rieux does, and I don't know, but it seems to me as if it 
occasioned me more pleasure still."

"That proceeds, most likely, from my loving you better than she 
does."

"My dearest dear!"

"What is the matter?"

What did she wish to do with my hand, which she seized on a 
sudden, saying: "Embrace me then, my dear beloved, as Des Rieux 
does!"

"Not quite in the same manner, my dear I but in a little better 
one, perhaps!"

Although I did not cease protesting that all would soon be over, 
that the most difficult part of the business was already gone 
through, the young person, subsequent to her uttering some 
gentle screams, which she endeavoured to stifle, could not 
finally suppress a piercing shriek. I shall not tell what 
occasioned her pain; but I think I have mentioned above, that 
Mademoiselle de Mésanges had a very little foot.

Was it not a very cruel thing for me to be obliged to leave the 
field of battle precisely at the moment when victory was 
declaring in my favour? I however, was forced so to do. The 
Marchioness, roused on a sudden from her first sleep, was 
muttering these words. "Mercy upon me! Oh, my God! It is a 
dream! Ah, it is only a dream!"

I immediately submitted to necessity, quitted the bed of the ex-
maiden, and escaped, on my knees and hands, to that of the 
dowager.

Now this latter, who was quite awake, was anxious to know the 
cause of the noise she had just heard.

"Alas! It is me, Madame."

"You! Miss? Where are you then?"

"On the ground by the bedside; I have just fallen down."

"Why will you obstinately lay on the very brim?"

"Quite on the contrary, Madame."

"How so, on the contrary?"

"I approached too near."

"And what then?"

"What then! When Madame sleeps, she cannot help jogging about; 
Madame has stretched out her leg; her leg has touched me."

"I did not do it on purpose, my dear child; get into bed again; 
keep at some distance, if you like."

"Oh, yes, I do!"

"You awoke me on a sudden."

"Pray, Madame, do not scold me, I am extremely sorry if I have-"

"I do not scold; there is no great harm done: we shall have a 
little chat for a moment."

"I beg you will excuse me, I feel quite ill already for having 
had so little sleep."

"Listen at least to what I was dreaming."

"Good night, Madame."

"Ah, I wish to recount my dream."

"But then, Madame, you will not be able to go to sleep again."

"Oh, but I will though; I can sleep whenever I please. Where, in 
the name of patience, do we collect matter for all our dreams! 
This was the place of action. I dreamt that an impertinent man 
was espousing me by main force."

"Ah ah! Madame la Marquise! what man would be so audacious?"

"Guess."

"It was not me, at any rate."

"No, it could not be you; but most likely it was your brother."

"I have no brother."

"I do not say you have, my darling; people will dream every day 
of what does not exist. In my dream, he was your brother, for he 
bore a striking likeness to you."

"Pardon this new wrong of mine."

"You joke, my angel. It was not your fault; besides, there is no 
harm in it; but that is not all."

"What! The impudent fellow! Perhaps he had courage to begin over 
again?"

"Not so; he soon left me to go into that closet"

"That closet?"

"Without my leave-do you hear?"

"Without your leave?"

"To marry young de Mésanges."

"Young de Mésanges!"

"Who did not oppose him"

"Who did not oppose him!"

"Wait a little; what is most singular, the child, not being so 
well drilled as myself to that exercise."

"What then?"

"Pain!"

"Pain?"

"Caused her to send forth a shriek."

"A shriek!"

"That awoke me."

Figure to yourself, reader, if you can, the mortal fright that 
agitated me. Had the Marchioness really dreamt that dream, which 
accorded so well with the circumstances? Was it a tardy warning, 
that Hymen, a sworn enemy to all amorous successes, had just 
sent to the too careless duenna, in order to prevent my triumph 
being completed? Or, what would have been worse still, had the 
cursed old woman, at that very instant, with a wonderful 
presence of mind, invented that supposed dream, on purpose to 
give me clearly to understand that my crime had been discovered, 
that an entire devotedness alone could expiate it, that I must 
instantly meet the punishment which awaited me in her arms?

At this last idea, all my senses at once revolted. I, 
notwithstanding, summoned all my fortitude, in order to 
ascertain, by means of some indirect questions, the true 
disposition of Madame d'Armincour.

"Are you serious, Madame?"

"Quite serious, my beauty."

"What! You heard, Madame"

"To be sure, I did hear."

"You have been telling me also that you had seen! How could you 
see, being in the dark?"

"Ah! In my dream it was broad daylight."

This answer, made in a tone of great candour, restored me to 
perfect tranquillity.

"Good night! Madame la Marquise."

"Well, child, since you will absolutely have it so, good night!"

My companion now went to sleep again; and her loud snoring, 
which before was so disagreeable, now caressed my ears as 
sweetly as might have done the most enchanting voice, the voice 
of Baletti. Do not wonder at it; it was the joyful trumpet which 
announced the time was come for me to go and resume a charming 
piece of work, already in a state of great forwardness, but 
unfortunately interrupted as nearly completed. Eager to finish 
it, I lifted up the clothes with the utmost precaution, and I 
was ready to step out of the bed, when, on a sudden, the 
propitious snoring ceased. A wrinkled, heavy hand, which 
appeared to me to be that of Proserpina, caught hold of me by 
the neck, and stopped me for awhile: "Wait a moment,"said the 
infernal old woman, at last; "I am going with you."

She was going, indeed, to shut the door; and she locked it; 
after calling out to young de Mésanges: "Sleep, mademoiselle, 
sleep! and have a little patience, we will marry you ere long!"

"Ah! But, Madame la Marquise," replied my dear friend, in a 
languishing tone of voice, "I am not fit to be married yet!"

"Very well," resumed the other, counterfeiting her accent; "very 
well, Miss Prudely! You seem to know nothing about the matter, 
but that will not prevent our doing your business for you, as 
soon as possible, too. Come along, miss, you who have contracted 
habits," she added, "conducting me by the hand to her bed; I 
shall see whether you can keep awake to chat with young girls 
only."

At these dreadful words, which forebode tortures awaiting me, I 
could feel a deadly shivering to freeze my blood, my whole 
blood, which, from all the extremities, flowed with prodigious 
swiftness towards my heart. Trembling through every limb, I 
suffered myself to be dragged towards the place of execution. I 
fell on the bed, where a fury was already waiting to press me 
within her avenging arms. There I fell, exhausted, motionless, 
and almost lifeless.

The impatient Marchioness, subsequent to a short silence, asked 
me, in a hoarse, broken voice, which she strove to soften, 
whether I had forgotten her dream, and if I thought of realising 
one point of it only?

Alas! I was thinking of her dream! I thought it appeared 
indispensable I should prevent greater misfortunes by a generous 
devotedness. Was I, by offering to Madame d'Armincour an insult 
that no female will ever forgive, to expose to her easy 
vengeance Mademoiselle de Mésanges, who had nearly been caught 
in the fact, and my dear Madame de Lignolle also? Was I to risk 
exposing myself to the rancour of three families, that would 
unite against me? A magnanimous effort, therefore, was the only 
means I had left of saving my two mistresses and myself.

Never more than upon this occasion did I ever experience that a 
resolute young man, whose great courage besides is called forth 
by pressing necessity, may at all times rely upon himself. After 
some short hesitation, after a few moments of dejection and 
terror, inseparable from the dreadful undertaking I was summoned 
to, I felt less incapable of attempting, and perhaps of 
accomplishing it. Unfortunate youth! Your last hour is near at 
hand! Come, Faublas, come, show a good heart! Immolate thyself! 
Thus did I encourage my still wavering virtue, but, to 
consolidate it, I wanted to make some new efforts. The victim, 
at last, however, wishing for nothing more but to avoid, at 
least, cruel preludes, and to accomplish the dolorous sacrifice 
in an instant, if possible, the resigned victim on a sudden flew 
to meet his fate.

"How prompt!" exclaimed the malignant old woman, laughing. 
"Gently, sir, gently, if you please! It was said in my dream 
that you married me by force. By force! Do you hear! Let me ask 
you then, are you disposed to use violence; are you fully 
determined to ravish the dowager d'Armincour?"

"No, Madame, I have too much honour to commit so heinous an 
offence."

"Well, then, be quiet by my side. I may have played you a trick; 
at any time of life one likes a joke, for my part I always do, 
when my Eleanor is not concerned; but it would be carrying the 
joke too far, if I were to accept of your generous offer. Keep 
yourself for young women; if the aunt was to take you at your 
word, the niece might not be satisfied."

"The niece! You think that Madame de Lignolle-"

"Most assuredly I do; but let me have nothing to say about the 
Countess for the present; we have a more pressing object to 
speak of. You were speaking just now, sir, of a heinous action! 
Are you not sensible that the one you have indulged during my 
sleep was horrible?"

"Madame, could anyone, had he been in my place-"

"Wherefore were you in that place, in which you never should 
have been? Why go in search of temptations that no one could 
resist? Wherefore surprise the confidence of relations by a 
perfidious disguise? I see nothing, sir, that you can plead as 
an excuse, but I hope, at least, you have some means of 
repairing the injury that Mademoiselle de Mésanges and her 
family have suffered."

"Madame-"

"You will undoubtedly marry the young person."

"Madame-"

"Speak plain: will you, or not?"

"With all my heart, as I have said before; but-"

"Let me hear the meaning of your but."

"I cannot."

"You are already married, are you not?"

"I am, Madame"

"That's it! That becomes certain!"

"What is become certain, Madame?"

"Make yourself easy, sir, I was speaking to myself. You may see 
now it is a dreadful thing to seduce young persons that you have 
it not in your power to marry; for she has been seduced, has not 
she? You have done her a great injury?"

"Madame-"

"Speak, sir. What is done, is done; there is no remedy; but you 
will have the goodness to inform me, in what situation exactly 
you have left the young person; in all probability I awoke too 
late for her safety; but, to speak the truth, since I 
entertained suspicions, I ought not to have gone to sleep at 
all. Yet how could I have fancied that, though inclined to 
commit a rash act, they would have the audacity and time 
requisite, when I, who must be very easy on my own account, held 
the rake in my bed, the young girl locked in, and the key in my 
pocket? He must be a true devil! A mad devil, too, I say. Well, 
sir, confess it-the young girl has-the young girl-the young 
person is-the young person has undergone an entire 
metamorphose?"

"To conceal nothing from you, Madame, I believe that my triumph 
has been complete."

"A fine triumph! Very difflcult to obtain, indeed! Very 
difficult for the sweet child. What now! In his enthusiasm, he 
wants to enter into particular details."

"Ah! Pardon me, Madame, whether difficult or not, I have known 
your cousin so little, that I cannot imagine any serious 
consequences will ensue."

"What do you mean explain."

"I mean that it is hardly to be presumed that she is pregnant."

"Why, indeed," she cried, in a passion, "what a high favour you 
are bestowing upon us! But at any rate, sir, her fame is gone to 
the devil! Do you reckon that a mere nothing? Would you have 
been pleased if you had been given in marriage a young person 
already learned?"

"Learned! She is not so."

"What is he now telling me?"

"She is so little informed that she believes I am a girl."

"But do you believe that I was born yesterday, to come up to me 
with such an idle story?"

"Madame la Marchioness, don't be angry. I'll tell you the whole 
story."

The good aunt, who did not hear me without interrupting me by 
frequent exclamations, cried out, as soon as I had nothing more 
to say: "That is very extraordinary, and there is not quite so 
much harm done, not quite so much. Sir, I expect you will keep 
it a profound secret, and I rely enough upon your honour."

"You may, Madame."

"You are sensible that now I cannot get that child married too 
soon; it will be no difficult thing neither; she is a good 
figure, and has a large fortune. She is deficient in nothing, 
except what you have just been robbing her of. That, however, is 
not depicted in the face of a girl, and most fortunately it is 
so; for, be it said between ourselves, if it were, many a fine 
damsel could never enter the matrimonial state. This one, 
therefore, will be provided for as soon as possible; and, as 
chance might have it that you were to hear in the world of the 
fool who would be on the point of marrying her, be very 
particular then in not-"

"Make yourself perfectly easy; I am sensible this adventure must 
be known to ourselves only!"

"Very well, sir, I shall say nothing to the young person, for 
what could I say? She is a little simpleton, who without knowing 
what she was about, took it into her head to act a part; that is 
all. Let her continue in her ridiculous but useful error; but 
that she may neither impart it to anyone, nor perceive it 
herself, I shall take care to recommend her to her convent, and 
likewise the good friend with whom she exchanges embraces. If, 
however, you should deem it proper, we may entrust her cousin 
with the secret."

"Her cousin?"

"Yes."

"Madame de Lignolle? Oh! No, no."

"You don't wish she should know of it? To be sure, she is too 
giddy to keep a secret."

"She is."

"Besides, your conduct, perhaps, interests her enough."

"Not in the least."

"Not at all? Ah, sir, now I know that the young person who has 
explained everything to Mademoiselle de Mésanges is a charming 
chevalier, and you want me to be still made a dupe of?"

"Madame."

"Let us drop so delicate a subject. We shall resume it in due 
time. In my turn, sir, I wish you a very good night. Go to rest, 
if you think proper; but rest assured that I shall not go to 
sleep again."

I availed myself of the permission; for after the various 
agitations of that happy and fatal night, it was quite necessary 
I should enjoy some sleep. Nevertheless, I was not allowed to 
enjoy it long: the first rays of the rising sun brought into our 
room Madame de Lignolle, who had a key that opened every door. 
She awoke me with her kisses: Here you are, my dear Brumont! How 
happy I am! I did not expect you. I was only told accidentally 
just now."

She ran to the closet with apparent inquietude; and looking 
through one of the panes: Aunt, she said, you have placed our 
young cousin there by herself! You have done right."

"Not too much so."

"Why not?"

"Because I have had but a very indifferent night myself."

"You have locked her in! Ah! That was better still."

"Better on what account?"

"Did I say better, aunt?"

"You did, niece."

"I speak inconsiderately;-for-what danger?  Certainly none. In 
an apartment where none but women slept."

"None but women, as you say, aunt; and gentlemen in the adjacent 
apartments, to protect them in case of-"

"That's it, exactly!"

"Wherefore, aunt, did you only come at two in the morning?"

"Because, niece, I wished to bring this dear child with me."

"How kind you are!"

"Very kind, am I not?"

"Brumont, why did not you send me word?"

"Don't scold her; it was I who would not suffer you to be 
called."

"You were very wrong, aunt."

"You don't speak a syllable, my dear Brumont! You look sad! 
believe me, I am very sorry too!"

"For what, niece?"

"Why, because you have both been laying very uncomfortable."

"Had you a spare bed then for this child?."

"She would have shared in mine."

"That is precisely what I was desirous of preventing, niece."

"You, however, would have spent a better night."

"Yes, but you?"

"Pshaw! We arrange matters very well together."

"She is a troublesome bed-fellow, though."

"Do you find so, aunt?"

"She keeps in perpetual motion all night long. She was 
continually laying upon me."

"Upon you?"

"Nearly so."

"Nearly! That alters the case!"

"I unceasingly was pushing her back. She kept me so warm she 
smothered me!"

"Dear me! But-"

"What makes you uneasy, niece?"

"Why, you must have been prodigiously incommoded!"

"Truly! If that was to happen to me every night! At my time of 
life! But for one single time!

The tone of candour in which the sly aunt spoke those last 
words, entirely quieted Madame de Lignolle. The thoughtless 
niece only viewed the pleasant side of the matter. "Ah! but you, 
Dumont," she exclaimed, embracing me, "You must have had a 
pretty good night's rest! My aunt has not interrupted your 
slumbers! Hear me. You are grieved, and so am I, you may be 
assured. I am extremely sorry you were not shown where my room 
was. Yet, let me tell you, don't you think it quite droll to see 
you here thus close-excuse me, but I can't hold any longer."

In fact, the bursts of laughter withheld for a long time at 
length broke out. The explosion was so strong, and lasted so 
long, that the Countess finally fell on the bed and fainted 
away. "This giddy creature laughs so heartily, that she would 
induce one to laugh also," said the aunt! And she imitated her 
niece: I even thought she would soon have surpassed her. How 
could I not have shared in their joyfulness? Our jovial trio 
made so much noise, that we awoke Mademoiselle de Mésanges.

The prisoner knocked at the window. "Madame de Lignolle," said 
the Marchioness, "open the door to that child: take the key out 
of my pocket." The Countess, to have done the sooner, used her 
own key: bade good morning to her cousin, without entering the 
closet, and returned on my side, to sit on the bed. Young de 
Mésanges followed her close, and kissing me, said: "Good 
morning, my dear."

"What is the meaning of this?" exclaimed the Countess, surprised 
and angry: "what do you mean by such familiarities, and calling 
her as you have done? Let me tell you, I don't like Mademoiselle 
de Brumont to be kissed by anyone; she is not to be called my 
dear, neither."

"You are right, niece," cried the Marchioness, "give it her 
well, she makes too free."

"Not be called my dear!" Resumed our Agnes, now become more 
bold: "Ah! That's a good one! As if I did not know that she is 
my dearest dear?"

"But, miss," continued Madame de Lignolle, "go and put on a 
handkerchief, if you please, you are stark naked. What does that 
signify?" replied the other; "There are no men here."

The Marchioness, counterfeiting her, said: "No, there are no men 
here;" but she added in a more blunt tone: "mind, there are 
married women, married women, do you hear? You little simpleton. 
Go-but stop! Stop a moment! How dejected and fatigued you look! 
What have you been about in the night?"

"What have I been about? Nothing, since I have not even slept."

"And wherefore have you not slept?"

"Wherefore? Ah why? Because I was listening all the while, in 
expectation that I might bear you snore."

"Snore! That expression! You are very fond then of hearing 
people snore?"

"That is not it: but when one is in bed by one's self, something 
must be done by way of amusement."

While speaking, she played with a lock of hair. The impatient 
Countess, on a sudden, saluted her with a good slap on her hand; 
and taking her by the shoulders, brought her back to the closet, 
with repeated injunctions to put a handkerchief round her neck.

The Marchioness applauded: "You have acted very wisely," she 
said; "give her a good lecture, she must hear from you some 
lessons on common decency."

"Do me the service, Madame de Lignolle, to help her to dress, 
that she may have done sooner, and that we may send her home, 
for I want to speak to you."

The Countess, vexed at being taken away from me for a moment, 
soon had done with her cousin; and I can assure you, that to 
dress her from head to foot, she wanted less time than she used 
to spend in tying one of my petticoats. They both returned 
within a short time into the bed-room. The Marchioness praised 
the one for being so expeditious, and desired the other to go 
and take a walk in the park.

"Ah! But it is very early to go and take a walk!"

"So much the better, the morning air will cool you."

"Ah! But to take a walk, one must walk"

"Well, what then?"

"I can only walk with great difficulty."

"Indeed! Miss delicate! Her shoes pinch her!"

"No, it is not my shoes. It is not my feet that are sore."

"You have said enough, go, away with you."

"It is most likely somewhere else that I feel pain, because-"

"Marry upon me," interrupted the Countess, "this very slow 
manner of speaking kills me. Is it your stays that hurt you?"

"Oh, no! Oh no it is not my stays neither."

"For God's sake, what is it then?"

"Why, most likely, I begin-probably I am also becoming fit to be 
married."

"I have no patience with her!" cried the Marchioness: "what 
nonsense is she come with! Pray, Madame de Lignolle, send away 
the impertinent girl. You don't see that she is at a loss what 
to say, and only wants to kill time."

"Oh, but I do know what I am saying-notwithstanding, it is not 
very necessary, remember that you have promised to give me 
notice."

We did not hear the rest, because the Countess seeing her cousin 
in the gallery, shut the door in her face.

"Very well, niece, bolt the door, that no one should come to 
interrupt us. Come and sit here, on my bed, but look at me 
sometimes: you seem to have eyes but for Mademoiselle de Brumont 
alone."

"Ah! it is to comfort her; you may see her grieve."

"I have noticed her not speaking a word; she does not appear in 
her usual good spirits."

"Neither is she," said Madame de Lignolle, kissing me; "she 
laments her not having been brought to my apartment. She 
certainly bears you great friendship, aunt; but as she knows me 
better, she would have preferred spending the night by my side, 
I dare to say."

"Gently, Madame, gently! Don't flatter yourself so much. If I 
had allowed it-"

"Allowed what, aunt?"

Why, you imagine because one is not quite so young and so 
handsome as you are-"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that if I had consented-"

"What you are saying, aunt, is-"

"Truth."

"Incomprehensible either way."

"I shall explain then, niece."

"Do make haste, I beg; you keep me on the rack."

"Madame de Lignolle, it would appear to me very surprising, in 
fact, but yet very desirable, that you were not so well 
acquainted with the supposed miss, now in bed by the side of 
me."

"The supposed miss!"

"I declare, and I wish I may tell you something that will 
surprise you, I declare, that this pretty girl is a man."

"A man, are you? Are you sure, aunt?"

"Sure! And he is there himself to contradict me, if I do not 
speak the exact truth; he himself offered, less than two hours 
since, to prove it to me"

"Offered to prove? no, that cannot be."

"Don't wonder too much at it, niece, he thought himself bound-"

"Bound! Wherefore?"

"Ah! ask him."

"Say wherefore," she cried, addressing me with extreme warmth. 
"Speak, speak at last, why don't you speak?"

I replied; "You see me so stupefied at all that happens to me, 
that I have not sufficient power to speak a word."

"He wishes to reduce me to the hard necessity of making the 
painful avowal," continued the Marchioness, "he thought himself 
obliged, niece, because I exacted it"

"You exacted it, aunt!"

"Make yourself easy, I only shammed."

"Only shammed!"

"As I tell you, but I showed mercy to the generous young man, 
when I saw that he was ready to sacrifice himself."

"Yet he could!" cried out the Countess, no less surprised than 
chagrined.

"He could I?" repeated the aunt. "It is, I confess, a compliment 
to be paid to him."

"He could!" said Madame de Lignolle again, in a tone expressive 
no less of astonishment, than of the deepest afiliction.

"Those two last exclamations," observed the Marchioness, "are 
not very polite."

"He could!"

"So, then, niece, you wish to make me angry, you would wish, 
Madame, he never were able, but for you?"

"For me!"

Madame d'Armincour interrupted her in a most serious tone, 
"Eleanor, I have ever known you to be extremely candid, and with 
me especially. Before you struggle hard to act contrary to your 
natural disposition, before you determine to maintain too 
improbable a falsity, listen to me.

"This miss is a man; I have more than one reason, unfortunately, 
to remove all doubts. In addition to that, I am now acquainted 
with his name; and everything tells me, niece, that for a long 
time since you have not been ignorant of it yourself. Yesterday, 
about five o'clock, I went to Longchamps, where I was surprised 
to see you, especially at that early hour, you, who in the 
morning had refused under the pretence of some business to 
accompany me there in the afternoon. You did not even perceive 
me, Madame, because you had eyes only to look at a cavalier, who 
on his side was continually looking at you. This was what 
occasioned me to notice it. It was Mademoiselle de Brumont in 
man's clothes; or, at least a brother of hers, a brother, 
absolutely like her in the face, which excited your attention 
the same as mine. I naturally stopped at that idea, and in my 
perfect security, I did not even think of carrying conjectures 
farther. Immediately next to your carriage followed, in a much 
richer one, a kind of a strumpet very elegantly dressed, who 
likewise eyed the young man, by whom she was sometimes eyed in 
her turn. To all appearances that creature does not love you 
much, and you don't love her more, for she behaved impertinently 
to you, for which you punished her in style, and I laughed 
heartily upon the occasion; when on a sudden a great rumour 
arose. Everybody came running and approached de Brumont, male or 
female, whom I did not lose sight of, with the intention of 
calling her to me, and to have some conversation for a moment 
with him or her.

"I, like a poor country woman, amazed at seeing such a concourse 
of people, enquired whether it was customary with the Parisian 
ladies to run thus, as if they were crazy, pell-mell with the 
men, after the first handsome fellow they met with. All who 
surrounded me vociferated: 'Not so! By no means!' But this one 
is deserving of general attention: he is a charming cavalier, 
already famous on account of an extraordinary adventure; he is 
Mademoiselle du Portail, the lover of the Marchioness de B***." 
You can judge of my surprise: I instantly had my eyes opened, 
recollected a thousand distressing circumstances; and without 
too much malignity, was obliged to say to myself, that it became 
very probable that the lover of the Marchioness was also the 
paramour of the Countess. However, I must not judge too hastily 
of the conduct of a niece, for whom I have a regard. I will see 
and observe, I will put questions to her tomorrow, since I am 
going to join her in Gatinois. By no means! On the wished-for-
day, the obliging Madame de Fonrose comes to my house, and 
proposes to me in a genteel way, the honourable charge of 
conducting to you your bosom friend. Delighted at a happy chance 
which favoured my secret designs, I agreed to the proposal, and 
fully determined to examine closely the young miss, and to 
prevent the possibility of your reducing me to perform under 
your roof the part of a coadjutant. I arrived with the happy 
mortal; he fancied perhaps, seeing that you were gone to bed, 
that he would at least be allowed to share that of young de 
Mésanges: quite the reverse, I secured him to myself. In the 
beginning of the night I plagued him; an hour after, I-I, nearly 
as I may say, caught him in the fact. He did not confess his 
name, which I did not ask him; but he could not deny his sex. At 
last, it was morn, and that I might entertain no further doubt, 
I entirely discovered the Chevalier de Faublas."

As she spoke these words, she in fact did uncover me; and with a 
rapid hand, lifted up the blanket, which she threw almost to my 
feet, and in the twinkling of an eye brought it back over my 
shoulders. The moment was short but decisive. Chance that 
declared against me would have it so, that at the time I lay in 
such a posture that the most essential evidence could not escape 
the eye of the accused party, his accomplice, and their judge. 
"Now, my niece," exclaimed the Marchioness, "I hope all your 
doubts are removed; in case, mind me, it were possible to 
believe that you could entertain any before. But confess," she 
added, giving me a vigorous slap on the face, with the same hand 
that had just exposed me in a state of nearly complete 
nakedness, to the confused looks of Madame de Lignolle, "confess 
that this M. de Faublas must be a bold little rogue, to have 
come on this day to sleep with the aunt, for the sole reason 
that he should go to bed with the niece.

"Aunt," exclaimed the Countess, with a little ill humour, "why 
did you strike so hard? You will hurt him."

"Hurt him, indeed! He is too well off: it was a favour. Madame 
de Lignolle, now that you can no longer, under a pretext of 
ignorance, deny it and refuse, you must immediately desire this 
gentleman to get up, turn him out of your house without making 
any fuss, and never let him be admitted again."

"Turn him out of my house, aunt! Well, I must tell you, he is my 
lover; the lover whom I adore."

"And your husband, Madame?"

"My husband? He is also my husband; I have no other."

"How so, niece? Has not M. de Lignolle espoused you nearly five 
months back?"

"Espoused me? Never! It is he, aunt-"

"How so? He it is who the first time-"

"Yes, aunt, it is.

Ah! What a happy little rogue! What an espouser that gentleman 
is! But, niece, you are pregnant."

"So I am, and it is he again."

"But-"

All buts are done away with now, aunt! It has always been, and 
ever shall be him; never shall any other-"

"Never any other! How will you be able to manage it?"

"As I have hitherto done with him, aunt."

"What a flow of words! See a little-"

"I see him alone!"

"But, at least, hear."

"I only hear him!"

"But, at least, listen."

"I listen to him only!"

"Well, niece, will you let me speak to you a moment."

"I speak to him alone!"

"Eleanor, you love me no more, then?-

I only love-ah I but I do love you too!"

"Since you do, let me explain; tell me, unhappy creature, how 
will you manage to conceal your being pregnant?"

"I do not intend to conceal it"

"But your husband will ask you who is the father of that child."

"I shall answer that it is him."

"But if he has never gone to bed with you, how will you make him 
believe?"

"It is for that very reason that he will believe me."

"How, for that very reason?"

"Exactly so."

"Come, niece, we must be blundering some way or other."

"You are so quick that you do not give one time to explain."

"I am very quick! You are not so, perhaps, yourself."

"How can it be otherwise when I have to deal with such a hot-
headed woman as you are? But do me the favour to explain what is 
to be done to persuade a man, who has never espoused his wife, 
that he is really the father of the child ti"

"See, how provoking! I request, aunt, you will have the goodness 
to explain to me how you can imagine that I will hold out to M. 
de Lignolle so stupid and nonsensical an argument?"

"It was you who told me so."

"Quite on the contrary, I have repeatedly declared to you that 
it was him by whom I was pregnant"

"Ah! I understand you at last; him is this gentleman!"

"To be sure. When I say him, I mean him."

"Why, faith, I could not have guessed that. What, you intend 
going yourself to tell your husband you have made him a-"

"What he deserves to be."

"In one sense, I do not say he has not."

"In every possible sense he does."

"Ah! This is quite another thing! I cannot, Madame, approve of 
your irregular conduct"

"My irregular conduct!"

"Let us return to the important article. If your husband gets 
angry-"

"I shall laugh at him."

"If he wishes to have you confined in a convent?"

"He will not be able."

"Who can prevent him?"

"You and all my friends."

"Your friends will turn against you. I cherish you too much ever 
to do you the least harm; but in so unfortunate an occurrence I 
shall be forced, at least, to remain neuter. You then will have 
left only this gentleman."

"If I have him left, I shall not want for more."

"I admit he will be ready to protect you, but will he have it in 
his power? And if you are locked up?"

"No, no; let me tell you, aunt, I was thinking of it in the 
night; I have a project in my head."

"A fine project, I dare to say. Let me hear what it is; tell 
me."

"I cannot now; it is not time yet."

"That being the case, I am going now to inform you of the only 
measure that can be adopted."

"I am all attention, my dearest aunt."

"You must, as soon as possible, Madame, get M. de Lignolle to 
espouse you, and-"

"That, friend, cannot be."

"For what reason?"

"The reason is that it cannot be. But, although it were 
possible, I would not consent. Now, aunt, I know what is what, 
never will your niece go into the arms of a man."

"Never into the arms of a man! yet he-"

"He, aunt, is no man; he is my lover."

"Your lover! Why, truly, that is a substantial reason to advance 
to your husband!"

"Admitting that the reason is a bad one, it is certain at least 
that it is preferable to a bad action. Is it not a shameful one, 
is it not a dreadful act of treachery to go in cold blood and 
make two men sharers in one's good graces, with a view of 
betraying the one with greater ease, and keeping the other by 
reducing him to despair? For I am certain," she exclaimed, as 
she loaded me with embraces, "that he would be exasperated."

"If, however, Madame, you were disposed to hear me to the end, 
you would find that your aunt advises neither libertinism nor 
perfidiousness. You interrupted me, as I was going to tell you, 
that upon getting M. de Lignolle to espouse you, you must 
immediately adopt another mode of conduct, and break off this 
intrigue."

"An intrigue! Fie, for shame, aunt. Say a passion, which the 
destiny of my life will depend upon."

"Which will make your life miserable, if you don't take care."

"No misery with him."

"Misery ever attends crime. Listen to me, my dear; I am a good-
natured soul, I like to crack a joke; but this is serious 
business. Consider how many dangers threaten you."

"I know of no dangers when he is concerned."

"Your conscience! Eleanor?"

"My conscience is quiet."

"Quiet! That cannot be. You, who never used to speak an untruth, 
do now. Eleanor, hear me, I cherish you as I would my own child, 
I have always idolised you, too much, perhaps. I have spoiled 
you too much, perhaps, but try to remember how I have always 
made it my study to teach you the best principles with regard to 
essential matters. To-day, for instance, you are going to crown 
the Rosière."

"Oh!" she cried, rushing into the arms of her aunt, whose hands 
she also seized to cover her own face, "pray don't mention it."

I then, penetrated with the tone in which those words had been 
pronounced, said: "Madame la Marquise, to me, to me alone, are 
your reproaches to be addressed; pardon and pity her, but do not 
oppress her."

"O my children," she replied, "if you wish to excite only my 
sensibility, you will not find it a difficult task: I can be 
made to weep as easily as to laugh. I have no objection; let us 
all three shed tears. Hear me, however, niece, do you remember 
last year at this same period, on the same day I said to you: 
'Eleanor, I am highly pleased with you; but, ere long, my child, 
new times will bring on other obligations; all the duties we 
have to fulfil in this world are not so pleasing as that of 
assisting the indigent; the time is near at hand when, perhaps, 
you will impose upon yourself others, which at first will seduce 
you, but that subsequently will become painful to you.'"

The Countess, at these words, hastily relinquished her humble 
attitude, and, in the most animated tone, repeated: "Which at 
first will seduce you! Alas! How could they have seduced me? I 
was not taught to know him; an innocent victim, who promised 
what she did not comprehend, was gaily led to the sacrifice. 
You, Madame, who now speak to me of duty, did you discharge 
yours at the time? Dare you affirm you did? When my father and 
mother, intoxicated with the supposed advantages of this fatal 
marriage, introduced to you M. de Lignolle, you defended me, I 
know, by your representations; your consent, I know, was partly 
extorted by force; but of what avail was your too weak 
resistance? Were you not to have strengthened it with mine? Were 
you not bound to take me aside, and to say to me: 'My poor 
child, I inform you that they are going to sacrifice you; they 
impose upon your inexperience by dazzling promises; will you, 
for the frivolous advantage of being presented at Court a few 
months sooner, of going from tomorrow to assemblies, to balls, 
to the theatres, sacrifice forever your most precious liberty, 
the only true liberty, that of disposing of your person and of 
your heart? Do you find yourself so bad with me? Are you in so 
great a hurry to leave me? It is no longer time to found your 
virtue on your ignorance; and since they want to deceive you, I 
must put you on your guard, and enlighten you. When a girl, 
naturally vivacious, shows herself in the spring moved at the 
sight of nature, is surprised in frequent reveries, confesses 
secret inquietudes, complains of a pain she cannot define, it is 
commonly said that she wants a husband; but I, who know thee, I 
who have always seen thee caressed by all around thee repay 
their affection by a similar attachment, repay my cares with 
gratitude, and cherish me as much as I have loved thee; lament 
the distress of a vassal, and even pity the sorrows of an entire 
stranger; I believe that nature has given thee, in addition to 
burning vivacity, tender feelings; I believe it is not alone a 
husband, but a lover that you want. Nevertheless they are 
determined to have you marry M. de Lignolle. You are not quite 
sixteen, he is upwards of fifty: your adolescence will hardly 
commence, when his autumn will be at an end; like all other 
libertines he will become a valetudinarian, infirm, harsh, 
morose, and jealous; and, what will complete the fullness of 
your misery, six times a year, perhaps, you will be obliged, 
compelled to bear the disgust of his embraces!' For my aunt 
could not have guessed, that in my unhappy situation I should 
have one consolation left, namely, that my pretended husband 
would never become capable to become so."

"Never capable!" she exclaimed, weeping.

"Never, aunt."

"Fie! What a nasty man!"

"You could not have guessed that; so you ought to have said to 
me; six times a year perhaps you will be obliged to bear the 
disgust of his embraces; and yet if you were to meet with a 
young man, handsome, witty, sensible, captivated with your 
charms, and deserving of you, again you will be obliged to 
reject his homage that will give offence, and his image that 
will haunt you. In order to remain virtuous you must continually 
oppose the sweetest inclination of your heart, and the most 
sacred law of nature; if not, your ears will be saluted without 
relaxation with these dreadful words, Oaths! Duty! Crimes! 
Misfortunes! Thus you may languish for thirty years and more, 
reduced to the cruel privations of a forced celibacy, and 
condemned to the still more cruel duties of a tyrannical hymen; 
and if you should yield to the seductions of an invincible love, 
you may get interred in your prime, in the solitude of a 
convent, there to perish soon, loaded with public contempt and 
the hatred of your relatives. If you had spoken thus to me, 
Madame la Marchioness, I would have exclaimed; 'I won't have 
your M. de Lignolle! I will not have him. I had rather die a 
maid! And they would not have had me married in spite of myself 
perhaps they might have killed me, but they would not have taken 
me to church!"

"Never capable!" repeated the Marchioness weeping; "Ah! The 
nasty man! My poor little dear, how will you manage it? Poor 
love? There is no remedy then! Never capable! That alters the 
case much! But no, it occasions no change. My dear child, you 
are only to be pitied the more in consequence. Eleanor, 
nevertheless, you are equally bound directly and forever to 
renounce the Chevalier."

"Renounce him! I had rather die!"

"Why, but I cannot knock louder," cried out young de Mésanges, 
whom we had not heard.

"Go and take a walk," replied the impatient Countess.

"Ah! I am but just returned from taking one."

"Go again."

"Ah! But I am tired."

"Sit down on the turf."

"Why, but I am tired of being by myself."

"Are we here intended only for your amusement?" asked the 
Marchioness.

"Not you, my cousin, if you don't like, but my dear friend."

"Your dear friend?"

"Leave us."

"Why but it appears to me it is a long time since we have had 
some chat together."

"Go, miss, go and wait for me in the drawing-room."

"Ah! So I will, for I hear a number of people who are getting 
up."

"Go."

"Number of people who are getting up," repeated Madame 
d'Armincour. "It is time we should get up too, and that this 
lady should dress and begone."

"Begone! Aunt-"

"Yes, niece, do you think it is possible she should make her 
appearance at this festival?"

"Who can prevent her?"

"Why I are there not fifty people here, who were yesterday at 
Longchamps, and will know her again quite as well as I know 
you."

"No such a thing!"

"Don't say no! It is impossible otherwise, and you would be 
ruined."

"What signifies it, provided he does not go."

"When I hear her reason so, it will make my hair stand on end."

"How so! Am I not the mistress?"

"Besides, Madame, you are bound to send him away, it is your 
duty."

"My duty! There is the word returned again."

"Well then," interrupted the marchioness, throwing the bed 
clothes over my face, "I must come to a decision and comply, for 
with her there is no end to disputes."

Madame d'Armincour, as she hastened to put on a bed-gown and 
petticoat, exclaimed: "Great God! Now I think of it: everyone 
would be asking where has this young lady been sleeping! 
Everybody would know that it is there! Would it not be thought 
that I have my dealings also with the boy. For the whole day I 
would become the heroine of the adventure, of a gallant 
adventure, at upwards of sixty! It is being rather late. Come, 
Madame, you must be sensible it is less to spare me being made 
an object of ridicule, than to preserve your character, and save 
yourself from ruin, that I appeal to you. He must go. No, my 
niece, I will not suffer you in my presence to act the part of 
his waiting-maid; I shall dress him as expeditiously, and as 
decently as you could. Be not in the least afraid: I shall only 
be le chien du jardinier."<69>



XXVII.

During the time that my toilette lasted, there was a warm 
contest between the aunt, who insisted upon my going, and the 
niece who opposed it.

Madame de Lignolle meanwhile was informed it was time she should 
go downstairs to give her commands respecting the last 
arrangements relative to the festival. "I shall be with you 
presently," she said to me. A moment after the aunt also left 
me, and returned before the niece, who nevertheless did not 
tarry long. Nearly a good quarter of an hour elapsed, and I need 
not tell that the renewed dispute was getting very warm, when 
the Countess was called out again. Obliged to leave me once 
more, she assured me it was only for a moment. But she was 
scarcely gone downstairs, when her aunt said to me; "Sir, I 
believe you are not quite so destitute of reason as she is; you 
must be conscious that your presence here may expose her, yield 
to necessity, yield to my solicitations, and if requisite, to my 
entreaties." She dragged me away, and conducted me through 
windings entirely unknown to me, into a yard, where her carriage 
was waiting for me. As I was stepping into it, chance brought 
near me Mademoiselle de Mésanges. "Are you going, my dear?", she 
asked.

"Alas! I am."

"Pray make my compliments to Mademoiselle des Rieux."

"I will not."

"You assure me that it will not be long before she gets fit to 
be mar-"

"Hold your tongue, miss," interrupted bluntly the Marchioness, 
"and if ever you repeat the like-"

I heard no more, because the coachman, who had received orders, 
drove off as quick as lightning. He brought me back as far as 
Fontainebleau, from whence I travelled post. It was near four 
o'clock when I reached Paris. Madame de Fonrose was as good as 
her word. My father had not been seen; and availing myself of 
some moments of liberty, I took off my female attire, and went 
to Rosambert's.

I found him much better; he already could, without any 
assistance, walk about his apartment, and even several times 
round his garden. The Count began by loading me with reproaches. 
I represented to him, that I had sent regularly every morning to 
enquire how he was.

"But you had promised to come yourself."

"My father has not let me."

"That has not prevented you from going somewhere else. I 
confess, however, that the little Countess deserves the 
preference."

"The little Countess!"

"Yes, Madame de Lignolle. Did not I tell you before, that 
henceforth every woman who should be connected with you, would 
be publicly known? However, I am truly glad that the Marchioness 
has a rival deserving of being so, for I am told the Countess is 
an adorable woman. Unfortunately, she is still a child, void of 
manners, of art, of malice. The Marchioness will crush her to 
atoms, as soon as she- Apropos, I wish you joy: you are in high 
favour with M. de B***. The whole of Paris have seen him smiling 
by the side of you on the day of your apotheosis next to that, 
the excellent husband tells everybody that you are a charming 
fellow, and for fear the thing should not appear comical enough, 
he will say to everyone willing to give him a hearing, that I am 
an infamous character. He is angry with me! Extremely angry, I 
am assured! Perhaps I shall have another duel to fight. But you 
know something about it, Chevalier. The Marquis has had a long 
conversation with you."

"Oh! The Marquis has told me of all sorts."

"But, in good friendship, come, Faublas, tell me all about it, I 
want to be made to laugh, and you ought to try to amuse a friend 
in a state of convalescence."

"No, faith, I confess, that I am very far from wishing to amuse 
you at the expense of the Marchioness; I shall even repeat it to 
you, Rosambert, it always grieves me when you speak to me about 
her."

"You are wrong; I am, in the present moment especially, her most 
enthusiastic adorer. Truly, was I saying to myself just now; to 
all her other qualifications, so numerous already, that woman 
now adds prudence. Don't you wonder at the profundity of the 
calculation she had made, namely, that if I escaped her, I 
should not have it in my power to escape her husband? Chevalier, 
you will be my second."

"Second! Yes, very soon."

"Very soon! You had told me that you would not return to 
Compiègne?"

"Second in my fighting the Marquis. Chevalier! Make yourself 
easy! we have made an agreement that I should not fight the 
Marchioness again. How can you suspect me of being mad enough to 
enccourage the extravagant whims of that woman, who has taken it 
into her head to attack courageous young men with their own 
weapons! The more I think of it, do you see, the more I become 
sensible, that public safety requires the evil to be stopped in 
its beginning; that would be setting a bad example: only think, 
if they all wished to adopt the new fashion! All amours would 
terminate in pistol-shots! What a noise would be heard every 
day, in every part of this metropolis!"

Rosambert, who saw me smile, cracked a thousand jokes, and asked 
me as many questions respecting such as he styled my mistresses. 
I at last condescended, with a good grace, to join him in the 
sport; but his curiosity was not altogether productive of great 
satisfaction to him.

My father returned to the hôtel only two hours after me. He gave 
me to understand, he was concerned I had been left alone all 
day. I respectfully observed, it would be carrying kindness too 
far to incommode himself for his son. He asked me how I had 
spent the night. Not to tell an untruth, I answered: Partly 
well, and partly bad, father."

"You have not enjoyed sound sleep?" he replied.

"Sound, begging your pardon, though frequently interrupted."

"You have been greatly agitated?"

"I have, father, suffered violent agitations."

"You have had dreadful dreams?"

"Oh! Very dreadful! One especially, towards the middle of the 
night, has plagued me most uncommonly."

"But in the morning, at least you have slept quiet?"

"In the morning, no. I was uneasy in the morning."

"Fatigue, most likely?"

"A little fatigue, perhaps, and the recollection of that dream."

"I long to hear that dream."

"It was, father-there was a woman"

"Women forever! Oh! My son, think of your wife."

"Ah! ever since seven in the morning (the time at which I had 
set out), I can assure you, that ever since seven, I have almost 
continually been thinking of her. Father, when shall I hear from 
her?"

"You know how many people I have despatched to find her out, and 
within a fortnight, I propose going with you."

"Why not sooner?"

"Why," he replied with an embarrassed air, "I am not ready; 
besides, we must wait till you get better, till the weather is 
more settled."

"The fine weather! Will it ever return so long as Sophia is 
absent?"

Whilst I was speaking at this rate, I nevertheless expected to 
enjoy some happiness on the day following. The next day was that 
Monday so ardently wished for, on which my Eleanor and I were to 
be reunited for some moments. Alas! We were disappointed in our 
expectation. Madame de Fonrose, who came in the evening to pay 
my father a short visit, found means to tell me there was not 
the least possibility; the aunt arrived this morning at her 
house, where she is still.

On the Tuesday it was the same, but on the Wednesday I had the 
consolation at least, of receiving a note from Justine. It 
informed me that with a key that was sent me, I should be able 
to open the street door and every other, of a small new house, 
situated at the entrance of the Rue du Bac, on the side of the 
Pont Royal. M. le Marquise requested of me to be there at about 
seven in the afternoon.

Good news! Madame de B*** of course is not angry with me, I had 
not heard of her since the Friday: that long silence, subsequent 
to our above-mentioned adventure, began to occasion me some 
inquietude. Faublas, she is not out of humour! She is not angry! 
Faublas, happy young man! Rejoice! Congratulate yourself! I 
kissed Justine's note, and jumped for joy.

"What propitious news?" asked my father, as he was coming in 
again.

"Ah 'tis that-'tis that-I see it is fine weather; I think I may 
venture to go and take a walk in the afternoon."

"Yes, with me."

"With you again, father? Sir! I beg your pardon; but do not wish 
entirely to make a slave of me, to prevent me from going to see 
a friend."

"It is not a friend you would go to visit"

"The Vicomte, father."

"M. de Valbrun? Very well; but after that?"

"I promise not to go to the Countess's house."

"Do you give me your word?"

"My word of honour."

"Be it so; I rely upon your word."

I immediately kissed my father's hand, and cut another joyous 
caper.

I was so impatient to know what the Marchioness had to say to 
me, that I was at the place of meeting before the appointed 
hour. I had plenty of time to run over the house, which I found 
elegant, convenient, and well furnished. I observed, especially, 
two small bederooms, adjacent to each other; two bedrooms, which 
I think I can see on this present day, and which, in a hundred 
years hence, if I am still alive, alas! I shall see as plain as 
I do now.

M. de Florville arrived about dusk: he came to join me in one of 
the little rooms. I immediately embraced his knees: "Right," 
said the Marchioness, "beg pardon of your friend, whom you have 
offended, whom you have reduced to the absolute necessity of 
venturing an act of temerity, which might have ruined her, and 
exposed you."

"True, beauteous mamma, but wherefore-wherefore have you-"

"I believe," she interrupted, "I verily believe he is going to 
ask me why I resisted! Be quiet, sir, stand still; think that 
instead of renewing your, offences, you ought to sue for 
forgiveness. Chevalier, I need not tell you for what purpose we 
have met here. You conceive that, after the cruel scene of last 
Friday, I could not, without acting most imprudently, return to 
Justine's house."

"Undoubtedly, that scene-"

"Chevalier, you speak to me no more of Sophia!"

"Since my last misadventure, I have so seldom obtained the 
happiness of seeing you! I have enjoyed it for so short a time! 
We have had so many"

"That is very true, but tell me, candidly, don't you love your 
wife less than you did?"

"Less!"

"Speak out; do not conceal from me your real sentiments; you had 
promised to apprise me."

"Less? More! Madame la Marchioness, each day more! I adore her 
it seems as if absence-"

"Yet, Madame de Lignolle."

"Ah yes! She is so dear to me and is she not deserving of it? I 
shall ask you, you have seen her, and know her better."

"To be sure, the child is pretty enough, and very good natured. 
I had been misinformed with regard to her disposition. However, 
I am no longer prejudiced against her. Nevertheless, Chevalier, 
I think it very extraordinary that you should bear affection so 
as to even be in love with two women at a time."

"Say three, dear mamma."

"No she cried, that is impossible!"

"I assure you."

"Do not; it will happen every day that a man prefers his 
charming wife; that, when she is absent, he regrets her; then 
even it may happen that he feels a very great inclination, a 
decided attachment for an amiable woman; but, for two, is what 
will always appear to me incomprehensible; no, I will never 
comprehend that the Countess's lover may at the same time be 
mine; never shall I understand that! Never!"

I looked at her attentively; she observed me; probably the 
embarrassed air which she must have noticed in my whole frame, 
made her augur unfavourably of my answer; I saw her turn pale; 
there was a sudden alteration in her voice: "This conversation 
seems to be irksome," she resumed, "let us speak of something 
else. How does the country look now?"

"The country?"

"Yes, you went into the country on Saturday evening, and 
returned on Sunday; a very short excursion! Tell me, pray, who 
is one Mademoiselle de Mésanges?"

"De Mésanges!"

"Is not that child become infinitely dear to you also?"

"Infinitely? On what account?"

"In the first place, she is a female; and, to Faublas, that is 
the best of all titles; and, next, would it not be too 
astonishing if, having it occasionally in your power to spend 
the night with the Dowager d'Armincour and Mademoiselle de 
Mésanges, you had not given the preference to the latter? 
Supposing even that you were not allowed to take your choice, I 
know you to be quite capable, if you slept in the same 
apartment, of leaving the large room of the old woman, to go and 
creep into the closet<70> of the young one. You blush! You do 
not speak a word!"

"Madame, if these particular details were true, who could have 
informed you?"

"If those particular details were true! I like the supposition 
mightily! Faublas, do not attempt to tell an untruth: your 
looks, your countenance, your silence, and your discourse, 
everything in you speaks you to be guilty. Faublas, I have been 
indebted to a singular fortuitous event for the discovery of 
part of these details; but you must well know that whenever I am 
allowed to have a peep at one corner of a box, I can easily tell 
what the contents are. I don't know exactly whether you have had 
it in your power to consecrate the whole of your night to the 
young person, or only to grant her one single hour; be it as it 
may, I rely upon your having made a good use of your time. I no 
longer wonder at her friends already speaking of marrying the 
girl; I conceive that at present, for more than one reason, it 
is become a pressing case. However," she pursued, in a most 
serious tone, "I am far from reproaching you for having kept the 
adventure secret; indiscretion in this case would be infamous, 
and I do not think you ever could be guilty of such an offence; 
I am certain that you will be silent on the subject; I am sure 
you have not mentioned it to M. de Rosambert?"

"To M. de Rosambert?"

"Do you not know him?"

"Too well!"

"I believe so, you saw him again on Sunday?"

"Sunday!"

"What have I mistaken the day? Was it not-"

I threw myself at the knees of the Marchioness: "Oh, my generous 
friend! Forgive me!"

"At any rate," she added, beckoning me to rise, "remember that 
you are bound in honour to come and see me fight my enemy 
again."

"Your enemy will not-"

"Be as good as his word! I shall know how to compel him. Could 
it be possible, Faublas, that his punishment should appear less 
just and less desirable to-day? Ah, speak! Your wishes will 
decide the event of the fight. Do not question it; I prefer 
dying by the hand of the cruel man, if from you he is to obtain 
a regret. Don't you know how much I hate the barbarian? He has 
been the author of all the troubles which to me are 
insupportable: insupportable!" repeated she, weeping. "Prior to 
his vile attempt in the village of Holrisse, I was not quite so 
miserable; I had lost only my fortune and character. But has not 
the perfidious wretch occasioned you too some irreparable loss, 
some inconsolable sorrow? Ungrateful Faublas!" she continued, 
with extreme vehemence, "ought not you to detest him as much as 
I love you?"

Madame de B*** ran away, frightened at what she had been saying. 
I flew after her; I was near reaching her; I was going to-

She turned round to me: "Sir," she said, "if you dare to detain 
me, you shall never see me again as long as I live." I could 
read in her face so violent a fright, and a something so 
determined in her attitude that I dared not disobey her. She 
made her escape.

On my return home, I found there Madame de Fonrose, who asked 
me, maliciously, how the Vicomte was; in other respects she was 
bearer only of sad tidings. Madame de Lignolle, who for some 
days past had been assailed by the numberless little illnesses, 
which all announced her being pregnant, now felt seriously 
indisposed; she could not leave her apartment, neither could I 
go and see her, because Madame d'Armincour, probably determined 
to neglect nothing that might cure her niece of a dangerous 
passion, had let her know that she would not return into 
Franche-Comté before Midsummer; she had also begged of Madame de 
Lignolle for an apartment in her hôtel, which the niece could 
not refuse.

A whole fortnight elapsed, during which my Eleanor and I had no 
other consolation than to send, repeatedly, Jasmin to La 
Fleur's, and La Fleur to Jasmin's.

During that fatal fortnight, I did not hear at all of Madame de 
B***. I received from the country no intelligence that could 
create a hope of Sophia's place of new confinement being soon 
discovered. Thus deprived of hearing what I held as most 
interesting to my existence, tedious did I find the days, and 
long and tedious the nights.

Madame de Fonrose, however, invited both the father and the son 
to come and dine with her. At seven precisely, under some 
pretence, I quitted the Baroness's drawing-room, and through 
secret passages, well known to me, reached her boudoir, of which 
the Countess opened the door to me. Alas! After long debates, it 
had been decided on the preceding day that I should stop with my 
beloved twenty minutes only. I continued a quarter of an hour 
above the time, so that I had scarce leisure enough to admire, 
embrace, and speak a few words to her; to tell her that she 
daily became dearer to me; that she appeared prettier to me 
every day. She had hardly time sufficient to protest that my 
absence killed her by inches; that her tenderness was still 
increased, and that her love would likewise increase to the 
latest day of her life.

When I re-entered the drawing-room, there was a dispute; the 
conversation, however, ceased as soon as I made my appearance.

Most likely, the Baroness, wishing to find out some means of 
preventing M. de Belcourt noticing my long absence, had thought 
she could do no better than to pick up a quarrel with him. Oh! 
Divine friendship! Thou wert given to the weakest sex, to enable 
them to cheat the strongest, and thou would forever secure the 
happiness of women, if thou couldst but continue long between 
them.

The happy tête-a-tête which I had obtained, only inspired me 
with a more eager desire to procure one less short, in spite of 
Eleanor's aunt and my father, who jointly conspired against us.

In the middle of the following night, as I was thinking of it, I 
conceived a bold project, which, on the next morning, the 
Baroness approved of, and which was completely executed before 
that same day was over. When I awoke in the morning I took great 
care to be provided with the sick headache; I complained much of 
it at dinner-time; and in the evening it occasioned me such 
violent pain that M. de Belcourt himself advised my going to 
bed.

As soon as my father saw I was asleep, he went out; and no 
sooner was he gone than I had done sleeping. A skilful 
hairdresser was mysteriously brought into my room by my trusty 
servant.

Thanks to my own abilities, and Jasmin, my waiting-maid, I soon 
dressed from head to foot, Mademoiselle de Brumont, whom a very 
inattentive or absent Swiss did not see go out, and whom a 
rascal of a hackney-coachman immediately carried to Madame de 
Fonrose's.

It was very near midnight. We had thought proper not to go 
earlier to the Countess, for fear of the Marchioness not having 
yet retired to her apartment. Madame de Fonrose, when we arrived 
at M. de Lignolle's hôtel, would not allow her carriage to enter 
the yard, that we might not disturb the rest of anyone. There 
was nobody up at the Countess's except her husband and her 
maids, for her aunt was gone to bed, as was expected.

"How! Why so late?" said the Count.

"We wanted," answered the Baroness, "to come and ask you for a 
bit of supper, but have been detained elsewhere. This young 
lady, unable on account of the late hour to be let in at her 
convent, has not accepted of the bed I offered her, but has 
preferred coming to beg of you for this night the little room 
which she occupied in more happy times."

"She has done right," he replied.

"Very right," exclaimed my Eleanor, "and let her come as often 
as possible, to occasion me such an agreeable surprise. Your 
father has sent you to a convent then?" resumed M. de Lignolle.

"Yes, sir, he has."

"Where?"

"I must beg your pardon, but I am not allowed to receive 
anyone."

"I understand, he pursued," quite low, and in a mysterious tone, 
"it is on account of the Vicomte."

"There is no possibility of concealing anything from you."

"Oh, I was sure of it, because the affections of the soul are 
familiar to me. What is most surprising, I have enquired in vain 
after that young man at Versailles, there is no one there who 
knows him."

"I have already told you," interrupted Madame de Fonrose, who 
was listening, "that he was in high favour with the secretary of 
state, but that he seldom made his appearance at court."

"And I," exclaimed the Countess, "have begged he should never be 
mentioned to me."

"Apropos," resumed the Count, I am angry with you."

"What for?"

"A fortnight ago, you went into Gatinois to that festival, and 
early in the morning you departed without-"

"You certainly must have been told that pressing orders had 
compelled me to return to Paris."

"And how do you go on with the riddles?"

"Rather indifferently for some weeks past; yesterday, however, I 
began again; but so few! So few!"

"So much the worse. Come, miss, you must make up for the loss of 
time."

"So I will, ere long, sir."

"Let me tell you, here is your pupil, whom you neglect; mind 
what you are about, she will be in an ill humour, dismiss you, 
and I shall be chosen to replace you."

"No, sir," answered Madame de Lignolle, hastily, "don't expect 
it: I have been proposed such a thing not long since, but I have 
plainly declared that can never be."

"How now! Is it mademoiselle who has made that strange 
proposal?"

"No, thank God!"

"Wait a bit, Madame! Wait a bit! She will, perhaps, some day."

"You will see, he added, patting my shoulder, you will find out 
at last that it is a tiresome business."

"To you it may be," replied his wife, "but I am very sure 
Mademoiselle de Brumont is never tired."

"Most assuredly, Madame la Comtesse, and for several days past I 
have been very sorry I had it not in my power to come and give 
you lessons."

"Well!" interrupted Madame de Fonrose, "give her a lesson, I 
must be off."

"I shall not detain you," replied her friend, "for I feel 
sleepy."

"That being the case," said M. de Lignolle, "I shall see the 
Baroness to her carriage, and then retire into my apartment. 
Ladies, I wish you a very good night."

The Countess immediately sent away her women; and the moment we 
were left by ourselves, she flew into my arms, and rewarded my 
happy stratagem with a hundred caresses.

O ye! To whom it has been granted leave occasionally to enter 
the bed of an adored mistress, and to watch there a whole night 
for her sake, if you were truly deserving of such a favour, you 
must have relished more than one kind of exquisite pleasure! 
Vulgar lovers know only the hour of enjoyment; more favoured 
lovers are no strangers to the hour that follows it: this is the 
time for a sweeter intimacy, better felt eulogiums, more 
persuasive protestations, enchanting avowals, tender overtures, 
delicious tears, and of all the voluptuousness that can fill the 
heart. It is then, that with an equal interest, the fortunate 
couple remember their first interview, their first desires; then 
it is, that bringing their thoughts back to the time present, 
with which they are delighted, they congratulate each other, 
upon having obtained so much felicity, notwithstanding so many 
obstacles; it is then, that viewing only in future times a long 
series of happy days, they indulge with full confidence, the 
reveries of hope.

"Yes," she said, "I have formed the best, the most charming of 
all projects; we shall then live and die together. I shall fill 
one trunk only with my most necessary clothes, and take away 
with me my diamonds only: I don't wish M. de Lignolle should 
have to complain of being wronged by us: we shall leave France, 
and settle where you like; every country will appear beautiful 
to me, since you will be with me. My diamonds are well worth 
ninety thousand francs: we shall sell them, and purchase in a 
fine country, not a castle, nor even a house, but a cottage, 
Faublas! A small handsome cottage; provided there be room enough 
for one person, for you and I shall be but one."

"As you say, my charming friend, we shall be but one."

"We don't want two rooms to sleep in. Shall we have two beds, 
Faublas?"

"Oh, no! Not two beds."

"The garden will be large, and we shall have a gardener. We 
shall marry a pretty country girl to a poor peasant, who will 
love her: we shall give them our garden, they will cultivate it 
for their own use, and will allow us to take what we shall want 
for our support; we shall not want much, you and I only eat to 
support life. Apropos, I don't think of keeping a waiting woman; 
there would be someone present when I would wish to tell you 
that I love you; that would annoy me. With regard to my dress, 
do I want anybody's assistance? Shan't I find out in what manner 
I must deck myself to please you."

"Ah you will please me in all manner of dress."

"Well, now that is settled, I shall have no waiting woman, but a 
cook; shall we have a cook?"

"How can we do without!"

"How do you think I would not know how to cook our dinner! Our 
four meals? Some butter, milk, eggs, fruit, a fowl. I have 
learnt to make pastry, I will make you pies, cakes, biscuits, 
and every now and then some nice creams. Oh! I shall treat you 
well, you will see! Will not all those appear to you better, 
sir, when it is I-"

"Better! A thousand times better!"

"So then," she said, embracing me, "we shall be only one in this 
cottage! Let me see, you will place our money, and it will fetch 
us upwards of a hundred louis d'ors per annum, so you must see 
that we will be immensely rich! Our food will not cost much, and 
our clothing will not require much! A light taffeta in summer 
time, and in the winter season a neat cotton gown is all I shall 
wish for. You will not want more yourself, my good friend; you 
need not wear fine clothes to look charming. By this means, we 
shall scarcely spend one half of our income; and with the 
remainder, will have it in our power to assist some poor people. 
One half for us will be a great deal! Fifty louis for the 
unfortunate poor, that is very little! We shall try: first we 
shall suppress all superfluities, we shall next curtail 
necessaries."

"Adorable child!"

"I am no more of a child than you are; so then, Faublas, you 
like my project?"

"I am delighted with it."

"How happy I am to be possessed of a genius for invention! You 
never would have found that out-but I have not told you all; you 
have not heard the most important article."

"What is it?"

"I shall be brought to bed, and will suckle my child."

"You will suckle it, dear Eleanor?

"I will, and will teach it first to love you with all its heart! 
Make yourself easy. I will teach it embroidery, to play on the 
piano-

"And to make little creams, my Eleanor: it cannot be possessed 
of too many talents. Why, what is the matter with you, my 
beloved? You weep!"

"Certainly, I do weep! You laugh when I am speaking seriously! 
You are jocose when I speak feelingly."

"It is because I am glad at heart, I assure you. Eleanor, I too 
wish to educate our child: I will teach him to read"

"In our eyes, all the love we shall feel for it," she 
interrupted.

"-To write"

"Every day! He will write every morning that his mother loves 
you better than she did on the preceding day."

"-To dance"

"To dance upon my knees," she exclaimed, laughing in her turn.

"-To fence."

"Ah! Wherefore in that country, where we shall be surrounded but 
by well-wishers of ours, what occasion will he have to know how 
to kill people?"

"You are right, my Eleanor. When his mother will have taught him 
how to render himself dear to everyone, he will, like his 
mother, be defended by the love of everyone."

"Such are my projects, Faublas," she resumed. "I was certain 
they would meet with your approbation. We are going to spend the 
remainder of our days together! We are going, unopposed, to 
adore each other to the last day of our lives; Madame 
d'Armincour will no longer come to plague me with her useless 
representations; your father will not have it in his power again 
to tear you away from me."

"Would I forsake my father?"

"Ah! Why not? Don't I forsake my aunt?"

"My father, who idolises me!"

"My aunt does not cherish me less. But if they really feel for 
us all the affection they manifest, nothing will prevent their 
coming to join us. I have thought, that from the place of our 
retirement, we might write to apprise them of our invariable 
determination; if they come, it will be for us an increase of 
happiness, we will have a cottage built for them adjacent to our 
own; if they resisted our repeated entreaties, we shall consider 
them as having forsaken us; our reciprocal love will make us 
forget our ungrateful relatives."

"Could I forsake my father, and my sister?"

O Sophia! I did not name you; but you were avenged by my tears.

Your sister may come too; we will marry her to some worthy 
husbandman, to an honest man who will not marry her fortune, but 
her person, and will make her happy."

"Wherefore are you silent, Faublas? Why do you shed tears?"

"You see me penetrated with gratitude, my beloved. So many 
proofs of your so tender love would increase mine, if it were 
susceptible of an increase; but after mature deliberation, I am 
obliged to confess to myself, and to inform you I deem it 
impossible to execute that project."

"Impossible! For what reason?"

"Unfortunately there are several."

"I know of one, ungrateful man! Your love for Sophia?"

"I am not speaking of my wife. You don't give a thought to the 
many necessitous whom your beneficence supports; your wealth is 
their patrimony."

"Will they enjoy that wealth after my despair has killed me?"

"You don't reflect on the bustle your flight would occasion. All 
would call it treachery, all would call your sacrifices an act 
of folly, and your love for me a disorderly passion. Would you 
wish to have your memory detested by your relations, and 
disgraced in your country?

"What do I care! Since I am not quite inexcusable! What do I 
care for the opinion of the world that does not know me, and the 
unjust hatred of relatives who have sacrificed me!"

"Can you hope that Madame d'Armincour will ever consent to 
follow into foreign parts a niece, condemned by the voice of the 
public?"

"Ah! what do I care for my aunt, when my lover is concerned! 
Cruel man! Do you wish to make me regret the time when I loved 
my aunt alone?"

"In short, since I cannot dispense telling you so, consider that 
both of us, as members of a famous family, subjects, and 
married, can, neither of us escape the threefold authority of 
our families, of the sovereign, and of the law. Against those 
combined forces, my Eleanor, there is not in the whole universe 
one single asylum for two lovers."

"Not one single asylum! I shall find one. At any rate let us go, 
let us disguise ourselves well, change our names, and be 
concealed in some obscure village, where they will not come to 
look after us; and if they were to come, we shall have against 
our persecutors one last resource; we shall kill ourselves."

"Kill ourselves!"

"Yes, live together, or die! I will have you carry me away! And 
you shall!"

"We shall kill ourselves! And our child?"

"Our child? Our child! He is right," she cried, with deep 
despair, "he is right! What determination am I to fix upon?"

"Upon one, equally cruel and indispensable, my dear, my most 
unhappy dear. Do you recollect what your aunt was proposing to 
you the other day?"

"And you too, Faublas, would give me that horrid advice? It is 
my lover who invites me to throw myself into the arms of another 
man."

"Eleanor, that sacrifice does not appear to me less painful than 
it does to you! It is dreadful"

"Dreadful indeed! More dreadful than death!"

"Eleanor? and our child?"

Suffocated by her sobs, she could not answer me. It appeared to 
me that the propitious moment was come to detail with force the 
many reasons that were to convince and persuade her. 

"All that may be," she said at length, "but how can you arrange 
matters so as to re-capacitate M. de Lignolle?"

"My dear, you have allowed him one minute only for the 
experiment; perhaps by granting him a whole night."

"A whole night! An age of tortures! And, the same as at the 
first time, I shall be obliged to go and tell him that I will 
have it done?"

"Let us beware. Your frequent sick headaches, your being often 
sick, and many other circumstances must already have caused 
inquietude to M. de Lignolle. If after six months' silence you 
were to give him peremptory orders, your husband might conceive 
strange and dreadful suspicions. We have no other means left 
than to apply to a skilful, discreet and complaisant physician, 
who will come and examine your supposed illness, and prescribe 
marriage."

"Where is such a man as you describe to be found?"

"Everywhere. Our doctors are men of honour, accustomed to keep 
family secrets, to maintain peace between married couples, and-"

"So I must trust a stranger!"

"Why indeed, I don't find that to be necessary. A friend can-
I'll tell you what, I will provide the physician. Your tears 
begin to run again, my Eleanor! Ah! The same as yours, my heart 
is torn."

"I am going to immolate myself," she said sobbing, "and shall 
become less dear to him. I shall no longer be his wife, I shall 
only be his mistress."

I succeeded in calming her inquietude; but I made vain efforts 
to comfort her, for the misfortune with which she was 
threatened. She wept in my arms till four in the morning; as I 
was obliged to leave her then, we agreed that two days after I 
would bring the physician, and that the painful sacrifice was to 
be accomplished on the following night.

Totally preoccupied on the preceding day with the desire of 
seeing her, I had, while thinking of the means of gaining 
admittance to her apartment, entirely forgotten those of getting 
out of it. "My dear, I think of it rather late, how shall I 
manage to return home."

"Alas you are going away, my dear?"

"Yes, but I have only woman's clothes by me. A young girl in 
full dress, running about the streets at four o'clock in the 
morning by herself, will create suspicion; the guard will arrest 
me, and I don't at all wish to be carried again to Saint 
Martin."

"Is that all?" she replied. "Wait a bit. I shall get up too, we 
shall call up La Fleur; without making a noise he will put the 
horse to the gig, and attended by my servant I shall see you to 
your own door, and by this means we shall continue longer in 
each other's company. I shall tell M. de Lignolle it was 
indispensable for you to return to your convent by daybreak."

What she proposed was executed. La Fleur, who appeared entirely 
devoted to us, served us most zealously. Madame de Lignolle left 
me only at the moment when my faithful Jasmin, hearing the 
signal previously agreed upon, came running to open the gate of 
the hôtel. I went to lay down, and it was striking ten when M. 
de Belcourt awoke me. He asked me if I had had a good night."

"Very good, father."

"And the sick headache?"

"The sick headache! Ah! still feel some secret pain from it! But 
it does not signify! May I, at the price of several days' 
sufferings, obtain occasionally similar nights to that I have 
just spent."

I had scarcely ended those words, when good fortune brought in 
M. de Rosambert. My father, who had not seen the Count since his 
unfortunate duel at La Porte Maillot, overwhelmed him with 
civilities. The Baron at last went down into his apartment. As 
soon as we were left alone, Rosambert began reproaching me 
again. "You have given me your word of honour, "he said, and yet 
a fortnight has elapsed."

"You see, my father never leaves me. I might have gone to your 
house, but with him."

"That would have procured me at least the pleasure of seeing 
you."

"Come, Rosambert, a truce to compliments, and confess candidly 
that the Baron's visit would not prove very agreeable to you. M. 
de Belcourt is very amiable, but he is my father. It is the 
company of young people that you like."

"It is that which I prefer. Chevalier, have you heard a great 
piece of news? You will remember perhaps a certain obliging 
Countess, who, the first time that I conducted you to a ball-
room, carried me away that you might be left with Madame de 
B***."

"Undoubtedly! I do remember her; she is pretty enough."

"You need not tell me so; nobody knows it better than I do. This 
Countess had for a long time since been intimate with the 
Marchioness; it is assured that those two ladies were equally 
interested in sparing each other; yet they are no longer upon 
very good terms. Their rupture makes a great noise in the world, 
and is spoken of diversely. One day, as I was going to pay my 
first visit to the Marchioness of Rosambert,<71> I found the 
lovely Countess at her house, and she manifested a great 
friendship for me; it was not very difficult for me to find out 
that she wished for my alliance."

"Ah! No more on the subject. Let me tell you, Rosambert, that 
you are come very apropos; I was going to write to beg of you to 
render me a service of importance."

Of my adventures with Madame de Lignolle, I only concealed those 
parts in which Madame de B*** was connected; I spoke much about 
the aunt and the niece, but took great care not to say a word 
about the cousin. My recitals, though curtailed, supplied him 
with an inexhaustible subject of pleasantry; and when his 
merriment had been sufficiently exercised, "I already feel 
strong enough," he said, "to attend upon some pretty female 
patients; besides, it is impossible to refuse so ludicrous an 
errand as that which Madame de Brumont honours me with; tomorrow 
she will see me at the Countess's, ready to answer her 
confidence in me; tomorrow she will do me the justice to own 
that the most scientific doctor could not have taken better 
measures than myself to secure to the impotent M. de Lignolle 
the honours of paternity.

A moment after the departure of Rosambert, the Baroness came to 
see us. I was surprised at first to hear her speak as follows to 
M. de Belcourt: "M. de Lignolle has never espoused his wife; it 
is a fact which every person is acquainted with, and still his 
wife is with child! You know of it, Baron; for that avowal, with 
which she has suddenly astonished you, she would, immediately 
after, and with the same candour, have regaled her husband, if 
Madame d'Armincour had not opposed it. The question now is to 
save the thoughtless girl, who deserves to be pitied; there is 
but one single mode, however, namely, to contrive to induce the 
unworthy husband to consummate his marriage, which is no 
trifling matter; but something more difficult still, perhaps, is 
to prevail upon Madame de Lignolle to suffer the attempt to be 
made. I can see no one in the whole world but the father of the 
child who will be able to persuade the mother to a 
determination, for which, whoever knows the lover and the 
husband, will be sensible that no small share of fortitude is 
requisite. A doctor is to be let into the secret, who will 
prescribe the conjugal union; the husband will hear the 
sentence, and the aunt will press the execution of it. All is 
ready for tomorrow; but the whole will fail if Mademoiselle de 
Brumont is not present. Allow me, then, M. le Baron, to call 
soon and take your son in his disguise, and conduct him to 
Madame de Lignolle; Mademoiselle de Brumont will spend the day 
there, and I promise to bring her back again in a moment; the 
little lady overewhelmed with sorrow will want to be comforted 
by a look from her friend. Your son on that day, I give you my 
word of honour, will return to dine with you."

M. de Belcourt, plunged in serious thought, kept silence for a 
while: "Madame," he said, at length, "will you promise not to 
part from this young man for one single moment?" She promised. 
He then addressed me: "Twice more put on Mademoiselle de 
Brumont's clothes; but, remember, that after that you are to 
take them off, and never to wear them again."

Madame de Fonrose had not taken leave of us for a quarter of an 
hour, when M. de Belcourt received a note. The Baron, upon 
reading it, assumed a gloomy air, some signs of impatience also 
frequently escaped him, and he exclaimed several times: "In 
fact, that appears probable!"

"Some bad news, father?"

"Yes, bad, my son."

"Nothing about Sophia?"

"Sophia not a word."

"Nor my sister?"

"Nor your sister, neither."

"Farewell, sir; may you sleep well this night, although the last 
was a good one; tomorrow put on the perfidious disguise, and 
after tomorrow, in the forenoon, you have my leave, but it be 
for the last time; for the last time, understand me well!"



XXVIII.

On the next day, before twelve, the Baroness and I were at 
Madame de Lignolle's; we had not long to wait for the doctor. No 
one could have recognised in his new costume, the friend of the 
Chevalier de Faublas. He was no longer that elegant young man, 
thoughtless, jovial, replete with grace and amiableness; he was, 
however, a handsome doctor, gallant, courteous, lively and 
charming, like the rest of them. He advanced straight to my 
Eleanor.

"This is the patient; there is no occasion to point her out to 
me! What is her illness? Where does it settle? With such a 
figure, and such eyes! It must be the consequence of derangement 
somewhere? It requires a great knowledge of the case to find it 
out here! But, a little patience! It will decamp ere long."

"Monsieur le Comte knows the new piece? Good for nothing."

"I have not seen it myself, I have not one hour's respite! 
Crowds of patients assail me! It is natural enough though; they 
are tired of getting killed by others."

"My fair lady, let me feel the pulse. Ah! What a sweet hand! A 
charming hand!" He kissed it.

"What are you doing?" said the Countess, "with a laugh."

"I know well others will feel it, I listen to it; through this 
so fine skin, I could even see it."

The MARCHIONESS D'ARMINCOUR. The doctor is jocose! (In a low 
voice, to Faublas): Receive my best thanks; it is you no doubt 
who have persuaded my niece to adopt the only measure that could 
save her; and to this service, add that of never being connected 
with her again; and I shall say, notwithstanding your former 
wrongs, that you are certainly a man of honour.

ROSAMBERT. There is a rumour of an approaching war. The emperor 
has projects of conquest; if I were in the place of the Grand 
Signior,<72> I would collect five-hundred thousand men, cross 
the Danube-it is agitated, my fair lady-"

The COUNTESS (laughing.) Who? The Grand Signior on the Danube?

ROSAMBERT. Well! Very well! We will cure you; you like a joke. 
Your pulse, my fair lady; there is a je ne sais qoi, which 
causes it to beat too quick-and I would go and lay siege to 
Vienna-Madame complains of being sick, I believe?

The COUNTESS. You commit a mistake, doctor, for though I feel 
sick, I don't complain of it.

ROSAMBERT. However, you must take great care, Madame! Your 
sickness proceeds from an affection of the heart! And the heart 
is not to be sported with! It is the noble part, and you are 
sensible that if I were to lay siege to it, it would be with the 
intention of taking it-and immediately after its surrender, I 
would march straight up to Saint Petersburg, to go and pay a 
visit to that ambitious empress. Does she sleep well?

MADEMOISELLE DE BRUMONT. Doctor, the ambitious sleep but little.

ROSAMBEBT. Oh! It is Madame I am speaking of.

The COUNTESS (still laughing.) Me, that is quite another thing; 
for some time past I have not slept well. (She then assumed a 
serious and tender air, and casting at me a sudden but 
significant look, added): I nevertheless never entertained any 
other ambitious desire, but of being able to do without doctor's 
prescriptions.

ROSAMBERT. Truly, my fair lady, I confess it would be better to 
do without; but, necessity, when pressing, must be attended to-
At the end of the campaign, I would return to recruit myself in 
my seraglio; but I would have French women in my seraglio! And 
you, Monsieur le Comte?

M. de LIGNOLLE. I likewise.

ROSAMBERT. Ah! It is not to be disputed; none are so amiable as 
the French women! I behold some here who are charming; you, for 
instance, sir, possess one who is worth a thousand others; but 
only imagine how delightful, if you had two or three hundred 
more like her, without reckoning many more that you might send 
for, and have brought from Italy, Spain, England, Golconda, 
Cachemira,<73> Africa, America, and, in short, from all the 
different parts of the world.

The BARONESS (laughing.) Gently, doctor. What a sultan you would 
be!

The COUNTESS (to her husband.) I believe that so many people 
would only occasion you some uneasiness.

ROSAMBERT (to the Countess.) Yes! It might create a little 
jealousy! But don't be angry with me. It was not in earnest that 
I advised M. le Comte. (To M. de Lignolle): Do you give her much 
exercise?

M. de LIGNOLLE. Exercise? She takes too much, she kills herself.

ROSAMBERT. Young women like that, and they are right: they 
seldom feel the worse for it. Do you enjoy a good appetite, 
Madame?

The COUNTESS. I did formerly, but I have lost it.

ROSAMBEET. You have lost it; you don't sleep; my fair lady, your 
soul is affected with some secret trouble.

M. de LIGNOLLE. Are you acquainted, doctor, with the affections 
of the soul?

ROSAMBERT. Better than any man in the world.

M. De LIGNOLLE. Better! That is soon said. But we shall see; 
allow me to put your deep knowledge to the test: is mine own 
soul in its complete equilibrium!

ROSAMBERT. Your soul? Do you think I can't see, that at this 
present moment there is a something that perplexes it!

M. de LIGNOLLE. What is that?

ROSAMBERT (in an ill humour.) You insist upon it! I will speak 
it all out: what perplexes your soul, is in the first place, the 
situation of your lady, because, if her illness became serious, 
and that your wife should die, you would be obliged to return 
her marriage portion.

M. de LIGNOLLE (haughtily.) M. le Docteur, you offend me!

ROSAMBERT (in high spirits.) It is your own fault, M. le Comte. 
Wherefore do you not treat learned men with that consideration 
and respect that are due to them! What, moreover, tortures your 
soul, is the composition of some work of genius, that does not 
go on as quick as you could wish; for I do not look at your 
dress, which informs me, that you are a military character, it 
is your soul that I examine: it is depicted in your countenance 
in your looks: I can read there that you cultivate letters with 
success.

M. de LIGNOLLE (with a satisfied air.) You see very right; you 
are a skilful man. To tell you the truth, I am now already 
tormented about a riddle.

ROSAMBERT. What! Am I so fortunate as to have met the Monsieur 
de Lignolle, who fills our public papers with his poetry, who 
supplies the Mercuré with his masterpieces!

M. de LIGNOLLE (in a transport of joy.) Masterpieces? You are 
too kind. However, I am the M. de Lignolle whom you are speaking 
of.

ROSAMBERT. Oh! Sir, excuse the little report-

M. de LIGNOLLE. I beg you will not mention it! I must beg your 
pardon; for I confess that it were difficult to carry further 
the knowledge of the soul 

ROSAMBERT. I have heard that the Countess would also meddle with 
riddles.

The COUNTESS. Yes, I have composed one.

ROSAMBERT. Very well, my fair lady; go on, it will amuse you. Be 
not uneasy on account of your actual indisposition; your illness 
will be a mere nothing; it is only a case of plenitude. To be 
sure there is a plenitude; but whence does it originate?

He then held his head between his two hands, and for a long time 
appeared absorbed in deep reflection; he next looked most 
attentively at the Countess. "Upon my honour!" he exclaimed, 
afterwards, this is beyond my comprehension; for after all it is 
the case of a maiden, and this handsome person is Madame la 
Comtesse." (To M. de Lignolle, low, but distinctly, so that we 
did not lose a syllable): "Tell me, you must neglect your 
charming wife very much?" We could not hear the husband's 
answer; but Rosambert resumed: "It must be so, though, for there 
is plenitude, redundance, a complete plethora; and if you do not 
remedy it, the jaundice will infallibly come next; and after the 
jaundice-why, faith, you would have the marriage portion to 
return; take care of yourself."

M. de LIGNOLLE. (in a faltering voice.) I can assure you it is 
not in the marriage portion-

ROSAMBERT (to the Countess.) How long have you been married!

The COUNTESS. Very near eight months, doctor.

ROSAMBERT. Eight months! She must be very near her accouchement. 
M. le Comte, do your duty to Madame: this very night! Or I could 
not answer for the consequence.

M. de LIGNOLLE. Doctor, observe-

The MARCHIONESS D'ARMINCOUR (harshly.) No observations. A child!

The BARONSS (in a caressing tone.) A child to this little one; 
what would that cost you?

M. de LIGNOLLE. But-

ROSAMBERT (in a friendly tone.) Ah! No buts. A child!

The MARCHIONESS D'ARMINCOUR (weeping.) Alas! Doctor, perhaps you 
prescribe to him what is impossible.

ROSAMBERT (pointing to the Countess.) How so? Impossible! Does 
the lady refuse her consent!

The COUNTESS (with tears in her eyes) I-I-.

MADEMOISELLE de BRUMONT (throwing herself at the knees of the 
Countess, low.) Eleanor, think of me, think of our child (aloud) 
Madame la Countess, if you pay the least return to the tender 
attachment of your aunt, to that of your friends and to mine, 
say that you consent.

The Countess lifted up her eyes to heaven, then turned them 
towards me, and, dropping her hand into mine, heaved a deep sigh 
and was heard to pronounce the fatal: "I consent."

ROSAMBERT (To M. de Lignolle.) Well! She consents; what have you 
to say now?

The MARCHIONESS D'ARMINCOUR (sobbing.) That he cannot achieve 
it, the traitor!

ROSAMBERT. That he cannot! That is what I shall never be made to 
comprehend. The repugnance is not probable; the wife is a 
charming woman! Neither is it owing to the want of physical 
powers? You are quite in your prime yet. What is your age? About 
sixty?

M. de LIGNOLLE (rather angrily.) Very little more than fifty, 
sir.

ROSAMBERT. You see! But though you were double, these charms are 
capable of reviving a centenarian.

The BARONESS. Be it so, doctor; but give me leave to introduce a 
quotation:

On dit qu'on n'a jamais tous les dons à-la-fois, 
Et que les gens d'esprits, d'ailleurs très estimable, 
Ont fort peu de talent pour former leurs semblables, 
DESTOUCHES, Le Philosophe Marié.<74>

ROSAMBERT. With regard to men of wit, be it so; but a man of 
genius! A man like M. le Comte, is in every respect superior to 
other men. Wait a moment, though it is very possible that we 
were all right, as I can demonstrate. Authors who compose, by 
dint of perpetual meditation, force the blood and the humours 
continually to flow towards the head; it is to the brains 
therefore that all the spirits are carried; unfortunately the 
brains being incessantly exercised, acquire strength only at the 
expense of the other parts that languish. The left arm, for 
instance, which you use much less than the right, is much the 
weakest. Well it is the same in this case. The head of a man of 
letters, is his right arm: all the rest of him is the left; 
which is so much the better for glory, but so much the worse for 
love.

The MARCHIONESS D'ARMINCOUR. What do I care for glory! Have I 
married my niece, that she might be regarded with glory alone?

ROSAMBERT. Rightly spoken! All ladies are of the same opinion on 
that point; but be comforted, a remedy is near at hand: I who am 
now speaking to you, have, in a similar case performed a 
miraculous cure, upon every member of a provincial academy.

All the members of that literary society were labouring under 
the same disease as M. le Comte appears to be afflicted; all the 
married women in that small town looked emaciated, and exhibited 
sallow complexions. Provincial wives, who are very particular 
respecting the article of matrimonial duty, were unwilling to 
die without complaining; they cried out against literature; they 
hallooed! And made an infernal roaring! Their good fortune would 
have it so, that I was travelling that road, was recognised, and 
called upon to attend them. I found out at once, that by re-
establishing the equilibrium of the humours, and the ordinary 
circulation of the blood, everything would return of itself to 
its natural state. For those literati, who were very willing to 
be made men again, I composed an excellent potion, a wonderful 
potion-a potion in short! The success was prodigious. From the 
very next day, the complexion of every complainant looked to be 
brighter; but what happened to be most remarkable in the 
adventure was, that at nine months from the period, on the same 
day, and nearly at the same hour, all my academical females were 
delivered of a stout boy, well constituted; of a boy, do you 
hear! Because the fathers had gone to work with incredible 
ardour!

What occasions my laughing, is a pleasant circumstance I just 
recollect. Only think, this day of general delivery, which the 
ladies seemed to have appointed, happened to be a day of 
meeting, each husband lost his counter. This, which proved a 
subject of great mortification for the first literary 
characters, was a source of amusement for the whole town.

M. le Comte, I am returning home, in order to compose a like 
potion for you only, as I imagine that you are possessed of more 
genius than those gentlemen, you must have suffered more in your 
constitution than they had, and, of course, I shall double the 
doses. I shall send you the paternal draught this evening; 
swallow it up at one draught, and I warrant that in the night 
Madame will hear of it. Mademoiselle de Brumont and I shall call 
tomorrow morning to admire the effect of the remedy.

He added, in a lower tone of voice: "Don't fail, for it is a 
pressing case. It would be a great pity to bury that young 
woman, and to have her portion to return. I must leave you; the 
whole town are waiting for me. Good morning to you, sir; ladies, 
your servant."

His departure released me from a heavy burden; for I could see 
the doctor continually getting into better spirits, and I was 
afraid that he had already carried the joke too far. However, M. 
de Lignolle's satisfied look, and tone of confidence quieted me. 
Without being discomposed at the bitter reproaches of Madame 
d'Armincour, he proudly replied: "Is it my fault if glory and 
love do not agree? Have you not heard the doctor? He is a very 
clever man: I certify he is, and since he takes it upon himself 
to re-establish the equilibrium, you will see to-night you will 
see!" He went away much pleased with himself.

As soon as he was gone, the Baroness, who could hold no longer, 
burst out laughing. "Where in the name of patience, she asked, 
have you found out that truly amiable physician?"

"In fact," interrupted the Countess, who laughed and wept at the 
same time, "your friend is very entertaining! Quite so! He has 
found means to enliven one of the most distressing moments of my 
life."

"And what he says is sound reasoning," exclaimed Madame 
d'Armincour: "full of sense! What is the name of that charming 
man?"

"Rosambert."

"The Count de Rosambert!" said the Baroness: "The unfortunate 
lover of Madame de B***! I have heard him spoken of with high 
encomiums, which he appears to be deserving of."

"The Count de Rosambert!" repeated the Marchioness; "that is the 
name! He is the same young man who was recommended to me to-he 
is your intimate friend?"

"He is, Madame."

"I am very glad of it; that young man carries his recommendation 
on his countenance, he does not in the least bear the appearance 
of being another M. de Lignolle!"

Madame d'Armincour not long after asked me politely whether I 
was not going. The Countess immediately declared she insisted 
upon my remaining with her the whole day long; she even 
protested I should not leave her before the fatal hour, and that 
if she were compelled to send me away sooner, she would not 
allow M. de Lignolle to enter the apartment.

"Another act of imprudence!" exclaimed the Marchioness. "It is 
high time there should be an end to all this. Madame, I tell you 
over again; people begin to talk about the world; there must 
have been some shocking bad rumours circulated against you, for 
several times within a few days, some folks, even in my 
presence, have indulged scandalous jokes respecting our 
Mademoiselle de Brumont, with whom you are said to be intimately 
connected; how is it possible that your secret, a secret, of 
this nature, which for a long time since has been entrusted to 
so many individuals, should be well kept? I beg of you, niece, 
henceforth let your conduct be regulated by my advice; if it is 
not for my sake, let it be for your own. Do not ruin yourself, 
do not obstinately insist upon detaining-"

"I insist, aunt, upon her stopping till night, and her coming 
tomorrow at an early hour to comfort me."

"Since you will have her stay, I must yield consent; but you 
must allow me at least not to leave you."

"Alas! You might leave us without any risk, you may stay today, 
as well as tomorrow-the same day, I assure you, shall not 
witness an odious shame."

Notwithstanding, the Marchioness did not leave us, my Eleanor 
found means to say to me: "My aunt does not know that you lately 
have spent a night here; I have requested M. de Lignolle not to 
tell her of it. I observed to him, that Madame d'Armincour, 
naturally talkative, might, perhaps, mention it to someone, who 
might accidentally repeat it to your father, and thus bring you 
into trouble. So you see, my dear, that we may still expect more 
than one happy night"

"But it will neither be tomorrow, nor even-"

"Oh, no! I could not pass on a sudden from the arms of such a 
man, into the arms of my lover."

Tedious as the day was, yet to us it appeared too short. The 
fatal potion was brought very punctually. The Count at first 
seized it with avidity; but as soon as he had tasted it, we saw 
him make horrid grimaces, and finally place the phial on the 
mantel-piece; most luckily it was nearly empty; Madame 
d'Armincour never could persuade him to drink the small quantity 
of the liquor he had left.
 
Illustration: But as soon as he had tasted it, we saw him make a 
horrid grimace, and finally place the phial on the mantelpiece.

The cruel moment arrived. The Countess went to bed when the 
clock had struck twelve. I saw her bathe her pillow with her 
tears, I saw her secretly kiss the place where my head had 
rested two nights before. My dear Eleanor! What a farewell I did 
hear her pronounce, with what a look was it accompanied! My soul 
was lacerated. Her plaintive accent and dolorous glance, seemed 
both equally to upbraid me for the horrid sacrifice which was 
soon to be accomplished. My dearest Eleanor! She was as pale and 
trembling as a felon under sentence of death. Was that the 
woman, who half a year before, would say to her husband in a 
decided tone: "I insist upon it?" Love! O Almighty Love, what an 
empire do you exercise over our minds and our hearts!

On my return home, I was overwhelmed with grief. M. de Belcourt 
tried useless efforts to disguise how deeply concerned he felt 
for my sorrows. What a sad night I did pass? Pardon me, however, 
my Sophia! Pardon me; it was not you entirely who this time 
occasioned my restless night; but at least, you still know, as 
well as your unfortunate rival, how to excite my lively regret, 
and tender commiseration; you were at least, upon my rising, the 
first object of my solicitude.

"You told me, father, that in a fortnight, we were to go and 
fetch my wife; upwards of a fortnight is elapsed."

He answered with an embarrassed air, "I have some indispensable 
business to attend to first. I don't think now it will be long. 
Have patience for a few days."

"I wish you good morning, father."

"Whither are you going so early?"

"To dress, and go to the Baroness, and from thence to the 
Countess. You have given me leave. I most assuredly will return 
to dine with you, father."

We did not call for Rosambert; he had appointed his hour, and we 
were both punctual, that upon our arrival at M. de Lignolle's, 
we saw the doctor's carriage in the yard. This was a job coach, 
well chosen for the present occasion, with outside steps, French 
fashion, the body straight and long, a kind of a gothic vis-a-
vis, the demi-fortune of a physician. We met Rosambert, who was 
gravely ascending the stairs. Madame d'Armincour advanced with 
tears in her eyes, to open the door of her niece's bed-room. The 
niece, on the contrary, rushed into my arms, with all the signs 
of extreme satisfaction. Surprised, I asked her very earnestly, 
what could occasion her such joyous transports? "Congratulate 
me," she exclaimed, "congratulate yourself, that M. de Lignolle 
is not changed in the least. He is not as yet M. de Lignolle, 
neither am I his wife. Your Eleanor is yours only."

At the same moment, M. de Lignolle, who undoubtedly had heard 
the doctor coming, entered the room, and without showing the 
least confusion, addressed Rosambert as follows: "Doctor, the 
equilibrium is not re-established; what say you to that?"

"What say I? That it is not the fault of my remedy; that you are 
a man of genius, as few are to be met with."

"Moat fortunately, exclaimed the aunt."

"A man of genius incurable!" pursued Rosambert; "a man of 
genius, whose head will ever be wonderful, but who, for all the 
rest, will remain impotent all his life-time."

"I should have acted right, perhaps," resumed the Count, 
"showing the phial, if I had not left that."

"Certainly you would have acted better; but it does not signify: 
the quantity that you have drank, sir, would have sufficed for 
four ordinary literati. I am not a man to impose upon, or to 
trifle with my patients, since that has produced no effect, you 
will not recover, you never will get better, never."

"What! Do you think that the course-"

The Count was interrupted by the sudden arrival of his brother, 
the Vicomte de Lignolle, a captain in the Royal Navy. The 
impatient sea-faring man rushed into his sister-in-law's 
apartment without waiting till he had been announced. He was a 
man five feet ten inches high, bulky, and strong in proportion, 
a kind of Hercules, with black hair, large mustachios, a long 
sword by his side, a savage look, and the whole countenance of a 
bravo.

The CAPTAIN. Good morning to you, brother: good morning 
everybody.

M. de LIGNOLLE (apparently pre-occupied.) Good morning, my dear. 
(To Rosambert.) You are of opinion, that the course of the blood 
and of the humours is invincibly determined?

The CAPTAIN. Who is ill here?

ROSAMBERT. Your sister-in-law.

The CAPTAIN. She is indisposed, that woman? Perhaps it is so 
much the better. Zounds, we shall see.

The BARONESS (in a low voice, to Mademoiselle de Brumont, who 
had just cast a threatening look at the Vicomte.) I believe I 
have spoken to you sometimes of this enormous personage; his 
coming here appears to bode us nothing good. Above all things, 
be patient and moderate.

ROSAMBERT. Your brother is not quite as he should be.

The CAPTAIN. What ails you?

M. de LIGNOLLE. Why, am deficient in equilibrium.

The CAPTAIN. Thunder and lightning! I believe you want to crack 
your jokes! I see you standing firm upon both your legs, and as 
erect as I am.

ROSAMBERT. That is not the equilibrium in question; that is the 
universal equilibrium. The one which the gentleman is in want 
of, is the right proportion of the affections of the body.

M. de LIGNOLLE. And of the affections of the soul; that is-

The CAPTAIN. Oh! The affections of the soul! I wondered at your 
not having bothered me with them before. (To Rosambert.) Hear 
me, good sir, all that may be very fine what you are speaking 
about; but may five hundred devils seize me, if I understand a 
word of it!

ROSAMBERT. That, however, is very plain; but I will explain it 
to you over again. The body of the wife is ill, because the mind 
of the husband is too well. I have prescribed for the 
restoration of the lady's health that she should procreate.

The CAPTAIN. Procreate! Apropos, brother, do you know it is 
reported that your wife does not want you for that achievement

MADEMOISELLE DE BRUMONT. That apropos is very impertinent! Do 
you know, captain, that if all naval officers were like you, 
they would be very disagreeable gentlemen?

The CAPTAIN. Pray, my young miss, perchance you have a brother?

MADEMOISELLE DE BRUMONT. What then I if I had one?

The CAPTAIN. Though you had thirty, I would beg of them, one 
after another, to meet me behind the convent of the Carthusian 
friars.

MADEMOISELLE DE BRUMONT. I believe, captain, notwithstanding 
your menacing airs, that the first who would go, might spare the 
rest the trouble of taking the walk.

The CAPTAIN (with contempt.) You are very lucky you are only a 
female.

The tone in which he pronounced these words fully quieted me 
respecting the equivocal sense of his previous questions. I was 
going to reply angrily, when the Baroness, who continually 
watched over me, said in a whisper: "For God's sake! Be 
composed! Think that your Eleanor's safety is at stake." Madame 
de Lignolle, meanwhile, with her well-known vivacity, just then 
signified to her rude brother-in-law that, if he continued thus 
to treat her with disrespect, she would have him turned out of 
doors. "Don't mind what he says," exclaimed the Count; "he is a 
hot-headed fellow."

ROSAMBERT (to the Captain.) Sir, whoever has told you the 
impertinent story you have just repeated, has told you a lie; it 
is my business to understand those matters, and this very 
minute, if required, I am ready to sign that Madame la Comtesse, 
on the contrary, stands in great need of her husband for the 
said purpose. Unfortunately, M. le Comte does not in the least 
want his wife! Not at all. He is so constituted that in his 
whole person the intellectual part preponderates over the 
material.

The CAPTAIN. True I my brother is far from being stupefied; he 
composes-

ROSAMBERT. Very well so far; but it is not with his wit that a 
husband can cause his wife to be pregnant. I therefore wished, 
in the present case, to force the mind to suspend its operations 
a little, that it might not impede the body sometimes performing 
its functions also; I wished to re-establish the equilibrium.

M. de LIGNOLLE (laughing, to the Captain.) He has not succeeded. 
Look here! You who understand chemistry, look at this, I have 
drunk all that is wanted in the phial.

The CAPTAIN (after shaking the bottle, and applying a drop of 
the liquid to his tongue.) Hell and fire! Who is the cursed ass 
who has composed for you this horse medicine?

M. de LIGNOLLE. It was not an ass. It was the doctor.

ROSAMBERT (bowing to the Captain.) It was the doctor, Mr. 
Censor! A proof of my potion not being too strong, is that it 
has produced no effect.

The CAPTAIN. What the deuce! A decoction of cantharides! The 
most powerful aphrosidiac! And in such a dose! If I were to take 
the twenty-fifth part I should be like a madman for five-and-
twenty nights! That would have sufficed to infuriate the whole 
of my crew.

The MARCHIONESS D'ARMINCOUR (weeping.) And yet it has produced 
no effect.

The CAPTAIN. No effect! Why zooks! My poor brother, there must 
be ice in your heart, in your entrails, all over you. In the 
name of patience what stuff has our dear mother made you of? It 
is not the same blood, at least, that runs through our veins! 
No, it cannot be the same blood. True, indeed, I am a younger 
brother, your junior by upwards of a twelvemonth, without any 
compliment, but at all times, it must be confessed-

M. de LIGNOLLE (rubbing his hands.) It is my genius, in fact, 
that occasions that.

The CAPTAIN. What a deuce of a genius! I am very glad, however, 
that you have entirely monopolised it; for, according to your 
own account, you have had genius from an early period of your 
life. At all times, that is what I wanted to say, my dear elder 
brother at all times has cut but a very poor figure among the 
fair sex.

The MARCHIONESS d'ARMINCOUR. Since you knew of that, why did you 
suffer him to take a wife?

The CAPTAIN. Ah! Why should I have prevented him from concluding 
an advantageous marriage?

The MARCHIONESS D'ARMINCOUR (in a rage.) Shocking calculation! 
(To M. de Lignolle): Cursed wit! I wish now your wife would 
cuckold you as many times as she has hairs upon her head.

The CAPTAIN. Why, indeed, it is she said has fancied to do as 
much; but I shall cure her of that whim; I am returned to this 
country on purpose.

The MARCHIONESS (to the Captain.) And as for you, Mr. Bully, I 
wish that somebody (casting a look upon Mademoiselle de Brumont) 
of my acquaintance would run you through as many times as my 
niece is worth thousands per annum!

The CAPTAIN (in a menacing tone, and with a sneer.) Tell me, my 
good woman, tell me the name of that acquaintance of yours!

The MARCHIONESS. Good woman! His name! His name! Go, go, perhaps 
you will know his name but too soon.

The CAPTAIN. By G-d I we shall see. At any rate, brother, be on 
your guard. Read that article of a letter that I found on my 
return to Brest: You told me that your brother never could 
consummate his marriage I do not remember having said so, but it 
does not signify, let us go on: How then does it happen that 
your sister-in-law is pregnant?

ROSAMBERT. She is not.

The CAPTAIN. I am glad to hear it. (To his brother): The letter 
is signed Saint-Leon, a friend of mine, you know. Boiling with 
rage, I took post-horses, and on my arrival alighted at Saint-
Leon's; he told me he had never written. I showed him the paper, 
and he proved it was not his handwriting, but someone had tried 
to imitate it.

The BARONESS (low, to Mademoiselle de Brumont.) I apprehend this 
is a perfidious trick of your Madame de B***. (To the Captain): 
Show me that letter (as she returns it): If you are a rational 
man, I shall ask you what credit you can give to the 
inculpations of a forger?

The CAPTAIN. Very well! Very well! I condescend to believe it is 
not the exact truth; but there is no smoke without a fire. I 
intend to stop here for a few days; and let me see a coxcomb 
come near her! May a hundred thousand bombs crush me, if I don't 
cut off the puppy's ears.

MADEMOISELLE DE BRUMONT. Captain, your name has reached me; 
unfortunately, you have made it too famous. Thirsty tiger, when 
you cannot quench upon the English the thirst that devours you, 
you drink the blood of your brethren. France, it is well known, 
has not a more renowned duellist than you are; think, however, 
that there still remain in the kingdom some brave young men, 
who, although they don't make it a trade unceasingly to 
massacre, are not the less capable of fighting, and, perhaps, of 
punishing you. If I were in the place of the Countess, I would 
try, at least; determined by your menaces, I would this very 
evening take a lover, declare him to be so, and would choose in 
preference the weakest, perhaps.

ROSAMBERT (with enthusiasm.) No! The youngest, but the most 
formidable; a handsome young man, of a prodigious strength, 
extreme dexterity, and uncommon intrepidity; and I, who am 
speaking to you, Madame, would forfeit my life, if, on the 
contrary, this champion did not bring you the Captain's ears, if 
you asked him for them.

The BARONESS. But you would not ask for them, would you, 
Countess? You would seek no other revenge for the threats of a 
Hector than the contempt which they deserve.

The CAPTAIN. What is the opinion of insignificant women to me! 
However, I shall take up my quarters here.

The COUNTESS. In this hôtel? No, by no means.

The CAPTAIN. How so! Am I refused an apartment in your house, 
brother?

The COUNTESS. Most undoubtedly, I never will have you as an 
inmate.

The CAPTAIN (to the Count.) You don't answer me! Why don't you 
bid her hold her tongue? Ah! You suffer yourself to be led by a 
woman! Blood and flesh! I wish I were in your place only for 
four-and-twenty-hours, the husband of a scold, I would teach her 
manners. (To the Countess): Be easy! Be easy! Don't be angry! I 
shall not stop here in spite of you, but I will take lodgings in 
the same street, and rely upon it, I will watch you, princess. 
Rest assured, it will be no fault of mine if you succeed in 
becoming a little strumpet.

At this last outrage of the captain, the Countess fell in a 
rage, and returned no other answer, than by throwing at his head 
a candlestick that happened to be within her reach. I saw the 
moment when the brute would have returned the compliment. With 
my left hand I stopped his uplifted arm, and with my right 
seizing the giant by the collar, I pushed him back so violently, 
that he tumbled at the further extremity of the room against the 
window sash, which he broke. Had it not been for the balcony, 
down he would have gone into the yard.

"Well done my dear Brumont," cried out the Marchioness: "You 
must kill him! Let us murder the villain who frightens me to 
death, who insults my child, and offers to beat her!"

I needed not being encouraged by the Marchioness; I was so 
transported with anger, that having perceived on an armchair M. 
de Lignolle's sword, which he had left there on the preceding 
night when he undressed, I ran to seize it. Rosambert, who alone 
preserved some sang-froid in the midst of so scandalous a scene, 
ran up to me: "Rash youth," he said, "if you draw it, you will 
be detected!"

Meanwhile the captain, seated on the fragments of the window 
sash, was looking at me with astonishment, gazed upon himself 
with surprise, and with a coarse laugh, said: "It is this young 
wench; however, who, at one blow has brought me here! What an 
iron arm, or am I no longer but a man of straw! Odds bodikins! 
What it is to be taken unawares! A child could beat you! But 
that sword which she offered to draw against me! What must I 
have taken for my defence, miss? A black pin? (he then thought 
he must get up.) Adieu, fair ladies; adieu, my poor brother, 
adieu, my lovely little sister; I shall remember the kind 
reception I have met from you. I am not going far, and will keep 
a watchful eye over your conduct. Let me alone for that!"

 He went away.

"Sir," said Madame de Lignolle to her husband, "it is you that I 
admire; your tranquillity gives me pleasure! You would have 
suffered me to be murdered, without even rising from your 
chair!"

He answered, with a pre-occupied air: "Yes, yes! What do you 
please to say? I beg your pardon; my body was here, and my mind 
elsewhere. I meditate the plan of a new poem; this will be 
composed of eight lines; nay, perhaps I shall write a dozen; 
and, since the doctor affirms that the equilibrium will not be 
re-established, I wish to justify the encomiums which he bestows 
upon my genius, as he says! I will have this work be a little 
masterpiece, as he declares the others are and I leave you, to 
forward the poem without relaxation."

When he was gone, we lost a few minutes in looking at one 
another in silence; each of us surprised, perhaps, at the 
present, and uneasy about the future events, was mentally 
engaged in anticipating various circumstances, to be able to act 
accordingly.

Madame de Fonrose was the first who opened her mouth to 
recommend great prudence. The Marchioness exclaimed, that it was 
requisite the Chevalier would never see her niece again. The 
niece protested she would rather die than give me up: and I, by 
a look replete with love, assured my Eleanor of my unalterable 
constancy: I besides swore that her rude brother-in-law should 
soon give me satisfaction for the gross language he had 
addressed her in, and the inquietude he had dared to create.

"That," said Rosambert, who spoke last, "is a very irrational 
determination: for the sake of common interest, my friend, you 
must dissemble your resentment against the Vicomte; only wait 
for the events. When Madame will be able no longer to conceal 
her situation, she then will reveal it to her husband; who, like 
so many more, will be obliged to put up with the case, and to 
claim the child as his own. The captain, I know, will make a 
rare noise; then, Faublas, you will come forward, you will go 
and whisper a word or two in the ear of the ill-bred navigator; 
and then I know there will be an end of the business."

Everyone having acknowledged that Rosambert's advice was a very 
prudent one, Madame d'Armincour, who sobbed aloud, thanked me 
for having protected her niece, begged of me to protect her at 
all times, and bade me to be gone, and never to return. "Poor 
children! she added, seeing that we also were shedding tears, 
"your grief breaks my heart; but it must be so; it must, 
indispensably."

"Ah! M. de Rosambert! Wherefore was not this one her husband?"

"Come to-night!" murmured my Eleanor in a low tone of voice, 
"Come at twelve, we have a thousand things to say to each other. 
Come!"

"Yes, my sweet dear, I will."

"At an early hour, because the Marchioness, who is going to the 
wedding of a relation, will not return to supper."

Notwithstanding the presence of her aunt, she rushed into my 
arms, pressed me to her bosom, loaded me with caresses, and even 
kissed with transport my feathers, handkerchief, sash, and gown, 
as if she were taking leave of my dress, as if she had guessed 
that she never was to see Mademoiselle de Brumont any more.

It was with great difficulty that we were parted. "Ah, Madame la 
Baronne, stop with her at least for some time, and try to 
comfort her."

"With all my heart!" she answered: "M. de Rosambert has his 
carriage, let him see you home; I shall meet you at the Baron's 
in an hour."

"Here is one who deserves being pitied," said the Count to me, 
"for she seems to feel for you a real attachment."

"Do you suppose, Rosambert, that I do not love her?"

"That is a good question! I know you love them all."

"Oh! That one! It is with all my heart; I prefer her-"

"To Sophia!"

"To Sophia! No, not to Sophia!"

"To Madame de B***?"

"Yes, my friend!"

"So much the better!" he exclaimed, "so much the better for me; 
that avenges me: but so much the worse for the sweet child; for 
hence proceeds certainly the hatred which the Marchioness bears 
her."

"The hatred?"

"Assuredly! Do you think it can be any other than Madame de B*** 
who wrote that pseudonymous letter to the Vicomte?"

"Ah, Rosambert I can you suspect her of a-"

"My friend, you repose too much confidence in that woman."

"And you, my friend, mistrust her too much; be it as it may, I 
beg of you let us speak of something else."

"Most willingly, for I wish to impart a piece of news that will 
surprise you; and excite your laughter: I am to be married 
tomorrow."

"And you want me to wonder at that! Now that your convalescence 
is indubitable, it is clear that you will get married every 
day."

"Don't you think that I am joking, it is in good earnest that I 
am to be married."

"In good earnest?"

"Yes, before the altar."

"Impossible! It has not been heard of!"

"Yet it has been spoken of this fortnight. My word of honour has 
been exacted that I would mention it to no one, 
indiscriminately; the grand-parents, who dread the opposition of 
the rest of the family, have insisted upon the most profound 
secrecy being kept, and have even procured a dispensation of 
banns. My mother also recommended me to be silent on the 
subject, through fear that this advantageous marriage should 
fail on account of some indiscretion."

"I cannot recover from my surprise. What! Rosambert, at the age 
of twenty-three, has been able to determine-"

"It could not be otherwise. First of all, it was the Countess de 
--, you know, the confidant of Madame de B***."

"Yes."

"It is she who has undertaken the business with a zeal, but 
under whatever pretence she has strove to cover her extreme 
interest, I did not mistake her real motives; it was not 
difficult for me to be made sensible that she did it less to 
oblige me than to vex her former friend: and, in that respect, I 
confess that she could not feel better inclined than I was 
myself; besides, the Marchioness has pressed me."

"The Marchioness?"

"Oh! Whenever one speaks of a Marchioness he always thinks it is 
of his. No, Chevalier, this one is not over head and ears in 
love with you; she is the Marchioness of Rosambert. The 
Marchioness has pressed, requested, entreated me; she has even 
wept. Who can withstand the tears of a mother? Therefore I 
suffered myself to be persuaded; the marriage contract is to be 
signed this evening; tomorrow I shall marry sixty thousand 
livres per annum, and a pretty girl."

"Pretty?"

"Yes, indeed, with the look of a simpleton, however, and 
innocent! So as to make one's sides ready to split with 
laughter."

"Her age?"

"Not quite fifteen. Oh, that is a complete education! The 
direction whereof I shall take the charge myself."

"Her name?"

"You will know after tomorrow: come at an early hour after 
tomorrow morning, and without any further ceremony, you will 
breakfast with the new bride. Do you like those faces of the 
morrow? Do you like to see a new bride rather impeded in her 
walk, with beaten eyes, and her still astonished looks?"

"You laugh?"

"I do, you put me in mind of somebody."

"He is right; indeed I am a wonderful fellow! Here I am trying 
hard to describe what he knows more of than I do! Are not those 
looks and airs of the morrow familiar to him? Has he not seen 
the charming de Lignolle, and the beauteous Sophia? And so many 
more, whom, perhaps, he has never mentioned to me But it does 
not signify, Chevalier, you may perhaps relish a new kind of 
pleasure, make interesting observations, and account to yourself 
of what you will feel near an Agnes newly married, whose secret 
aches, and charming embarrassed looks, Faublas this once will 
not have occasioned."

"Your ideas, my dear Rosambert, are truly those of an arch-
libertine."

"Don't play the child; no vain excuse; I myself shall be a 
gainer by it; shall I not likewise have my enjoyments? Shall I 
not be still more intoxicated with the happiness that another 
will envy me-will envy to no purpose! I am well acquainted with 
the little inconveniences of hymen; I am not ignorant of the 
most inevitable of all, especially when one has the honour of 
being the intimate friend of the Chevalier de Faublas; but this 
once, illustrious hero, do not congratulate yourself in advance 
upon a new conquest. I hope, and I tell you so with confidence, 
I expect I shall never become an additional member of the 
universal fraternity."

"Well done! Here is another exception; and it is Rosambert! 
Rosambert, who, on the day preceding his marriage, already holds 
out the language of husbands in general. He must not have 
forgotten, however, how many times the blind obstinacy of those 
gentlemen has supplied him with matter for his keenest sarcasms. 
All, in general, own that there is not one among them but who is 
one, yet each in particular will affirm that he is not one! And 
you too, Rosambert, you too."

"Faublas, listen to me, and tell me yourself whether I have not 
some reasons to expect a different destiny! When an aged 
bachelor, satiated with pleasure, exhausted by former good 
fortunes, disgusted with the world that he teases, and with the 
sex that deserts him; when an old bachelor, enlightened by the 
constant experience of past times, and of the present age, 
dares, nevertheless, to brave at once the present age and times 
to come; when marrying a young wife, he impertinently challenges 
us to make him what so many others have been made by him, that 
calls aloud for vengeance: in a similar case, the throng of 
bachelors ought to unite, in order to punish the braggart. But 
I, who have scarcely entered my spring, who am courted by the 
world, whom the fair sex caress: I, who will deny my wife no 
kind of enjoyment-"

"Enough, Rosambert, say no more, I beg of you; you occasion me 
too great a surprise. Hymen must be most powerfully 
prepossessing thus to obscure the best judgment. I don't know 
you again! You are so strangely altered, that if my sorrows were 
not so great I would laugh at you."

"Indeed? I must take care of myself, you fill me with terror. 
Well! I am not already resigned; I submit, in advance, like a 
man of honour; I promise, whatever may happen, always to be 
found to be myself. Yes, if the young woman's heart is ever 
engaged, I can assure you, that unless she carries on her 
intrigue in a shocking awkward manner, I will never notice it. I 
believe it is not possible better to repair one's wrongs. 
Chevalier, is not that a good beginning! You are at full 
liberty-"

"Me, Rosambert? May everyone, as much as Faublas, respect your 
happy bonds! Those maxims that I have been repeating just now 
are yours; I never entertained the like; I never have been a 
seducer; I have always been allured; the Marchioness was my 
first attachment; Sophia is my only passion; Madame de Lignolle 
will be my last love."

"May God hear you, and keep you from it!"

Rosambert had some business to attend to; we alighted at his 
house, had a conversation that lasted about two hours, yet the 
time appeared to me very short, as the Count allowed me to speak 
unceasingly of my Eleanor. At length I was taken home. Madame de 
Fonrose was leaving my father's apartment when I entered it. The 
Baron looked highly animated; the Baroness was pale and 
trembling: "Well," she exclaimed, with an ill-disguised spite, 
"we shall try to overcome the chagrin which that loss must 
create, though it is enough to turn one's brains. Is it you, 
fair miss? Hand me to the carriage."

"Chevalier, if you should see your cruel Marchioness soon, tell 
her, sir, that I will ruin her, though I were to ruin myself."

When I had changed my female accoutrements, M. de Belcourt and I 
sat down to dinner, although neither of us had an appetite.

"Father, you don't eat?"

"I am unwell, from inquietude and chagrin. But you don't eat a 
morsel yourself"

"I have got my head-ache."

"Your sick head-ache! I advise you to give it up: it will not 
succeed this time; my son, read the last paragraph of this 
letter, which I received the other day by the two-penny post:"

I believe it is advisable to inform you that Mademoiselle 
de Brumont has spent the last night at Madame de 
Lignolle's, and that it is the Baroness de Fonrose who has 
taken her there again.

"An anonymous letter, father?"

"True, my son; but would you presume to say the account it gives 
is untrue? My son, I forbid your going out at night in future; 
and Madame de Fonrose," he added, "in a much altered tone of 
voice, Madame de Fonrose shall no longer abuse my confidence; 
the ungrateful Baroness shall never betray me more! I am a man, 
my dear son, and consequently liable to error. Sometimes I 
deviate from the right path; but as soon as I discover my 
mistake, I step back, and take another road. My dear friend, he 
pursued, taking both my hands between his, do you wish to copy 
only my foibles? Had not I foretold that you would finally ruin 
her, that so unfortunate and so charming a child?"

"Who? Sophia?"

"No, Madame de Lignolle."

"Madame de Lignolle?"

"Since she is pregnant; since henceforth her husband cannot 
believe, what is to be done to save her?"

"Oh, don't mention it! I have been endeavouring all the morning 
to find out some means of rescuing her from the dangers with 
which she is threatened. In vain have I tortured my imagination! 
I am beyond myself!"

"Her brother-in-law is arrived; you have already had a terrible 
scene together; my son, do you know the captain?"

"I have heard of his fame."

"Do you know that his fame is tremendous?"

"Tremendous! I am told it is."

"Do you know that the Vicomte de Lignolle has often hit Saint-
Georges?"

"Often! Be it so."

"Do you know that that man has fought two hundred times, 
perhaps?"

"So much the worse for him."

"That he has never been wounded?"

"He is not invulnerable, however, in all probability."

"That he has reduced many a father to despair."

"Monsieur le Baron, so far you have not been reduced yourself."

"That his fatal sword has mowed down many and many a promising 
youth."

"Ah, father! An obscure youth, perhaps, is only wanted to avenge 
them all."

"My son, the Captain cannot fail being informed soon that 
Mademoiselle de Brumont is Madame de Lignolle's lover. I confess 
he will discover with greater difficulty that Mademoiselle de 
Brumont is the Chevalier Faublas; soon or late, however, we have 
reason to believe that he will find it out. My son, what will 
you do then?"

"What will be requisite? But permit me to observe, sir, yours is 
a strange-"

"God forbid!" he exclaimed; "God forbid I should wish to insult 
your youthful courage. I confess even," he added, embracing me, 
"that the proud simplicity of your manners has given me extreme 
pleasure; I likewise am sometimes proud, but it is of my son; it 
is upon my son that I have rested all my pride. You cannot 
imagine what my raptures were when I saw you, scarcely in the 
prime of adolescence, have no equal in any of your exercises; at 
one time bringing back, covered with froth, and broken with 
fatigue, a fiery steed, which the most famous horsemen were 
afraid of crossing; at another, with your firelock, bow, or 
pistols, bring down, at the first shot, the very bird which all 
the other sportsmen had missed; sometimes in a public assault, 
in the presence of a crowd of wondering young spectators, beat 
or disarm all the fencing masters in the newly-arrived regiment. 
Everyone then, adjudging the prime to the young Chevalier, would 
congratulate me upon having such a son. Yet I thought within 
myself, with a kind of impatience, and not without some sort of 
inquietude, that your superiority would not be well consecrated, 
until an event, always fatal, had compelled you to undergo a 
last ordeal, too commonly attended with regret; a trial, for the 
success of which, without courage, skill is of no avail. You 
have gone through that ordeal too soon; but I am not afraid of 
saying, that upon the occasion, you behaved more than well. If 
his anger had less blinded him, M. de B***, who enjoys some 
reputation as a swordsman, might have admired you at la porte 
Maillot, when, with marvellous dexterity, uncommon sang-froid, 
mastering your antagonist's weapon, as if the question had been 
still merely to receive a hit with a foil, you displayed in that 
fight, become unequal, as much ability as strength, as much true 
valour as magnanimity. Then, indeed, I conceived the opinion 
that Faublas, as intrepid as he was skilful, would never be 
conquered. Astonished then at seeing in a youth of sixteen, the 
reunion of an uncommon talent, and of a qualification still more 
rare, your happy father, in the excess of his joy, recollected 
that he had taken upon himself the charge of superintending your 
education, and could not contemplate his work without some 
feeling of pride. Then also, continued M. de Belcourt, embracing 
me again, I reproached myself for having waited the event to do 
justice to the most deserving of sons; and you, Faublas, pardon 
my first apprehensions; if it were a crime not to have credited 
in advance virtues that had not yet been evinced to me, you see 
I am punished in consequence; believe me, I was less tormented 
formerly, lest you should be destitute of them, than I am now by 
the certainty that you are possessed of them in a superior 
degree. Yes, my friend, it is the excess of your courage, and 
your generosity, which at present occasion me the liveliest 
alarms. Permit me to demand of you several favours."

"Favours?"

"I beg of you not to go to your enemy; I beg of you to wait till 
he comes to fetch you, and then you will do your duty. 
Nevertheless, I entreat you to agree to the fight, but upon this 
express condition, that each of you will be allowed to bring a 
witness. I wish to see your second affair, more dangerous than 
the first; I wish, by my presence, to oblige you to return 
conqueror. Faublas, beware of sparing the Vicomte de Lignolle in 
the magnanimous manner you did the Marquis de B***; I shall 
remember it long, your generosity nearly cost me my son. You 
would not get off with a mere bruise, when opposed to the 
Vicomte; every wound inflicted by the Captain has proved mortal; 
and, I repeat it to you, he is a man still more ferocious than 
he is formidable, a professional duellist. If his valour had not 
sometimes been useful to government, he long since, for public 
vengeance, would have lost his head on the block. His existence 
evinces the unhappy forgetfulness of the wisest of our laws. 
Think of it, Faublas, when the moment of fighting him is come, 
then, I conjure you! Think of your father, of your sister, of 
your Sophia, of Madame de Lignolle, if it must be so. Then, for 
your own safety, for the good of all, for the tardy satisfaction 
of a hundred families, immolate the victim, whose blood heaven 
calls for. He, you know, must receive death who delights in 
dealing in it; strike without mercy, strike, purge the earth of 
a monster, and your youth will not have been totally useless to 
the repose of mankind.

"But," exclaimed M. de Belcourt, "a reflection truly perplexing 
has just occurred. For a too long time back travels, diseases, 
and various accidents, have compelled you entirely to neglect 
your exercises. It is now seven months, upwards of seven months, 
since you have handled a foil. Gracious God! If you had lost 
some of that prodigious agility which was admired, and which 
habit alone can entertain! If your eye was not so quick, your 
motions so sure! My stars! If you were only a second-rate man! 
Let us try together, let us try directly. You are not hungry, 
nor I neither. Where are your foils? Pray give me one! If it 
were only to quiet me. I beg of you, my good friend, make haste, 
give me one. I thank you! I sincerely regret I am not able to 
oppose a resistance equal to the attack; but at least I shall 
defend myself as well as I can. I am ready, I am on guard, go! 
That is not it! My son, that is not it! You spare me! Faublas, I 
order you to display all your powers."

"You insist upon it? Father, now for it then!"

In two minutes time he parried twenty thrusts, and received 
thirty. "Very well," he exclaimed, "perfectly well! Better than 
formerly; indeed, I think so. Yes! More pliancy still, more 
vigour, more rapidity! It is lightning, it is thunder! Never," 
he continued, passing his hand several times over his breast, 
"never have you hit me with so much force, never have your hits 
hurt-no, caused me so much pleasure! Now do me another service; 
take your pistols, go down into the garden, and shoot at a few 
birds. I beseech you, do!"

I was going to obey, but he called me back. "I cannot impart too 
soon a news that will overwhelm you with joy," he said. "On 
Saturday, without any further delay, we shall set off to try to 
find out Sophia."

"Sophia? Saturday! That, as you say, is a delightful piece of 
news!"

"Go into the garden, my friend, go."

I did go down, not to disturb the innocent birds in their 
amours, but to think of mine. We shall go on Saturday! We shall 
go in search of and to meet Sophia; what a happiness!

But what am I saying? What will become of Madame de Lignolle? To 
leave my Eleanor! To desert her now! In five days hence! Unhappy 
Faublas!

I hurried into my father's apartment: "Do not expect it, sir," I 
said, "do not expect it! Would you have me, with equal perfidy 
and cowardice, leave Paris, when the captain is come to fetch 
me? Shall I forsake the mother of my child at the moment when 
her enemies muster around her? Do not expect it, sir! I protest 
it shall not be."

My father was so stupefied, that he could not answer me: and I, 
without waiting until recovering from his surprise, he would 
explain his intentions, ran to my room, where I locked myself up 
to write.
(To Eleanor) 
My dear Eleanor, my charming dear, I am grieved beyond 
expression: we are not to meet this evening. My father is 
apprised of everything; your aunt must know more about us 
than you imagine; Madame d'Armincour is the only who could 
have sent to M. de Belcourt the fatal intelligence which 
deprives us of a delicious night. Alas! It is true, then, 
that everybody combines against two lovers! It is true 
then, that everybody by conjuring your ruin, presumes to 
attack me in the dearest half of myself! Be easy, however, 
do not fret, Faublas remains yours, Faublas adores you; 
whatever may happen, your lover will sooner forfeit his 
life than forsake you.

(To Madame de B***.) 
BEAUTEOUS MAMMA. 
"Have I given you offence by some new act of giddiness? It 
is now eighteen long killing days that I have been deprived 
of the happiness of seeing you. Ah! pardon me if I am 
guilty; and if I am not, deign to acknowledge your wrongs, 
and to repair them: appoint an hour for my meeting you 
tomorrow. My fair mamma, you have promised me advice, 
friendship, assistance, protection, that is all I claim. My 
father wishes to take me with him in the course of five 
days, to go and fetch Sophia, and at present, I must dread, 
above all things, that departure, which not long since was 
the object of my most ardent desire. Could not you, my 
beautiful mamma, who knew how to remedy every accident, 
find a remedy for this one? I entreat you, on so difficult 
a conjuncture, not to leave me to myself, I request you 
will not refuse me for tomorrow your advice, which I 
promise you to abide by. 
I am with the most lively gratitude, the most tender 
friendship, and with the most profound respect, etc.

"Here Jasmin! Go quick to La Fleur, and to Madame de Montdesir. 
Put on a plain coat, use your ordinary precautions and observe 
on the road, whether you are not followed by anyone!"

"Sir," he said on his return, "Madame de Montdesir-Madame de 
Montdesir!

"Madame de Montdesir? Let me hear of La Fleur, first?"

"You then wish me to begin at the end? I bring no news from La 
Fleur, sir. I had just delivered your note to him, when he said 
to me: 'Jasmin, are you fond of a good caning?' 'Not I, faith,' 
I replied. 'Well! My friend,' he resumed, 'do you see in the 
coffee-room facing the hôtel that officer, as high as an 
Egyptian pyramid?' 'He has a cross look,' I returned. 'Well, my 
good friend,' he resumed again, 'I believe he has been casting 
one of his cross looks at you. Run away full speed, if you wish 
not to expose my mistress, and your own shoulders.' I then, sir, 
returned no other answer; but without waiting for further 
advice, took to my heels, and here I am."

"So that, thanks to your cowardice, I have no news from Madame 
de Lignolle."

"Sir, I could not have brought you more, although that big devil 
had broken every bone in my skin."

"Thither you must return though."

"Yes, in the evening, the giant, perhaps, will not be there 
then."

"And Madame de Montdesir?"

"She recommended me to assure you, that she felt severely for 
not being honoured with a visit from you: that, however, she was 
going to forward your letter directly, as it had been expected 
some days since, and that you would have an answer tomorrow 
morning."

This answer, in fact, came at an early hour, but it was not 
written by Madame de Montdesir.

Yes, I shall prevent that departure; but was not I right to 
say that Sophia was less dear to you? In the interim, since 
you manifest the desire, we may meet at seven in the 
evening, you know where.

I called my servant; "Come, Jasmin, keep up your courage! If it 
had not failed you yesterday, you might have joined La Fleur; go 
then this morning to see whether the captain is still at his 
post."

He was there already. My good Jasmin, who, piqued at my 
reproaches, had just ventured a little further than on the 
preceding day, had escaped the cudgelling of the captain only by 
a prompt retreat. I now became conscious that unless my man was 
powerfully encouraged, my errand would never be completed. I 
accordingly had my indefatigable courier to eat a copious 
dinner, and, when he had got stuffed with fresh courage, he 
resolutely departed upon new errand, more ill-fated than all the 
former ones. My poor Jasmin returned, bruised from head to foot.

"This time, sir, I got as far as the yard, but the big devil on 
a sudden came up to me. He cried out: 'What do you want?' I 
answered: 'I don't want you, sir.' He hallooed again: 'You shall 
not come in! What do you want? I then replied, speaking as loud 
as I possibly could: 'Why would you prevent my coming in? Are 
you the Swiss?' He then cried out again-no, he did not cry out, 
he contented himself for the moment by giving me a fisticuff, 
that made me see thirty thousand burning candles. And it was I 
who cried out, and well I did so, for if La Fleur and his 
fellow-servants had not come to rescue me from the grip of the 
brute, and turn me out of doors, I believe I never could have 
left the place."

"What a fury! What insolence!"

"Sir," interrupted Jasmin, "I did not hesitate telling him that 
my master would not in the least feel satisfied for the 
treatment."

"What did he answer?"

"'Twas me who answered, sir, he only cried out. He then cried 
out, while striking at me again and again: 'Your Master! What is 
your master's name? Will you tell me his name?'"

"You have concealed it from him?"

"Yes, sir, and so I would though he were to have killed me on 
the spot!"

"Well! I shall go myself this minute, and tell him my name."

"Go, exclaimed Jasmin, who saw me take up my sword, and lay that 
fellow down sprawling as you did that M. de B***, another 
braggart."

I hastened downstairs, but fortunately met M. de Belcourt half-
way, who stopped me.

"Faublas, where are you going with your sword?

"How! He has dared to stop my servant and to strike him."

"So then, my son," he answered with great sang-froid, "you are 
in greater haste to avenge your servant than you were to avenge 
your mistress; thus it is that, to obtain redress for a personal 
outrage, Madame de Lignolle's lover hurries to expose and to 
ruin her!"

These just representations calmed me directly, I called Jasmin 
to bid him take away my sword. The Baron, who saw that I was 
preparing to go out, said to me: "No, go up into your room, I am 
going there myself, I want to speak to you."

"We are both, my friend, in want of diversion; we cannot procure 
one sweeter than the company of your sister. I have just sent 
for Adelaide, and intend to keep her here till Friday evening."

"Why not longer?"

"We are to go on Saturday."

M. de Belcourt observed my countenance whilst returning that 
answer. As the hour approached, at which I was to go and learn 
what Madame de B*** proposed doing to prevent my departure, I 
determined to avoid the explanation the Baron wished for. I was 
satisfied with replying: "Saturday. Yes-Saturday. Adieu, 
father."

"Stop; your sister will be here in a quarter of an hour."

"I am obliged to go out, father."

"My son, I will not have you go out"

"I must absolutely go, father."

"I tell you I will not have you leave your home: I am determined 
you should stop here."

"I can assure you that a most indispensable affair."

"My son, would you wish to disobey me?"

"If I cannot do otherwise, father!"

"I understand you, sir, I therefore shall use force."

At these words, he left my room, and locked me in."	You will 
use force? and I dexterity! I opened the window, it was only one 
story high; I jumped. The shock was violent; I nevertheless 
crossed the yard as quick as lightning, and running all the way, 
soon reached Madame de Fonrose's.

"Unhappy young man," she said, "what has brought you here? The 
captain has familiarly paid me his dreadful visit this morning. 
He asked me, in that polite tone which you know to be his, who a 
certain Mademoiselle de Brumont was, whose assiduities at Madame 
de Lignolle's gave rise about the world to many jokes and 
pleasantries. I have been at no little trouble to make that 
dreadful brother-in-law comprehend that I had nothing to do with 
the conduct of his sister; that I was by no means bound to 
account to him for my doings, and that he would oblige very much 
if he were pleased never to set his foot again on my premises."

"Have you seen my Eleanor?"

"Quite on the contrary, I have just sent her a note to recommend 
her being very circumspect, and above all things to beware 
coming hither. I was just, with much regret, going to have the 
same precaution recommended to you. Neither do I wish to detain 
you at present; for I confess that I dread some new assault from 
that pirate, who is come very unseasonably to annoy us. 
Chevalier, are you now returning home?"

"No, why do you ask me?"

"I would have desired you to tell-A moment! Stop another 
moment."

She rang the bell, a servant answered it, and she gave him 
secret orders. I paid but very little attention then to that 
fatal circumstance, which I have often recollected since.

"I wished to beg of you-", she resumed, "but you will be time 
enough in the evening for that commission, to tell the Baron a 
thousand obliging things from me; for although our intimacy has 
ceased-"

"Has it?"

"For life. It is that perfidious Madame de B*** however, who 
causes all our present troubles."

"Can you imagine that the Marchioness has been capable of 
writing that letter to my father?"

"I do, and that to the Vicomte de Lignolle too."

"Impossible! I cannot."

"Just as you please, sir," she answered dryly. "For my part, 
permit me not to question it, and to act in consequence."

"Adieu, Madame la Baronne."

"I don't bid you adieu, Monsieur le Chevalier."

Was it the critical situation in which we all stood, that caused 
me false terrors? As I was going from the Hôtel de Fonrose to 
the petite-maison, Rue du Bac, it appeared to me that I was 
followed by somebody.



XXIX.

I did not wait long for the Vicomte.

"Beauteous Mamma, you wear the same dress you had on at Saint 
Cloud. I always see it-"

"With some pleasure?" she interrupted.

"With transport. It unceasingly puts me in mind of-"

"Of what we must not remember."

"Ah! Of what I will never forget so long as I live! Tell me, 
why, for upwards of a fortnight have you so cruelly deprived me-
"

"I waited till at last you would write to me; I don't wish to 
become quite troublesome."

"Troublesome! Can you ever?"

"What do I know? I see you so prepossessed in behalf of the 
Countess! Madame de Lignolle has so much wit! So many charms."

"It is true that-"

"You must find the company of all other women very insipid?"

"I find a thousand pleasures in the company of the most amiable 
of them all!"

"Yes, the most amiable! Next to Sophia, next to the Countess! 
Chevalier, believe me, let us leave compliments aside. Rather 
tell me of your troubles."

The Marchioness listened to me constantly with the greatest 
attention, but often apparently sad, and sometimes seemingly 
embarrassed. Nevertheless, when I concluded the long narrative 
of my sorrows and inquietudes, I could not help saying to her: 
"What exasperates me is, that they presume to charge you with 
having written those two cruel letters."

"They presume! Who are they?"

"M. de Rosambert! Madame de Fonrose!"

"My two most mortal enemies!"

"Though they were your friends, I would not take their word! 
Dear mamma, how will you prevent my departure?"

She replied in a preoccupied tone, "I cannot be tired of 
repeating it; Sophia must be less dear to you."

"Less dear! I assure you it is not so; but my stay in Paris is 
indispensable; both honour and love command it"

"Your love for Madame de Lignolle!"

"Yes. My dearest mamma, how will you prevent my departure?"

"Faublas, you are to receive from Versailles a packet, the 
contents of which, I hope, will give you pleasure, and probably 
induce M. de Belcourt to alter his plan. If, however, your 
father would insist upon taking you with him, let me know of it 
immediately."

"This packet is?"

"You will receive it tomorrow morning; I shall leave you till 
that time with your curious impatience."

"Yet you do not assure me that this first mode you have used to 
assist me must be infallible? Why, but, mamma, you don't hear 
me, you are thinking of something else."

"Yes," she exclaimed, rousing from her deep reverie, "you must 
be much enamoured with the Countess!"

"Ah! Much."

"More than you love me. Than you did love me, I meant to say."

"Why, I don't know-I can't-"

"Come, more! Your uncertainty, your embarrassed air evince it. 
More!" she repeated mournfully.

"It is true that my Eleanor has acquired rights that no other--
but I chagrin you, fair mamma."

"Not in the least, why should I feel chagrined at your 
preferring your mistress to your friend? But you have not said 
all; how has she acquired rights that no other-"

"She is pregnant."

"Cruel young man!" she exclaimed with infinite vivacity; "It is 
my fault, if-"

Madame de B*** did not finish her sentence. She prevented my 
falling at her knees; and for fear of hearing my reply, stopped 
my mouth with her hand, which however I kissed. At length the 
Marchioness, whose looks I could observe to grow tender at the 
same time that her complexion grew animated, rose to go away.

"Do you wish to leave me already?"

"I am compelled to do so," she answered, stealing away from my 
caresses. "I am forced to go! My time is not my own! I have many 
affairs to attend to just at present. Farewell, Chevalier."

"Since you forbid my detaining you, farewell, dear mamma."

When she was at the bottom of the stairs: "See," she said, with 
tears in her eyes, "the ingrate does not merely enquire on what 
day he is to come and thank me!"

"Ah! Pardon me! I was thinking-"

"Of anything else, no doubt!"

"Of quite another thing, it is true, but of you, nevertheless. 
On what day, dear mamma? On what day?"

"This is Tuesday. Well, on Friday, yes, on Friday I shall be 
able to spare a moment"

"At the same hour?"

"Perhaps a little later. At the close of the evening it will be 
more prudent."

I only left the house a quarter of an hour after the Vicomte, 
and yet I thought I could see again, at no great distance from 
me, the troublesome Argus who had already caused me some 
uneasiness. What confirmed my suspicions was to see the spy, 
either a novice in the profession, or actuated by fear, alter 
his course when he perceived that I was making towards him. I 
returned home, fully persuaded that it would not be long before 
the Captain would pay me a visit.

"Is it possible," said the Baron to me, "you should have run the 
risk at least of breaking one of your legs?

"Father, I would have ventured my life! Wherefore, Monsieur le 
Baron, will you bring me to such extremities as may become 
fatal? You are not ignorant sir, that situated as I am, death to 
me is preferable to slavery. Prior to my surrendering to your 
authority, I am come positively to declare that to place any 
restraint upon my liberty is to attempt my life. What! 
Numberless dangers threaten an unfortunate defenceless young 
woman, the woman the most deserving of my tenderest affections! 
and you, the most cruel of her enemies, pretend to rob her of 
her only consolation, her only support! You pretend, by reducing 
me to entire immobility, to deliver her within the hands of her 
persecutors, and oblige me to witness their preparing her ruin 
without opposing any obstacle to their heinous designs. If you 
should further intend, sir, if you have any means left of 
locking me up in my room, and compel me to live there, I 
announce to you that then, and I swear by my sister, by you, by 
Sophia, by all that I hold in this world dearest and most 
sacred, I swear that no consideration whatever will induce me to 
defend, against the Vicomte, a life which your tyranny will have 
rendered useless in future to Madame de Lignolle, and odious to 
her lover! Now determine my destiny; it is at your option."

"He would do as he says," exclaimed my sister; "whenever the 
question is a female, he no longer knows us; he, however, could 
not commit a greater fault than to suffer himself to be killed. 
Don't lock him up, father; ah, I beg of you, pray, do not lock 
him up."

Whilst Adelaide was addressing him in this style, the Baron kept 
his sorrowful eyes upon me alone. Alas! I saw the eyes of my 
father filled with tears; my sister was already kissing the 
hands of M. de Belcourt, before whom I hastily kneeled.

"Father! Ah, father! Pity your son; on account of his 
misfortune, forgive what he has been saying to you, and the tone 
in which the words were spoken; have mercy upon the most 
impetuous of all men, the most miserable of lovers; think, sir, 
above all things, that unless he were driven to despair, Faublas 
would never resist your so dear authority, your orders ever 
sacred."

M. de Belcourt hid his face in his hands and meditated long his 
answer. At last he said: "Promise, my son, to go neither to the 
Countess's-"

"Impossible! Father."

"Nor to the Baroness's, nor to the Captain's."

"I agree to that. Neither to the Baroness's, nor to the 
Captain's. I give you my word of honour, and may I never be 
called by your name if I do not keep my word. Neither to the 
Baroness's, nor to the Captain's, that is all that I can 
promise." My father returned me no answer; but from that moment 
I recovered my full liberty.

Immediately after supper, I went up into my room, and called 
Jasmin. "Give me my round hat, cloak, and sword."

"So then, sir, I see that notwithstanding the advice of M. le 
Baron, you are of my opinion. You believe it is proper as soon 
as possible, to rid me of that big devil, who deals such 
ponderous fisticuffs, and you are right; and your father would 
say as much as I do, if, like me, he had received-"

"Hold your tongue, Jasmin, I am not going to the Captain's, my 
man"

"Without too much curiosity, sir-"

"I wish myself to try to go and speak to La Fleur. Don't go to 
bed, wait for me."

"How so! Sir, don't you take me with you?"

"That's a good one! You are a coward! Hear me: I may meet the 
big devil, and you would be frightened."

"No, not in your company, sir. Now that I see you by the side of 
me, I could challenge a whole taproom. The big devil, perhaps, 
has a valet. If so, I engage to give a good drubbing to the 
servant, while you dispatch the master."

"I am delighted with your good spirits, and in consequence will 
take you with me. What are you about, Jasmin?"

"I was thinking, that if perchance the servant had a sword, I 
don't know how to use such weapons"

"Either leave your stick behind, or stop here."

"I prefer following you, and will trust to my arms alone."

This determination of my servant proved very serviceable to me, 
as will be seen presently. We were just gone out, and as I was 
in a hurry, I walked very fast, and by long strides, without 
looking around. We had just reached the street Saint-Honoré, 
when a female stopped Jasmin to ask him the way to the Place 
Vendôme. Hearing the accents of a cherished voice, I turned 
round: "Great God! Is it possible? Yes, it is her! It is the 
Countess!"

"How happy! It is him! I was going to your house, Faublas."

"And I, my Eleanor, was going to yours."

"Lay hold of this, quick, relieve me," she continued, giving me 
a little box; "my jewels are in here. I was carrying them to 
you, and was coming to join you, that we might set off 
directly."

"Set off! Where shall we go?"

"Wherever you like."

"How so! Wherever I like!"

"To be sure! To Spain, England, Italy, China, Japan, to some 
desert; where you think fit, I tell you-"

"Are you in earnest? I have nothing ready for the execution of 
so bold a project."

"Nothing ready! What is it you want?"

"My dear love, this is not a proper place to discourse upon a 
subject of so great an importance; you were going to my house. 
Well, my Eleanor, come along with me, I shall take you there; 
let us enjoy some more happy hours."

"However-"

"What! However! Would you be sorry to grant me another happy 
night?"

"It would give me great pleasure, on the contrary; but I think 
you had better carry me away without loss of time."

"Jasmin, run to the Swiss, ask him for the key of the back door 
of the garden, and open it for us. Mind we are not to be seen by 
anyone. You will give two louis d'ors to the Swiss, for keeping 
my secret."

"I am do not have the money, sir."

"I promise to give him as much."

"Oh your word is as good as hard cash for him."

"I promise you the same, Jasmin; but run."

The back door was soon opened, and without being seen, we 
reached my apartment. "How satisfied I am!" exclaimed the 
Countess, as she entered my room, "how satisfied I am! Now it is 
that I am really his wife! How well we should be here! But we 
shall be still better in a cottage. Faublas, we must elope 
together, we absolutely must. Let me relate to you this day's 
adventures. The captain came at an early hour in the morning to 
abuse me. He hastened to apprise M. de Lignolle of my being 
pregnant, and that Mademoiselle de Brumont could be no other 
than a man in disguise. He then took his oath that he would very 
soon know him, and do his business for him, (I repeat his very 
words) that he would do the business of the insolent fellow, who 
presumed to love his sister-in-law; (it was not the word love 
which he spoke) and who had the audacity to lay his hand upon 
him."

"What did your husband say to that?"

"My husband! Why will you call him my husband; you know he is no 
husband of mine."

"M. de Lignolle?"

"He did not seem to be much pleased."

"What did you answer?"

"I replied, that if it were possible that Mademoiselle de 
Brumont should be a man, it was my kind stars that had allowed 
it to be so; and that, if ever a friend had come to me, and done 
what my husband should have done, my supposed husband deserved 
it amply. My aunt exclaimed that I was right; the good old lady 
sided with me."

"I don't doubt it!"

"When the two brothers were gone, the Marchioness wept bitterly: 
she wanted to take me back with her to Franche-Comté. Think how 
dear you are to me! I constantly rejected her proposition. 
Faublas, I had rather be carried away by you. Meanwhile, the 
rude captain went to take a seat in a coffee-room."

"I know."

"I thought I had better not send to you, as I don't wish you to 
fight the captain; I forgive his insults; I forget them; I shall 
forget the whole world, provided you carry me away. I was going, 
however, to write to Madame de Fonrose, when she sent me word."

"I know."

"You see, the Baroness is not a good woman! She has served us so 
long as our amours appeared to her an intrigue more ludicrous 
than another, and procured her some amusement: now that we are 
surrounded with danger, she forsakes us. But what do I care, 
since you remain faithful, and that I am going to elope with 
you. Night at last came on, I hastened to get my supper, and to 
have my aunt retire into her apartment. My women put me to bed 
as usual; but as soon as they had left my room, quick I put on 
this gown, and going down the little staircase, got into the 
yard. La Fleur, as if I had sent him on an errand, called to the 
Swiss to open the street-door, I ran away, met you, and nothing 
prevents your carrying me away."

"Nothing prevents it! Say you: quite the reverse, everything 
opposes it! We are in want of a carriage, a disguise, arms, 
post-horses, and a passport."

"Ah dear me! I shall not be carried away this night! Hear me, 
Faublas, we shall stop here till daybreak; you then will hide me 
in some garret of your hôtel; you will have the whole day to 
make the necessary preparations, and we shall finally take our 
departure towards the middle of tomorrow night"

"Impossible, my dear."

"Impossible for what reason?"

"You will not consider, that by acting too precipitately in the 
execution of so difficult an enterprise, we are liable to 
miscarry."

"Only think! I always find out the means of succeeding, and he 
sees only the obstacles!"

"You have it still in your power, for three months to come to 
conceal your pregnancy, and to deny your being in that 
situation."

"The ungrateful man will not carry me away unless he be obliged 
so to do."

"The case is not so pressing."

"Wherefore postpone for three months that happiness which we may 
obtain directly?"

"Would you, my Eleanor, who are so tender hearted, unless 
necessity made it a law, enjoy a happiness, which would reduce 
to despair, the most feeling of all sisters, and the best of 
fathers!"

"Miserable me! He will not carry me away! He is determined I 
shall not elope with him."

"My beloved, I give you my word that those considerations, 
though ever so powerful, will not stop me when the day of 
sacrificing them to you is come. Then I swear, that though I 
were to perish myself, I will forsake neither my child, nor his 
mother, whom I adore. But allow me to leave as late as possible 
those objects, the most deserving of sharing with you my 
affections: permit me, when I forsake them to follow you, to 
carry with me the consoling idea, that I have not voluntarily 
occasioned their greatest sorrows."

The Countess, being obliged to renounce her sweetest hopes, wept 
bitterly; her grief was so poignant that at first I apprehended 
not being able to calm it! But what cannot the caresses of a 
lover perform? The present night, like the last, we spent 
together in amorous embraces, and it seemed to last but one 
moment. "It will soon be light," said Madame de Lignolle, "and I  
shall ask you, in my turn, how I shall return home? The question 
was rather puzzling. I was obliged to weigh the matter in my 
mind. before I could give a satisfactory answer: "My  Eleanor, 
let us make haste to dress; notwithstanding the prudent advice 
of Madame do Fonrose, I shall take you to her door, without 
going in myself; the Baroness will think that you called upon 
her at so early an hour only that you might speak to her about 
me. You will not find it a very hard task to make your lover the 
topic of conversation; and notwithstanding all that she may say 
to you, you will keep her company till such time as your gig 
arrives."

"My gig! Who is to bring it to me?"

"La Fleur, to whom I shall go with proper instructions."

"But if the Captain was already at his post?"

"Let us make haste; he certainly will not be there as early as 
at the rising of the sun. At any rate, if he should, I have got 
my sword; it cannot be helped, my sweet dear, we have no other 
means left!"

"But when and how shall I see you again?"

"Eleanor, I will not have you expose and endanger yourself so 
late at night alone! On foot! I will not suffer it! Tell me, my 
beloved, is it not more proper and less dangerous that I should 
go to you? Can't I sometimes, about midnight, gain admittance to 
you?"

Madame de Lignolle kissed me! "Yes," she answered, with an 
exclamation of joy; "I can contrive means. Come-not next night; 
I might not have adopted proper measures-hear me, not to trust 
to chance, come on Friday, between eleven and twelve."

It began to be light. We got downstairs without causing any 
disturbance, and made our exit through the garden door. We 
succeeded better than I had expected. I saw the Countess enter 
Madame de Fonrose's house; ran to M. de Lignolle's to call up La 
Fleur, who was to depart a quarter of an hour after. I then 
returned safe home, and at eight o'clock received the following 
letter:
For a long time, Monsieur le Chevalier, have been seeking 
an opportunity of repairing my wrongs towards you and 
Monsieur le Baron. It is with transport I have seized the 
first which offered. I beg you will tell your father so. I 
believe, however, that the king could not make for the 
regiment of -- a better acquisition than that of a young 
man like you, since it is certain that you are bearer of 
the most promising physiognomy in the world. 
I have the honour to be, etc., 
Le Marquis de B***

M. de Belcourt entered my room a moment after; he held several 
papers in his hand, and I could see the greatest joy depicted in 
his countenance.

"I received it this very minute from Versailles!" he exclaimed, 
embracing me; "You have wished it were addressed to me, you have 
been desirous I should be the first to congratulate you on your 
good fortune; I feel extremely flattered by so delicate an 
attention. Yes, that is the very thing," he added, "seeing that 
I was approaching to read it; it is your commission of a captain 
in the regiment of -- dragoons, now quartered at Nancy; and this 
is the order to join on the first of May-in a fortnight."

"Faublas! I have reproached you more than once for the 
inexcusable inactivity which rendered your talents useless, and 
I had determined to take at last the necessary measures to 
procure the only situation that you were fit for: and I am 
delighted that upon your having made a prior application, you 
have been so successful. It has been your good fortune to be 
granted at first, what my most pressing solicitations would not 
have obtained immediately, namely, a superior rank, and the 
expectation of a certain promotion. Unfortunately, I have 
occasion to apprehend you will find in this favourable event 
another subject of joy; the project of our journey is done away 
with; your stay in the metropolis is prolonged a whole week. If 
it be true, however, that you congratulate yourself upon the 
occasion, think at least, my son, that nothing will dispense 
your obeying the minister's orders, and joining your regiment in 
less than a fortnight. I shall then leave Paris, to proceed 
alone whither we intended going together."

"How kind you are, sir, and how grateful I am."

"I promise to search for Sophia with as much care and zeal as 
you could have done yourself."

"And you will find her, father! You will find her!"

"I hope, at least, I shall, on account of this late event. I 
don't doubt but Faublas will be eager to justify the favour of 
the prince. I doubt not but he will fill with distinction the 
honourable post that has been committed to his charge. It is to 
be imagined that M. du Portail will hear, in his solitary 
retreat, of this happy change, which is the forerunner of many 
more, and that he then will no longer conceal his daughter from 
a husband who is become deserving of her."

"Oh, father! Oh! What an encouragement you hold out to me!"

"Adelaide is already up, Faublas; she is to breakfast in my 
apartment; I was going to have you called down. I have not been 
so indiscreet as to show these papers to your sister; it is but 
fair you should inform her of the happy news: come, my dear, let 
us go down together."

I was receiving Adelaide's congratulations, when my servant 
came, with an alarmed countenance, to tell me that I was wanted.

"Who wants me, Jasmin?"

"It is him, sir."

"Who is him?"

"The big devil"

"The big devil!" repeated M. de Belcourt, looking at Jasmin. 
"What is that expression? Faublas! Whom does he mean?"

"Father, I-I am going to receive him."

"Wherefore all this mystery? Gracious heaven! Perhaps it is the 
captain? No, Faublas, stop; let him come in here. Jasmin, desire 
the Vicomte to step into my apartment."

As soon as my servant had left us, the Baron exclaimed: "The 
fatal moment is now come! O my good friend! Remember the prayers 
which your father has addressed you, and that he reiterates on 
his knees." He had really knelt before me. I immediately raised 
him up; he seized my right hand, kissed it, and placed it upon 
his heart: "Let it save me!" he exclaimed, "Let it save the half 
of my existence!" Adelaide came running, and quite terrified: 
"Faublas," said M. de Belcourt, "Kiss your sister, and do not 
forget her."

I was embracing her, when the captain entered the room: I see 
two!" he exclaimed with a dreadful sneer, "Which is Mademoiselle 
de Brumont?" I replied, pointing to my sister: "Captain, this 
one, the day before yesterday, could not have seated you on the 
Countess's balcony."

Meanwhile, Adelaide was stooping to whisper to the Baron: "How 
ugly that tall gentleman is! I am frightened at him." "Leave us, 
child," he answered, "go and take a walk in the garden." Prior 
to her obeying, she came to me, with her eyes bathed in tears: 
"Brother," she said, "the Baron did not lock you in! Oh I beg of 
you, remember he has not locked you in!"

When my sister was gone, the Captain, who had not ceased staring 
at me, I exclaimedn a most violent manner: "Is this the 
Chevalier de Faublas who is spoken of? How can he have acquired 
a name in feats of arms? He hardly looks to have any life in 
him! Though he be something more than a weak female, he is but 
half a man still for all that!"

"Captain, please to be seated; you will be more at your ease 
then to look at me."

"Zounds! I believe you wish to be thought jocular. Don't you 
know me? Are you ignorant that the Vicomte de Lignolle never 
puts up with the stupid raillery, nor the impertinent airs of 
your species? That he never has suffered an equivocal look or 
gesture? That the most haughty have renounced their audacity in 
his presence? That he has, with great facility, immolated men 
more famous than you are, and who had a more formidable 
appearance."

"You have no more to say? Captain, is it customary with brave 
men of your description to try to intimidate the antagonist whom 
they apprehend not being able to conquer? I am very glad to 
inform you that you could derive no great resource with me from 
that excellent method."

"Hell and fire!" cried out the angry Captain. He, however, 
checked his wrath; and, taking me by the hand, said: "Hark! 
since it was possible that there should be found under the 
canopy of heaven a youthful madman so rash as to disgrace a 
brother whom I love, and so daring as to lift up his hand 
against me, and to insult me openly, I had rather it is you than 
anyone else. Too often, for two or three years back, I have been 
stunned with your name; let me tell you that for strength and 
science I acknowledge but one single man in the whole world who 
can be compared to me; and that one's superiority I don't think 
anyone will dispute. I will never allow any other man's fame, to 
rise above, or even to counterbalance mine; and I intended 
coming to Paris some day to tell you so."

"Return thanks to chance then, which, by making me apparently an 
offender, spares you the infamy of a duel, the sole motive 
whereof would have been your ferocious love of false glory."

"I am very impatient to know how you will maintain the boldness 
of your discourse; the more I look at you the less I can credit 
your being deserving of your high renown."

"Let us come to the point then, Captain. It is proof you want, 
is it not?"

"Assuredly! But tell me, would you perchance wish to boast of 
challenging the Vicomte de Lignolle?"

"Why should I boast? What honour could I derive from it? 
Besides, have I ever made a trade of challenging anyone?"

"I must let you know that I have taken my solemn oath, upon all 
occasions, to propose the fight."

"I have taken no other oath than never to refuse it."

"Well, then, choose your weapons."

"I have no preference."

"The sword, then! The sword, I like to see my enemy from a short 
distance."

"I shall endeavour, Captain, not to stand too far from him."

"That we shall see, my little gentleman. The spot?"

"I don't care which; at la Porte Maillot, if you like."

"La Porte Maillot! Be it so; but this time you will not have the 
Marquis de B*** to deal with."

"Perhaps."

"On which day, and at what o'clock?"

"Today, and immediately."

"Those are the best words you have spoken," he exclaimed, 
tapping my shoulder, "let us begone."

"Captain, you have got your carriage, I suppose?"

"No; I always walk."

"This once, however, you must make up your mind to take a seat 
in the Baron's coach."

"Why so?"

"Because we must go and fetch one of your friends."

"One of my friends!"

"Yes, as I propose taking a witness with me."

"A witness! Where is he?"

"There he is."

"Your father?"

"My father."

"Let him come if he pleases; but he must not rely upon my 
showing you mercy."

"Monsieur le Vicomte," replied the Baron with great composure, 
"the more I hear you, the more I am persuaded you are 
undeserving of mine."

"Captain, have you heard him?"

"Well, what then!"

"What then?" I exclaimed, laying hold of his hand, which I 
squeezed very hard, "it is the sentence of death that he has 
been passing on you!"

"Let us go," repeated my father, "and I see that we shall return 
soon."

We first went for M. de Saint-Léon, a colleague of the captain, 
another naval officer, as tractable and as polite as his friend 
was the reverse. This gentleman's testimonies of respect to my 
father, and civilities to me, sufficiently counteracted the 
invectives, bravadoes, and swearing, which M. de Lignolle 
uttered without interruption: several times even he attempted 
some conciliatory speeches, but it may be easily imagined that 
all manner of mediation was now superflous between the Vicomte 
and me. We arrived at the Porte Maillot, each of us determined 
to die rather than to relent.

We had just got out of the carriage; my antagonist was going to 
draw his sword; and mine was already drawn; when, on a sudden, 
several horsemen, who, for a few seconds had followed us full 
gallop, surrounded the captain, crying out in the king's name. 
One of them said to him: "M. le Vicomte de Lignolle, the King 
and the Lord Marshals of France command you to deliver your 
sword into my hands; and till I receive fresh orders, I am to 
accompany you where you go."

The captain flew in a rage, yet he did not dare to offer any 
resistance. As he surrendered his sword, he cried out to me: 
"They have not appointed a guard over you; they rely on your 
peaceable disposition. You have very prudent friends; return 
them thanks for their extreme vigilance, it will allow you to 
live a few days longer, but only a few days. Understand well 
what I say to you."

I returned with my father; and as we passed Rosambert's door, I 
recollected that my happy friend had been married on the 
preceding day, and that I was to breakfast with the new 
Countess. I left the Baron, and was introduced to the Count, who 
received me in his drawing-room.

"Rosambert, I am come to wish you joy, and to attend to your 
invitation."

"I beg your pardon," he replied, "you will breakfast with me 
alone; the Countess is fatigued, and wants rest."

"I understand. You are satisfied with your night?"

"I am; yes, satisfied indeed."

"My friend, what do you laugh at? Your gaiety does not appear to 
be natural! What can disturb?"

"A foul trick, which is played me by your Marchioness, I would 
lay a bet now!"

"What is it?"

"I have just received an order to join my regiment."

"To join! So have I."

"And you too! How so?"

"I am now a captain of dragoons."

"A captain! I wish you joy! Let us embrace. There will not be a 
younger, a braver, or a handsomer officer in the regiment. So 
then, at last, the Marchioness has taken it into her head to do 
something for you?"

"Did not I tell you, long since, that a man, whatever his merits 
might be, could never expect preferment but from the 
recommendation of women?"

"I admire you! Who told you it was Madame de B***? I confess it 
would be more pleasant still if it were her husband."

I returned him no answer. I had thought proper not to 
communicate the Marquis's letter to M. de Belcourt; judge then 
whether I felt inclined to show it to Rosambert.

"Captain in a regiment of dragoons!" continued the Count; "That 
is no bad beginning! Oh! You may expect high promotion! It is 
Madame de B*** who patronises you! How is it possible, however, 
I can't conceive, that the Marchioness could summon courage 
enough to sacrifice herself that you might get the commission? 
The courage of confining Faublas in a garrison? Where is your 
regiment quartered, Chevalier?"

"At Nancy."

"At Nancy! Stop a minute! Am I mistaken? No, no! Ah! I don't 
wonder."

"At what?"

"At what! That's a good one! You perhaps do not know what I 
mean?"

"Indeed I have not the least idea!"

"Faublas, those out-of-the-way mysteries are more injurious than 
beneficial. How would you have me be acquainted with that?"

"With what that?"

"Why, that Madame de B*** possesses, in the vicinity of the 
capital of Lorraine, a very fine estate, which it is a long time 
since she has seen."

"Ah! Ah!"

"She undoubtedly expects to go and spend the fine season there; 
and, whenever you please, you will obtain from your colonel 
leave of absence for a whole day; so that the Marchioness, at 
the summit of her wishes, will enjoy your company at her ease, 
without dreading a rival being in her way. She has fixed upon 
the best plan to prevent at once your going in search of Sophia 
or assisting Madame de Lignolle."

"Prevent me from assisting Eleanor?"

"Certainly, for you are ordered to join your regiment within a 
short time."

"Not before the first day of May."

"Well! That is only a fortnight."

"I am a whole week a gainer, since my father was to take me away 
on Saturday next."

"A great good done, faith! What change can a single week 
produce?"

"What do I know? So many things will happen in less time! 
Faublas, that is what I call adopting a mere probability as a 
real fact."

"Keep silent, my good friend, say no more to remove an illusion 
which supports me."

"Will Madame de Lignolle be less miserable for your leaving her 
a week later!"

"Rosambert! Rosambert! Is it when I am near the bottom of the 
abyss that you should point it out to me?"

"Will she be less exposed to the vengeance of her enemies?"

"Cruel man!"

"To the brutal anger of the captain?"

"He came to me this morning. We were on the point of fighting, 
when a garde de la connétablie <75> arrived to part us."

"A guard! To him? You have not one attached to you?"

"No"

"I believe so; that would have impeded your going, incognito, to 
visit the Marchioness."

"The Marchioness! By hearing you, one would suppose that nothing 
in the world is done but through her interference."

"My friend, it is because the lion, which, during some weeks, 
seemed to be fast asleep, has just awoke; because I see Madame 
de B*** now stirring everything round her; a week ago, bad 
rumours respecting Mademoiselle de Brumont began to circulate."

"Oh, dear!"

"Much about the same time, a fatal letter is addressed to the 
captain."

"Is it possible!"

"Yesterday I heard from good authority, of the rupture between 
M. de Belcourt and the Baroness; you receive your commission to-
day; and I am obliged to go, without being favoured, like you, 
with a fortnight's respite! I must be at my regiment on the 21st 
of this month, of course I must bid you adieu the day after 
tomorrow; on Friday! But what does she aim at by adopting such 
measures? For the artificious woman never attempts anything 
without some secret designs. If I am not allowed to guess at 
everything, I conceive at least, that ready to strike the 
decisive blows, but hearing of our reconciliation, and unable to 
refuse acknowledging that the man in the world who knows her 
best, must feel disposed to assist you against her with his 
purse, his advice, and even with his arm, if absolutely 
requisite: the Marchioness deems it very advisable, as soon as 
possible, to remove that among her enemies whom she considers 
the most dangerous, because he is your best friend. Be it as it 
may, your Madame de B*** is a true woman, to the whole extent of 
the expression, for after beating her enemies, she still bears 
them malice; and," he pursued, as he rubbed his hand over his 
forehead, "recently, quite recently, prior to the order for my 
exile, I thought I perceived that the pistol shot with which she 
gratified me, would not prevent her playing me every now and 
then some little tricks of another sort."

"How so?"

"Yes, I have not left my home since yesterday evening, and I 
could lay a bet that a sincere reconciliation has taken place 
between the Marchioness and Madame de --, the eternally 
officious Countess! Who has so zealously pressed my happy 
marriage."

"Upon my honour I don't comprehend your meaning."

"So much the better: When I happen to be indiscreet, I like to 
be found equally obscure. You wish to go, my good friend. I 
shall not try to detain you, for I confess I want to be left by 
myself for a moment"

"You seem to be out of spirits?"

"Rather so."

"The order of your departure?"

"That, and something else."

"Which I am not to be told of?"

"Or that it is not worth being known."

"What is it?"

"A trifle! Nothing! Less than nothing! I have been told so a 
hundred times, and never would believe it, for it is difficult 
for the best tempered man not to be ruffled a little. Yet it 
can't be helped! It is a cloud that will soon pass away."

"Rosambert, you speak like an oracle; I shall call again when 
you will cease being unintelligible. Farewell!"

"Adieu, Faublas!"

"I hope, at least, that you will present my duty to your new 
bride, and assure her of my regret"

"Oh, yes! You will see her this evening; I shall introduce her 
to you."

"What a giddy chap I am! I was going away without asking you 
what her maiden name was."

"De Mésanges, he answered."

"De Mésanges! I exclaimed."

"Well! What do you wonder at?"

"Nothing."

"You were struck when you heard the name?"

"Struck, because I have known, in the country, a brother of that 
young lady."

"She has no brother."

"It must have been one of her cousins then. Adieu, my friend!"

"No, Chevalier, no! Hear me! When you knew that HE cousin, did 
not you perchance know that SHE cousin also?"

"Never, wherefore?"

"Ah! For-for nothing. Faublas, I claim your indulgence, for I am 
extremely stupid to-day."

I made off in all the haste I could, that Rosambert might not 
perceive on my countenance too much gaiety succeeding to too 
much surprise.

My father was waiting for me with great impatience. As I entered 
his apartment, I heard him say to my dear Adelaide: "Ah! My 
sweet child! If it were so, would you see me so quiet? Come in," 
he cried as soon as he saw me, "your sister is miserable; she 
pretends that you have met with some great misfortune, which I 
conceal from her." "Oh! Brother," she exclaimed, "I should have 
died if you had not returned. When, then, will you give up 
fighting for any other, than Sophia?"

"Apropos," interrupted the Baron, "I never thought of asking the 
question but when you were out of the way. Tell me, pray, what 
is become of M. du Portail's letter?"

"I had kept it, sir, but have lost it at Montargis, on the 
evening I was taken ill. It is most likely Madame de Lignolle 
who has found it; but I have not dared to speak to her about it: 
what I wonder at is that she never mentioned anything concerning 
it to me."

On that same evening, Rosambert brought his wife to us. From one 
end of the apartment to the other, the Countess recognising my 
sister, although she had never seen her before, stopped quite 
amazed. "Go on," said her husband, "proceed, what detains you at 
this door?" "Why," she answered, "still looking at my sister, 
'tis because methinks that's her."

"Who?"

"Who? Why a lady that I thought was my dear friend."

"Do you know this young lady?"

During this short dialogue, I was enquiring of myself what I had 
to do to prevent the young bride from betraying herself openly. 
To quit the room for a while would be exposing my sister to 
dangerous questions, to embarrassing reproaches from the 
Countess, to whom, besides, I should soon procure a new subject 
of astonishment, since I could not dispense returning into the 
drawing-room. It was therefore incumbent upon me to hasten 
obliging Madame de Rosambert to notice me, that she might be put 
in mind of the necessary explanations and prudent advice, which, 
on the eve of her nuptials, Madame d'Armincour has probably 
given to the innocent Mademoiselle de Mésanges. Having fixed 
upon this as the best plan, I threw myself in her way, and bowed 
most respectfully to her.

The Countess then screamed out, dropped her arms, lost all 
countenance, and very near fainting away, was obliged to lean 
against the door. Meanwhile she ceased not casting her looks 
sometimes upon my sister, sometimes upon me; I could easily 
perceive that she was still at a loss to find out which of the 
two was her dear friend. "This," said Rosambert, "is a true 
recognisance! Very singular! Quite theatrical! But it appears to 
me that in this scene, very entertaining in other respects, mine 
is by no means the best part."

My father, on his side, would mutter to himself: "Here are more 
quiproquos!<76> Another amorous adventure! I could lay a wager." 
"So you know this young lady!" resumed the Count, showing my 
sister to his wife. This latter very unseasonably wishing to act 
cunningly, answered: "Ah dear me, no; no! I never knew 
Mademoiselle de Brumont."

"De Brumont!" repeated Rosambert; "cursed be then the infernal 
genius that made you guess at the name! So then," he continued, 
beating his forehead, "I can entertain no further doubt, no 
doubt whatever! I am already what is called a husband, a true 
husband! I am so I even was so before I were married. How it was 
achieved, perhaps I shall hear at some future period." My father 
stooped to whisper in the Count's ear that my sister being 
present, he should not speak so freely.

"You are right, sir," replied the Count, "I am inexcusable, 
totally inexcusable to make such a bustle about a mere nonsense. 
Yes, indeed, though one may be ever so prepared, one cannot 
receive the blow without feeling a little hurt. I am not void of 
courage, or fortitude; I only beg of you a moment to recover 
myself; you will see me presently perfectly tranquil. It is to 
be confessed, however, that this young man can boast of being 
born under a most malignant constellation, favourable to 
himself, but fatal to all who are near him! It seems as if it 
were written above, that not one of his friends is to escape." 
He could not help asking other questions of the poor little 
woman. "Madam, you have seen this young lady nowhere?"

"Nowhere? Oh! Indeed I have not, not even at my cousin de 
Lignolle's."

"Ah! How mad thus to ask questions when-when one is certain! 
Very well Madame la Comtesse, very well! That is enough; the 
Chevalier will tell me the remainder."

At these words, the Count seemed to be reconciled to his case. 
The conversation now ran upon indifferent subjects. The new 
bride, who spoke little, looked at me without interruption; and 
with an air that seemed to announce that if she was still 
astonished and dissatisfied at the manner in which I had 
entertained her error by availing myself of her ignorance, she 
notwithstanding did not feel disposed to keep eternally against 
me her surprise and resentment. Rosambert, during that time, was 
struggling very hard to conceal the inquietude which the 
attention bestowed upon me inspired him with; and as the 
Countess finally burst out laughing, he asked what she laughed 
at?

"Why, I laugh because he laughs."

"And wherefore, does he laugh?"

"Why! He laughs, perhaps, at-ah! but that is what I can't tell. 
Why! I don't know what he laughs at."

In vain did the Count attempt to suppress a sign of impatience; 
in vain did he try to stifle a deep sigh; and since Rosambert's 
vanity prompted him to endeavour to conceal the mortification 
which his misadventure occasioned him, he thought it was time 
for him to withdraw. "Adieu," he said to me; "I am not angry 
with you; will you be at home tomorrow in the evening?"

"Yes, my friend."

"You may expect to see me."

"Shall I come with you?" asked his wife.

"What a question you are asking," he replied, in a tone of 
perfect indifference, "just as you please. I nevertheless shall 
observe to you that young married women do not visit bachelors 
so, especially every day."

As the Countess was going downstairs, I presented her my hand; 
she squeezed mine and said: "I would come most willingly. Do you 
know though that I am very angry with you! You have played me a 
sad trick?"

"Hush! hush!" cried out Rosambert; "those things are not to be 
spoken of in company, especially when the husband is present."

They both went away. On the day following, at six in the 
evening, Rosambert came to see me, but he did not bring the 
Countess with him. Upon his entering my room, I was surprised at 
his loud burst of laughter: "The whole is truly comical! He 
exclaimed, infinitely pleasant!"

"What!"

"What the Countess has been relating to me."

"Have you seen Madame de Lignolle?"

"No, my wife; she has recounted to me the whole transaction, I 
tell you; I kept a serious air in her presence, for the sake of 
decorum; now that I am with you, permit me to laugh. You are 
born for comical adventures."

"Rosambert, if you wish me to answer you, be explicit."

"Ah! This time I speak plain; but if you force me to it, I shall 
speak plainer still."

"Just as you please."

"Will you have it so? Well then, hear me: my wife told me that 
prior to her being my wife, she had been yours."

"That is not true!"

"What! It is you who deny it! It is you!"

I interrupted him bluntly: "Monsieur le Comte, I beg you will 
hear me before you continue with your insidious confidences. All 
your questions upon so delicate a subject, in whatever manner 
you may venture to ask them, would be entirely useless; if the 
fact is false, I am not such a vain coxcomb as to excuse your 
wife; and if it were true, I am not so stupidly indiscreet as to 
confess it to her husband.

"But I ask of you neither to own or disown; but merely to 
listen. Madame de Rosambert has related to me that you have had 
the happiness of going to bed with the Dowager d'Armincour; that 
on the same night you left the bed of the Marchioness to go and 
have some chat with Mademoiselle de Mésanges, who had soon 
ceased being a demoiselle, though without knowing it, since 
after having behaved with her like an honorable man, you 
nevertheless left her in the full persuasion of your being a 
female. You must acknowledge, Chevalier, that if the young 
person has been telling me a story of her own composition, she 
has made it ludicrous enough, and allow me to laugh at it."

"Rosambert, far from opposing, I wish to join you in the laugh."

"However," he resumed, with a more serious air, "I have a 
question to ask you, without meaning to give the least offence. 
Let us suppose-it is a mere supposition, you understand me well-
Let us suppose that the adventure had fallen to your lot, would 
you have entrusted Madame de B*** with the confidence?"

"Never."

"I thought as much. Who then can have told her of it? For my 
marriage, it is not to be doubted, is a benefit from the 
Marchioness; and as I was telling you yesterday morning, because 
the discoveries I had made on the preceding night had suggested 
the idea, it was only at Madame de B***'s instigation that the 
Countess de B***, who appeared to me so devoted and zealous, had 
been acting all the while. At the very moment when I was 
granting an ample dowry for the virginity<77> of Mademoiselle de 
Mésanges, who most assuredly had no claim of the kind, the 
belligerent powers announced publicly that their rupture had 
been simulated, and that it was M. de Rosambert who paid the 
expenses of the war. However, I am forced to acknowledge, that 
the Marchioness avenges herself in a noble manner; when she 
nearly maimed me, she stood the chance of receiving a shot 
herself. Now that she has had bestowed upon me as a maiden, a 
complete widow, she takes care to gild the pill; she adds to it, 
to console me, sixty thousand livres per annum. Chevalier, when 
you see my generous enemy, I beg you will return her my best 
thanks. Tell her that at first I was not quite exempt, from 
feeling the little misfortune, by means of a foolish hymen, of 
being ranked with the throng; yet do me justice: add that my 
weakness lasted only one moment; that I now am entirely 
reconciled to the event. Do not, above all things omit assuring 
the Marchioness that, notwithstanding my own accident, I feel 
more disposed than ever to make game of unlucky husbands. 
Faublas, are you coming with me?"

"Whither are you going? I see you quite superb! In full dress! 
Your sword by your side! Are you already paying your marriage 
visits?"

"No, but since I must be off tomorrow, I am going to take leave 
of my friends and acquaintances."

"And you wish me to accompany you?"

"I am to sup in the Faubourg Saint-Honoré; we shall alight at 
the Champs-Elysees; take a few turns up and down; and have some 
conversation."

"I agree; provided we speak only of Madame de Lignolle."

"With all my heart. So then now I am a husband like a hundred 
thousand others; but it does not signify, I still side with 
young bachelors against married men."

"Faublas, I just think of it, don't take it into your head that 
I wish to carry you with me to prevent your going wherever love 
might summon you."

"What do you mean?"

"If you had made a new conquest, if you had an appointment with 
a new young bride, already tired with her husband, don't let me 
prevent you!"

"Rosambert, if you really thought it were possible, you would 
not speak of it so jocosely."

"Upon my honour, I spoke in earnest. Adversity has just been 
trying my strength; I feel capable of enduring any calamity.

So then I am of opinion that the unfortunate Countess has no 
resource than to retire into her province, or demand a 
separation, in case M. de Lignolle should use her ill. It was 
getting dark, and we were in the Champs-Elysées, nearly facing 
M. de Beaujon's house, as Rosambert had spoken those last words. 
The Marquis de B*** was just coming out of an adjacent hôtel. As 
soon as he saw me he made up to me; but turned back upon seeing 
Rosambert. "He avoids us," said the latter, "let us go to him, 
and not suffer so good an opportunity of letting an agreeable 
moment escape us." In vain did I endeavour to dissuade 
Rosambert: the decrees of fate are irrevocable.

"You run away from us, Monsieur le Marquis?"

"It is true at least, that I do not seek your company," he 
replied in a very dry tone."

"It is true, at least, that many people have told me, that you 
complained highly of me; indeed I am equally very curious and 
very impatient, to hear from your own mouth, the cause of your 
resentment"

"Do you think I will not tell you candidly my reasons? How do 
you do, M. le Chevalier", he continued, presenting me his hand; 
"You must have received yesterday from Versailles-"

"His commission," interrupted Rosambert; "he has received it."

"I have received it, Monsieur le Marquis, and am very thankful 
for that proof of your-"

Here the Count interrupted me: "Faublas, was it the Marquis who 
has obtained it for you?"

"Yes, it was. What is there in that to excite your laughter?"

"But pray, sir, has not your lady solicited likewise?"

"Why not? The Marchioness is an excellent woman, inclined to 
render service to everybody, to everyone, except you!"

"I must persevere in asking the reason why?"

"The reason? Monsieur le Comte, when a man thinks himself 
amiable to such a degree that no woman can resist him, and that 
he meets one prudent, virtuous, and who loves her husband 
tenderly."

"Pardon me, but I know so many of that description, that I am at 
a loss to know who you are speaking of."

"Of mine, sir."

"Of your own! Of yours!"

"Yes, when he meets with such a one, he miscarries."

"He miscarries! To be sure he must."

"Then he must take patience."

"You speak very much at your ease, you who never miscarry."

"No unreasonable jokes, Monsieur le Comte, I know that you have 
been more successful than I have with a young lady."

"A young lady? Ah! Yes, with Mademoiselle du Portail."

"Du Portail! Grin as much as you please! To be avenged at least; 
I used no foul dealings."

"Ah! Spare me. But speak plain. What do you call foul dealings?"

"Your behaviour to my wife, sir."

"Well, sir, what have I done to your wife? Let us hear if you 
know of it."

"If I know of it! The day next to that on which Mademoiselle de 
Faublas had slept in the Marchioness's bed."

"Mademoiselle de Faublas! Are you sure?"

I drew nearer to Rosambert, and whispered to him; "Take care, my 
friend, you carry the joke too far; but I request of you at 
least not to expose Madame de B***." The Marquis however, went 
on; "In order to be avenged, on the day following you brought to 
my wife the brother, dressed in his sister's clothes."

"See what a cunning fellow I am," exclaimed the Comte, with a 
loud laugh: "what a deal of mischief I have been contriving 
against the Marchioness! Such are the tricks I will play though! 
Only see."

M. de B***, who visibly grew animated, interrupted with great 
vehemence, "I believe, indeed, he presumes to make game of me! 
Not satisfied with that first act of perfidy."

"Why! When I once begin."

"You have, moreover, been so wicked."

"Zooks! This becomes serious!"

"Very serious! But I question who will have the last laugh, M. 
de Rosambert; for let me tell you, I don't like to be turned 
into ridicule."

"Nor I to be threatened, sir; but out with the wickedness, as 
you call it."

"Yes! You have been so wicked as to avail yourself of the 
presence of a young man in disguise, to behave to my wife, even 
in my presence, in the most impertinent, most shocking manner."

Oh! I acknowledge it now, I am a-wretch!-a true demon!-an 
abominable rake!"

"Crack your jokes, sir; you are welcome! But as you have 
demanded an explanation, and instead of confessing your errors 
you will carry them to an extreme, let me tell you what I think 
of your conduct towards the Marchioness; I deem it unworthy of a 
man of honour;" and he added, laying his hand on his sword, "I 
expect you will give me immediate satisfaction."

"Why truly! This is more comical still! And although many people 
may wonder at it, I confess that I expected as much."

"Gentlemen," I exclaimed, "what are you about? I cannot allow 
you to fight, Monsieur le Marquis! and you Rosambert, who 
abominate quarrels, is it possible that in your frolicsome 
humour-"

"Always!" vociferated M. de B***, "I have always read in his 
physiognomy that he was a bad hand at cracking a joke."

"Bad? You provoke me!"

"Yet I could not have thought that he was so wicked a man."

"This will do better! The saying is more noble."

"I must give him a good lesson that will tend to correct him."

"He is angry! Quite angry with me! Indeed, M. le Marquis, you 
are no longer the same man. For my part I had always read in 
your countenance-except, however, one certain morning when at la 
Porte Maillot you wanted to kill the Chevalier and the Baron! 
And the Comte! And everybody! Except on that morning, I had read 
in your countenance that you were the meekest and most pacific 
of all mortals."

At these words, pronounced in the most ironical tone, M. de B*** 
transported with anger, unsheathed his sword. Warned by I know 
not what fatal presentiment, I could not refrain feeling some 
emotion at the sight of that hostile weapon, of that avenging 
sword, which a moment after was to be crimsoned with the blood 
of Rosambert, and within a very short time subsequently, with a 
more precious blood still. I grasped Rosambert: "Monsieur le 
Marquis, I beseech you, be calm! Monsieur le Comte, you shall 
not fight! I will not suffer you to fight!"

"Have done, Faublas," answered the latter, "I am sorry enough to 
be obliged to do it, but it was unavoidable. However, it will 
not be a duel, but a rencounter only, and I shall have learued 
from the gentleman an infinite number of pleasant anecdotes."

"If you do not immediately draw, exclaimed M. de B***, quite 
beyond himself, I will publish everywhere that you are a coward; 
and before I do, I will cross your face."

"Cross my face!" repeated Rosambert. He then laughed again: "It 
would be a great pity! One could no longer read on my 
countenance the very wicked tricks that I indulge in playing to 
a prudent, virtuous woman, who loves her husband tenderly; don't 
I speak the truth, Monsieur le Marquis?"

Rosambert, still laughing, disengaged himself from my arms, drew 
back a few paces, and then sword in hand, came up to M. de B***.

They fought vigorously for some minutes. Alas! How many 
misfortunes would have been spared me, if the Marquis had been 
conquered! It was the Count who fell. "Heaven is just!" cried 
out M. de B***, "may all perish thus who offend me! All who bear 
a deceitful physiognomy. I shall send as soon as possible the 
necessary assistance, he added; stay near him. See now what a 
countenance is! What an alteration already in this man's."

He withdrew. The Count, extended on the ground, beckoned to me 
to stoop, that I might hear him, and said to me in a very weak 
tone of voice: "My friend, I am severely wounded this time; I 
don't think I shall ever recover. Faublas, certify at least to 
Madame de B***, that previous to my breathing my last, I have 
sincerely repented my cruel proceedings towards her-cruel! More 
so than you imagine. Faublas, it is too true that--" Rosambert 
could say no more, he lost the use of his senses.

Several people who had heard a rumour of the fight, were come, 
and we were contriving to stop the blood of my unfortunate 
friend, when the surgeons arrived. He was carried home with the 
greatest speed. What a sight for his young bride! The wound was 
probed; but we obtained from the surgeons this perplexing answer 
only: "We can say nothing until the third dressing is taken 
off."

I returned home, my imagination replete with sinister images: 
"Father, he is dying!"

"Who?"

"M. de Rosambert; he has been dangerously wounded by the 
Marquis."

"The Marquis, replied the Baron, may he never wound anyone else! 
That is a sad event, and a fatal one, entirely so! It will bring 
back upon you the attention of the public."

"O my dear brother," said Adelaide to me, softening by her 
tender caresses, her reflection cruelly just; "dearest brother, 
I cannot tell exactly what your conduct may be, but I am 
sensible that for some time past, you meet with nothing but 
misfortunes."



XXX.

How long did that night appear to me which succeeded that fatal 
evening! What terrible dreams disturbed my painful slumbers! As 
soon as I closed my eyes, I only beheld objects of horror; naked 
swords suspended over my head! My vestments tinctured with 
blood! The skies in a blaze! I knew not what river overflowed, 
and carrying away, besides a thousand fragments, a corpse! The 
images of death all around me! If I awoke, I felt my heart to be 
oppressed, a cold sweat was over my face; and in order to remove 
those dreadful sights, I strove to direct all my thoughts 
towards the happy day which was to illumine my existence, that 
Friday so impatiently waited for, which was to procure me some 
happy moments in the company of the Vicomte de Florville, and 
the liveliest pleasures in the arms of my Eleanor. But in vain 
would I attempt to soothe an imagination, struck with the most 
sinister presentiments, it rejected every consoling idea; my 
soul was profouudly comfortless. Alas! Too soon did that Friday 
come, which seemed to promise me nothing but happiness! It came 
too soon, indeed, that dreadful day, followed by one more 
dreadful still.

At an early hour in the morning, I called at Rosambert's. The 
Count had had a very bad night. I returned in the afternoon: the 
first dressing had just been taken off, but it could not yet be 
ascertained whether the wound would not be mortal.

At seven in the evening, I left Rosambert to fly to the Rue du 
Bac. I did not, as I expected, see there the Vicomte de 
Florville: it was Madame de B*** whom I met with, Madame de 
B***, in all the eloquence of dress, as if she were going to 
Longchamps; how beauteous she looked.

In the first transports of my admiration, I threw myself at her 
feet; and the Marchioness, apparently beholding me in that 
posture with less pride than gratification, with a more gentle 
intoxication than that which self-love occasions, did not hurry 
me up.

"Dear mamma, have not you acted very imprudently in coming here 
in so remarkable a costume?"

"Would it have been better for me not to come at all: I am just 
returned from Versailles in my whisky,<66> with no other 
attendant than Després; besides it was already dark, and I did 
not get in from the Rue du Bac."

"So there is a private back door then?"

"There is, my dear."

"Permit me, beautiful mamma, to express my utmost gratitude. The 
papers which you had promised me-have they provided the intended 
effect?"

"Yes: my father no longer thinks of undertaking a journey with 
me; yet there is still one circumstance, which I confess makes 
me uneasy! Namely, my being obliged to leave Paris so soon. Is 
there no possibility of having my departure retarded for a few 
days?"

"On the contrary," she exclaimed, "I am afraid you will receive 
an order to be off still sooner. A war is spoken of; most 
officers have already joined their regiments; and it was not 
without great difficulty that I obtained for you the delay of a 
fortnight."

"Good God! How shall I manage to-"

She interrupted me hastily: "You don't speak to me of the 
calamitous event that took place yesterday evening."

"Do you deem it calamitous, mamma?"

"How can you ask me such a question? Was it from the hand of M. 
de B***, that Rosambert should have received his death blow? I 
shall then have endured with impunity the outrage of his 
calumnies, and the stain of his embrace! I shall not have been 
allowed to force from him in your presence, with the tardy 
remorse of his last crime, the avowal of all his impostures!"

"Accuse not destiny. Your courage has been rewarded by the 
success of your fight at Compiègne; and in the rencounter of 
yesterday, all your expectations have been fulfilled."

"Fulfilled!"

"Let me repeat what the Count said prior to losing the use of 
his senses: "Faublas, certify at least to Madame de B***, that 
previous to my breathing my last, I have sincerely repented my 
cruel proceedings towards her-"

"Cruel! More so than you did imagine-Faublas, it is too true 
that-"

"That? My lovely mamma, the Count was unable to proceed."

"Unable to proceed! But Faublas, how did you interpret that 
involuntary omittance?"

"The sense does not appear to me equivocal."

"What then?"

"I comprehended that he wished to confess that he had not 
possessed your person-your person with your love, I mean to 
say."

"Confess!" She exclaimed, taking both my hands between hers; 
"you therefore believe it was I who spoke the truth to you?"

"I can assure you, mamma, it would hurt me most grievously not 
to be convinced of it."

"She placed my hand upon her heart: "You believe it, Faublas! My 
good friend! Feel-feel its throbbing-for six months past, this 
is the only moment of joy that has fallen to my lot. Suffer, my 
dear friend, suffer my tears to flow. Those that I have shed for 
such a length of time were so bitter! These I find so sweet! 
Suffer my tears to run, they relieve me from a burden that began 
to overpower me. Ah! Nevertheless, Faublas, what a greater 
happiness, if I myself had washed away my injuries in the blood 
of my enemy, and by this means had proved deserving to obtain in 
your own estimation, my complete restoration! What have I said," 
she added, placing her burning lips upon mine, "what signifies 
my vengeance? Am I not fully justified! Have I not a proper 
claim upon your esteem, and am I not even entitled to a love 
equal to-"

Enraptured with her caresses, I was lavish of mine in return. 
"Well, be it so!" she exclaimed, yielding without reserve; "let 
love at last, invincible love triumph! For two months back I 
have opposed all the resistance which a mortal can command. 
Twenty times it has forced my secret from me; let it triumph 
also over my resolutions! Let it restore to me with my idolised 
love, some moments of supreme happiness! Though I were to 
purchase them at the cost of several ages of trouble! Though I 
were to hear an ingrate when in my arms, call Sophia, and regret 
Madame de Lignolle though I were in short some day to lose my 
life!"

She said no more; I had just carried her on a bed, where our two 
souls were confounded into one. What an unforeseen catastrophe 
was near awaking us from our rapturous ecstasy, to cause the 
groans of rage and grief to succeed the tender sighs of love!

The door of the room in which we were, having suddenly been 
burst open: "Will you believe it now," said Madame Fonrose to M. 
de B***.
 
Illustration: The Marquis, unable to question any longer his 
unhappy lot, became enraged.

The Marquis, unable to question any longer his unhappy lot, 
became enraged; sword in hand, he rushed upon a man unarmed, and 
who besides, surprised in the greatest disorder, was totally 
defenceless.

The Marchioness, too prompt, my too generous lover, ran to meet 
the threatening weapon. The Marquis struck the blow. Great God! 
Madame de B***, however, stood, at first, the violence of the 
thrust, and at the same instant pulling out of her pocket a 
brace of loaded pistols, she fired one at the Baroness. She then 
said to her husband: You have just attempted my life, yours is 
at my disposal; I shall not try to avenge my death, which 
undoubtedly is near; but, she added, leaning upon me, I declare 
to you that I am determined, against all, to save him.

Notwithstanding I made great efforts to hold her up, she fell on 
her knees, supported herself on her right hand, and presented me 
the pistol which she still held in her left: "Lay hold of this, 
Faublas, and if you, M. de B***, offer to advance one step 
towards him, let him stop you!"

She had scarcely spoken these words, when she dropped backward 
into my arms, and lost the use of her senses.

The Marquis no longer thought to threaten my life; his fatal 
sword had already fallen from his hand. "Unhappy wretch," he 
cried, with signs of the deepest despair," what have I been 
doing? Whither shall I go to hide myself? You who are present, 
do not forsake her; be lavish of your care and attention. How 
shall I get out of this place?"

So great indeed was his agitation that he was scarcely able to 
find the door.

In the meanwhile, Madame de Fonrose, whose lower jaw was 
fractured, uttered horrid cries. Crowds of people, unknown to 
me, and whom I could hardly see, came running in. Several 
surgeons arrived. The Baroness was immediately carried home, but 
they did not dare to remove the unfortunate Marchioness. Four of 
us carried her, dying, where, some minutes before,- Oh, ye gods! 
Avenging gods! If it is an act of vengeance, it is indeed a very 
cruel one!

The deep wound was in the left breast, close to the heart. 
Madame de B***, perhaps, was not to live till next morning. The 
first dressing being put on, she recovered the use of her 
senses.

"Faublas! Where is Faublas?"

"Here I am; here I am, overwhelmed with grief."

"Madam," cried out the first surgeon, "don't speak."

"Though I were to die immediately," she retorted, "I must speak 
to him;" and in an extinct voice she stammered out these broken 
words: "You will come again, my friend; you will not suffer 
indifferent people to close my eyes; you will hear my last 
confession, and my last breathing. But leave me for a few 
minutes; run; the lettre de cachet<67> no doubt will soon arrive 
from Versailles, run, save the unfortunate Countess, if there is 
still time enough."

I immediately started. I did not walk, I flew along the streets. 
They would wish to confine my Eleanor! They must take away my 
life first. But if the cruel order is executed already? If it 
should have been executed? It would be all over! I should have 
no resource! No hopes left! The Countess, equally impatient and 
enamoured, will not be able, were it only for a week, to support 
captivity and absence, the mother and child will perish! And I, 
miserable sufferer! Must I be compelled to survive them? Who 
could prevent my following them to the grave?

I reached the hôtel of Madame de Lignolle, my mind replete with 
those gloomy ideas! Without stopping at the lodge of the Swiss, 
I called out La Fleur, passed on, crossed the yard, flew up the 
private staircase, and knocked at the door of Mademoiselle de 
Brumont's apartment. It was opened in a trice. How happy! It was 
the Countess! An exclamation of joy esctaped me, which she 
answered by one of the same kind: "Are you come already, my 
beloved?"

"My dear Eleanor, I apprehended it was too late; come."

"Where?"

"Come with me."

"How so?"

"Make haste. They threaten your liberty!"

"My liberty! I should be deprived of the sight of my beloved!"

"What are you looking for?"

"My jewels!"

"They are at my house; you have not taken them away!"

"My aunt."

"Where is she?"

"In the drawing-room!"

"Run to bid her adieu; but no, Madame d'Armincour would wish to 
take you with her; you must come with me. Besides, the 
Marchioness's charms might be conducive to our detection; it is 
better that for a short time she should not know what is become 
of you. However, be quick, let us make haste, we have not a 
moment to lose."

We went downstairs without making any noise. Favoured by the 
night, the Countess reached unperceived the street-door. I then, 
pulling my hat over my eyes, knocked at the Swiss's window: "It 
is me, who have been speaking to La Fleur; please to pull the 
string." The man, engaged in a game of cards, obeyed 
mechanically.

Behold Madame de Lignolle in the street, I hasten to join her. 
My Eleanor lays hold of my arm, and quickens her pace as much as 
possible. We dare not speak a word, every new object on our way 
occasions us mortal inquietude; thus, tormented by a thousand 
apprehensions, but still supported by the sweetest hopes, we 
reached the Place Vendome.

We entered the hôtel at the garden door, and as we immediately 
got to the back stair-case, nobody could see us except Jasmin.

As soon as we had lights brought in; "Dear me," exclaimed Madame 
de Lignolle, "here is blood about my hands! Faublas, yours are 
besmeared all over!" I could not check a cry of horror, and on a 
sudden, melted into tears: "This blood is the blood of a lover! 
In what a moment are you come to unite your destiny to mine? 
Eleanor, my dear Eleanor, keep strict watch! Take care of 
yourself; I am surrounded by the persecutions of avenging 
heaven; death hovering around me, either strikes or threatens 
those objects that are dearest to my heart. Keep a strict watch! 
This blood is the blood of a lover."

"What discourses you hold out, Faublas! Whence proceeds your sad 
despair? You fill me with terror!"

"My dear, that blood is the blood of a lover. The Marchioness-"

"Has stabbed herself?"

"No, her husband."

"Ah! The cruel man!"

"Although dying, she collected all her powers to warn me of the 
perils to which you were exposed."

"How thankful I am!"

"And to request of me to return soon, that I might receive her 
last breath."

"Poor woman! You must hurry to her, my dear; let me go with 
you."

"Impossible! So many people who threaten you! So many people by 
her."

"Well then, go by yourself, go and soothe her last moments. 
However, do not stop with her long; Faublas, you will tell her 
that my hatred is entirely extinct, that I feel deeply afflicted 
at her hard fate; that I wish it was in my power-"

"Yes, my Eleanor, I will tell her that you are possessed of an 
excellent heart."

"But make haste to return, don't leave me here."

"I shall be as quick as possible. Jasmin, as my father might 
take it into his head to come up into my apartment, take the 
Countess into the boudoir. Don't let M. de Belcourt find her 
out! Let no one see her. Jasmin, I trust you with the care of 
the Countess, I recommend her to your care, you become 
answerable to me for her safety; remember that my existence is 
at stake."

From the Place Vendome to the Rue du Bac, it is but a stone's 
throw; and I returned to the Marchioness in a moment.

Several females, and one gentleman, surrounded her bed. "Let 
everyone withdraw," she said, upon seeing me enter the room. The 
doctor represented to her that she must not speak: "Let me have 
a last conversation with him," she replied; "after that you may 
govern me as you think proper. Let all retire without 
exception!" The physician wanted to say more, but an absolute 
order closed his lips.

"Is she safe, my dear friend?"

"She is at my house."

"Don't keep her there long. At any rate Després is just gone to 
Versailles, with my secret instructions: so long as I retain a 
breath of life, dread nothing more for the Countess."

Madame de B*** observed for some time a gloomy silence; she then 
fixed upon me her eyes, full of tears; and having beckoned to me 
to lay hold of her hand: "Well, Faublas," she said, "don't you 
wonder at my sad destiny. Some time back, at the village of 
Holrisse, you saw me extended on a bed of opprobium; you behold 
me now on my death bed, and the most cruel reverse, at the 
present as at a former period, has subverted all my projects at 
the moment appointed for their execution. I wish now as I did 
then, to lay my soul open before you; and when you have heard 
me, when you will know me thoroughly, when above all things, you 
will have compared my transient pleasures and durable tortures, 
my early weaknesses, and my last struggles, my good resolutions, 
and my blameable designs, finally, my errors and my punishment; 
when you have compared the whole, Faublas, then you will dare, I 
doubt not, to affirm that your lover, after having lived more 
unfortunate than guilty, has died still less deserving of blame 
than of compassion.

"Wherefore should I recall here the commencement of our 
connection? At that period, it is true, your lover spent some 
very happy days; but how soon were they poisoned by the most 
poignant alarms, so speedily followed by your inconstancy and my 
complete disaster! Ah! Who would wish to purchase the like 
enjoyments at the same price? Who? I! Faublas, I, who 
notwithstanding my approaching dissolution, still feel burning 
with the fire that has unceasingly consumed me! But in the whole 
world I am probably the only one. Believe me, I have not forgot 
your rising love for Sophia, the fatal period of her elopement, 
the still more fatal day on which I saw my lover with my rival 
before the altar, and the horrors of that night when, by the 
vilest of all attempts, your perfidious friend completed my 
disgrace, and paved the way to my real misfortunes.

"Faublas, now at my last hour, I take my solemn oath, and call 
to witness the God who hears me, Rosambert has deserved death. 
Rosambert, prior to his degrading me in your opinion, had basely 
calumniated me. I avow that, seduced by some of his brilliant 
qualifies, I paid more attention to him than to anyone else, 
showed him a marked preference, no doubt. He might well have 
conceived great hopes, though I have good reasons to believe 
that the event would never have justified them. Don't imagine, 
Faublas, that I mean speaking to you of my principles, my 
modesty, of all the virtues to which my sex have been wisely 
condemned: with you I have not kept even the appearance of them. 
What shall I say to you, my friend! Placed by chance in an 
elevated rank, I moreover had received from nature an uneasy 
mind, an ardent soul, perhaps I was born to obey the criminal 
dictates of ambition; but I saw you, I was allured, and plunged 
into all the extravagance of love.

"Yes, it was by perpetrating a crime, that Rosambert annulled my 
designs at Luxembourg. Those designs, I know, might have 
appeared blameable: but at least they were not such as a lover 
void of liberality and of courage, a vulgar woman, moderately 
enamoured with an ordinary man, could have conceived. Rosambert 
subverted them all. It appeared to me that henceforth I was not 
allowed to produce to your embrace a woman who despised herself; 
and from that period presuming too much on my own strength, or 
rather still unacquainted with the irresistible empire of a 
passion, thinking that I was able to manage the great concerns 
of the heart as easily as I governed the petty interests of a 
court, I swore, you heard me, I swore henceforward to live only 
to exercise my vengeance and procure your promotion.

"It was requisite first of all, to have you liberated from a 
state prison, where you would not have lingered four months, if 
my enemies had not leagued to counteract in a thousand ways all 
my endeavours. At last M. de --, promoted in consequence of my 
efforts to the high post which he now occupies, M. de -- was 
nevertheless to set your liberation at a price which nearly 
rendered the procuring of it impossible. Judge if the sacrifice 
required appeared painful to me! The business was to restore you 
to the world, and I hesitated for several days. My friend, I 
shall repeat it, I do not pretend to boast here of my virtue, or 
of the virtue of women in general. What a difference however 
between the principles, inclinations and passions of the two 
sexes! How far your love from that I feel for you! You, Faublas, 
especially, who are able to divide yourself between three 
lovers, still find charms in the possession of the first object 
that chance throws in your way!

"Alas! On the contrary, how grievously hurt did Madame de B*** 
(so miserable already for having been obliged, that her 
justification should be complete, to acknowledge the rights of a 
husband, and to fulfil with him a rigorous duty) feel on the 
fatal day when to procure your rescue, she was forced to submit 
herself to the brutal libidinous desires of a man destitute of 
delicacy; to the cruel caresses of a man totally indifferent to 
her! Yea, my friend, M. de -- has enjoyed me! It was only at my 
last hour that I was to make an avowal of the kind; 
nevertheless, among so many proofs of my unlimited attachment, 
consider this shameful devotedness as the most prominent.

"You were set at liberty, I dared to see you again, I dared so 
to do! That was my first wrong, it was conducive to my latter 
errors, and to my tragical end.

"Four months of absence must have cured me of my fatal love: at 
least I flattered myself it was so, when I had you called to 
Madame de Montdesir's; at our first interview your presence 
occasioned me much less emotion than it used to do formerly; I 
spoke to you of Justine without anger, of the Countess without 
much acrimony, and of Sophia without agitation, without any 
feeling of jealousy. I mentioned to you, in the sincerity of my 
heart, laudable resolutions which I thought would be immutable. 
At last, when I left you, I congratulated myself upon feeling 
only friendship for you; foolish woman! How was I deceived! The 
ill-extinguished fire still burned under the ashes; a spark was 
going to escape, and to cause a new conflagration.

"Remember, remember the day, when ready to set off for 
Compiègne, I went to bid you adieu. Hitherto, whilst preparing 
to chastise Rosambert, I had only entertained the desire of 
being revenged; you caused me to fear death. The sudden idea 
that there was a possibility of our being soon separated 
forever, made me shudder, and chilled me with terror. I 
immediately felt it was less desirable for me to accomplish my 
vengeance against an enemy; but I felt also more impatient of 
being rehabilitated in the eyes of my lover. Meanwhile, the new 
apprehensions which had astonished me, the momentary 
irresolution which they had produced, my still violent 
agitation, the perturbation of my senses, the emotions of my 
heart, all suggested plainly, that while attempting the life of 
Rosambert, I must, above all other things, take care to defend 
my own; that now the question was not so much to triumph as not 
to die; that I must especially strive to live, that I might 
adore you!

"How could I have still been insensible of my real disposition, 
since, even at Compiègne, in the moment of intoxication which 
followed my victory, my secret escaped me in your presence, and 
that of the Countess? It was, however, without having previously 
given it a thought, from a mere instinct of revived jealousy, 
that, seeing you on the point of joining again my most dangerous 
rival, I advised you to re-enter Paris again with Madame de 
Lignolle. Then, without rendering to myself a faithful account 
of my sentiments, I only discovered, amidst a crowd of jarring 
ideas, that I had been strangely mistaken when I had promised to 
restore Sophia to you, and with tranquillity to see you lavish 
your caresses upon her. I was made sensible, that a female, 
though she may have given a courageous example of self-
abnegation, should not flatter herself of attaining the more 
heroical effort of entire devotedness. I ascertained, that a 
lover, though capable of renouncing her own happiness, could yet 
be un-provided with sufficient fortitude to suffer another to be 
happy. I found it out, felt indignant at the discovery, and 
shuddered at it. But at last, without presuming to form, for 
times to come, any decided project, I adopted at least to retard 
for the present a re-union, the idea whereof alone occasioned my 
secret despair.

"I despatched immediately Després from Compiègne to Fromonville 
to apprise M. du Portail of your arrival, and to throw more 
obstacles in your way, in case the Countess would allow you to 
go in search of your wife. Faublas, I see you turn pale and 
tremble. Oh, you, whom I have loved too much! Do not hate me! 
Oh, you, the author of all my errors, refuse not to view them 
with pity and indulgence! Too happy, believe me, is the woman of 
feeling, to whom propitious love has commanded proceedings not 
very blameable, who never was necessitated to betray an 
ungrateful lover, or to persecute rivals, alas! And whom the 
first step towards the abyss did not hurl to its bottom.

"If you could form an idea of what I suffered at that inn at 
Montargis, especially at that castle in Gatinois, at that fatal 
castle of the Countess! Incomprehensible young man! How then, 
can you unite so much inconstancy to so much sensibility, such 
exquisite mildness and such barbarity? Your Sophia was no less 
dear to you, and yet you adored Madame de Lignolle! Yes, I was 
an eye-witness, you already adored her! Ingrate! In the delirium 
of your fever, you pronounced the name of Eleanor as often as 
you did mine. Cruel youth! In your intervals of rationality, you 
would make me the confidant of all the love, the burning love 
you felt for her! It was not enough for me to tremble for the 
life of my lover, to see him in a house I abhorred, to witness 
another woman bestowing upon him those attentions I wished were 
committed to my only charge, I was moreover to hear from the 
mouth of unfaithful man-but let those dreadful recollections be 
laid aside. Who could have told me then that I was not to die 
through grief, because I was reserved to undergo numberless 
other trials, equally unsupportable, because all the horrors of 
my destiny were indispensably to be accomplished.

"Faublas, my pocket book is there; look for the fatal letter 
that occasioned me to hasten the execution of my most dreadful 
determinations. Take away your father-in-law's letter, take it 
away; I know it by heart, and have no further occasion for it. 
What a letter! Good gods! How I am treated in it! How many 
crimes are there attributed to me, the idea whereof had never 
come into my head! What a dreadful hereafter was I threatened 
with, that as yet I had not merited? The deep sentiment of an 
act of injustice irritates a proud mind, and will too frequently 
prompt it to commit the most unpardonable enormities. I have had 
the misfortune of experiencing the truth of that assertion: 
Mademoiselle de Pontis sharing a universal lover and public 
contempt with the Marchioness de B***! Ah! Du Portail, you know 
but very little of that Marchioness de B***, whom your fury thus 
accuses! She never was affectionate nor generous by half. It was 
not to share Faublas that she went to seek him at Luxembourg! It 
was not to dispute him to Sophia that she subsequently permitted 
him to go and join her! Your hatred, notwithstanding, is the 
reward of the sacrifices which she has already made, and as a 
recompense for her painful daily struggles, you promise her, in 
addition to public contempt, unavoidable misfortunes. I well 
knew that you and your daughter both detested me; that men 
severely condemn from appearances, and never recall their 
judgments; that destiny, as inflexible as men, never revoked its 
decrees, and that a great reverse was too often the pledge of a 
greater reverse still; I know it. But you yourself protest that 
your common persecutions will have no end. Well then, since I 
cannot be guarded against them, I will justify them! Du Portail, 
I am weary of imposing upon myself privations, without getting 
indemnified; I am tired of sacrificing myself for ingrates. 
Since I have no hopes left, since I have nothing more to lose, I 
wish at least to reap some benefit from my disgrace, which you 
rejoice at: I wish that love should return to abridge my 
existence, the termination whereof you call for. You will see 
what the Marchioness, though surrounded by enemies, can still 
undertake! You will see whether I am a woman to share a lover!

"Thus, Faublas, thus in my despair, I took my oath that Sophia 
would not be restored to you, and that Madame de Lignolle, in 
her turn, would be made acquainted with the tortures that I had 
endured so long.

"Compelled to let you re-enter Paris, I nevertheless found it 
necessary to have you leave it as soon as possible, lest some 
event, inimical to my new designs, should tend to make you 
discover that your father-in-law was returned to seek an asylum 
in the metropolis."

"What! My Sophia!"

"I beg," exclaimed Madame de B***, "you will not interrupt me; 
the burning fever which supports me may leave me on a sudden, 
and I then would not retain sufficient powers to be able to 
speak. Do not interrupt me; strive above all things to conceal 
from me your cruel joy; compassionate the situation I am in.

"Listen to me," she continued: "M. du Portail was hurrying away 
from Fromonville with your wife and two female strangers unknown 
to me. Després commissioned one of my agents to stop at Puy-la-
Lande, and to manage matters so that you could not procure 
horses; Després continued in pursuit of your father-in-law, who, 
leaving the two strangers at some distance from Montargis, 
proceeded on the same road, got out of his carriage with his 
daughter, and then across by-roads, took post-horses again at 
Dormans, and returned to Paris through Meaux. He was lost sight 
of at Bondy. Your father-in-law is certainly in the capital, but 
I know not by what means he has found the impenetrable retreat 
wherein, for upwards of two months, he has escaped all my 
researches.

"Nevertheless, through mere chance, you might have unexpectedly 
discovered what I sought to no purpose; I therefore thought it 
expedient to procure a situation for you, which would 
necessitate your leaving Paris, to go and inhabit a distant 
province, where I flattered myself I would soon render your 
exile agreeable; I had you appointed to a company in the 
regiment of --.

"Madame de Fonrose, unhappily placed between the Countess and 
the Baron, might doubly oppose my designs. I easily brought on 
her rupture with Madame de Lignolle, and found means to persuade 
M. de Belcourt to give up his unworthy mistress.

"I continued to harbour just projects against my most cruel 
persecutor; I entertained still, hopes of obliging him within a 
few days to fight me again; and if, as in the first instance, I 
did not strike a decisive blow, if Rosambert escaped with his 
life, I expected I might at least force from him an avowal of 
his impostures, thus recover your esteem, and resume some value 
in mine own eyes. However, as your friend most assuredly would 
not pardon Madame de B***, for the excesses of which he had been 
guilty towards her, it appeared indispensable to me at first to 
remove the perfidious adviser, and to try to put an end to the 
jokes with which he unceasingly outraged hymen in general, and 
some husbands in particular; I had Mademoiselle de Mésanges 
betrothed to him, and an order to join his regiment.

"I had another infinitely formidable enemy left, namely, Madame 
de Lignolle, whom I would have loved much, if you had not made 
her my rival. La Fleur, whom I had bribed, the traitor La Fleur, 
would daily make to me such reports as continually increased my 
inquietude. It became pressing to raise between the Countess and 
you obstacles insurmountable for ever; I induced the Captain to 
come to Paris; and he hastened to Versailles to solicit a lettre 
de cachet,<67> which was readily obtained; Madame de Lignolle 
was going to be arrested.

"Faublas, wherefore this lively agitation? Whence comes this 
sudden paleness? Do you accuse me of having been cruel to 
Eleanor? Wait, my friend, if you judge me precipitately, you 
will judge me with too much rigour, tomorrow the Captain was to 
be ordered back to Brest, and to re-embark there; the Countess 
was to be deprived of her liberty for a few days only; soon 
after she would have been assigned as a prison, the estate which 
her aunt possesses in the Franche-Comté. Nothing, I protest, 
would have been neglected to protect that unehappy child against 
the resentment of her relatives and those of her husband. But 
after the rumours which her detention would have set afloat, you 
never could have seen her again, and I besides had kept in 
reserve several means of preventing any further connection 
between you.

"Lastly, you were going to Nancy, in the vicinity of which place 
you and I were to meet again; it was in Lorraine that I was to 
recover my lover, and to see more days of happiness. How many 
vain projects! Ah! Unfortunate woman! When I was in hopes of 
devoting my life to you, death awaited me! The fatal sword of 
the Marquis, after depriving me of my victim, is come to strike 
his own within your very arms. It is all over then! I see my 
grave open to receive me! There I must descend at six-and-
twenty!

"Fatal consequence of a passion too tardily opposed! May my 
example serve as a warning to the crowd of unfortunate females 
threatened with a similar end! May it, amongst the great number, 
save some! Let them all be told of my first weaknesses, of my 
first reverses, of my useless resistance, my culpable projects, 
and my deplorable end. Let them be informed that love never 
procured me one moment's felicity, but which had been preceded 
by lively inquietudes, accompanied with the greatest dangers, 
and followed by most irreparable misfortunes. Let them know as 
much, and may they, filled with salutary terror, stop, if 
possible, on the brink of the precipice into which I have sunk.

"And in order that they may conceive the supreme power of the 
love which allured me, you, Faublas, who perhaps, will have 
wondered at me, even in my last moments, you, my ever idolised 
lover, tell them that my good name, my riches, my rank, my 
beauty forfeited beyond redemption, did not cost me a regret, 
but that our eternal separation was the only cause of my 
despair; tell them, nevertheless, that before I left you, I 
found myself too happy in saving your dearer life at the cost of 
my own; too happy for being able, at least, once more to be 
yours, and in a last embrace to calm partly the ardour of the 
fire that consumed it, of that devouring fire which was to be 
quenched only with-"

She did not finish, a sudden and extreme weakness prevented her. 
The physician came running in, alarmed by my cries; he requested 
me to withdraw, if I did not wish, repeated he several times, to 
accelerate the fatal moment.

On my return, Madame de Lignolle exclaimed: You have stopped a 
long while! Is she dead?"

"No, my dear."

"No? So much the worse."

"How so?"

"To be sure! I had not thought of it at first! Her husband 
killed her, because he surprised you in the act of infidelity to 
me!"

I was at great pains to pacify the Countess. At last, however, 
her heart reopened to compassion in behalf of the unfortunate 
Madame de B*** and the critical predicament in which she stood 
herself, calling for all her attention, we consulted together on 
the means of preventing the misfortunes with which we were 
threatened.

We were allowed another happy night, during which my Eleanor, 
whilst manifesting proofs of unlimited affection, ceased not 
speaking of her elopement, which had become indispensable. It 
was agreed upon, that in the course of the following day, I 
should make every necessary preparation, so that we might be 
ready to set off at night.

Madame de Lignolle, with unbounded confidence, already fancied 
she was far from her native country; whereas I, my heart 
oppressed with grief, and my mind still agitated with secret 
irresolutions, trembled at the prospect of doubtful days, and 
scarcely dared to think of the two certain present 
circumstances. Oh, Madame de B***! I could see you continually 
on your death-bed! Oh, my father! Oh, my sister! Oh, my Sophia! 
I made useless efforts to remove the recollection of you that 
oppressed me!

It was now day-break. A shocking sight, a sinister omen awaited 
me. When I entered the room of the Marchioness, her eyes were 
wandering, and, in broken accents, she would say: "Yes, this is 
my grave; but that other, whom is it intended for? Where is 
Faublas?" she cried several times, while looking at me: "Where 
is Faublas? Run, tell him that my enemies intend to assassinate 
him, that the Marquis and the Captain-The Captain!-He 
approaches!-He drags!-Ah, poor little women! Come, then, 
Faublas! Quick! What are you doing? Who detains you? Come to her 
assistance! It is too late! It is all over! Ye gods! Great gods! 
It was for her they were digging that grave by the side of 
mine!"

Madame de B***, violently agitated, was strong enough to be 
seated in her bed, but as her attendants came running to oblige 
her to take another position, she fell backward. I could hear 
her still mutter some incoherent sentences, which redoubled my 
apprehensions and grief.

"A terrible fever!" said the physician, "A continual delirium! 
In this situation she has spent the whole night! Sir, I must not 
flatter you, it is impossible she can resist long."

I went to Rosambert's; he began to give some hopes; 
nevertheless, the surgeons could not yet presume to answer for 
his perfect recovery. I was not permitted to speak to him.

It is true, then, that everything fails me at once; that no 
support is left me, at a moment when I stand in need of the 
assistance of everybody. It is true, then, that I am going to 
forsake my father, and to leave, perhaps forever, the place in 
which I know that my Sophia now breathes. It must be so, unless 
I wish to lose both my Eleanor and my child. Unfortunate man! I 
must.

I went all over Paris to procure a number of articles necessary 
for the elopement of Madame de Lignolle; yet I know not what 
dolorous presentiment warned me that she was going on too long a 
journey. Whilst I was preparing everything for our common 
departure, it seemed to me as if I was tormented by a painful 
dream, which was ere long to be at an end, but a secret voice 
cried out to me, that my awakening would be dreadful.

When I returned to the hôtel, I found that Madame d'Armincour 
was waiting for me in my father's apartment; she asked me what I 
had done with her niece. Eleanor and I had foreseen the visit 
and the questions of the Marchioness; we had agreed upon the 
answers I was to return: "Your niece, Madame, is gone under the 
care of a friend, whose courage and fidelity are known to me. It 
is in Switzerland she has sought an asylum; she has preferred 
that country, because it is not far distant from your Franche-
Comté."

"She is saved!" exclaimed the Marchioness, embracing me: "Ah, 
how much I am obliged to you! She is gone to Switzerland! I 
shall follow her! My dear niece! How have you managed to tear 
her from her enemies? No one has seen you appear at the hôtel; 
no one has seen her go out; and yet it was not a quarter of an 
hour since I had been speaking to her in her room, when they 
came to arrest her. She is saved! But alas! A thousand perils 
still surround her! Admitting that she can escape her 
persecutors, what will become of her, far from her native 
country, far from her relations, and, must I say it, far from 
him whom she loves with idolatry? Ah, young man! Young man! You 
have plunged my child into an abyss of miseries!"

At these words, Madame d'Armincour left me with tears in her 
eyes.

I hastened to the attic, to join Madame de Lignolle, who was to 
remain all day long in my servant's room.

"My dear Eleanor, everything is ready, nothing more appears to 
impede our flight; keep yourself prepared for twelve at night 
precisely."

"Keep yourself prepared!" she repeated. "At any time, and in 
every place, but to-day especially, and in this room, what else 
have I to do but to wait for you with an impatience, of which 
you have no idea. Keep yourself in readiness! Faublas, wherefore 
do you address me without thinking of what you are saying? 
Wherefore that air, for ever preoccupied? Wherefore that sad 
countenance, when the happy moment approaches which is to re-
unite us, never again to be separated? When it is certain that, 
henceforth, we shall have it in our power to live and die 
together?"

"My love, Madame d'Armincour has just been here."

"I know it; I saw her from this window."

"The Marchioness is going immediately to Switzerland; she thinks 
of arriving there only after her niece; she will be there a few 
hours before us. Your aunt will be there; my father and sister 
will not!"

"Leave a letter for M. de Belcourt."

"Undoubtedly; I was thinking of it. A letter? What is a letter? 
My Eleanor, the Baron is waiting for me; I cannot dispense 
appearing at the table; I shall leave it as soon as possible, 
and shall return to try and eat a bit of dinner with you."

"Well, go Faublas, and make haste back. So long as I can see 
you, I am easy in my mind; I die with inquietude when you are 
not by me."

She kissed me, and I went down.

M. de Belcourt saw me refuse all kind of food; he heard me 
answer him only by monosyllables; he withdrew, and watered with 
his tears the hand which he had just been holding out to me: 
"You have not left your father and your sister to follow your 
mistress," he said to me at last; "your father and your sister 
will reward you for it; they will lavish upon you, in your 
misfortune, the most tender consolation, and your afflictions 
then, being shared, will not overwhelm you. My son, it was from 
you that I heard that on the day before yesterday, M. de 
Rosambert had fallen by the sword of M. de B***, but it is 
public rumour that has informed me since, in another rencounter, 
the Marquis had exercised upon a dearer enemy a more dreadful 
vengeance. Sooner or later, my son, all the objects of our 
illegitimate affections must perish, or be torn away from us by 
some accident; but cannot you expect a lasting felicity, you, to 
whom heaven, till such time as it will restore to you the 
adorable wife who idolises you, has left good relatives who 
cherish you."

The Baron was still speaking, when a letter was brought to him: 
"God of Mercy!" he exclaimed, after reading it, "you already 
have compassion on him! Here, my friend, here, read yourself."

At length the Marchioness has received the punishment due 
to her crimes; and the unfortunate Countess is henceforward 
lost for your son, who I am very willing to believe, is now 
more unhappy than he has ever been reprehensible, the 
lessons of adversity must have corrected him forever. Tell 
him, that in the course of two hours I will bring his wife 
back to him, and that if he is entirely deserving of 
meeting her again, the day on which my children are 
reeunited, will ever be reckoned the happiest day of my 
existence. 
LE COMTE LOVINSKI.

My first movement was a transport of joy; what a happiness! What 
an unexpected happiness! But a moment of reflection made me 
sensible of the embarrassments and dangers of my new situation.

"Great God! But-"

"What is the matter? What ails you, brother!"

"Nothing, sister."

"Whence the extreme agitation in which I see you, my son? What 
disturbs your peace of mind?"

"Can you ask me, sir? Madame de B*** is dying! A thousand perils 
still surround Madame de Lignolle, and you ask me what disturbs 
my peace! I certainly adore my wife! But in what moment is she 
restored to me! You know but the least part of my inequietudes! 
You are a stranger to one-half of the sorrow that weighs on my 
heart! I stand in need of complete tranquillity. I request of 
you, as a particular favour, sir, and I beg of you too, my dear 
Adelaide, permit me to indulge at liberty my reveries; leave me 
by myself, leave me quite alone till the arrival of Sophia."

"Whither are you running, my friend?"

"To Jasmin, to call him-no, to my room-not at all! I am going 
down into the garden-don't follow me there, I beseech you!"

Sophia returns in two hours, and I set off to-night with Madame 
de Lignolle! I go, when at length in the arms of my wife, love 
is preparing for me the reward-ungrateful lover of Eleanor! What 
a desire do I dare to form in behalf of Sophia!-Ah!-I know which 
of those two charming women I prefer; but who will tell me by 
which I am the most beloved?

On this day, however, to secure the happiness of the one, I must 
cause the despair of the other. Cause the despair of Sophia! May 
rather Madame de Lignolle perish a hundred times! May she 
perish! My Eleanor! My Eleanor and my child! O the most 
barbarous of men, what have you been saying?

Unless I can carry away Madame de Lignolle, she is ruined; 
persecuted by the family of her husband, degraded in the opinion 
of her own, threatened with eternal confinement, she has no 
friends left in the world but him for whom her love has 
sacrificed everything. In me rest all her hopes; if I betray 
them, the Countess will find her greatest enemy in her own 
heart: how will she be able to defend herself against her 
persecutors? How, above all things, will she escape the violence 
of her passion?

Sophia has hitherto resisted absence, because our separation was 
not to be imputed to me; but when, on the very day of her 
return, I shall run away with a rival, my forsaken wife-if I 
desert Sophia, her grief will kill her.

Unhappy man! What am I to do? Nothing, except by a prompt death 
to get rid of all my perplexities! Nothing! Except to end by a 
crime, a life already-If I immolate myself, neither of the two 
will survive me.

Unhappy man! Hear your destiny; to live is the law it imposes 
upon you; also, between two objects almost equally dear and 
sacred, to choose a victim.

Such is the fruit of my errors! Remorse! Great God! And 
wherefore? You have given me the most loving heart, and the most 
ardent senses; you have willed that I should meet at the same 
time with several women, formed purposely to please the eye, and 
to charm the soul; I have adored them all at the same time-
adored them still less than they deserved! I have done no more! 
If ever I was blameable, the fault is yours. If I am now too 
cruelly punished, is the fault to be imputed entirely to that 
other unfortunate creature whom you have not cured of her fatal 
love? O Madame de B***, what miseries you have accumulated upon 
me!

If I do not carry away my Eleanor, she will be ruined; my 
Sophia, if I forsake her, will die through grief. What man, if 
he were in my situation, after the most violent struggles, could 
have firmness sufficient, or rather be barbarous enough, to be 
able to fix upon a determination? If at least anyone deigned to 
help me with succouring advice. Let me go and consult my father-
I am not in my proper senses!

What, are there no means of conciliating-"Sir," interrupted my 
servant, who had approached me unperceived, "Madame, who sees 
you from yonder window, wonders at your leaving her by herself 
in my room, to walk alone in this garden."

"Madame? I am not at home! I don't wish to see anybody; no more 
females especially!"

"My dear master, 'tis Madame la Comtesse!"

"Oh! It is not Madame, then! Well, what does my Eleanor want?"

"That you would not forsake her."

"Tell her that is what I am thinking of."

"But she desires you to go up to her directly."

"Be it so-show me the way."

"Show me the way!" he repeated, "I thought you knew it! O my 
dear master! How sorry I am to see you in the situation you are 
in!"

"These are still but roses! It can't be helped, Jasmin, my hour 
is come! Hark, my friend, you will soon hear it rumoured"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"What!"

"Why don't you finish?"

"I don't remember what I was saying to you."

"You will soon hear it rumoured!"

"Yes, that my wife is returned; but don't mention it to the 
Countess."

"Take care: here are M. de Belcourt and Mademoiselle Adelaide 
coming."

"Return to Madame de Lignolle, I shall follow you."

I went to meet my father: "Oh! I request of you, suffer me at 
liberty to meditate and weep, let me indulge my grief alone. I 
will not leave the hôtel, and you will see me again as soon as 
Sophia makes her appearance."

My father and sister having left the garden, I was again 
absorbed in my deep reveries, from which Jasmin came a second 
time to rouse me. 

I went up to the Countess. "So then I must send for you," she 
said. 

"Do you think, my dear, that your aunt is already gone?"

"Wherefore do you ask that question?"

"I was thinking that Madame d'Armincour could have taken you 
away."

"Taken me away! With you?"

"With me? Perhaps she would not have been so condescending."

"And what then?"

"What then? I would have gone to join you."

"So we would not have gone together?"

"My dear, if it were become impossible?"

"Who could prevent it? Not an hour ago you were telling me 
yourself-"

"An hour ago I did not know-how could I have guessed?"

"What?"

"Nothing, my Eleanor, I speak at random. We shall quit Paris at 
midnight precisely."

I could not withhold my tears; and as she asked me what 
occasioned my weeping, I repeated that truly cruel question: "Do 
you think that your aunt is already gone?"

"What does my aunt signify to me in the present occasion?" she 
exclaimed. "Was it that I should go with Madame d'Armincour that 
I have sacrificed my fortune and character? Was it for her sake 
that I have exposed myself to all sorts of miseries? Yet, sir, 
the more the decisive moment draws near, the more I see your 
irresolutions to redouble. It is not your father alone who gives 
rise to them! It is not the death of Madame de B*** that makes 
you shed tears! Ingrate! You shudder at the idea of burying 
yourself in a solitude where Sophia could not penetrate!"

"Where Sophia could not penetrate!"

"Remember, sir, that I had projected my flight before it became 
necessary; make yourself satisfied, that it is not my present 
hopeless situation that compels me to seek an asylum in a 
foreign country. If, therefore, you are prompted by no other 
motive to come along with me, but that of securing me against 
the resentment of my family, you may stay where you are. I 
declare to you that I have kept in reserve against my enemies 
divers resources. Divers resources! I have; do not reduce me, 
however, to the necessity of using them. If you have already 
ceased loving the mother, compassionate the child; reduce me not 
to the necessity of using them," repeated she, falling on her 
knees before me. "Too long since have I flattered myself, with 
the hope of consecrating my whole life to you; it would be too 
dreadful for me to end it now, while accusing you of barbarity."

These last words of Madame de Lignolle, completely discomposed 
me. I could not tell whether my answers were calculated to 
remove or to increase her inquietudes; all I can recollect is, 
that during the whole course of that day, equally preoccupied as 
myself, she looked very sad. The more evening was drawing near, 
the more I felt my dolorous impatience and my secret struggles 
to increase: my body, the same as my mind, underwent the most 
violent agitation. I was continually going from my father's 
apartment to the room of my servant, enquiring of all I met, 
what o'clock it was, and repeatedly looking at my watch; 
sometimes I would find that the hours went on very slow, 
sometimes I accused them of being too fast.

At last, towards dusk, a carriage entered the yard of the hôtel: 
"Excuse me, my Eleanor, it is a visit which I must receive, I 
shall be with you in a moment"

"A visit! she exclaimed. I heard no more, but flew into the 
passage where Jasmin was waiting for orders. "Be quick, go in, 
and do not suffer her to quit the room."

I ran down as quick as lightning. I found in the hall the most 
beauteous of women, improved within seven months. She flew into 
my arms: O my beloved! If I had not been constantly promised 
this happy day, I never could have borne the tortures of 
absence! My father-in-law embraced me: "Oh! That I had been 
permitted sooner," he said to me, "to make both her and you 
happy!" Adelaide, transported with joy, came to share with me 
the caresses of her dear friend, and my father shed delicious 
tears, as he pressed M. du Portail to his bosom.

We altogether mounted into M. de Belcourt's apartment. I shall 
not attempt to describe the transports of Sophia, those of her 
lover, the unspeakable satisfaction of my sister and of our 
happy fathers, all I can tell is that a whole hour elapsed like 
a minute. Alas I you must know that during a whole hour the 
unhappy Madame de Lignolle was entirely forgotten.

"It is no mistake! I hear somebody crying out," the Baron said.

"Crying out! Father!"

"Great God!"

"Ah! 'tis Jasmin who amuses himself in counterfeiting a female's 
voice. I shall leave you for a moment."

I found the Countess in a fit of dreadful anger; "So you are 
come at last! Sir, am I your prisoner? Your impertinent valet 
has kept me here by force!" While she was speaking, Jasmin on 
his side was saying: "Sir, she wished to jump into the yard, and 
that is the reason why I have fastened the window."

"You have had plenty of time to receive your visit; resumed 
Madame de Lignolle; I hope you will not leave me again."

"Supper is waiting for me."

"It is too early! Besides you shall not sup to-day. When are we 
to set off?"

"My dearest, I beg of you, grant me one day longer, only one 
day."

"One day! Perfidious man!

She rushed towards the door, I stopped her.

"Leave me," she cried, "I insist upon going out."

"Going out to be ruined."

"I will go down! I wish to speak to her! I wish to tell her that 
I am your wife!"

"How!"

"Perfidious man! I saw her getting out of her carriage. I knew 
her again by her shape, by her head of hair. I knew her to be 
the woman at Fromonville! Ah! I how miserable I am! Ah! How 
beautiful she is! And the cruel man demands of me one day! I 
shall stop here, in a garret of his hotel! I shall stop devoured 
with ennui, inquietude, and jealousy, whilst he will occupy with 
her the apartment where last night-ingrate! I shall stop here, 
while in the arms of a rival-One day! Not even one hour! Hear 
me, Faublas, she continued with excessive vehemence: do you love 
me?"

"More than my very life, I take my oath I do."

"Save me then. Take notice, you have not a moment to lose; you 
have not two ways left of preserving me. Let us depart 
immediately."

"Immediately!"

"Yes, it is already dark, let us go down, get into a hackney 
coach, reach the first inn beyond the turnpike: Jasmin will 
bring us our post-chaise there"

"My Eleanor-"

"Say yes or no."

I was going to kneel before her, but she drew back. "My 
Eleanor."

"Yes or no!" she resumed.

"Consider that in the present moment it is impossible."

"Impossible! See, perfidious man, remember, that it is you who 
will have murdered me."

She held concealed in her right hand a pair of short scissors 
with which she stabbed herself. Notwithstanding I had stopped 
her arm rather late, the violence of the blow was much 
diminished, yet the blood ran in great abundance, and the 
Countess fainted away. My God! Gracious heaven! That was wanted 
to complete my miseries. "Go, Jasmin, go then and fetch the best 
surgeon. Run. Bring him through the garden back door. Run, my 
man, the dearest half of me is in danger."

Till such time as he could return, I paid every attention to 
Madame de Lignolle. What a joy succeeded my mortal 
apprehensions, when I discovered that by stopping the Countess's 
arm, I had most luckily averted the blow; the double pointed 
weapon, instead of entering her breast, had slipped on the 
surface, where I could see only one single wound. I neverthe, 
less could not bind it without mingling my tears with the blood 
that continued to flow.

I had just done, when the Baron called out: "Faublas, are you 
not coming down?"

"Presently, father."

How could I leave my Eleanor, who had not yet recovered the use 
of her senses? I remained by the side of her and called her a 
hundred times, but to no purpose.

At length, however, she began to give some signs of life, when 
the Baron in a tone of the greatest impatience, came calling out 
a second time: "Are you not coming down!"

"In a moment, father, in a moment."

Judge of my alarms, when I heard M. de Belcourt, instead of re-
entering his apartment, coming up into Jasmin's room. "What can 
he be doing continually," he cried, "in his servant's room ever 
since dinner-time?" I had only time to seize the fatal scissors, 
to pull the, door after me, and to go and meet the Baron. In 
order to plead a likely excuse, I hastened to represent to him 
that notwithstanding Sophia's return, I sometimes wanted to be 
alone.

We returned to the drawing-room. "He has been weeping!" said my 
wife. She then added in a low tone of voice: "It is the 
recollection of Madame de B*** that cost you those tears. I 
forgive you; her end has been so truly awful! O my beloved, I 
will endeavour to restore to you all that you have lost, and I 
will love you so much, that henceforth you will not have it in 
your power to love any other."

My father, M. du Portail, and my sister joined Sophia to lavish 
upon me their cruel consolations; I wished to avoid them, I 
wanted to go out, but they all detained me. What I suffered upon 
the occasion is not to be conceived, their tender anxiety was 
troublesome, even Sophia's caresses were insupportable to me. 
However, another quarter of an hour having elapsed, in the most 
violent struggles, inquietude got the better of every other 
consideration; I rushed to the door vociferating: "Leave me! I 
wish to be alone."

I went upstairs, and found in the passage on the attic, a 
surgeon and my servant, who were waiting for me. I applied the 
key to the lock, but the door flew open of itself. "How comes 
this? I had locked it!"

"That may be," retorted Jasmin, "but the lock did not hold 
fast."

We entered the room, Madame de Lignolle was no longer there. A 
stab from a dagger would not have hurt me so much. Great God! 
What is become of her? Where can she be gone?

I rushed out, and met on the staircase my sister, my wife, her 
father and my own; I passed through the midst of them all and 
made off. "Where is he thus running away from me?" exclaimed 
Sophia.

"To find her out, to save her, or to perish with her."

"Yes, sir," answered the Swiss; "she has been gone about ten 
minutes; I thought she was a woman that Madame had brought with 
her."

"Yes, sir," answered a good lady who had just taken shelter 
under an archway in the place Vendome; "I have just spoken to 
her; the poor child was dreadfully agitated! She refused taking 
a part of my umbrella. 'No, no,' she said to me; 'I want water, 
I am burning! I saw her going to the Tuileries through the 
Passage des Fenillans; the poor little thing will be wet 
through."

What in fact must have redoubled my terror was that no one could 
have ventured about the streets in such bad weather; the heat 
had been excessive during the whole day; the south wind began to 
blow; thick clouds were gathering round, dreadful flashes of 
lightning blazed in the sky, while hail and rain poured in 
torrents. My soul was filled with consternation; the enraged 
elements I viewed as forerunners of heavenly vengeance.

I reached the passage, and enquired of the waiters at the 
coffee-house whether they had seen the wretched woman? I was 
answered that she had made towards the drawbridge; there I ran; 
found an invalid on duty: "She has walked twice round this basin 
he said, and then went up the great terrace." There again I ran, 
and made enquiries of the Swiss, who referred me to the sentry 
of the Port-Royale.

At that moment-methinks I hear it still, and my pen drops from 
my hand-at that same moment the clock of the Théatins<78> struck 
nine.

"Sentinel! A female, young, pretty, dressed in a white gown, 
with a handkerchief tied round her head."

"There she is," he answered, coolly. The cruel man extended his 
arm, and pointed to the river.

"How! There?"

"To be sure, she has just jumped in; it is her whom they are 
searching after."

"You miscreant! Why did you not stop her?" and, without waiting 
for the barbarian's reply, I plunged after the unfortunate 
Countess.

At first I could scarcely resist the waves, which opened, 
roared, and drove me at a distance. At length I collected all my 
powers, and through the bellowing stream, sought at random that 
which the boatmen were also in search of. On a sudden, a loud 
clap of thunder was heard, and the heavenly fires struck the 
liquid element. By their tremendous blaze, however, I 
distinguished I know not what, which only showed itself to 
disappear again; I immediately dived, seized by the hair, and 
brought on shore. What an object did I bring up, what an object 
of eternal compassion! This is my beloved! I turned my eyes 
aside, and fell close to her, too happy to lose, with the 
recollection of my existence, that of my troubles.

The cruel men have just called me to life again; they enquire of 
me whither they are to carry that woman? They ask me for her 
name and her direction?

"What is that to you?" I was answered, that she must be 
examined, that it is still time, perhaps, to save her life.

"To save her life! The whole of my fortune would not suffice to 
repay so great a service! Quick! Place Vendome. But no. What a 
sight for-Rue du Bac; the distance to Rue du Bac is not so 
great."

Madame de Lignolle was carried into the bed-room next to that in 
which Madame de B*** still breathed. The Marchioness had 
entirely recovered the use of her senses.

She heard my groans, and knew my voice again. She sent me a 
message requesting I would go and speak to her. "What is the 
occasion of all that bustle?" she asked, in an almost extinct 
voice. I was going to answer her, when I saw the Count de 
Lignolle, followed by two strangers, entering the room: There he 
is, he cried to them, pointing at me; and one of those 
gentlemen, drawing up to me, said: "I arrest you by the king's 
command."

The Marchioness heard those words, and reanimated by the excess 
of her grief: "Is it possible," she exclaimed? "What! My eyes 
are not yet closed, and my enemies already triumph! The 
ungrateful M. de -- already forgets me! Ah Faublas, my ruin then 
will have caused yours!"

"Yes, you barbarian!" I replied, in a fit of despair; "and the 
misfortune of which you now complain is the least of all those 
which your fatal passion has brought upon me. A victim to your 
rage, Madame de Lignolle is now dying! What do I say? She is 
already dead, perhaps! Ah, wherefore did not I die on the first 
day of my acquaintance with you? Or, rather, wherefore did not 
righteous heaven from the first moment crush you under the 
weight?"

She interrupted me. "Unmerciful Gods! You must be satisfied! 
Your most cruel vengeance is accomplished. I descend into the 
grave loaded with maledictions of Faublas!"

She fell backward on her bed and expired.

As I was returning to the other room where Madame de Lignolle 
was surrounded by members of the faculty, one of them was 
saying: "Why strip her naked before everyone? Wherefore thus 
violate decorum to no purpose? There is no resource; she is 
dead."

Thus, almost at the same moment struck with several mortal 
blows, I lost the use of my senses a second time. Then, indeed, 
it was an act of great inhumanity to call me to life again. Yes, 
my Sophia, if now, under pain of being separated from you by a 
speedy death, if I were to have a relapse, and merely for an 
hour to suffer what I have endured for several weeks; if I were 
so reduced, O my Sophia! Judge of my past tortures! I would 
rather leave you and die.



XXXI.
BARON DE FAUBLAS TO COUNT LOVINSKI.
3rd May, 1785 
I am delighted, my friend, to hear that your king, just in 
his clemency, has called you back into your native country, 
and has been pleased to restore your confiscated property, 
to re-instate you in your former offices, besides granting 
you his royal protection. Yet in what moment did you leave 
me! I must have been carried away by my excessive grief if 
your daughter and mine had not been by me. 
I have already informed you that they had detained him for 
ten days in the castle of Vincennes; that, on account of my 
particular request, he was removed to a house at Picpus, 
where lunatics are treated. At last, however, mercy has 
been shown to the most unhappy of fathers; I have been 
allowed to take my child to my own house. I am just 
returned with him. Great God! What a situation did I find 
him in! Almost naked, loaded with chains, his body bruised, 
his hands torn, his face all over blood, his looks fiery, 
it was not cries that he uttered, but bellowings, dreadful 
bellowings. 
He knew neither his father, nor my Adelaide, nor even your 
Sophia. His derangement is complete; it is shocking. The 
most horrid images constantly stand before his eyes; he 
speaks of nothing but of tombs and assassins. 
Such is the result of my guilty weakness. 
From one moment to another I expect, from London, a 
physician famous for the treatment of those diseases. I am 
told that no one will cure my son, if Doctor Willis does 
not. Let him come, then, let him restore my Faublas to me, 
and accept of all I am worth. 
My son, at least, will no longer be chained. I have had a 
room matted all round, where six men are to attend, day and 
night. Six men, perhaps, will not be sufficient. I have 
seen him just now in a fit of rage, break with his teeth, 
as if it had been a frail glass, the silver dish that 
contained his dinner; I have seen him drag, from one corner 
of the room to the other, his wondering keepers. If this 
horrible frenzy should last some days longer, it will be 
all over with my son, and with me. 
It was only the day before yesterday, that your amiable 
sisters returned from Briare, and took, in my hôtel, an 
apartment close to that of their niece. Their niece! What 
shall I say to you of her grief? It is equal to mine. 
Adieu, my friend! Finish your business, and make haste to 
return.

THE SAME TO THE SAME.
4th May, 1785, midnight. 
Dr. Wills arrived last night; he has spent the whole 
forenoon near his patient, with the keepers. 
At two o'clock, he came to let me know that my son was 
going to be bled; but that, subsequently, to make him 
undergo his first experiment, it was requisite he should be 
chained. The unfortunate youth was therefore loaded with 
irons; and from an excess of precaution, of which the event 
proved all the wisdom, the doctor insisted upon the keepers 
staying in the room, at some distance from him. 
Every preparation being completed at six o'clock, Sophia 
was the first person who entered the room. 
He looked at her attentively for some minutes, without 
speaking a single word; but, by degrees, his countenance 
became more placid, and his looks more mild. At length, he 
said: "It is you! I see you again! You are restored to me! 
My too generous dear! Come nearer! Come near to me!" 
Sophia transported with joy, was running to him with open 
arms: "Take care you don't," cried the doctor; and my son 
immediately repeated: "Take care you don't! Yes, beauteous 
mamma, take care you don't! The cruel Marquis only waits 
for the moment to strike the blow! Here you are, however! 
What a happiness! I thought you were dead! The deep wound 
was in the left breast, close to the heart!" 
Adelaide then, quite trembling, came to join her dear 
friend; they mutually supported each other. 
"Here you are, my little dear;" he exclaimed in a mild tone 
of voice. You are come to see me with your mistress! Speak, 
Justine, speak to me: wherefore do you appear so sad you, 
whom I have always seen in such good spirits?-But I believe 
it is Mademoiselle de Brumont! Yes, it is a shade that 
comes to frighten me!" 
Willis immediately said to my daughter: "Retire." 
The attentive patient repeated: "Undoubtedly, retire. And 
you likewise, Madame la Marquis. The fatal hour is drawing 
near. The Baroness knows that you are here; your cruel 
husband-I have no arms-he might assassinate you-my too 
generous friend, withdraw. "But a moment! Begin by 
restoring me my Eleanor. Restore her to me, perfidious 
wretch! Restore her to me; if not, I will tear you to 
pieces with mine own hands!" 
Sophia ran away. I made my appearance too soon. The very 
moment he saw me, he cried out, in a dreadful voice: "The 
Captain! You are come this distance to tear away your 
sister from me, to cut her throat! Wait!" 
At these words, he took so violent a spring, that he broke 
his chain. If I had not immediately escaped, and if his 
keepers had not prevented his pursuing me, the unhappy 
youth would have killed his father. 
Sophia, Adelaide, and myself, listened from the room 
adjoining. He seemed to have resumed some tranquillity; but 
towards the close of the day he displayed signs of a 
violent agitation, which increased in proportion as the 
night became darker. 
At last, in a tone of voice which made us shudder with fear 
and horror, he distinctly spoke the following words: "The 
wind is broke loose! The sky is on fire! The waters bellow! 
What a clap of thunder!-nine o'clock-she is there!" 
As he wished to rush out, his keepers prevented him. 
"Wherefore stop me! Don't you see her re-appear above the 
waves? Barbarians! You wish the mother and child to perish! 
And you likewise, my father, sister, Sophia, you too 
prevent my assisting her! You command her death; everybody 
coalesces against her! Well, I shall save her, in spite of 
you all!" 
Seven men scarcely sufficed to hold him; he struggled with 
them during a whole quarter of an hour; and the burning 
fever which occasioned those prodigious powers having 
subsided on a sudden, he fell, nearly motionless. One may 
easily perceive that he was plagued by horrid dreams. Oh, 
my son! My dear son! 
Severe gods, be just also; is he not too severely punished? 
I have just had a long conversation with the doctor; and am 
infinitely satisfied with the treatment he is preparing for 
Faublas. Expect the recovery of the patient from the skill 
of the physician: on that rest all our hopes. Adieu, my 
friend.

THE SAME TO THE SAME.
6th May, 1785, six in the evening. 
I have found at Dugny, a village near le Bourget, at three 
leagues from Paris, a house which has appeared to me well 
suited to the purpose of the doctor. It is surrounded by a 
large English garden, across which runs a wide river, 
though not deep and generally peaceable. On its banks are 
planted poplars, weeping willows, and cypress trees. In 
that abode of regret, everything at first sight seems to 
recall sad recollections; yet the beauty of the place, its 
tranquil aspect, and the purer air one breathes there, must 
speedily remove violent passions, and dispose the soul to 
tender melancholy: there it is that we came to settle this 
morning. 
Towards the evening, at sunset, as usual, my son imagined 
he could see the dreadful storm, and that he heard the 
fatal clock to strike. As usual, he repeated those dreadful 
words: "Nine o'clock! She is there!" Already in a fit of 
rage, the unfortunate young man imputed to us the death of 
that woman whom we prevented him from assisting, when 
Sophia, concealed in an adjacent room, pursuant to the 
doctor's prescription, cried out as loud as she could: 
"Wherefore stop him! Let all the doors be opened! Let him 
be set at liberty!" 
He immediately rushed out, ran downstairs as quick as 
lightning, and on a sudden, having perceived the river, he 
jumped into it. We were following him at some distance, and 
I held myself in readiness to plunge likewise, in case we 
should be threatened with some new misfortune. He swam for 
about twenty minutes, always keeping near the bridge, from 
the top of which he had leaped in. At last he got on shore, 
and groaned bitterly. He next reached the darkest bower, 
continued silent for a long time, and then on a sudden 
exclaimed: "If you do not recover, here I shall dig a grave 
for you." He afterwards appeared to lend an attentive ear; 
and as if he only repeated what somebody would have 
ventured saying to him, cried out: "She is dead. Ah 
wherefore apprise me of it so bluntly?" He fainted away; 
and we carried him back into his room. 
Adieu, my friend. When will you return? When will you come 
to assist us in supporting our troubles? 
P.S. I was going to forget a piece of news. Before I left 
Paris, I was told that Madame de Montdesir had just been 
taken to St. Martin;<79> such is the effect of M. de B***'s 
just resentment.

THE SAME TO THE SAME.
7th May, 1785, midnight. 
There has been less agitation in the course of the day; he 
was heard to speak so often of the Marquis and of the 
captain; but this evening, at the fatal hour, the horrid 
idea returned. Sophia then, as on the preceding day, cried 
out: "Wherefore stop him? let every door be open! Let him 
be set at liberty!" As on the preceding day, he jumped into 
the river; but on his return in the bower, he found a block 
of black marble which the doctor had brought there. At 
first he shuddered; by degrees we saw him approach, 
trembling! At last, by the light of a lamp, fastened to,the 
cypress tree, he ery distinctly read this inscription: 
"Here lies Madame de Lignolle." He immediately threw 
himself on the tomb, with his feet and hands he struck the 
marble, and groaned for a long while; but he did not faint 
away. Near the block of marble several mattresses had been 
placed, upon which, after an hour's sufferings, he extended 
himself, and fell asleep. Blankets were then spread over 
him. He seemed not to be so agitated in his sleep as usual. 
I have received two notes for him: the one from the Vicomte 
de Lignolle, and the other from the Marquis de B***. Ah! 
When will my son have it in his power to answer his 
enemies? Adieu, my friend.

THE SAME TO THE SAME.
9th May, 1785, ten in the morning. 
Let us hope, my friend, some happy alteration has already 
taken place. This morning, at daybreak, he returned to his 
room of his own accord. He has slept a few hours in the 
daytime. At sunset, he saw no storm; but with symptoms of 
approaching agitation, said: "O compassionate Divinity! 
Will you then forget me this day? The moment is coming 
near, come then to my assistance, deliver me from my 
enemies." His wife immediately cried out: "Let him be set 
at liberty." He manifested some signs of joy, went out 
without much precipitation, advanced towards the river, but 
stopped on the bridge, casting a sad look upon the water: 
"So quiet and so cruel!" he said with a deep sigh. "Alas!" 
When he entered the bower he shuddered; he groaned 
repeatedly, kissed the tomb several times; and then we saw 
him get up and search for something. He finally broke a 
branch of the cypress, and on the sand round the tomb wrote 
the following words: "Here lies also the Marchioness de 
B***." 
He stopped all night in the bower; and, as if he shunned 
light, re-entered his room at daybreak.

THE SAME TO THE SAME.
15th May, 1785. 
Dr. Willis seems to have entirely succeeded in what was 
most pressing; for these last six days the dreadful vision 
has not returned. The derangement is still complete, but 
the frenzy has absolutely subsided; and if I am not to 
flatter myself with my son ever recovering his reason, I am 
already certain we shall not have to lament his death. 
The recollection of the Marquis and of the Captain seldom 
torments him; and when he speaks of them, it is no longer 
with the same fury. He no longer threatens the doctor, 
neither does he beat his keepers; he resumes the natural 
meekness of his disposition. His memory also begins to 
return, not only on whatever relates to the Marchioness, 
but especially to the Countess. The ungrateful young man 
never speaks of his father or of his sister; sometimes, 
nevertheless, the name of Sophia is near escaping him. Does 
he know us again! I dare not believe it; and the doctor 
pretends it is not time yet for us to make our appearance 
before the unhappy patient. 
Every evening, when he hears the voice of his wife, he goes 
to groan in the bower; but he cannot weep; but, continually 
absorbed in profound sadness, he is still far from 
displaying tender, soft melancholy. Yesterday evening he, 
however, quitted the tomb several times to pace up and down 
the adjacent walks. We have not observed without lively 
sorrow that he always preferred the darkest, that he took 
long strides, and that whenever he heard the pariah clock 
strike, agitated with a sudden shivering, he would run to 
the bank of the river, and look, with extreme inquietude, 
whether anything appeared on the surface of the water. 
The doctor, ever ready to indulge his patient, when there 
is not too much danger, has had the tomb of the Marchioness 
placed by the side of that of the Countess. I don't know 
the reason why their unhappy lover has objected to see the 
two monuments in the same bower. He has always covered with 
earth the marble block placed last; and always written on 
the sand, close to the tomb of Madame de Lignolle: "Here 
lies also the Marchioness de B***." 
I fear, I feel inquietude, I find time very long. The 
doctor comforts me; he tells me that we must not be in too 
great a hurry, that he is going on as well as possible. Be 
it so; but your daughter and mine, the same as myself, 
stand in need of all our fortitude. 
P.S. M. de Rosambert will get cured of his wound; but at 
the death of Madame de B*** he must have been charged with 
grave accusations. He has lost his situation at court, and 
it is rumoured as certain, that the officers of his corps 
intended to have him apprised that they will serve with him 
no longer.

THE SAME TO THE SAME
16th May, 1785, nine in the evening. 
O my friend! Congratulate me, congratulate yourself; your 
daughter, your adorable daughter has saved us all. 
This evening she exclaimed: "Let him be set at liberty!" 
She on a sudden makes her escape, springs forward, reaches 
the bower sooner than her husband, to prevent his entering 
it. "What are you in search of?" she says to him. Without 
looking at her he answers: "I am looking for a tomb." And 
your daughter, in the most tender tone, in a tone most 
proper to move the most obdurate soul, your charming 
daughter replies; "Wherefore look for a tomb, my beloved? 
Your Sophia is not dead:" He then exclaims: it is the 
succouring voice! And lifting his eyes upon her: "Sophia! 
Ye gods! My Sophia!" He fell senseless into her arms, she 
supported him; we offered to carry him away, the doctor 
came running: No; love, fortunately rash, has commenced the 
cure; let love accomplish it, and let it be assisted by 
nature; let us strike all our blows at once at the young 
man, already so powerfully agitated. You, his father, stop 
there; let his sister draw near; let him, when he awakes, 
find himself surrounded by all the objects dearest to his 
heart. 
Faublas opened his eyes. "My Sophia!" he cried. "My father! 
My Adelaide! Ah! Whence are you all come? Where are we? I 
have had a dreadful dream, which methought lasted for 
several centuries. A dream! Ah! my Eleanor Ah! Madame de 
B***."
 
Illustration: He fell senseless into her arms, she 
supported him

His wife pressed him to her bosom, covered him with kisses, 
and repeated: "My beloved, your Sophia is not dead." 
"Sophia!" he said, "Sophia will return me more than I have 
lost. Sophia! Ah! How guilty I am! You too, all of you 
forgive my ingratitude and the sorrows I have heaped upon 
you." 
He dropped on his knees before us, attempted to speak, but 
could not. His tears finally opened a passage, and his sobs 
stifled his voice. The doctor sent forth a scream of joy: 
"That is it, he is saved! I can now be answerable for his 
recovery." 
When he rose, he felt very weak, nevertheless, supported on 
the arm of his wife, and of his sister, he proceeded 
towards the house. He crossed over the bridge without 
looking at the river; soon after, however, he turned round, 
to cast a look at the bower from which he was removed. 
"Pity," he said, "pity a still remaining weakness; do not 
destroy that tomb." 
We have just put him to bed; he there immediately fell 
asleep most soundly. Your adorable daughter has saved us 
all.

THE SAME TO THE SAME.
18th May, 1785, eleven at night. 
He has slept thirty-eight hours without interruption; and 
since he is awake, neither speaks a word, nor does 
anything, but that which announces good sense and tender 
feelings. True, indeed, we see him occasionally indulge sad 
recollections; but a word from his father, a caress from 
his sister, and a look from his wife, expel his regret. 
Meanwhile the doctor agrees to pains being taken to make 
the convalescent forgetful of his sorrows; but forbids his 
being importuned; nay, he prescribes his being sometimes up 
to his melancholy reveries, and above all things, that he 
should never be disturbed in his nocturnal walks. Sophia 
alone is permitted to enter the bower. 
This evening, at the critical moment, he went down into the 
garden, and without looking at the river, walked slowly 
wherever chance seemed to guide him. He nevertheless 
finally took to the bower, where Sophia was waiting for 
him. 
"Come, my beloved, let us go and weep together." 
"This monument, it is true," he replied, "is a 
gratification to me in my sorrow; but an inscription is 
wanted to it." 
"Let us compose one, my dear, I have my pencil about me: 
dictate, I am going to write it; we shall have it engraven 
afterwards." 
"Here lies the Countess de Lignolle. Here lies also the 
Marchioness de B***. Both of them at the same time adored 
the same young man; both, on the same day and nearly at the 
same hour, met with an equally tragical end. Victims of a 
similar destiny, they will be enclosed in the same tomb, 
but will not leave behind the same regret. The Marchioness 
died at the age of twenty-six, in the greatest lustre of 
beauty. My Eleanor, all charming, had scarcely commenced 
when she ended. She was aged sixteen years, five months, 
and nine days. My child died with her. Why so? What offence 
had that innocent creature offered to the gods? Pity the 
Marchioness de B***. Bestow tears upon Madame de Lignolle. 
Bestow tears especially upon their lover who has survived 
them." 
"My beloved, your Sophia is not dead." 
"Distracted! I must be!" he cried: "Erase; erase that last 
line." 
The dear children returned home together. Faublas is now as 
fast asleep as if he had been watching the whole of last 
night. Adieu, my friend, return then, return to partake of 
our joy. 
P.S. The Baroness de Fonrose, it is said, is so disfigured. 
as not to be known again. It is also stated that unable to 
be consoled for her deformity, she is going to bury herself 
in an old castle in Vivarais. That woman has done me a deal 
of harm.

THE SAME TO THE SAME.
18th June, 1785, ten in the morning. 
He has recovered his embonpoint, his bloom of youth; but he 
is always thoughtful and melancholy; and goes every evening 
to weep over the monument in the bower. 
Now that it appears certain that the fatal accident will be 
attended with no dangerous consequences, I must not conceal 
from you, that one day of last week we were dreadfully 
alarmed: the heat had been excessive, and at sunset there 
was a tremendous storm. As soon as he heard the winds 
roaring, Faublas appeared much agitated; he could not see 
the dark clouds without shuddering; at the first clap of 
thunder he rushed into the water; but immediately returned 
on shore, calling to us all, and weeping abundantly. The 
following night passed in tranquillity, and on the 
succeeding day, you would not have believed that on the 
preceding one my son could have had so violent an attack. 
The doctor has not flattered me, but has declared, in my 
hearing, that the Chevalier de Faublas perhaps would never 
be able to hear a clap of thunder without suffering great 
agitation. He has particularly recommended my never 
allowing my son to re-enter Paris, because it were possible 
that at the sight of the Pont-Royal he might relapse into 
the cruel state from which we have been at such pains to 
rescue him. 
Not allow him to re-enter Paris! Where then shall we go and 
live? In my province, or at Warsaw. The proposal you have 
made me, my friend, in your last letter, deserves serious 
reflections. To quit the country of my forefathers, to go 
and settle in yours with my children! I beg you will allow 
me time to think of it. Until I fix upon a determination, 
receive, my dear Lovinski, my congratulations upon your 
name, estates and commissions being restored to you. 
Boleslas and your sisters are overjoyed, and only speak of 
going to join you. I am sensible if I wish to continue in 
France with my Adelaide, I must renounce my son; for you 
never will be reconciled to the idea of living separated 
from the daughter of Lodoiska. I am well aware, that with 
mental accomplishments, a fortune and beauty, my Adelaide 
may find an advantageous match anywhere; but to leave 
behind me in France an ancient name! To remove far from the 
tombs of my ancestors! Allow me time to think of it. 
The day before yesterday, I unintentionally chagrined my 
poor son. You remember, perhaps, that box of diamonds which 
Jasmin delivered to us in Faublas's apartment, on the day 
of the terrible catastrophe. The man, equally discreet and 
faithful, would never tell me whence came those diamonds: 
the day before yesterday I showed them to my son: I 
immediately saw him melting into tears. "These jewels, he 
exclaimed, belonged to my Eleanor!" 
Oh! How I repented I had not guessed at that! He kissed 
alternately every article in the little box; and then, with 
great exultation cried out: "Jasmin, take this back 
immediately to M. de Lignolle: tell him that I have kept 
for myself the less costly, but the most precious article; 
tell him from me that the captain is a coward, if he does 
not come to demand of me the wedding ring of his pretended 
sister-in-law." This was the proper time, perhaps, to show 
my son the insolent and barbarous challenge of the captain; 
but I was apprehensive of occasioning at once too much 
agitation to the young man, with whose formidable 
impetuosity I am well acquainted. 
I have just heard of the Marchioness d'Armincour being 
dangerously ill in Franche-Comté. I am afraid her chagrin 
will kill her. Poor woman! She adored her niece, who indeed 
was deserving of her unlimited affection! I shall beware of 
announcing to Faublas the danger of the aunt; he reproaches 
himself enough already for the misfortunes of the niece. 
The Doctor has discovered that the spirited and unhappy 
young man wanted occupation, and that his melancholy 
required an object capable first of settling and 
subsequently of diverting it; he has advised him to write 
the history of his life; your daughter agrees to it, I 
likewise grant my consent, provided the manuscript is never 
made public. 
Yesterday, Dr. Willis returned to London; he would not 
accept of anything; I have forced him to trust me with his 
pocket-book, in which I have enclosed notes to the value of 
five years of my income. Upon similar occasions it is that 
one regrets not being ten times richer. Go, Willis! Carry 
back with you the blessings of a whole family, and deserve 
at a future period the blessings of a whole nation. 
Your daughter has just received also her due reward: her 
husband and lover has been restored to her at night. Our 
happy children are still in bed. Farewell, my dear friend.

THE SAME TO THE SAME
26th June, 1785, four in the afternoon. 
I accept of your proposal, my friend; I am almost forced so 
to do. At a very early hour this morning, my son has 
received a lettre de cachet<67> to the effect of his 
commencing within twenty-four hours his travels abroad. I 
am just returned from Versailles; I have seen my friends, I 
have seen the ministers; it appears that Chevalier de 
Faublas's exile is to be inedefinite for a long time. What 
a pity! If parental affection does not blind me, that young 
man would have merited high promotion in his native 
country. 
I have petitioned a fortnight to make all necessary 
preparations for our departure; the delay has been granted 
upon the express condition only that during that interval 
the Chevalier was not to leave the house at Dugny. 
Another fortnight, my friend, and then we shall all set off 
together, we shall be with you as soon as possible, and 
contiuue with you for life. Adieu. I shall say nothing of 
your daughter's impatience; Dorliska writes by every post.

CHEVALIER DE FAUBLAS TO THE VICOMTE DE LIGNOLLE.
6th July, 1785. 
The Baron has but just communicated to me, Captain, your 
note, which I had long wished to receive. Madame de 
Lignolle, whom your rage has ruined, has not yet been 
revenged; time appears to me very long. 
If your challenge contained only gross insults and 
impertinent bravadoes, I would not wonder at it; but I 
cannot admire too much the refinemeut of your barbarity; 
you exact that on the same day, and at the same moment, the 
father and son should fight the two brothers! You exact it? 
Be satisfied then. The Baron and the Chevalier de Faublas 
will repair on the 14th of this month to Kell, where, until 
the 16th, they will expect the Comte and Vicomte de 
Lignolle. We shall meet again.

THE SAME TO THE MARQUIS DE B***.
6th July, 1785. 
Monsieur Le Marquis-The Baron has just delivered to me your 
note, which it grieves me to be obliged to answer. If you 
insist upon it, I shall be on the 17th of this month at 
Kell, where I shall stop to the 20th; but I wish most 
ardently, that satisfied with finding here the assurance of 
my lively regret, you would not quit Paris. 
I have the honour to be, etc.

CHEVALIER DE FAUBLAS TO COUNT LOVINSKI
Kell, 24th July, ten in the morning. 
My dearest father-in-law, 
Am I miserable enough? All whom I love, through ill-
conceived generosity, wish to sacrifice their lives with an 
intent of saving mine; as if, whether of two lovers, or of 
two friends, the most unhappy was not the survivor. 
The two brothers arrived this morning. The Count de 
Lignolle shows some anger at the sight of me; but I see him 
turn pale, his voice trembles, and I can easily discover, 
in his whole deportment, that compelled by his brother to 
an act of vigour, M. le Comte would prefer having no 
explanation with me. The Captain accosted me with a wild 
look, and said to me in a tone intended to be threatening 
and ironical, "I shall have the honour of sending you to 
the shades; he will fight your father. At any rate, I 
announce to you both, that either party must triumph or 
die; woe, therefore," he continued, looking at M. de 
Belcourt, "to him who has no other second than an 
effeminate dolt, or a madman. I declare, Chevalier, that as 
soon as I have killed you, I will help my brother to finish 
that gentleman." (He pointed to my father.) I seized the 
hand of the barbarian, squeezed it most powerfully: 
"Ferocious tiger! shall I not tear away your odious life?" 
My father and I left your sister, mine, and Sophia to the 
care of Boleslas, and departed with our two enemies. When 
beyond the ramparts, we immediately dismounted. 
I drew my sword: "O my Eleanor, your ashes demand 
vengeance, receive the blood which is going to run." The 
Captain vociferated: "Why do not you demand they would 
enclose you in the same grave?" He advanced towards me; we 
began a furious fight, which, for a long time, was 
maintained with perfect equality on both sides. 
M. de Belcourt has already, for several minutes back, 
obtained an early victory over the Count; but, too 
honourable to exercise against the Captain the horrid 
condition which the latter had himself imposed, my father 
remained a motionless spectator of my redoubled efforts. 
At last I hit the Vicomte, but my sword broke upon one of 
his ribs. My antagonist, seeing me nearly disarmed, thought 
he would overpower me, but, most fortunately, he now only 
thrust with a weakened arm. Meanwhile, frightened at the 
inequality of the contest, my father, my too generous 
father, rushed between us: "Hold," he said giving me his 
sword, "you will make a better use of it than I can. Alas! 
While speaking to me, he presented his bare flank to the 
Vicomte. The barbarian pushed at him. He was going to 
repeat his thrust, when, threatening him with the steel 
already crimsoned with the blood of his brother, I forced 
him to think only of his own defence. 
The savage! I have punished him. He rolled in the dust, 
while the Baron, with his eyes raised to heaven, still 
supported himself on his right hand and knees. The 
barbarian! He is dead; but, prior to his breathing his 
last, he saw the son, free from the least harm, bestow upon 
his father the most speedy assistance. 
Meanwhile M. de Belcourt is in danger; am I miserable 
enough? Love, fatal Love! How many calamities? The post 
hour is come, ah! pity me, pity your children; they all 
love you; they are all plunged in deep sorrow. I remain 
with due respect, etc. 
FAUBLAS.

THE SAME TO THE SAME.
27th July, 1785, ten in the morning. 
My dearest father-in-law, 
Sophia writes very regularly to you every morning; you are 
informed that the Baron's wound is not so dangerous as had 
been thought at first; you know that in a fortnight or 
three weeks, we shall be capable to resume our journey, too 
happy to have got clear off with the only displeasure of 
joining you some weeks later. Let me tell you, however, of 
the favourable event which has occurred this day. 
Sophia, Adelaide, and myself had been sitting up all night 
with the Baron: my wife and my sister, equally tired, were 
just going to bed. To follow Sophia, I only waited till one 
of my aunts would come and take my place by the bedside of 
the dear patient, whom we should feel apprehensive to 
commit to the care of strangers; it was then seven at most. 
My servant came on a sudden and brought me word that 
somebody wanted to speak to me in private. The Baron, 
uneasy in his mind, but not without a cause, said to me; 
"Bid him to speak the truth." 
"It is the Marquis!" 
"Jasmin, I forbid you to tell a lie: is it the Marquis?" 
"It is not the Marquis that wants to speak to you below; 
but he has sent to let you know that he was waiting for you 
behind the rampart." 
"Faublas," exclaimed M. de Belcourt, "you have wronged M. 
de B*** most shockingly, but I shall only say one word to 
you; if you are not back in a quarter of an hour, I shall 
expire before the day is over." 
"You will see me back in a quarter of an hour, father." 
I then embraced and left him. 
I soon joined my enemy; "M. le Marquis, I had presumed to 
hope you would not come." He cast a sullen look at me, and 
without favouring me with an answer, immediately drew. I 
screamed out; "This sword! It is the one? 
"Yes," he said "and tremble!" 
I immediately drew mine, rushed upon him, and only aimed at 
disarming him. Within a few minutes, I had the good fortune 
to see the fatal sword fly at ten yards distance. I seized 
it, returned to the Marquis, and kneeling before him, said, 
"Permit me to keep this sword, take away mine, carry with 
you the assurance which I renew." 
He interrupted me: "Ah! Must I moreover be indebted to him 
for my life?" 
This said, he mounted his horse and disappeared. 
I am with respect, etc.

VICOMTE DE VALBRUN TO CHEVALIER DE FAUBLAS
Paris, 15th October, 1786. 
For too long a period you have left us, my dear Chevalier; 
must the displeasure of your indifference still add to our 
regret? Have you then, when you left France, dropped all 
your friends in oblivion? Wherefore do you refuse 
corresponding with a man who has never given you the least 
offence? You must make me amends; and unless you wish me to 
charge you with ingratitude, let me hear from you, and of 
your family by the first post, and with particular detail 
of circumstances. 
Public rumour informs me that you are now engaged in 
writing the Memoirs of your youthful days. I have fancied 
that you would be glad to be told of the present situation 
of some personages whom you are frequently to mention in 
the history of your amours. 
The Marchioness d'Armincour, devoured with chagrin, lives 
more retired than ever on the estate she possesses in 
Franche Comté. The Baroness de Fonrose, become frightfully 
ugly, never leaves her old castle in Vivarais. Count 
Rosambert has also been compelled to retire from the world: 
his Countess was also brought to bed at the end of the 
eighth month of her marriage. M. de Rosambert, who, 
notwithstanding his misfortune, still retains his 
cheerfulness, jocularly maintains to all who will hear him, 
that his wife's little boy resembles much Mademoiselle de 
Brumont; he further says that he would give anything in the 
world that M. de B***, who is such a connoisseur in 
physiognomies, would examine the face of that infant, and 
that M. de Lignolle, from whom no affection of the soul is 
kept secret, would feel Madame de Rosambert's pulse 
whenever the Chevalier de Faublas is spoken of in her 
presence. That La Fleur, who served the unfortunate woman 
whose name I purposely suppress, was become valet-de-
chambre to the widowed husband; but he took it into his 
head to rob his master, who from his dislike to thieves, 
has informed against this one. The wretch has been hanged 
at the gate of the Hôtel de Lignolle. It is not four months 
since Justine has left the house of correction, the diet 
whereof has not embellished her; the poor child, unable to 
do better, is become cook and factotum to Madame le Blanc, 
the wife of a physician in Faubourg Saint Marceau. It is 
said in that part of the town that the mistress and the 
maid often go, in partnership, to magnetise abroad. Count 
de Lignolle, whom your father had not wounded dangerously, 
lives, possessed of more genius than he enjoys good health. 
Some people, nevertheless, have had it reported that last 
spring, having swallowed the remnant of the prescription of 
Dr. Rosambert, the Count, for a whole day, had felt as if 
inclined to marry again, but that, within so short a 
period, he had never been able to find a female miserable 
enough to take him for a husband. You must, however, be 
told that his riddles are well received all over Europe. 
The Marquis de B*** is in good health; he continues, 
according to his own saying, to be a good fellow; he 
nevertheless flies in a rage when he meets with a face that 
in his opinion resembles yours; at any rate he is pleased 
with his own, and will even at times regret that of his 
wife. 
Adieu, my dear Chevalier; I am waiting for your answer with 
impatience, etc.

CHEVALIER DE FAUBLAS TO VICOMTE DE VALBRUN.
Warsaw, 28th October, 1786. 
I am very thankful, my dear Vicomte, for your kind 
remembrance of me; you have forwarded to me such documents 
as I wished for, and since you manifest the obliging desire 
of knowing exactly what has become of us, I hasten to 
inform you of the same. For these last fifteen months our 
family have inhabited at Warsaw, the palace of the Count 
Lovinski; fifteen months have elapsed like a day. My 
father-in-law is in high favour with the King. My father, 
the best of parents, overwhelmed with joy, feels happier 
for the felicity of his children, than for his own. Our 
dear Adelaide has just selected for her husband the 
Palatine of --, a young nobleman, the highest praise of 
whom I shall express in a very few words: he is deserving 
of her. I am now a father: it is not quite four months 
since Sophia has borne me the prettiest boy in the world. 
My Sophia, the chief ornament of the Court of Warsaw, 
becomes daily more adorable. I enjoy with my wife more 
felicity than I ever had during the course of my 
extravagance. 
Pity me, however; I have forfeited my native country; 
neither can I hold a commission in the army of the 
republic, for the whole of my life-time, perhaps; I must 
renounce the only profession for which I was intended by 
nature. All the efforts of art, all the efforts of my 
reason cannot remove from my view a persecuting and beloved 
phantom, whose frequent apparition tortures and charms me. 
Oh, Madame de B***! Are you descended into your grave 
instead of your lover, merely that you might be able to 
follow him everywhere, without obstacles or relaxation? 
Alas that her shade alone pursued me! But the avenging gods 
have condemned Faublas to still dearer and more frequent 
recollections! 
If, in a summer's evening, the south wind rises, if the 
lightning opens the clouds, if thunder roars, then I hear a 
fatal sound; I hear a soldier, barbarously cool, saying to 
me: "She is there." On a sudden, seized with unconquerable 
fears, deceived by a ridiculous hope, I run to the roaring 
main; I behold, struggling in the midst of the waves, a 
woman. Alas! A woman that I am no more allowed to forget 
than to reach! Oh! Pity me. 
But no, Sophia is left to me. Far from pitying me, envy my 
lot, and only say, that for ardent men of feeling, who, at 
the time of their adolescence, have yielded to stormy 
passions, there is no perfect happiness to be expected upon 
earth.

Notes
Notes by the Ex-Classics transcriber are identified by [TN]. 
Others are footnotes in the original source.
1. Saint-Preux: In La Nouvelle Heloise. [By Jean-Jacques 
Rousseau, 1761 [TN]
2. To rouse the Venus loitering in their veins: i.e. to cure 
their impotence. This is a quotation from The Forced Marriage by 
John Armstrong (1754.) The original French has only qu'on les 
ressuscite i.e. "which resuscitates them."[TN]
3. M. l'Abbé Pernetti wrote a work on Physiognomy, entitled "The 
Knowledge of the Moral Man by the Physical Man."
4. Choused: Swindled. [TN]
5. Cornuted: Adorned with horns, i.e. cuckolded. [TN]
6. Restaut: Pierre Restaut (1696-1764), author of a French 
grammar and dictionary. Barrême: François-Bertrand Barrême 
(1638-1703), mathematician, inventor of a system of accountancy 
known by his name. [TN]
7. Turenne: Henri de La Tour d'Auvergne, Vicomte de Turenne 
(1611-1675), famous general during the reign of Louis XIV. [TN]
8. Verdoni, Philidor: Famous chess players of the late 18th 
Century. [TN]
9. M. Mesmer: Franz Anton Mesmer (1734-1815), famous 18th 
Century quack who claimed to cure illnesses by manipulating a 
spurious force he called "animal magnetism." [TN]
10. Quartuaires is the name given to the dragoons established to 
watch the safety of the frontiers of Podolia and Volhymnia 
against the Tartars.
11. Marimont is a country residence belonging to the court of 
Saxony, and is nearer to Warsaw by half a league than Beliany.
12. Polesia: A district now in southern Belarus. [TN]
13. The Triple Invasion: Dismemberment of Poland by the Empress 
of Russia, the [Holy Roman] Emperor, and the King of Prussia. 
[1772. TN])
14. Pulauski was killed at the siege of Savannah, in 1795. [sic. 
actually 1779. TN]
15. The reader, perhaps, expected that I was going to give him a 
journal of my amorous correspondence according to order and 
date. But he may be assured that of all the letters which I 
wrote, he will only see such as are absolutely necessary for the 
knowledge of facts.
16. De la Clos: The author of Les Liaisons Dangereuses.
17. Gessner: Gessner is not our countryman, but what French poet 
could I compare with him who sung Les Jardins?
18. Philoctete et Melanie: The names of two excellent works by 
M. de la Harpe.
19. Jean-Jacques: Rousseau. [TN]
20. Enciente: Pregnant. [TN]
21. Chienne: "Bitch." [TN]
22. Jean-Jacques Rousseau, in La Nouvelle Heloise.
23. Luxembourg: A strongly fortified town in the Austrian 
Netherlands.
24. Ptisan: A drink of barley water and medicinal herbs. [TN]
25. Medecin Malgré Lui: A play by Molière. [TN]
26. Ariette: Diminutive of Aria-a little song. [TN]
27. The Post-chaise: That which M. du Portail and myself had 
left at Vivary, in order to take horses to join Sophia the 
quicker.
28. If divorces were generally allowed, barbarous parents would 
be deterred from sacrificing their daughters, knowing they could 
break the chain the next day.
29. The translator has not omitted anything in this place. The 
delicacy of the author induced him to omit the fascinating 
description he might here have given of the seduction of Ursula, 
and to leave the imagination of the reader to fill up the blank.
30. The effeminate hunter: Adonis.
31. Thy lame blacksmith: Vulcan.
32. Your immortal lover: Mars.
33. The husband of fifty sisters: Hercules.
34. To purchase a great cause: Perhaps to bribe an attorney to 
put a brief into his hands.
35. Where will so much virtue find a niche: i.e. where will the 
statue of such a man be put up. A line of Molière which has 
become a proverb. [TN]
36. Bouts-rimes: Before what you write about is determined, you 
place final words rhyming with each other, which you fill up as 
you can.
37. Le Discours sur l'Origine de l'Inegalité parmi lés Hommes: 
"An Essay on the Origin of the Inequality among Mankind," by 
Jean-Jacques Rousseau. [TN]
38. Everyone knows this remark of Charles XII to one of his 
secretaries: "Well, what has the bomb to do with the letter I am 
dictating to you?"
39. Eleanor: That was the Christian name of the Countess.
40 Génovéfain: An Augustinian monk. [TN]
41. Mercure de France: A French gazette and literary magazine 
first published in the 17th century. It was suppressed by 
Napoleon but was revived after the restoration. It ceased in 
1825. There is a modern publication of the same name. [TN]
42. Sensible readers, remember the letter to my father, sent to 
the post-office on the preceding day-and conjecture.
43. It was in the month of July, 1788, that I was then urging my 
claims, in conjunction with all my fellow-citizens. Who could 
have guessed at the time, that in July, 1789, the Bastille would 
be carried by storm in less than three hours, by my valiant 
countrymen. Who could have anticipated the rapid progress of the 
revolution, which was to secure to us both personal and public 
liberty? Thanks be returned to thee, God of my country! Thou 
hast cast upon it an enlivening glance; thou hast supplied it 
exactly at the same period, all such men, and every necessary 
event that might accomplish its so desirable and so difficult 
regeneration.
45. It will be recollected, perhaps, that Baron de Faublas had 
assumed the name of Belcourt, in the retreat where we lived 
concealed in the vicinity of Luxembourg.
46. Frac Anglais: A morning coat. [TN]
47. Tandis que tout sommeille: "While everyone is asleep". An 
aria from the opera L'amant jaloux, ou Les fausses apparences 
(The Jealous Lover, or False Appearances) by André Grétry: first 
performed at Versailles on 20 November 1778. [TN]
48. Mauvaise honte: Bashfulness. [TN]
49. Demoiselle de compagnie: "Young lady companion"(i.e. Faublas 
disguised as a girl here.) [TN]
50. Eleanor: Remember this was the Christian name of the 
Countess: it will be wanted hereafter.
51. The nobility in France had Swiss as porters.
52. Phaeton: The driver of a carriage. Named after a character 
in Greek myth, who drove the sun-chariot. [TN]
53. Courir la poste: To travel by post stages. These were 
establishments at intervals along a main road where fresh horses 
could be hired to take one as far as the next stage. [TN]
54. À gouter: A light meal or snack. [TN]
55. Remember this dressing closet; we shall return to it some 
day, and more than once.
56. Berlin: A four-wheeled covered carriage, with a seat behind 
covered with a hood. [TN]
57. The canal of Briare, which begins at the town of that name, 
and running across twenty-two leagues of the country, ends at 
Saint Mametz. The bridge of Montcour is thrown over the canal, 
at six leagues from its mouth. The village of Fromonville, is 
seen at a quarter of a league's distance.
58. Foi de gentilhomme: "By the faith of a gentleman." [TN]
59. Du celibat: "Of the bachelor." [TN]
60. Remember that at la Porte Maillot, where I wounded the 
Marquis, du Portail killed his antagonist.
61. Roueries: Cunning tricks. [TN]
62. La Crosière is at four leagues below Montargis.
63. Manes: The spirit of a dead person. [TN]
64. The double sanctuary of the law: Both Houses of Parliament. 
If anyone was so unjust as to reprobate me for the superficial 
and decisive cutting manner in which Count Rosambert judges and 
denigrates the second European nation, I shall undoubtedly be 
permitted to observe, without offering offence to anyone, that 
it is a young French nobleman who is speaking, in 1784.
65. You will know of this anecdote, if ever I am allowed to 
write the history of Rosambert. Then probably you will hear of 
Dorothea's adventures. But at present, I am prohibited. The 
present time is the arch of-the Lord.
66. Whisky: A kind of light two-wheeled one-horse carriage, used 
in England and America in the late 18th and early 19th c. Also 
called timwhisky. (OED). [TN]
67. Lettre de cachet: A warrant ordering a person to be 
imprisoned, often in the Bastille, or sometimes to leave the 
country immediately. It could be issued by the King of France or 
his designated minister, without any formal trial and without 
giving any reason or allowing the person to defend himself. 
There was no appeal against it, and the person remained in 
prison or exile until the King decided otherwise. [TN]
68. In case you should have forgotten this passage of the 
History of Rome, consult the book; you will find it worth your 
while.
69. Le chien du jardinier: Literally "The gardener's dog", the 
French equivalent of The Dog in the Manger i.e. someone who 
meanly prevents others from having something for which they 
themselves have no use. [TN]
70. Madame de B*** knew that closet well.
71. Marchioness of Rosambert: His mother.
72. The Grand Signior: The Sultan of Turkey. [TN]
73. Cachemira: Kashmir, a province in the far north of the 
Indian subcontinent, disputed between India and Pakistan. [TN]
74. On dit, &c.: "It is said, that we never are possessed at the 
same time of every qualification; and that men of wit, very 
estimable in other respects, have very little talent to 
reproduce their like."
75. Garde de la connétablie: The royal police of pre-
revolutionary France. [TN]
76. Quiproquos: Misunderstandings or cases of mistaken identity. 
[TN]
77. The wisest jurisconsults define dowry: Pretium deflorata 
virginitalis.("The price for deflowering virginity"[TN]) I wish 
to introduce erudition also to this work, that it may be found 
to contain a little of everything.
78. The Théatins: A religious order so called.
79. St. Martin: A house of confinement for prostitutes.

THE END.
- 2 -