THE ENGLISH - Chapter XI
The Charpillon--Dreadful Consequences of My Acquaintance With Her
The name Charpillon reminded me that I was the bearer of a letter for
her, and drawing it from my pocket-book I gave it her, saying that
the document ought to cement our acquaintance.
"What!" she exclaimed, "a letter from the dear ambassador Morosini.
How delighted I am to have it! And you have actually been all these
months in London without giving it me?"
"I confess I am to blame, but, as you see, the note has no address on
it. I am grateful for the chance which has enabled me to discharge
my commission to-day."
"Come and dine with us to-morrow."
"I cannot do so, as I am expecting Lord Pembroke to dinner."
"Will you be alone?"
"I expect so."
"I am glad to hear it; you will see my aunt and myself appearing on
the scene."
"Here is my address; and I shall be delighted if you will come and
see me."
She took the address, and I was surprised to see her smile as she
read it.
"Then you are the Italian," she said, "who put up that notice that
amused all the town?"
"I am."
"They say the joke cost you dear."
"Quite the reverse; it resulted in the greatest happiness."
"But now that the beloved object has left you, I suppose you are
unhappy?"
"I am; but there are sorrows so sweet that they are almost joys."
"Nobody knows who she was, but I suppose you do?"
"Yes."
"Do you make a mystery of it?"
"Surely, and I would rather die than reveal it."
"Ask my aunt if I may take some rooms in your house; but I am afraid
my mother would not let me."
"Why do you want to lodge cheaply?"
"I don't want to lodge cheaply, but I should like to punish the
audacious author of that notice."
"How would you punish me?"
"By making you fall in love with me, and then tormenting you. It
would have amused me immensely."
"Then you think that you can inspire me with love, and at the same
time form the dreadful plan of tyrannising over the victim of your
charms. Such a project is monstrous, and unhappily for us poor men,
you do not look a monster. Nevertheless, I am obliged to you for
your frankness, and I shall be on my guard."
"Then you must take care never to see me, or else all your efforts
will be in vain."
As the Charpillon had laughed merrily through the whole of this
dialogue, I took it all as a jest, but I could not help admiring her
manner, which seemed made for the subjugation of men. But though I
knew it not, the day I made that woman's acquaintance was a luckless
one for me, as my readers will see.
It was towards the end of the month of September, 1763, when I met
the Charpillon, and from that day I began to die. If the lines of
ascent and declination are equal, now, on the first day of November,
1797, I have about four more years of life to reckon on, which will
pass by swiftly, according to the axiom 'Motus in fine velocior'.
The Charpillon, who was well known in London, and I believe is still
alive, was one of those beauties in whom it is difficult to find any
positive fault. Her hair was chestnut coloured, and astonishingly
long and thick, her blue eyes were at once languorous and brilliant,
her skin, faintly tinged with a rosy hue, was of a dazzling
whiteness; she was tall for her age, and seemed likely to become as
tall as Pauline. Her breast was perhaps a little small, but
perfectly shaped, her hands were white and plump, her feet small, and
her gait had something noble and gracious. Her features were of that
exquisite sensibility which gives so much charm to the fair sex, but
nature had given her a beautiful body and a deformed soul. This
siren had formed a design to wreck my happiness even before she knew
me, and as if to add to her triumph she told me as much.
I left Malingan's house not like a man who, fond of the fair sex, is
glad to have made the acquaintance of a beautiful woman, but in a
state of stupefaction that the image of Pauline, which was always
before me, was not strong enough to overcome the influence of a
creature like the Charpillon, whom in my heart I could not help
despising.
I calmed myself by saying that this strong impression was due to
novelty, and by hoping that I should soon be disenchanted.
"She will have no charm," said I, "when I have once possessed her,
and that will not be long in coming." Perhaps the reader will think
that I was too presumptuous, but why should I suppose that there
would be any difficulty? She had asked me to dinner herself, she had
surrendered herself entirely to Morosini, who was not the man to sigh
for long at any woman's feet, and must have paid her, for he was not
young enough nor handsome enough to inspire her with a fancy for him.
Without counting my physical attractions, I had plenty of money, and
I was not afraid of spending it; and so I thought I could count on an
easy victory.
Pembroke had become an intimate friend of mine since my proceedings
with regard to Schwerin. He admired my conduct in not making any
claim on the general for half my loss. He had said we would make a
pleasant day of it together, and when he saw that my table was laid
for four he asked who the other guests were to be. He was extremely
surprised when he heard that they were the Charpillon and her aunt,
and that the girl had invited herself when she heard he was to dine
with me.
"I once took a violent fancy for the little hussy," said he. "It was
one evening when I was at Vauxhall, and I offered her twenty guineas
if she would come and take a little walk with me in a dark alley.
She said she would come if I gave her the money in advance, which I
was fool enough to do. She went with me, but as soon as we were
alone she ran away, and I could not catch her again, though I looked
for her all the evening."
"You ought to have boxed her ears before everybody."
"I should have got into trouble, and people would have laughed at me
besides. I preferred to despise her and the money too. Are you in
love with her?"
"No; but I am curious, as you were."
"Take care! she will do all in her power to entrap you."
She came in and went up to my lord with the most perfect coolness,
and began to chatter away to him without taking any notice of me.
She laughed, joked, and reproached him for not having pursued her at
Vauxhall. Her stratagem, she said, was only meant to excite him the
more.
"Another time," she added, "I shall not escape you."
"Perhaps not, my dear, for another time I shall take care not to pay
in advance."
"Oh, fie! you degrade yourself by talking about paying."
"I suppose I honour you."
"We never talk of such things."
Lord Pembroke laughed at her impertinences, while she made a vigorous
assault on him, for his coolness and indifference piqued her.
She left us soon after dinner, making me promise to dine with her the
day after next.
I passed the next day with the amiable nobleman who initiated me into
the mysteries of the English bagnio, an entertainment which I shall
not describe, for it is well known to all who care to spend six
guineas.
On the day appointed, my evil destiny made me go to the Charpillon's;
the girl introduced me to her mother, whom I at once recollected,
although she had aged and altered since I had seen her.
In the year 1759 a Genevan named Bolome had persuaded me to sell her
jewels to the extent of six thousand francs, and she had paid me in
bills drawn by her and her two sisters on this Bolome, but they were
then known as Anspergher. The Genevan became bankrupt before the
bills were due, and the three sisters disappeared. As may be
imagined, I was surprised to find them in England, and especially to
be introduced to them by the Charpillon, who, knowing nothing of the
affair of the jewels, had not told them that Seingalt was the same as
Casanova, whom they had cheated of six thousand francs.
"I am delighted to see you again," were the first words I addressed
to her.
"I recollect you, sir; that rascal Bolome . . . ."
"We will discuss that subject another time. I see you are ill."
"I have been at death's door, but I am better now. My daughter did
not tell me your proper name."
"Yes, she did. My name is Seingalt as well as Casanova. I was known
by the latter name at Paris when I made your daughter's acquaintance,
though I did not know then that she was your daughter."
Just then the grandmother, whose name was also Anspergher, came in
with the two aunts, and a quarter of an hour later three men arrived,
one of whom was the Chevalier Goudar, whom I had met at Paris. I did
not know the others who were introduced to me under the names of
Rostaing and Caumon. They were three friends of the household, whose
business it was to bring in dupes.
Such was the infamous company in which I found myself, and though I
took its measure directly, yet I did not make my escape, nor did I
resolve never to go to the house again. I was fascinated; I thought
I would be on my guard and be safe, and as I only wanted the daughter
I looked on all else as of little moment.
At table I led the conversation, and thought that my prey would soon
be within my grasp. The only thing which annoyed me was that the
Charpillon, after apologizing for having made me sit down to such a
poor dinner, invited herself and all the company to sup with me on
any day I liked to mention. I could make no opposition, so I begged
her to name the day herself, and she did so, after a consultation
with her worthy friends.
After coffee had been served we played four rubbers of whist, at
which I lost, and at midnight I went away ill pleased with myself,
but with no purpose of amendment, for this sorceress had got me in
her toils.
All the same I had the strength of mind to refrain from seeing her
for two days, and on the third, which was the day appointed for the
cursed supper, she and her aunt paid me a call at nine o'clock in the
morning.
"I have come to breakfast with you, and to discuss a certain
question," said she, in the most engaging manner.
"Will you tell me your business now, or after breakfast?"
"After breakfast; for we must be alone."
We had our breakfast, and then the aunt went into another room, and
the Charpillon, after describing the monetary situation of the
family, told me that it would be much relieved if her aunt could
obtain a hundred guineas.
"What would she do with the money?"
"She would make the Balm of Life, of which she possesses the secret,
and no doubt she would make her fortune, too."
She then began to dilate on the marvellous properties of the balm, on
its probable success in a town like London, and on the benefits which
would accrue to myself, for of course I should share in the profits.
She added that her mother and aunt would give me a written promise to
repay the money in the course of six years.
"I will give you a decided answer after supper."
I then began to caress her, and to make assaults in the style of an
amorous man, but it was all in vain, though I succeeded in stretching
her on a large sofa. She made her escape, however, and ran to her
aunt, while I followed her, feeling obliged to laugh as she did. She
gave me her hand, and said,--
"Farewell, till this evening."
When they were gone, I reflected over what had passed and thought
this first scene of no bad augury. I saw that I should get nothing
out of her without spending a hundred guineas, and I determined not
to attempt to bargain, but I would let her understand that she must
make up her mind not to play prude. The game was in my hands, and
all I had to do was to take care not to be duped.
In the evening the company arrived, and the girl asked me to hold a
bank till supper was ready; but I declined, with a burst of laughter
that seemed to puzzle her.
"At least, let us have a game of whist," said she.
"It seems to me," I answered, "that you don't feel very anxious to
hear my reply."
"You have made up your mind, I suppose?"
"I have, follow me."
She followed me into an adjoining room, and after she had seated
herself on a sofa, I told her that the hundred guineas were at her
disposal.
"Then please to give the money to my aunt, otherwise these gentlemen
might think I got it from you by some improper means."
"I will do so."
I tried to get possession of her, but in vain; and I ceased my
endeavours when she said,--
"You will get nothing from me either by money or violence; but you
can hope for all when I find you really nice and quiet."
I re-entered the drawing-room, and feeling my blood boiling I began
to play to quiet myself. She was as gay as ever, but her gaiety
tired me. At supper I had her on my right hand, but the hundred
impertinences which, under other circumstances, would have amused me,
only wearied me, after the two rebuffs I had received from her.
After supper, just as they were going, she took me aside, and told me
that if I wanted to hand over the hundred guineas she would tell her
aunt to go with me into the next room.
"As documents have to be executed," I replied, "it will take some
time; we will talk of it again.
"Won't you fix the time?"
I drew out my purse full of gold, and shewed it her, saying,--
"The time depends entirely on you."
When my hateful guests were gone, I began to reflect, and came to the
conclusion that this young adventuress had determined to plunder me
without giving me anything in return. I determined to have nothing
more to do with her, but I could not get her beauty out of my mind.
I felt I wanted some distraction, something that would give me new
aims and make me forget her. With this idea I went to see my
daughter, taking with me an immense bag of sweets.
As soon as I was in the midst of the little flock, the delight became
general, Sophie distributing the sweetmeats to her friends, who
received them gratefully.
I spent a happy day, and for a week or two I paid several visits to
Harwich. The mistress treated me with the utmost politeness and my
daughter with boundless affection, always calling me "dear papa."
In less than three weeks I congratulated myself on having forgotten
the Charpillon, and on having replaced her by innocent amours, though
one of my daughter's schoolmates pleased me rather too much for my
peace of mind.
Such was my condition when one morning the favourite aunt of the
Charpillon paid me a call, and said that they were all mystified at
not having seen me since the supper I had given them, especially
herself, as her niece had given her to understand that I would
furnish her with the means of making the Balm of Life.
"Certainly; I would have given you the hundred guineas if your niece
had treated me as a friend, but she refused me favours a vestal might
have granted, and you must be aware that she is by no means a
vestal."
"Don't mind my laughing. My niece is an innocent, giddy girl; she
loves you, but she is afraid you have only a passing whim for her.
She is in bed now with a bad cold, and if you will come and see her I
am sure you will be satisfied."
These artful remarks, which had no doubt been prepared in advance,
ought to have aroused all my scorn, but instead of that they awakened
the most violent desires. I laughed in chorus with the old woman,
and asked what would be the best time to call.
"Come now, and give one knock."
"Very good, then you may expect me shortly."
I congratulated myself on being on the verge of success, for after
the explanation I had had with the aunt, and having, as I thought, a
friend in her, I did not doubt that I should succeed.
I put on my great coat, and in less than a quarter of an hour I
knocked at their door. The aunt opened to me, and said,--
"Come back in a quarter of an hour; she has been ordered a bath, and
is just going to take it."
"This is another imposture. You're as bad a liar as she is."
"You are cruel and unjust, and if you will promise to be discreet, I
will take you up to the third floor where she is bathing."
"Very good; take me." She went upstairs, I following on tiptoe, and
pushed me into a room, and shut the door upon me. The Charpillon was
in a huge bath, with her head towards the door, and the infernal
coquette, pretending to think it was her aunt, did not move, and
said,--
"Give me the towels, aunt."
She was in the most seductive posture, and I had the pleasure of
gazing on her exquisite proportions, hardly veiled by the water.
When she caught sight of me, or rather pretended to do so, she gave a
shriek, huddled her limbs together, and said, with affected anger,--
"Begone!"
"You needn't exert your voice, for I am not going to be duped."
"Begone!"
"Not so, give me a little time to collect myself."
"I tell you, go!"
"Calm yourself, and don't be afraid of my skewing you any violence;
that would suit your game too well."
"My aunt shall pay dearly for this."
"She will find me her friend. I won't touch you, so shew me a little
more of your charms."
"More of my charms?"
"Yes; put yourself as you were when I came in."
"Certainly not. Leave the room."
"I have told you I am not going, and that you need not fear for your
. . . well, for your virginity, we will say."
She then shewed me a picture more seductive than the first, and
pretending kindliness, said,--
"Please, leave me; I will not fail to shew my gratitude."
Seeing that she got nothing, that I refrained from touching her, and
that the fire she had kindled was in a fair way to be put out, she
turned her back to me to give me to understand that it was no
pleasure to her to look at me. However, my passions were running
high, and I had to have recourse to self-abuse to calm my senses, and
was glad to find myself relieved, as this proved to me that the
desire went no deeper than the senses.
The aunt came in just as I had finished, and I went out without a
word, well pleased to find myself despising a character wherein
profit and loss usurped the place of feeling.
The aunt came to me as I was going out of the house, and after
enquiring if I were satisfied begged me to come into the parlour.
"Yes," said I, "I am perfectly satisfied to know you and your niece.
Here is the reward."
With these words I drew a bank-note for a hundred pounds from my
pocket-book, and was foolish enough to give it her, telling her that
she could make her balm, and need not trouble to give me any document
as I knew if would be of no value. I had not the strength to go away
without giving her anything, and the procuress was sharp enough to
know it.
When I got home I reflected on what had happened, and pronounced
myself the conqueror with great triumph. I felt well at ease, and
felt sure that I should never set foot in that house again. There
were seven of them altogether, including servants, and the need of
subsisting made them do anything for a living; and when they found
themselves obliged to make use of men, they summoned the three
rascals I have named, who were equally dependent on them.
Five or six days afterwards, I met the little hussy at Vauxhall in
company with Goudar. I avoided her at first, but she came up to me
reproaching me for my rudeness. I replied coolly enough, but
affecting not to notice my manner, she asked me to come into an
arbour with her and take a cup of tea.
"No, thank you," I replied, "I prefer supper."
"Then I will take some too, and you will give it me, won't you, just
to shew that you bear no malice?"
I ordered supper for four and we sat down together as if we had been
intimate friends.
Her charming conversation combined with her beauty gradually drew me
under her charm, and as the drink began to exercise its influence
over me, I proposed a turn in one of the dark walks, expressing a
hope that I should fare better than Lord Pembroke. She said gently,
and with an appearance of sincerity that deceived me, that she wanted
to be mine, but by day and on the condition that I would come and see
her every day.
"I will do so, but first give me one little proof of your love."
"Most certainly not."
I got up to pay the bill, and then I left without a word, refusing to
take her home. I went home by myself and went to bed.
The first thought when I awoke was that I was glad she had not taken
me at my word; I felt very strongly that it was to my interest to
break off all connection between that creature and myself. I felt
the strength of her influence over me, and that my only way was to
keep away from her, or to renounce all pretension to the possession
of her charms.
The latter plan seemed to me impossible, so I determined to adhere to
the first; but the wretched woman had resolved to defeat all my
plans. The manner in which she succeeded must have been the result
of a council of the whole society.
A few days after the Vauxhall supper Goudar called on me, and began
by congratulating me on my resolution not to visit the Ansperghers
any more, "for," said he, "the girl would have made you more and more
in love with her, and in the end she would have seduced you to
beggary."
"You must think me a great fool. If I had found her kind I should
have been grateful, but without squandering all my money; and if she
had been cruel, instead of ridiculous, I might have given her what I
have already given her every day, without reducing myself to
beggary."
"I congratulate you; it shews that you are well off. But have you
made up your mind not to see her again?"
"Certainly."
"Then you are not in love with her?"
"I have been in love, but I am so no longer; and in a few days she
will have passed completely out of my memory. I had almost forgotten
her when I met her with you at Vauxhall."
"You are not cured. The way to be cured of an amour does not lie in
flight, when the two parties live in the same town. Meetings will
happen, and all the trouble has to be taken over again."
"Then do you know a better way?"
"Certainly; you should satiate yourself. It is quite possible that
the creature is not in love with you, but you are rich and she has
nothing. You might have had her for so much, and you could have left
her when you found her to be unworthy of your constancy. You must
know what kind of a woman she is."
"I should have tried this method gladly, but I found her out."
"You could have got the best of her, though, if you had gone to work
in the proper way. You should never have paid in advance. I know
everything."
"What do you mean?"
"I know she has cost you a hundred guineas, and that you have not won
so much as a kiss from her. Why, my dear sir, you might have had her
comfortably in your own bed for as much! She boasts that she took
you in, though you pride yourself on your craft."
"It was an act of charity towards her aunt."
"Yes, to make her Balm of Life; but you know if it had not been for
the niece the aunt would never have had the money."
"Perhaps not, but how come you who are of their party to be talking
to me in this fashion?"
"I swear to you I only speak out of friendship for you, and I will
tell you how I came to make the acquaintance of the girl, her mother,
her grandmother and her two aunts, and then you will no longer
consider me as of their party.
"Sixteen months ago I saw M. Morosini walking about Vauxhall by
himself. He had just come to England to congratulate the king on his
accession to the throne, on behalf of the Republic of Venice. I saw
how enchanted he was with the London beauties, and I went up to him
and told him that all these beauties were at his service. This made
him laugh, and on my repeating that it was not a jest he pointed out
one of the girls, and asked if she would be at his service. I did
not know her, so I asked him to wait awhile, and I would bring him
the information he required. There was no time to be lost, and I
could see that the girl was not a vestal virgin, so I went up to her
and told her that the Venetian ambassador was amorous of her, and
that I would take her to him if she would receive his visits. The
aunt said that a nobleman of such an exalted rank could only bring
honour to her niece. I took their address, and on my way back to the
ambassador I met a friend of mine who is learned in such commodities,
and after I had shewed him the address he told me it was the
Charpillon."
"And it was she?"
"It was. My friend told me she was a young Swiss girl who was not
yet in the general market, but who would soon be there, as she was
not rich, and had a numerous train to support.
"I rejoined the Venetian, and told him that his business was done,
and asked him at what time I should introduce him the next day,
warning him that as she had a mother and aunts she would not be
alone.
"'I am glad to hear it,' said he, 'and also that she is not a common
woman.' He gave me an appointment for the next day, and we parted.
"I told the ladies at what hour I should have the pleasure of
introducing the great man to them, and after warning them that they
must appear not to know him I went home.
"The following day I called on M. de Morosini, and took him to
Denmark Street incognito. We spent an hour in conversation, and then
went away without anything being settled. On the way back the
ambassador told me that he should like to have the girl on conditions
which he would give me in writing at his residence.
"These conditions were that she should live in a furnished house free
of rent, without any companion, and without receiving any visitors.
His excellency would give her fifty guineas a month, and pay for
supper whenever he came and spent the night with her. He told me to
get the house if his conditions were received. The mother was to
sign the agreement.
"The ambassador was in a hurry, and in three days the agreement was
signed; but I obtained a document from the mother promising to let me
have the girl for one night as soon as the Venetian had gone; it was
known he was only stopping in London for a year."
Goudar extracted the document in question from his pocket, and gave
it to me. I read it and re-read it with as much surprise as
pleasure, and he then proceeded with his story.
"When the ambassador had gone, the Charpillon, finding herself at
liberty once more, had Lord Baltimore, Lord Grosvenor, and M. de Saa,
the Portuguese ambassador, in turn, but no titular lover. I insisted
on having my night with her according to agreement, but both mother
and daughter laughed at me when I spoke of it. I cannot arrest her,
because she is a minor, but I will have the mother imprisoned on the
first opportunity, and you will see how the town will laugh. Now you
know why I go to their house; and I assure you you are wrong if you
think I have any part in their councils. Nevertheless, I know they
are discussing how they may catch you, and they will do so if you do
not take care."
"Tell the mother that I have another hundred guineas at her service
if she will let me have her daughter for a single night."
"Do you mean that?"
"Assuredly, but I am not going to pay in advance."
"That's the only way not to be duped. I shall be glad to execute
your commission."
I kept the rogue to dinner, thinking he might be useful to me. He
knew everything and everybody, and told me a number of amusing
ancedotes. Although a good-for-nothing fellow, he had his merits.
He had written several works, which, though badly constructed, shewed
he was a man of some wit. He was then writing his "Chinese Spy," and
every day he wrote five or six news-letters from the various coffee-
houses he frequented. I wrote one or two letters for him, with which
he was much pleased. The reader will see how I met him again at
Naples some years later.
The next morning, what was my surprise to see the Charpillon, who
said with an air that I should have taken for modesty in any other
woman,--
"I don't want you to give me any breakfast, I want an explanation,
and to introduce Miss Lorenzi to you."
I bowed to her and to her companion, and then said,--
"What explanation do you require?"
At this, Miss Lorenzi, whom I had never seen before, thought proper
to leave us, and I told my man that I was not at home to anybody. I
ordered breakfast to be served to the companion of the nymph, that
she might not find the waiting tedious.
"Sir," said the Charpillon, "is it a fact that you charged the
Chevalier Goudar to tell my mother that you would give a hundred
guineas to spend the night with me?"
"No, not to spend a night with you, but after I had passed it. Isn't
the price enough?"
"No jesting, sir, if you please. There is no question of bargaining;
all I want to know is whether you think you have a right to insult
me, and that I am going to bear it?"
"If you think yourself insulted, I may, perhaps, confess I was wrong;
but I confess I did not think I should have to listen to any
reproaches from you. Gondar is one of your intimate friends, and
this is not the first proposal he has taken to you. I could not
address you directly, as I know your arts only too well."
"I shall not pay any attention to your abuse of my self; I will only
remind you of what I said 'that neither money nor violence were of
any use,' and that your only way was to make me in love with you by
gentle means. Shew me where I have broken my word! It is you that
have foresworn yourself in coming into my bath-room, and in sending
such a brutal message to my mother. No one but a rascal like Goudar
would have dared to take such a message."
"Goudar a rascal, is he? Well, he is your best friend. You know he
is in love with you, and that he only got you for the ambassador in
the hope of enjoying you himself. The document in his possession
proves that you have behaved badly towards him. You are in his debt,
discharge it, and then call him a rascal if you have the conscience
to do so. You need not trouble to weep, for I knew the source of
those tears; it is defiled."
"You know nothing of it. I love you, and it is hard to have you
treat me so."
"You love me? You have not taken the best way to prove it!"
"As good a way as yours. You have behaved to me as if I were the
vilest of prostitutes, and yesterday you seemed to think I was a
brute beast, the slave of my mother. You should have written to me
in person, and without the intervention of so vile an agent; I should
have replied in the same way, and you need not have been afraid that
you would be deceived."
"Supposing I had written, what would your answer have been?"
"I should have put all money matters out of question. I should have
promised to content you on the condition that you would come and
court me for a fortnight without demanding the slightest favour. We
should have lived a pleasant life; we should have gone to the theatre
and to the parks. I should have become madly in love with you. Then
I should have given myself up to you for love, and nothing but love.
I am ashamed to say that hitherto I have only given myself out of
mere complaisance. Unhappy woman that I am! but I think nature meant
me to love, and I thought when I saw you that my happy star had sent
you to England that I might know the bliss of true affection.
Instead of this you have only made me unhappy. You are the first man
that has seen me weep; you have troubled my peace at home, for my
mother shall never have the sum you promised her were it for nothing
but a kiss."
"I am sorry to have injured you, though I did not intend to do so;
but I really don't know what I can do."
"Come and see us, and keep your money, which I despise. If you love
me, come and conquer me like a reasonable and not a brutal lover; and
I will help you, for now you cannot doubt that I love you."
All this seemed so natural to me that I never dreamed it contained a
trap. I was caught, and I promised to do what she wished, but only
for a fortnight. She confirmed her promise, and her countenance
became once more serene and calm. The Charpillon was a born actress.
She got up to go, and on my begging a kiss as a pledge of our
reconciliation she replied, with a smile, the charm of which she well
knew, that it would not do to begin by breaking the term of our
agreement, and she left me more in love than ever, and full of
repentance for my conduct.
