cause the same thing happened
over and over again every day.

In order to study the manners and habits of the people, I took my meals
in all sorts of places. One day, having gone with Campioni to dine at
"The Crawfish," I found, to my great surprise, sitting at the table
d'hote, that Pepe il Cadetto, whose acquaintance I had made at the time
of my arrest in the Spanish army, and whom I had met afterwards in Venice
and in Lyons, under the name of Don Joseph Marcati. Campioni, who had
been his partner in Lyons, embraced him, talked with him in private, and
informed me that the man had resumed his real name, and that he was now
called Count Afflisio. He told me that after dinner there would be a faro
bank in which I would have an interest, and he therefore requested me not
to play. I accepted the offer. Afflisio won: a captain of the name of
Beccaxia threw the cards at his face--a trifle to which the self-styled
count was accustomed, and which did not elicit any remark from him. When
the game was over, we repaired to the coffee-room, where an officer of
gentlemanly appearance, staring at me, began to smile, but not in an
offensive manner.

"Sir," I asked him, politely, "may I ask why you are laughing?"

"It makes me laugh to see that you do not recognize me."

"I have some idea that I have seen you somewhere, but I could not say
where or when I had that honour."

"Nine years ago, by the orders of the Prince de Lobkowitz, I escorted you
to the Gate of Rimini."

"You are Baron Vais:"

"Precisely."

We embraced one another; he offered me his friendly services, promising
to procure me all the pleasure he could in Vienna. I accepted gratefully,
and the same evening he presented me to a countess, at whose house I made
the acquaintance of the Abbe Testagrossa, who was called Grosse-Tete by
everybody. He was minister of the Duke of Modem, and great at Court
because he had negotiated the marriage of the arch-duke with Beatrice
d'Este. I also became acquainted there with the Count of Roquendorf and
Count Sarotin, and with several noble young ladies who are called in
Germany frauleins, and with a baroness who had led a pretty wild life,
but who could yet captivate a man. We had supper, and I was created
baron. It was in vain that I observed that I had no title whatever: "You
must be something," I was told, "and you cannot be less than baron. You
must confess yourself to be at least that, if you wish to be received
anywhere