ecause he was bled once when he could not oppose any resistance.

My indigestion reminded me of a witty saying of a man who was not much in
the habit of uttering many of them; I mean M. de Maisonrouge, who was
taken home one day almost dying from a severe attack of indigestion: his
carriage having been stopped opposite the Quinze-Vingts by some
obstruction, a poor man came up and begged alms, saying,

"Sir, I am starving."

"Eh! what are you complaining of?" answered Maisonrouge, sighing deeply;
"I wish I was in your place, you rogue!"

At that time I made the acquaintance of a Milanese dancer, who had wit,
excellent manners, a literary education, and what is more--great beauty.
She received very good society, and did the honours of her drawing-room
marvellously well. I became acquainted at her house with Count
Christopher Erdodi, an amiable, wealthy and generous man; and with a
certain Prince Kinski who had all the grace of a harlequin. That girl
inspired me with love, but it was in vain, for she was herself enamoured
of a dancer from Florence, called Argiolini. I courted her, but she only
laughed at me, for an actress, if in love with someone, is a fortress
which cannot be taken, unless you build a bridge of gold, and I was not
rich. Yet I did not despair, and kept on burning my incense at her feet.
She liked my society because she used to shew me the letters she wrote,
and I was very careful to admire her style. She had her own portrait in
miniature, which was an excellent likeness. The day before my departure,
vexed at having lost my time and my amorous compliments, I made up my
mind to steal that portrait--a slight compensation for not having won the
original. As I was taking leave of her, I saw the portrait within my
reach, seized it, and left Vienna for Presburg, where Baron Vais had
invited me to accompany him and several lovely frauleins on a party of
pleasure.

When we got out of the carriages, the first person I tumbled upon was the
Chevalier de Talvis, the protector of Madame Conde-Labre, whom I had
treated so well in Paris. The moment he saw me, he came up and told me
that I owed him his revenge.

"I promise to give it to you, but I never leave one pleasure for
another," I answered; "we shall see one another again."

"That is enough. Will you do me the honour to introduce me to these
ladies?"

"Very willingly, but not in the street."

We went inside of the hotel and he followed us. Thinking that t