dent I should not have done so.

Disgusted at the manner in which that man had attempted to get hold of
me, I no longer felt any inclination to try my fortune with his mistress,
for it seemed evident that they were conspiring together to make a dupe
of me, and as I had no wish to afford them that gratification I avoided
them in the evening. It would have been wise to keep to that line of
conduct; but the next day, obeying my evil genius, and thinking that a
polite call could not have any consequences, I called upon him.

A servant having taken me to his room, he gave me the most friendly
welcome, and reproached me in a friendly manner for not having shewn
myself the evening before. After that, he spoke again of his affairs, and
made me look at a heap of papers and documents; I found it very
wearisome.

"If you make up your mind to sign the three bills of exchange," he said,
"I will take you as a partner in my contract."

By this extraordinary mark of friendship, he was offering me--at least he
said so--an income of five thousand florins a year; but my only answer
was to beg that the matter should never be mentioned again. I was going
to take leave of him, when he said that he wished to introduce me to his
mother and sister.

He left the room, and came back with them. The mother was a respectable,
simple-looking woman, but the daughter was a perfect beauty; she
literally dazzled me. After a few minutes, the over-trustful mother
begged leave to retire, and her daughter remained. In less than half an
hour I was captivated; her perfection delighted me; her lively wit, her
artless reasoning, her candour, her ingenuousness, her natural and noble
feelings, her cheerful and innocent quickness, that harmony which arises
from beauty, wit, and innocence, and which had always the most powerful
influence over me--everything in fact conspired to make me the slave of
the most perfect woman that the wildest dreams could imagine.

Mdlle. C---- C---- never went out without her mother who, although very
pious, was full of kind indulgence. She read no books but her father's--a
serious man who had no novels in his library, and she was longing to read
some tales of romance. She had likewise a great wish to know Venice, and
as no one visited the family she had never been told that she was truly a
prodigy of beauty. Her brother was writing while I conversed with her, or
rather answered all the questions which she addressed to me, and whic