r 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-