Majestic Carriage. The Little
Girl's name--she was now about Eighteen years old--was Lilias, and she
was the only one. As she had a marvellous turn for Dancing, old Mr.
Lovell had (in the stress of his Affairs) allowed her to be hired at the
Opera House, where she received no less than a Hundred Ecus a month; but
he knew too well what mettle Gentlemen of the King's Chamber and
Musqueteers of the Guard were made of; and every night after the
Performance he came down to the Theatre to fetch her--his Hat fiercely
cocked, and his long Sword under his arm. So that none dared follow or
molest her. And I question even, if he had heard of the Ambassador's
offer, whether the old Gentleman would not have demanded Satisfaction
from his Excellency for that slight.

When I discovered that this dear little Creature, who was as fair as her
name and as good as gold, was my Countrywoman, I made bold to tell her
that I was English too; whereupon she Laughed, and in her sweet manner
expressed her wonder that I had come to be playing a Fury at the French
Opera House. I chose to keep my Belongings private for the nonce; so the
old Gentleman, treating me as an honest fellow of Low Degree, presented
me with ten Livres, which I accepted, nothing loth, and the Theatre
People even made a purse for me amounting to Fifty more. So that I got
as rich as a Jew, and was much in favour with my Landlord. But, better
than all, the Little Girl, as I was her Preserver, insisted that I
should be her Protector too; and old Mr. Lovell being laid up very bad
with the rheumatism, I was often privileged to attend her home after the
Theatre, walking respectfully a couple of paces behind her, and grasping
a stout Cudgel. Father and Daughter lived in the Impasse Mauvaise
Langue, Rue des Moineaux, behind St. Rogue's Church; and often when I
had got my precious charge home, she would press me to stop to supper,
the which I took very humbly at a side table, and listened to the
stories of old Mr. Lovell (who was very garrulous) about the Forty-five.
"Bless his old heart," thought I; "I could tell him something about the
Forty-five that would astonish him."

'Twas one night after leaving the Impasse Mauvaise Langue that, feeling
both cold and dry, I turned into a Tavern that was open late, for a
measure of Hot Spiced Wine, as a Night-cap. There was no one there,
beyond the People of the House, save a man in a Drugget coat, a green
velveteen Waistcoat, red plush Nether