was devoid of prejudices, and
fond of women, good cheer, and heavy play, and knew how to keep an even
mind both in good and evil fortune. We were mutually pleased to see each
other again.

Another guest, a certain Baron de St. Heleine from Savoy, had a pretty
but very insignificant wife. The baron, a fat man, was a gamester, a
gourmand, and a lover of wine; add that he was a past master in the art
of getting into debt and lulling his creditors into a state of false
security, and you have all his capacities, for in all other respects he
was a fool in the fullest sense of the word. An aide-decamp and the
prince's mistress also dined with us. This mistress, who was pale, thin,
and dreamy-looking, but also pretty, might be twenty years old. She
hardly ate anything, saying that she was ill and did not like anything on
the table. Discontent shewed itself on her every feature. The prince
endeavoured, but all in vain, to make her eat and drink, she refused
everything disdainfully. The prince laughed good-humouredly at her in
such a manner as not to wound her feelings.

We spent two hours pleasantly enough at table, and after coffee had been
served, the prince, who had business, shook me by the hand and left me
with Campioni, telling me always to regard his table as my last resource.

This old friend and fellow-countryman took me to his house to introduce
me to his wife and family. I did not know that he had married a second
time. I found the so-called wife to be an Englishwoman, thin, but full of
intelligence. She had a daughter of eleven, who might easily have been
taken for fifteen; she, too, was marvellously intelligent, and danced,
sang, and played on the piano and gave such glances that shewed that
nature had been swifter than her years. She made a conquest of me, and
her father congratulated me to my delight, but her mother offended her
dreadfully by calling her baby.

I went for a walk with Campioni, who gave me a good deal of information,
beginning with himself.

"I have lived for ten years," he said, "with that woman. Betty, whom you
admired so much, is not my daughter, the others are my children by my
Englishwoman. I have left St. Petersburg for two years, and I live here
well enough, and have pupils who do me credit. I play with the prince,
sometimes winning and sometimes losing, but I never win enough to enable
me to satisfy a wretched creditor I left at St. Petersburg, who
persecutes me on account of a bill of