enough; everybody ran away, with the
exception of my servant, who did not abandon me, and gave me as much
water as I wanted to drink. On the fourth day I had recovered my usual
good health.

That adventure amused all the idlers of Vienna for several days, and Abbe
Grosse-Tete assured me that if I had killed the poor surgeon, it would
not have gone any further, because all the witnesses present in my room
at the time would have declared that he wanted to use violence to bleed
me, which made it a case of legitimate self-defence. I was likewise told
by several persons that all the physicians in Vienna were of opinion that
if I had been bled I should have been a dead man; but if drinking water
had not saved me, those gentlemen would certainly not have expressed the
same opinion. I felt, however, that I had to be careful, and not to fall
ill in the capital of Austria, for it was likely that I should not have
found a physician without difficulty. At the opera, a great many persons
wished after that to make my acquaintance, and I was looked upon as a man
who had fought, pistol in hand, against death. A miniature-painter named
Morol, who was subject to indigestions and who was at last killed by one,
had taught me his system which was that, to cure those attacks, all that
was necessary was to drink plenty of water and to be patient. He died
because 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 o