in, and I thought myself
fortunate when Madame Riviere, anticipating my wishes, intimated to me
that my company as far as Paris would give them great pleasure. I had
nothing to say respecting the expenses of the journey. I had to accept
their offer in its entirety. My design was to settle in Paris, and I took
this stroke of fortune as an omen of success in the only town where the
blind goddess freely dispenses her favours to those who leave themselves
to be guided by her, and know how to take advantage of her gifts. And, as
the reader will see by and by, I was not mistaken; but all the gifts of
fortune were of no avail, since I abused them all by my folly. Fifteen
months under the Leads should have made me aware of my weak points, but
in point of fact I needed a little longer stay to learn how to cure
myself of my failings.

Madame Riviere wished to take me with her, but she could not put off her
departure, and I required a week's delay to get money and letters from
Venice. She promised to wait a week in Strassburg, and we agreed that if
possible I would join her there. She left Munich on the 18th of December.

Two days afterwards I got from Venice the bill of exchange for which I
was waiting. I made haste to pay my debts, and immediately afterwards I
started for Augsburg, not so much for the sake of seeing Father Balbi, as
because I wanted to make the acquaintance of the kindly dean who had rid
me of him. I reached Augsburg in seven hours after leaving Munich, and I
went immediately to the house of the good ecclesiastic. He was not in,
but I found Balbi in an abbe's dress, with his hair covered with white
powder, which set off in a new but not a pleasing manner the beauties of
his complexion of about the same colour as a horse chestnut. Balbi was
under forty, but he was decidedly ugly, having one of those faces in
which baseness, cowardice, impudence, and malice are plainly expressed,
joining to this advantage a tone of voice and manners admirably
calculated to repulse anyone inclined to do him a service. I found him
comfortably housed, well looked after, and well clad; he had books and
all the requisites for writing. I complimented him upon his situation,
calling him a fortunate fellow, and applying the same epithet to myself
for having gained him all the advantages he enjoyed, and the hope of one
day becoming a secular priest. But the ungrateful hound, instead of
thanking me, reproached me for having craftily rid mys