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make my life miserable by a marriage with a man whom I do not love, while
I do love another."

"Another! Who is the fortunate mortal to whom you have given your heart's
treasure?"

"I do not know if my loved one is fortunate. My lover is a Venetian, and
my mother knows of it; but she says that I should not be happy, that he
is not worthy of me."

"Your mother is a strange woman, always crossing your affections."

"I cannot be angry with her. She may possibly be wrong, but she certainly
loves me. She would rather that I should marry M. Farsetti, who would be
very glad to have me, but I detest him."

"Has he made a declaration in terms?"

"He has, and all the marks of contempt I have given him seem to have no
effect."

"He clings hard to hope; but the truth is you have fascinated him."

"Possibly, but I do not think him susceptible of any tender or generous
feeling. He is a visionary; surly, jealous, and envious in his
disposition. When he heard me expressing myself about you in the manner
you deserve, he had the impudence to say to my mother before my face that
she ought not to receive you."

"He deserves that I should give him a lesson in manners, but there are
other ways in which he may be punished. I shall be delighted to serve you
in any way I can."

"Alas! if I could only count on your friendship I should be happy."

The sigh with which she uttered these words sent fire through my veins,
and I told her that I was her devoted slave; that I had fifty thousand
crowns which were at her service, and that I would risk my life to win
her favours. She replied that she was truly grateful to me, and as she
threw her arms about my neck our lips met, but I saw that she was
weeping, so I took care that the fire which her kisses raised should be
kept within bounds. She begged me to come and see her often, promising
that as often as she could manage it we should be alone. I could ask no
more, and after I had promised to come and dine with them on the morrow,
we parted.

I passed an hour in walking behind her, enjoying my new position of
intimate friend, and I then returned to my Little Poland. It was a short
distance, for though I lived in the country I could get to any part of
Paris in a quarter of an hour. I had a clever coachman, and capital
horses not used to being spared. I got them from the royal stables, and
as soon as I lost one I got another from the same place, having to pay
two hundred francs. This hap