wn to me."

"Then, my lord, farewell; we shall see each other again at Amsterdam."

I went down to the dining-roam, where, while dinner was being served, I
conversed with some officers. They asked me if I knew Prince Piccolomini,
to which I answered that he was not a prince but a count, and that it was
many years since I had seen him.

When the count and his fair wife (who only spoke Italian) came down, I
shewed them some polite attentions, and we then sat down to dinner.

EPISODE 13 -- HOLLAND AND GERMANY

CHAPTER X

Portrait of the Pretended Countess Piccolomini--Quarrel and
Duel--Esther and Her Father, M. D'O.--Esther Still Taken
with the Cabala--Piccolomini Forges a Bill of Exchange:
Results I Am Fleeced, and in Danger of Being Assassinated--
Debauch with the Two Paduan Girls--I Reveal A Great Secret
To Esther--I Bate the Rascally St. Germain; His Flight--
Manon Baletti Proves Faithless to Me; Her Letter Announcing
Her Marriage: My Despair--Esther Spends a Day With Me--
My Portrait and My Letters to Manon Get Into Esther's Hands--
I Pass a Day with Her--We Talk of Marrying Each Other

The so-called Countess Piccolomini was a fine example of the adventurers.
She was young, tall, well-made, had eyes full of fire, and skin of a
dazzling whiteness; not, however, that natural whiteness which delights
those who know the value of a satin skin and rose petals, but rather that
artificial fairness which is commonly to be seen at Rome on the faces of
courtezans, and which disgusts those who know how it is produced. She had
also splendid teeth, glorious hair as black as jet, and arched eyebrows
like ebony. To these advantages she added attractive manners, and there
was something intelligent about the way she spoke; but through all I saw
the adventuress peeping out, which made me detest her.

As she did not speak anything but Italian the countess had to play the
part of a mute at table, except where an English officer named Walpole
was concerned, who, finding her to his taste, set himself to amuse her. I
felt friendly disposed towards this Englishman, though my feelings were
certainly not the result of sympathy. If I had been blind or deaf Sir
James Walpole would have been totally indifferent to me, as what I felt
for him was the result of my observation.

Although I did not care for the countess, for all that I went up to her
room after dinner with the