ch consisted
of only six lines, but they were pregnant ones. She advised me never to
go to Turin, for if I went there she would find means to take vengeance
on me for the dastardly affront I had put upon her. She reproached me
with having put her to public shame, said I had dishonoured her, and
vowed she would never forgive me. I did not distress myself to any great
extent; I tore up the friendly missive, and after I had had my hair done
I went to the fountain.

Everybody flew at me for not having been at Madame Zeroli's supper. I
defended myself as best I could, but my excuses were rather tame, about
which I did not trouble myself. I was told that all was known, and this
amused me as I was aware that nothing was known. The marquis's mistress
took hold of my arm, and told me, without any circumlocution, that I had
the reputation of being inconstant, and by way of reply I observed
politely that I was wrongfully accused, but that if there was any ground
for the remark it was because I had never served so sweet a lady as
herself. She was flattered by my compliment, and I bit my lip when I
heard her ask in the most gracious manner why I did not breakfast
sometimes with the marquis.

"I was afraid of disturbing him," said I.

"How do you mean?"

"I should be interrupting him in his business."

"He has no business, and he would be delighted to see you. Come
to-morrow, he always breakfasts in my room."

This lady was the widow of a gentleman of quality; she was young,
undoubtedly pretty, and possessing in perfection the jargon of good
society; nevertheless, she did not attract me. After recently enjoying
the fair Zeroli, and finding my suit with the fair nun at the height of
its prosperity, I was naturally hard to please, and in plain words--I was
perfectly contented with my situation. For all that, I had foolishly
placed myself in such a position that I was obliged to give her to
understand that she had delighted me by her preference.

She asked the marquis if she could return to the inn.

"Yes," said he, "but I have some business in hand, and cannot come with
you."

"Would you be kind enough to escort me?" said she to me. I bowed in
assent.

On the way she told me that if Madame Zeroli were still there she would
not have dared to take my arm. I could only reply by equivocating, as I
had no wish to embark in a fresh intrigue. However, I had no choice; I
was obliged to accompany her to her room and sit down beside