sador. I called on M. Corti, the banker to whom I was accredited,
and he soon got me a furnished house with a garden, which I took for six
months. The Renaud liked it immensely.

No one had yet arrived at Augsburg. The Renaud contrived to make me feel
that I should be lonely at Augsburg without her, and succeeded in
persuading me to come with her to Munich. We put up at the "Stag," and
made ourselves very comfortable, while Desarmoises went to stay somewhere
else. As my business and that of my new mate had nothing in common, I
gave her a servant and a carriage to herself, and made myself the same
allowance.

The Abbe Gama had given me a letter from the Commendatore Almada for Lord
Stormont, the English ambassador at the Court of Bavaria. This nobleman
being then at Munich I hastened to deliver the letter. He received me
very well, and promised to do all he could as soon as he had time, as
Lord Halifax had told him all about it. On leaving his Britannic
Lordship's I called on M. de Folard, the French ambassador, and gave him
a letter from M. de Choiseul. M. de Folard gave me a hearty welcome, and
asked me to dine with him the next day, and the day after introduced me
to the Elector.

During the four fatal weeks I spent at Munich, the ambassador's house was
the only one I frequented. I call these weeks fatal, and with reason, for
in then I lost all my money, I pledged jewels (which I never recovered)
to the amount of forty thousand francs, and finally I lost my health. My
assassins were the Renaud and Desarmoises, who owed me so much and paid
me so badly.

The third day after my arrival I had to call on the Dowager Electress of
Saxony. It was my brother-in-law, who was in her train, that made me go,
by telling me that it must be done, as she knew me and had been enquiring
for me. I had no reason to repent of my politeness in going, as the
Electress gave me a good reception, and made me talk to any extent. She
was extremely curious, like most people who have no employment, and have
not sufficient intelligence to amuse themselves.

I have done a good many foolish things in the course of my existence. I
confess it as frankly as Rousseau, and my Memoirs are not so egotistic as
those of that unfortunate genius; but I never committed such an act of
folly as I did when I went to Munich, where I had nothing to do. But it
was a crisis in my life. My evil genius had made me commit one folly
after another since I left Turin. Th