hree weeks ago.

I had no need to make any mystery about the young lady I was going to
take with me, so I sent Clairmont for her small trunk, and at eight
o'clock on the morning of my departure she waited on me at the count's. I
kissed the hand of the woman who had attempted my life, and thanked her
for her hospitality, to which I attributed the good reception I had had
at Milan. I then thanked the count, who said once more that he should
never cease to be grateful to me, and thus I left Milan on the 20th of
March, 1763. I never re-visited that splendid capital.

The young lady, whom out of respect for her and her family I called
Crosin, was charming. There was an air of nobility and high-bred reserve
about her which bore witness to her excellent upbringing. As I sat next
to her, I congratulated myself on my immunity from love of her, but the
reader will guess that I was mistaken. I told Clairmont that she was to
be called my niece, and to be treated with the utmost respect.

I had had no opportunity of conversing with her, so the first thing I did
was to test her intelligence, and though I had not the slightest
intention of paying my court to her, I felt that it would be well to
inspire her with friendship and confidence as far as I was concerned.

The scar which my late amours had left was still bleeding, and I was glad
to think that I should be able to restore the young Marseillaise to the
paternal hearth without any painful partings or vain regrets. I enjoyed
in advance my meritorious action, and I was quite vain to see my
self-restraint come to such a pitch that I was able to live in close
intimacy with a pretty girl without any other desire than that of
rescuing her from the shame into which she might have fallen if she had
traveled alone. She felt my kindness to her, and said,--

"I am sure M. de la Croix would not have abandoned me if he had not met
you at Milan."

"You are very charitable, but I am unable to share in your good opinion.
To my mind Croce has behaved in a rascally manner, to say the least of
it, for in spite of your many charms he had no right to count on me in
the matter. I will not say that he openly scorned you, since he might
have acted from despair; but I am sure he must have ceased to love you,
or he could never have abandoned you thus."

"I am sure of the contrary. He saw that he had no means of providing for
me, and he had to choose between leaving me and killing himself."

"Not at