r journey
to Calais. She told me she did not want to rejoin the Gascon, who was not
really her husband. We shall hear more of these persons in the course of
three years.

Two or three days later an Italian called on me, and gave me a letter
from my friend Baletti, which recommended the bearer, Constantini, a
native of Vicenza, to my good offices. He had come to London on a matter
of importance in which I could help him.

I assured M. Constantini that I was only too happy to do anything to
justify the confidence placed in my by one of my best friends, and he
said that the long journey had almost exhausted his purse; but he
added,--

"I know that my wife lives here, and that she is rich. I shall easily
find out where she lives, and you know that as I am her husband all that
is hers is mine."

"I was not aware of that."

"Then you don't know the laws of this country?"

"Not at all."

"I am sorry to hear it, but such is the case. I am going to her house,
and I shall turn her out of doors with nothing else than the dress on her
back, for the furniture, clothes, jewels, linen-in fact, all her
possessions, belong to me. May I ask you to be with me when I perform
this exploit?"

I was astonished. I asked him if he had told Baletti what he intended to
do.

"You are the first person to whom I have disclosed my intentions."

I could not treat him as a madman, for he did not look like one, and,
concluding that there really might be the law he had alleged, I replied
that I did not feel inclined to join him in his enterprise, of which I
disapproved very strongly, unless his wife had actually robbed him of
what she possessed.

"She has only robbed me of my honour, sir, and she left me, taking her
talents with her. She must have made a great fortune here, and have I not
a right to take it from her, were it only for vengeance sake?"

"That may be, but I ask you what you would think of me if I agreed to
join you in an undertaking which seems a cruel one to me, however good
your reasons may be. Besides I may know your wife, she may even be a
friend of mine."

"I will tell you her name."

"No, I beg of you not to do so, although I do not know any Madame
Constantini."

"She has changed her name to Calori, and she sings at the 'Haymarket.'"

"I know who she is now. I am sorry you have told me."

"I have no doubt you will keep my secret, and I am now going to find out
where she lives; for that is the principal thing."