hear myself greeted by one of them, who said,--

"It is M. the Chevalier de Seingalt."

"Himself, mademoiselle, and sorely grieved at your misfortune."

"Be kind enough to come in again for a moment."

"I am sorry to say that I have an important engagement."

"I will not keep you for longer than a quarter of an hour."

I could not refuse so small a favour, and she employed the time in
telling me how unfortunate they had been in Hanover, how they had come to
London to obtain compensation, of their failure, their debts, the cruelty
of the landlord, their mother's illness, the prison that awaited her, the
likelihood of their being cast into the street, and the cruelty of all
their acquaintances.

"We have nothing to sell, and all our resources consist of two shillings,
which we shall have to spend on bread, on which we live."

"Who are your friends? How can they abandon you at such a time?"

She mentioned several names--among others, Lord Baltimore, Marquis
Carracioli, the Neapolitan ambassador, and Lord Pembroke.

"I can't believe it," said I, "for I know the two last noblemen to be
both rich and generous. There must be some good reason for their conduct,
since you are beautiful; and for these gentlemen beauty is a bill to be
honoured on sight."

"Yes, there is a reason. These rich noblemen abandon us with contempt.
They refuse to take pity on us because we refuse to yield to their guilty
passion."

"That is to say, they have taken a fancy to you, and as you will not have
pity on them they refuse to have pity on you. Is it not so?"

"That is exactly the situation."

"Then I think they are in the right."

"In the right?"

"Yes, I am quite of their opinion. We leave you to enjoy your sense of
virtue, and we spend our money in procuring those favours which you
refuse us. Your misfortune really is your prettiness, if you were ugly
you would get twenty guineas fast enough. I would give you the money
myself, and the action would be put down to benevolence; whereas, as the
case stands, if I were to give you anything it would be thought that I
was actuated by the hope of favours to come, and I should be laughed at,
and deservedly, as a dupe."

I felt that this was the proper way to speak to the girl, whose eloquence
in pleading her cause was simply wonderful.

She did not reply to my oration, and I asked her how she came to know me.

"I saw you at Richmond with the Charpillon."

"She cost me two thousand