n I got to Dunkirk, the day after I left Paris, the first person I saw
was the merchant S----, the husband of that Therese whom my readers may
remember, the niece of Tiretta's mistress, with whom I had been in love
seven years ago. The worthy man recognized me, and seeing his
astonishment at the change in my appearance I told him I was recovering
from a long illness, and then asked after his wife.

"She is wonderfully well," he answered, "and I hope we shall have the
pleasure of seeing you to dinner tomorrow."

I said I wanted to be off at day-break, but he would not hear of it, and
protested he would be quite hurt if I went away without seeing his wife
and his three children. At last I appeased him by saying that we would
sup together.

My readers will remember that I had been on the point of marrying
Therese, and this circumstance made me ashamed of presenting myself to
her in such a sorry plight.

In a quarter of an hour the husband arrived with his wife and three
children, the eldest of whom looked, about six. After the usual greetings
and tiresome enquiries after my health, Therese sent back the two younger
children, rightly thinking that the eldest would be the only one in whom
I should take any interest. He was a charming boy; and as he was exactly
like his mother, the worthy merchant had no doubts as to the parentage of
the child.

I laughed to myself at finding my offspring thus scattered all over
Europe. At supper Therese gave me news of Tiretta. He had entered the
Dutch East India Company's service, but having been concerned in a revolt
at Batavia, he had only escaped the gallows by flight--I had my own
thoughts as to the similarity between his destiny and mine, but I did not
reveal them. After all it is an easy enough matter for an adventurous
man, who does not look where he is going, to get hanged for a mere
trifle.

The next day, when I got to Tournay, I saw some grooms walking fine
horses up and down, and I asked to whom they belonged.

"'To the Comte de St. Germain, the adept, who has been here a month, and
never goes out. Everybody who passes through the place wants to see him;
but he is invisible."

This was enough to give me the same desire, so I wrote him a letter,
expressing my wish to speak to him, and asking him to name an hour. His
reply, which I have preserved, ran as follows:

"The gravity of my occupation compels me to exclude everyone, but you are
an exception. Come whenever you li