sense she had decided on,
and I felt obliged to write M. de Chavigni a letter in which love,
sentiment, and philosophy were mingled. I did not conceal from him that I
loved the woman whom Lebel coveted to distraction, but I said that as a
man of honour I would rather die than deprive my sweetheart of such solid
advantages.

My letter delighted the housekeeper, for she was anxious to know what the
ambassador thought of the affair, which needed much reflection.

I got on the same day the letters of introduction I had asked Madame
d'Urfe to give me, and I determined, to the joy of my dear Dubois, to set
out for Lausanne. But we must hark back a little.

When one is sincerely in love, one thinks the beloved object full of
deserts, and the mind, the dupe of the feelings, thinks all the world
jealous of its bliss.

A. M. de F----, member of the Council of the Two Hundred, whom I had met
at Madame de la Saone's, had become my friend. He came to see me and I
introduced him to my dear Dubois, whom he treated with the same
distinction he would have used towards my wife. He had presented us to
his wife, and had come several times to see us with her and her daughter
Sara. Sara was only thirteen, but she was extremely precocious, dark
complexioned, and full of wit; she was continually uttering naivetes, of
which she understood the whole force, although looking at her face one
would have thought her perfectly innocent. She excelled in the art of
making her father and mother believe in her innocence, and thus she
enjoyed plenty of liberty.

Sara had declared that she was in love with my housekeeper, and as her
parents laughed at her she lavished her caresses on my dear Dubois. She
often came to breakfast with us, and when she found us in bed she would
embrace my sweetheart, whom she called her wife, passing her hand over
the coverlet to tickle her, telling her that she was her wife, and that
she wanted to have a child. My sweetheart laughed and let her go on.

One day I told her jokingly that she would make me jealous, that I
thought she really was a man, and that I was going to make sure. The sly
little puss told me that I was making a mistake, but her hand seemed
rather to guide mine than to oppose it. That made me curious, and my mind
was soon set at rest as to her sex. Perceiving that she had taken me in
and got exactly what she wanted, I drew back my hand, and imparted my
suspicions to my housekeeper, who said I was right.