Among the
players was the famous, or rather infamous, Affisio, the friend of the
Duc de Deux-Ponts, whom the duke called his aide-decamp, and who was
known for the keenest rogue in the world.

I played every day, and as I often lost money on my word of honour, the
necessity of paying the next day often caused me the utmost anxiety. When
I had exhausted my credit with the bankers, I had recourse to the Jews
who require pledges, and in this Desarmoises and the Renaud were my
agents, the latter of whom ended by making herself mistress of all my
property. This was not the worst thing she did to me; for she, gave me a
disease, which devoured her interior parts and left no marks outwardly,
and was thus all the more dangerous, as the freshness of her complexion
seemed to indicate the most perfect health. In short, this serpent, who
must have come from hell to destroy me, had acquired such a mastery over
me that she persuaded me that she would be dishonoured if I called in a
doctor during our stay at Munich, as everybody knew that we were living
together as man and wife.

I cannot imagine what had become of my wits to let myself be so beguiled,
while every day I renewed the poison that she had poured into my veins.

My stay at Munich was a kind of curse; throughout that dreadful month I
seemed to have a foretaste of the pains of the damned. The Renaud loved
gaming, and Desarmoises was her partner. I took care not to play with
them, for the false marquis was an unmitigated cheat and often tricked
with less skill than impudence. He asked disreputable people to my house
and treated them at my expense; every evening scenes of a disgraceful
character took place.

The Dowager Electress mortified me extremely by the way she addressed me
on my last two visits to her.

"Everybody knows what kind of a life you lead here, and the way the
Renaud behaves, possibly without your knowing it. I advise you to have
done with her, as your character is suffering."

She did not know what a thraldom I was under. I had left Paris for a
month, and I had neither heard of Madame d'Urfe nor of Costa. I could not
guess the reason, but I began to suspect my Italian's fidelity. I also
feared lest my good Madame d'Urfe might be dead or have come to her
senses, which would have come to the same thing so far as I was
concerned; and I could not possibly return to Paris to obtain the
information which was so necessary both for calming my mind and refilling