ople
going in and coming out I went in curious to know how these places were
managed in Holland. Great heavens! I found myself the witness of an orgy,
the scene a sort of cellar, a perfect cesspool of vice and debauchery.
The discordant noise of the two or three instruments which formed the
orchestra struck gloom to the soul and added to the horrors of the
cavern. The air was dense with the fumes of bad tobacco, and vapours
reeking of beer and garlic issued from every mouth. The company consisted
of sailors, men of the lowest-class, and a number of vile women. The
sailors and the dregs of the people thought this den a garden of delight,
and considered its pleasures compensation for the toils of the sea and
the miseries of daily labour. There was not a single woman there whose
aspect had anything redeeming about it. I was looking at the repulsive
sight in silence, when a great hulking fellow, whose appearance suggested
the blacksmith, and his voice the blackguard, came up to me and asked me
in bad Italian if I would like to dance. I answered in the negative, but
before leaving me he pointed out a Venetian woman who, he said, would
oblige me if I gave her some drink.

Wishing to discover if she was anyone I knew I looked at her attentively,
and seemed to recollect her features, although I could not decide who she
could be. Feeling rather curious on the subject I sat down next to her,
and asked if she came from Venice, and if she had left that country some
time ago.

"Nearly eighteen years," she replied.

I ordered a bottle of wine, and asked if she would take any; she said
yes, and added, if I liked, she would oblige me.

"I haven't time," I said; and I gave the poor wretch the change I
received from the waiter. She was full of gratitude, and would have
embraced me if I had allowed her.

"Do you like being at Amsterdam better than Venice?" I asked.

"Alas, no! for if I were in my own country I should not be following this
dreadful trade."

"How old were you when you left Venice."

"I was only fourteen and lived happily with my father and mother, who now
may have died of grief."

"Who seduced you?"

"A rascally footman."

"In what part of Venice did you live?"

"I did not live in Venice, but at Friuli, not far off."

Friuli . . . eighteen years ago . . . a footman . . . I felt moved, and
looking at the wretched woman more closely I soon recognized in her Lucie
of Pasean. I cannot describe my sorrow, which