ting the
prosecution of my studies, which I found useful. Unhappily, this weakly
body contained a very feeling soul. Some years after, he was chagrined
by I know not what unlucky affair, but it cost him his life. This was
really unfortunate, for he was a good little man, whom at a first
acquaintance one laughed at, but afterwards loved. Though our situations
in life were very little connected with each other, as I received some
useful lessons from him, I thought gratitude demanded that I should
dedicate a few sentences to his memory.

As soon as I found myself at liberty, I ran into the street where
Mademoiselle Galley lived, flattering myself that I should see someone go
in or out, or at least open a window, but I was mistaken, not even a cat
appeared, the house remaining as close all the time as if it had been
uninhabited. The street was small and lonely, any one loitering about
was, consequently, more likely to be noticed; from time to time people
passed in and out of the neighborhood; I was much embarrassed, thinking
my person might be known, and the cause that brought me there
conjectured; this idea tortured me, for I have ever preferred the honor
and happiness of those I love to my own pleasures.

At length, weary of playing the Spanish lover, and having no guitar,
I determined to write to Mademoiselle de G----. I should have preferred
writing to her friend, but did not dare take that liberty, as it appeared
more proper to begin with her to whom I owed the acquaintance, and with
whom I was most familiar. Having written my letter, I took it to
Mademoiselle Giraud, as the young ladies had agreed at parting, they
having furnished me with this expedient. Mademoiselle Giraud was a
quilter, and sometimes worked at Madam Galley's, which procured her free
admission to the house. I must confess, I was not thoroughly satisfied
with this messenger, but was cautious of starting difficulties, fearing
that if I objected to her no other might be named, and it was impossible
to intimate that she had an inclination to me herself. I even felt
humiliated that she should think I could imagine her of the same sex as
those young ladies: in a word, I accepted her agency rather than none,
and availed myself of it at all events.

At the very first word, Giraud discovered me. I must own this was not a
difficult matter, for if sending a letter to young girls had not spoken
sufficiently plain, my foolish embarrassed air would ha