at I had been perfectly
right. "Unfortunately," he added, "I am in love with one of his
daughters."
When we were in the midst of St. James's Park we saw them, and I could
not help laughing when I noticed Goudar with one of them on each side.
"How did you come to know these ladies?" said I.
"Their father the captain," he answered, "has sold me jewels; he
introduced me to them."
"Where did you leave our father?" asked one.
"In Hyde Park, after giving him a caning."
"You served him quite right."
The young Englishman was indignant to hear them approving my
ill-treatment of their father, and shook my hand and went away, swearing
to me that he would never be seen in their company again.
A whim of Goudar's, to which I was weak enough to consent, made me dine
with these miserable women in a tavern on the borders of London. The
rascally Goudar made them drunk, and in this state they told some
terrible truths about their pretended father. He did not live with them,
but paid them nocturnal visits in which he robbed them of all the money
they had earned. He was their pander, and made them rob their visitors
instructing them to pass it off as a joke if the theft was discovered.
They gave him the stolen articles, but he never said what he did with
them. I could not help laughing at this involuntary confession,
remembering what Goudar had said about Pocchini selling him jewels.
After this wretched meal I went away leaving the duty of escorting them
back to Goudar. He came and saw me the next day, and informed me that the
girls had been arrested and taken to prison just as they were entering
their house.
"I have just been to Pocchini's," said he, "but the landlord tells me he
has not been in since yesterday."
The worthy and conscientious Goudar added that he did not care if he
never saw him again, as he owed the fellow ten guineas for a watch, which
his daughters had probably stolen, and which was well worth double.
Four days later I saw him again, and he informed me that the rascal had
left London with a servant-maid, whom he had engaged at a registry office
where any number of servants are always ready to take service with the
first comer. The keeper of the office answers for their fidelity.
"The girl he has gone with is a pretty one, from what the man tells me,
and they have taken ship from London. I am sorry he went away before I
could pay him for the watch; I am dreading every moment to meet the
indivi
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