her husband Denis
was with her, and they told me that the king had banished him because he
ill-treated her.

I called on her the day after the performance, and was politely received,
but she said she did not think she had had the pleasure of seeing me
before.

By degrees I told her of the events of her childhood, and how she
enchanted all Venice by the grace with which she danced the minuet. She
interrupted me by saying that at that time she was only six years old.

"You could not be more," I replied, "for I was only ten; and
nevertheless, I fell in love with you, and never have I forgotten the
kiss you gave me by your father's order in return for some trifling
present I made you."

"Be quiet; you gave me a beautiful ring, and I kissed you of my own free
will. You wore the cassock then. I have never forgotten you. But can it
really be you?"

"It is indeed."

"I am delighted to see you again. But I could never have recognized you,
and I suppose you would not have recognized me."

"No, I should not have known you, unless I had heard your name
mentioned."

"One alters in twenty years, you know."

"Yes, one cannot expect to have the same face as at six."

"You can bear witness that I am not more than twenty-six, though some
evil speakers give me ten years more."

"You should not take any notice of such calumnies, my dear. You are in
the flower of your age, and made for the service of love. For my part, I
congratulate myself on being able to tell you that you are the first
woman that inspired me with a real passion."

We could not help becoming affectionate if we continued to keep up the
conversation in this style, but experience had taught us that it was well
to remain as we were for the present.

Madame Denis was still fresh and youthful looking, though she persisted
in abbreviating her age by ten years. Of course she could not deceive me,
and she must have known it, nevertheless, she liked me to bear outward
testimony to her youthfulness. She would have detested me if I had
attempted to prove to her what she knew perfectly well, but did not care
to confess. No doubt she cared little for my thoughts on the subject, and
she may have imagined that I owed her gratitude for diminishing her age,
as it enabled me to diminish my own to make our tales agree. However, I
did not trouble myself much about it, for it is almost a duty in an
actress to disguise her age, as in spite of talent the public will not
forgive