refuse us. Your misfortune really is your prettiness, if you were ugly
you would get twenty guineas fast enough. I would give you the money
myself, and the action would be put down to benevolence; whereas, as the
case stands, if I were to give you anything it would be thought that I
was actuated by the hope of favours to come, and I should be laughed at,
and deservedly, as a dupe."

I felt that this was the proper way to speak to the girl, whose eloquence
in pleading her cause was simply wonderful.

She did not reply to my oration, and I asked her how she came to know me.

"I saw you at Richmond with the Charpillon."

"She cost me two thousand guineas, and I got nothing for my money; but I
have profited by the lesson, and in future I shall never pay in advance."

Just then her mother called her, and, begging me to wait a moment, she
went into her room, and returned almost directly with the request that I
would come and speak to the invalid.

I found her sitting up in her bed; she looked about forty-five, and still
preserved traces of her former beauty; her countenance bore the imprint
of sadness, but had no marks of sickness whatsoever. Her brilliant and
expressive eyes, her intellectual face, and a suggestion of craft about
her, all bade me be on my guard, and a sort of false likeness to the
Charpillon's mother made me still more cautious, and fortified me in my
resolution to give no heed to the appeals of pity.

"Madam," I began, "what can I do for you?"

"Sir," she replied, "I have heard the whole of your conversations with my
daughters, and you must confess that you have not talked to them in a
very fatherly manner."

"Quite so, but the only part which I desire to play with them is that of
lover, and a fatherly style would not have been suitable to the part. If
I had the happiness of being their father, the case would be altered.
What I have said to your daughters is what I feel, and what I think most
likely to bring about the end I have in view. I have not the slightest
pretence to virtue, but I adore the fair sex, and now you and they know
the road to my purse. If they wish to preserve their virtue, why let
them; nobody will trouble them, and they, on their side, must not expect
anything from men. Good-bye, madam; you may reckon on my never addressing
your daughters again."

"Wait a moment, sir. My husband was the Count of----, and you see that my
daughters are of respectable birth."

"Have you not pit