you are so cruel as to arouse my
passions and then leave me to despair."

"What could you have seen? I don't know what you are talking about."

"May be, but know that I have seen all your charms. What shall I do to
possess you?"

"To possess me? I don't understand you, sir; I'm an honest girl."

"I dare say; but you wouldn't be any less honest after making me happy.
Dear Redegonde, do not let me languish for you, but tell me my fate now
this instant."

"I do not know what to tell you, but you can come and see me whenever you
like."

"When shall I find you alone?"

"Alone! I am never alone."

"Well, well, that's of no consequence; if only your mother is present,
that comes to the same thing. If she is sensible, she will pretend not to
see anything, and I will give you a hundred ducats each time."

"You are either a madman, or you do not know what sort of people we are."

With these words she went on, and I proceeded to tell Therese what had
passed.

"Begin," said she, "by offering the hundred ducats to the mother, and if
she refuses, have no more to do with them, and go elsewhere."

I returned to the dressing-room, where I found the mother alone, and
without any ceremony spoke as follows:--

"Good evening, madam, I am a stranger here; I am only staying a week, and
I am in love with your daughter. If you like to be obliging, bring her to
sup with me. I will give you a hundred sequins each time, so you see my
purse is in your power."

"Whom do you think you are talking to, sir? I am astonished at your
impudence. Ask the townsfolk what sort of character I bear, and whether
my daughter is an honest girl or not! and you will not make such
proposals again."

"Good-bye, madam."

"Good-bye, sir."

As I went out I met Redegonde, and I told her word for word the
conversation I had had with her mother. She burst out laughing.

"Have I done well or ill?" said I.

"Well enough, but if you love me come and see me."

"See you after what your mother said?"

"Well, why not, who knows of it?"

"Who knows? You don't know me, Redegonde. I do not care to indulge myself
in idle hopes, and I thought I had spoken to you plainly enough."

Feeling angry, and vowing to have no more to do with this strange girl, I
supped with Therese, and spent three delightful hours with her. I had a
great deal of writing to do the next day and kept in doors, and in the
evening I had a visit from the young Corticelli, her mother and b