could not draw back.

I left Esther to call on Rigerboos, whom I thanked for his offices on my
behalf with the chief of the police. He told me that I had nothing to
fear from Piccolomini in Holland, but all the same he advised me not to
go about without pistols. "I am on the eve of embarking for Batavia,"
said he, "in a vessel which I have laden with the ruins of my fortune. In
the state my affairs are in I thought this the best plan. I have not
insured the cargo, so as not diminish my profits, which will be
considerable if I succeed. If the ship is taken or wrecked I shall take
care not to survive its loss; and after all I shall not lose much."

Poor Riberboos said all this as if he were jesting, but despair had no
doubt a good deal to do with his resolve, since it is only in great
misery that we despise both life and fortune. The charming Therese
Trenti, whom Rigerboos always spoke of as Our Lady, had contributed to
his ruin in no small degree. She was then in London, where, by her own
account, she was doing well. She had exchanged the name of Trenti for
that of Cornelis, or Cornely, which, as I found out afterwards, was
Rigerboo's real name. We spent an hour in writing to this curious woman,
as we desired to take advantage of the circumstance that a man whom
Rigerboos desired to commend to her was shortly going to England. When we
had finished we went sleighing on the Amstel, which had been frozen over
for several days. This diversion, of which the Dutch are very fond, is,
to my thinking, the dullest imaginable, for an objectless journey is no
pleasure to me. After we were well frozen we went to eat oysters, with
Sillery, to warm ourselves again, and after that we went from one casino
to another, not intending to commit any debauchery, but for want of
something better to do; but it seemed decreed that whenever I preferred
any amusement of this kind to the charms of Esther's society I should
come to grief.

I do not know how it happened, but as we were going into one of these
casinos Rigerboos called me loudly by my name, and at that instant a
woman, such as one usually finds in these places, came forward and began
to gaze at me. Although the room was ill enough lighted I saw it was the
wretched Lucie, whom I had met a year before without her recognizing me.
I turned away, pretending not to know her, for the sight of her was
disagreeable to me, but in a sad voice she called me by my name,
congratulating me on my pro