ntry into a room in a house which does not belong to you."

"I had not the right, I confess, but if I had not taken it I could never
have had a certain proof of the perfidy of my mistress; and I should have
been obliged to continue supporting her, though she entertained other
lovers."

"The Corticelli pretends that you are her debtor, and not vice versa. She
says that the diamonds you have given another girl belong of right to
her, and that Madame d'Urfe, whom I have the honour to know, presented
her with them."

"She is a liar! And as you know Madame d'Urfe, kindly write to her (she
is at Lyons); and if the marchioness replies that I owe the wretched girl
anything, be sure that I will discharge the debt. I have a hundred
thousand francs in good banks of this town, and the money will be a
sufficient surety for the ear-rings I have disposed of."

"I am sorry that things have happened so."

"And I am very glad, as I have ridden myself of a burden that was hard to
bear."

Thereupon we bowed politely to one another, and I left the office.

At the French ambassador's ball I heard so much talk of my adventure that
at last I refused to reply to any more questions on the subject. The
general opinion was that the whole affair was a trifle of which I could
not honourably take any notice; but I thought myself the best judge of my
own honour, and was determined to take no notice of the opinions of
others. The Chevalier de Ville-Follet came up to me and said that if I
abandoned the Corticelli for such a trifle, he should feel obliged to
give me satisfaction. I shook his hand, saying,--

"My dear chevalier, it will be enough if you do not demand satisfaction
of me."

He understood how the land lay, and said no more about it; but not so his
sister, the Marchioness de Prie, who made a vigorous attack on me after
we had danced together. She was handsome, and might have been victorious
if she had liked, but luckily she did not think of exerting her power,
and so gained nothing.

Three days after, Madame de St. Giles, a great power in Turin, and a kind
of protecting deity to all actresses, summoned me to her presence by a
liveried footman. Guessing what she wanted, I called on her
unceremoniously in a morning coat. She received me politely, and began to
talk of the Corticelli affair with great affability; but I did not like
her, and replied dryly that I had had no hesitation in abandoning the
girl to the protection of the gall