it right to congratulate me, but her fortune would have been established on a firmer basis than mine if she had followed a prudent line of conduct.  She unfortunately indulged in numerous caprices with which my readers will become acquainted.  She was an excellent musician, but her fortune was not altogether owing to her talent; her charms had done more for her than anything else.  She told me her adventures, very likely with some restrictions, and we parted after a conversation of two hours.  She invited me to breakfast for the following day.  She told me that the margrave had her narrowly watched, but being an old acquaintance I was not likely to give rise to any suspicion; that is the aphorism of all women addicted to gallantry.  She added that I could, if I liked, see her that same evening in her box, and that M. Papafava, who was her god-father, would be glad to see me.  I called at her house early the next morning, and I found her in bed with her son, who, thanks to the principles in which he had been educated, got up and left the room as soon as he saw me seated near his mother’s bed.  I spent three hours with her, and I recollect that the last was delightful; the reader will know the consequence of that pleasant hour later.  I saw her a second time during the fortnight she passed in Venice, and when she left I promised to pay her a visit in Bayreuth, but I never kept my promise.

I had at that time to attend to the affairs of my posthumous brother, who had, as he said, a call from Heaven to the priesthood, but he wanted a patrimony.  Although he was ignorant and devoid of any merit save a handsome face, he thought that an ecclesiastical career would insure his happiness, and he depended a great deal upon his preaching, for which, according to the opinion of the women with whom he was acquainted, he had a decided talent.  I took everything into my hands, and I succeeded in obtaining for him a patrimony from M. Grimani, who still owed us the value of the furniture in my father’s house, of which he had never rendered any account.  He transferred to him a life-interest in a house in Venice, and two years afterwards my brother was ordained.  But the patrimony was only fictitious, the house being already mortgaged; the Abbe Grimani was, however, a kind Jesuit, and those sainted servants of God think that all is well that ends well and profitably to themselves.  I shall speak again of my unhappy brother whose destiny became involved with mine.

Two days had passed since I had paid my visit to P——­ C——­, when I met him in the street.  He told me that his sister was constantly speaking of me, that she quoted a great many things which I had told her, and that his mother was much pleased at her daughter having made my acquaintance.  “She would be a good match for you,” he added, “for she will have a dowry of ten thousand ducats.  If you will call on me to-morrow, we will take coffee with my mother and sister.”

I had promised myself never again to enter his house, but I broke my word.  It is easy enough for a man to forget his promises under such circumstances.