Three days afterwards Laura came to me, told me that she was living in Venice, and asked me to take her to her daughter’s.  I owed this woman too much to refuse her, and I took her there forthwith.  Tonine gave thanks to God, and also to me, and her mother took up the song, for they were not quite sure whether they were more indebted to God or to me.  Tonine was eloquent in her praise of Murray, and made no complaint at my not having come to see her, at which I was glad.  As I was going Laura asked me to take her back in my gondola, and as we had to pass by the house in which she lived she begged me to come in for a moment, and I could not hurt her feelings by refusing.  I owe it to my honour to remark here that I was thus polite without thinking that I should see Barberine again.

This girl, as pretty as her sister, though in another style, began by awakening my curiosity—­a weakness which usually renders the profligate man inconstant.  If all women were to have the same features, the same disposition, and the same manners, men would not only never be inconstant, but would never be in love.  Under that state of things one would choose a wife by instinct and keep to her till death, but our world would then be under a different system to the present.  Novelty is the master of the soul.  We know that what we do not see is very nearly the same as what we have seen, but we are curious, we like to be quite sure, and to attain our ends we give ourselves as much trouble as if we were certain of finding some prize beyond compare.

Barberine, who looked upon me as an old friend—­for her mother had accustomed her to kiss my hand whenever I went there, who had undressed more than once in my presence without troubling about me, who knew I had made her sister’s fortune and the family fortune as well, and thought herself prettier than Tonine because her skin was fairer, and because she had fine black eyes, desiring to take her sister’s place, knew that to succeed she must take me by storm.  Her common sense told her that as I hardly ever came to the house, I should not be likely to become amorous of her unless she won me by storm; and to this end she shewed the utmost complaisance when she had the chance, so that I won her without any difficulty.  All this reasoning came from her own head, for I am sure her mother gave her no instructions.  Laura was a mother of a kind common the world over, but especially in Italy.  She was willing to take advantage of the earnings of her daughters, but she would never have induced them to take the path of evil.  There her virtue stopped short.

After I had inspected her two rooms and her little kitchen, and had admired the cleanness which shone all around, Barberine asked me if I would like to see their small garden.

“With pleasure,” I replied, “for a garden is a rarity in Venice.”

Her mother told her to give me some figs if there were any ripe ones.  The garden consisted of about thirty square feet, and grew only salad herbs and a fine fig tree.  It had not a good crop, and I told her that I could not see any figs.