About a month before, a girl from Brussels, as excellent as she was pretty, had been married under my auspices to an Italian named Gaetan, by trade a broker.  This fellow, in his fit of jealousy, used to ill-treat her shamefully; I had reconciled them several times already, and they regarded me as a kind of go-between.  They came to see me on the day on which I was making my preparations for going to Holland.  My brother and Tiretta were with me, and as I was still living in furnished apartments I took them all to Laudel’s, where they gave one an excellent dinner.  Tiretta, drove his coach-and-four; he was ruining his ex-methodist, who was still desperately in love with him.

In the course of dinner Tiretta, who was always in high spirits and loved a jest, began to flirt with the girl, whom he saw for the first time.  She, who neither meant nor suspected any ill, was quite at her ease, and we should have enjoyed the joke, and everything would have gone on pleasantly, if her husband had possessed some modicum of manners and common sense, but he began to get into a perfect fury of jealousy.  He ate nothing, changed colour ten times in a minute, and looked daggers at his wife, as much as to say he did not see the joke.  To crown all, Tiretta began to crack jests at the poor wretch’s expense, and I, foreseeing unpleasantness, endeavoured, though all in vain, to moderate his high spirits and his sallies.  An oyster chanced to fall on Madame Gaetan’s beautiful breast; and Tiretta, who was sitting near her, took it up with his lips as quick as lightning.  Gaetan was mad with rage and gave his wife such a furious box on the ear that his hand passed on from her cheek to that of her neighbour.  Tiretta now as enraged as Gaetan took him by his middle and threw him down, where, having no arms, he defended himself with kicks and fisticuffs, till the waiter came, and we put him out of the room.

The poor wife in tears, and, like Tiretta, bleeding at the nose, besought me to take her away somewhere, as she feared her husband would kill her if she returned to him.  So, leaving Tiretta with my brother, I got into a carriage with her and I took her, according to her request, to her kinsman, an old attorney who lived in the fourth story of a house in the Quai de Gevres.  He received us politely, and after having heard the tale, he said,

“I am a poor man, and I can do nothing for this unfortunate girl; while if I had a hundred crowns I could do everything.”

“Don’t let that stand in your way,” said I, and drawing three hundred francs from my pockets I gave him the money.

“Now, sir,” said he, “I will be the ruin of her husband, who shall never know where his wife is.”

She thanked me and I left her there; the reader shall hear what became of her when I return from my journey.

On my informing Madame d’Urfe that I was going to Holland for the good of France, and that I should be coming back at the beginning of February, she begged me to take charge of some shares of hers and to sell them for her.  They amounted in value to sixty thousand francs, but she could not dispose of them on the Paris Exchange owing to the tightness in the money market.  In addition, she could not obtain the interest due to her, which had mounted up considerably, as she had not had a dividend for three years.