It was now the beginning of the year 1758, and five years before, when I was at Padua, I fell in love with the eldest daughter, but a few months after, when we were at Venice, Madame X. C. V. thought good to exclude me from her family circle.  The insult which the mother put upon me was softened by the daughter, who wrote me a charming letter, which I love to read even now.  I may as well confess that my grief was the easier to bear as my time was taken up by my fair nun, M——­ M——­, and my dear C——­ C——.  Nevertheless, Mdlle.  X. C. V., though only fifteen, was of a perfect beauty, and was all the more charming in that to her physical advantages she joined those of a cultured mind.

Count Algarotti, the King of Prussia’s chamberlain, gave her lessons, and several young nobles were among her suitors, her preference apparently being given to the heir of the family of Memmo de St. Marcuola.  He died a year afterwards, while he was procurator.

My surprise at seeing this family at such a time and place may be imagined.  Mdlle.  X. C. V. saw me directly, and pointed me out to her mother, who made a sign to me with her fan to come to their box.

She received me in the friendliest manner possible, telling me that we were not at Venice now, and that she hoped I would often come and see them at the “Hotel de Bretagne,” in the Rue St. Andre des Arts.  I told them that I did not wish to recall any events which might have happened at Venice, and her daughter having joined her entreaties to those of her mother, I promised to accept their invitation.

Mdlle.  X. C. V. struck me as prettier than ever; and my love, after sleeping for five years, awoke to fresh strength and vigour.  They told me that they were going to pass six months at Paris before returning to Venice.  In return I informed them that I intended making Paris my home, that I had just left Holland, that I was going to Versailles the next day, so that I could not pay my respects to them till the day after.  I also begged them to accept my services, in a manner which let them know I was a person of some importance.

Mdlle.  X. C. V. said that she was aware that the results of my Dutch mission should render me dear to France, that she had always lived in hopes of seeing me once more, that my famous flight from The Leads had delighted them; “for,” she added, “we have always been fond of you.”

“I fancy your mother has kept her fondness for me very much to herself,” I whispered to her.

“We won’t say anything about that,” said she in the same tone.  “We learnt all the circumstances of your wonderful flight from a letter of sixteen pages you wrote to M. Memmo.  We trembled with joy and shuddered with fear as we read it.”

“How did you know I have been in Holland?”

“M. de la Popeliniere told us about it yesterday.”

M. de la Popeliniere, the fermier-general, whom I had known seven years ago at Passi, came into the box just as his name was spoken.  After complimenting me he said that if I could carry through the same operation for the India Company my fortune would be made.