Next day I heard from Madame d’Urfe, who enclosed a bill of exchange on Boaz for twelve thousand francs.  She said that she had bought her shares for sixty thousand, that she did not wish to make anything of them, and that she hoped I would accept the overplus as my broker’s fee.  She worded her offer with too much courtesy for me to refuse it.  The remainder of the letter was devoted to the wildest fancies.  She said that her genius had revealed to her that I should bring back to Paris a boy born of the Mystical Marriage, and she hoped I would take pity on her.  It was a strange coincidence, and seemed likely to attach the woman still more closely to her visionary theories.  I laughed when I though how she would be impressed by Therese’s son, who was certainly not born of the Mystical Marriage.

Boaz paid me my twelve thousand francs in ducats, and I made him my friend, as he thanked me for receiving the moneys in ducats, and he doubtless made a profit on the transaction, gold being a commodity in Holland, and all payments being made in silver or paper money.

At that time gold was at a low rate, and nobody would take ducats.

After having an excellent dinner with the Princesse de Galitzin, I put on my cloak and went to the cafe.  I found there the burgomaster’s son, who was just beginning a game of billiards.  He whispered to me that I might back him with advantage, and thinking he was sure of his stroke I thanked him and followed his advice.  However, after losing three games one after the other, I took his measure and began to lay against him without his knowledge.  After playing for three hours and losing all the time, he stopped play and came to condole with me on my heavy loss.  It is impossible to describe his amazed expression when I shewed him a handful of ducats, and assured him that I had spent a very profitable evening in laying against him.  Everybody in the room began to laugh at him, but he was the sort of young man who doesn’t understand a joke, and he went out in a rage.  Soon after I left the billiard-room myself, and, according to my promise went to see Therese, as I was leaving for Amsterdam the next day.

Therese was waiting for her young wine merchant, but on my recounting his adventures she expected him no longer.  I took my little daughter on my knee and lavished my caresses on her, and so left them, telling them that we should see each other again in the course of three weeks or a month at latest.

As I was going home in the moonlight by myself, my sword under my arm, I was encountered all of a sudden by the poor dupe of a burgomaster’s son.

“I want to know,” said he, “if your sword has as sharp a point as your tongue.”

I tried to quiet him by speaking common sense, and I kept my sword wrapped in my cloak, though his was bared and directed against me.

“You are wrong to take my jests in such bad part,” said I; “however, I apologize to you.”