The Corticelli burst into tears, but I was not so cruel as to send her away without any consolation.  Her bad conduct had been severely enough punished already.  I made her dine with me, and as I gave her the letter for M. Raiberti, and twenty-five Louis for the journey, I told her what I had written to the gentleman, who would take good care of them.  She asked me for a trunk containing three dresses and a superb mantle which Madame d’Urfe had given her before she became mad, but I said that we would talk of that at Turin.  She dared not mention the casket, but continued weeping; however, she did not move me to pity.  I left her much better off than when I first knew her; she had good clothes, good linen, jewels, and an exceedingly pretty watch I had given her; altogether a good deal more than she deserved.

As she was going I escorted her to the carriage, less for politeness’ sake than to commend her once more to the coachman.  When she was fairly gone I felt as if a load had been taken off my back, and I went to look up my worthy syndic, whom the reader will not have forgotten.  I had not written to him since I was in Florence, and I anticipated the pleasure of seeing his surprise, which was extreme.  But after gazing at me for a moment he threw his arms round my neck, kissed me several times, and said he had not expected the pleasure of seeing me.

“How are our sweethearts getting on?”

“Excellently.  They are always talking about you and regretting your absence; they will go wild with joy when they know you are here.”

“You must tell them directly, then.”

“I will go and warn them that we shall all sup together this evening.  By the way, M. de Voltaire has given up his house at Delices to M. de Villars, and has gone to live at Ferney.”

“That makes no difference to me, as I was not thinking of calling on him this time.  I shall be here for two or three weeks, and I mean to devote my time to you.”

“You are too good.”

“Will you give me writing materials before you go out?  I will write a few letters while you are away.”

He put me in possession of his desk, and I wrote to my late housekeeper, Madame Lebel, telling her that I was going to spend three weeks at Geneva, and that if I were sure of seeing her I would gladly pay a visit to Lausanne.  Unfortunately, I also wrote to the bad Genoese poet, Ascanio Pogomas, or Giaccomo Passano, whom I had met at Leghorn.  I told him to go to Turin and to wait for me there.  At the same time I wrote to M. F——­, to whom I had commended him, asking him to give the poet twelve Louis for the journey.

My evil genius made me think of this man, who was an imposing-looking fellow, and had all the air of a magician, to introduce him to Madame d’Urfe as a great adept.  You will see, dear reader, in the course of a year whether I had reason to repent of this fatal inspiration.

As the syndic and I were on our way to our young friend’s house I saw an elegant English carriage for sale, and I exchanged it for mine, giving the owner a hundred Louis as well.  While the bargain was going on the uncle of the young theologian who argued so well, and to whom I had given such pleasant lessons in physiology, came up to me, embraced me, and asked me to dine with him the next day.