“We will talk it over again”

In the three hours for which we talked together this woman did not once ask me how I was, whether I was comfortable, how long I intended to stay in London, or whether I had made much money.  In short she made no enquiries what ever about me, only saying with a smile, but not heedlessly,—­

“I never have a penny to spare.”

Her receipts amounted to more than twenty-four thousand pounds per annum, but her expenses were enormous and she had debts.

I avenged myself on her indifference by not saying a word about myself.  I was dresssed simply but neatly, and had not any jewellry or diamonds about my person.

I went to bed annoyed with her, but glad to have discovered the badness of her heart.  In spite of my longing to see my daughter I determined not to take any steps to meet her till the ensuing Sunday, when I was invited to dinner.

Early next morning I told Clairmont to pull all my goods and chattels in a carriage, and when all was ready I went to take leave of young Cornelis, telling him I was going to live in Pall Mall, and leaving him my address.

“You are not going to stay with me, then?” said he.

“No, your mother doesn’t know how to welcome or to treat me.”

“I think you are right.  I shall go back to Paris.”

“Don’t do anything so silly.  Remember that here you are at home, and that in Paris you might not find a roof to shelter you.  Farewell; I shall see you on Sunday.”

I was soon settled in my new house, and I went out to call on M. Zuccato, the Venetian ambassador.  I gave him M. Morosini’s letter, and he said, coldly, that he was glad to make my acquaintance.  When I asked him to present me at Court the insolent fool only replied with a smile, which might fairly be described as contemptuous.  It was the aristocratic pride coming out, so I returned his smile with a cold bow, and never set foot in his house again.

On leaving Zuccato I called on Lord Egremont, and finding him ill left my letter with the porter.  He died a few days after, so M. Morosini’s letters were both useless through no fault of his.  We shall learn presently what was the result of the little note.

I then went to the Comte de Guerchi, the French ambassador, with a letter from the Marquis Chauvelin, and I received a warm welcome.  This nobleman asked me to dine with him the following day, and told me that if I liked he would present me at Court after chapel on Sunday.  It was at that ambassador’s table that I made the acquaintance of the Chevalier d’Eon, the secretary of the embassy, who afterwards became famous.  This Chevalier d’Eon was a handsome woman who had been an advocate and a captain of dragoons before entering the diplomatic service; she served Louis XV. as a valiant soldier and a diplomatist of consummate skill.  In spite of her manly ways I soon recognized her as a woman; her voice was not that of a castrato, and her shape was too rounded to be a man’s.  I say nothing of the absence of hair on her face, as that might be an accident.