I had a letter from the Florentine Madame Bregonci for her friend the Venetian Roccolini, who had left Venice to go and sing at the St. Petersburg Theatre, though she did not know a note of music, and had never appeared on the stage.  The empress laughed at her, and said she feared there was no opening in St. Petersburg for her peculiar talents, but the Roccolini, who was known as La Vicenza, was not the woman to lose heart for so small a check.  She became an intimate friend of a Frenchwoman named Prote, the wife of a merchant who lived with the chief huntsman.  She was at the same time his mistress and the confidante of his wife Maria Petrovna, who did not like her husband, and was very much obliged to the Frenchwoman for delivering her from the conjugal importunities.

This Prote was one of the handsomest women I have ever seen, and undoubtedly the handsomest in St. Petersburg at that time.  She was in the flower of her age.  She had at once a wonderful taste for gallantry and for all the mysteries of the toilette.  In dress she surpassed everyone, and as she was witty and amusing she captivated all hearts.  Such was the woman whose friend and procuress La Vicenza had become.  She received the applications of those who were in love with Madame Prote, and passed them on, while, whether a lover’s suit was accepted or not, the procuress got something out of him.

I recognized Signora Roccolini as soon as I saw her, but as twenty years had elapsed since our last meeting she did not wonder at my appearing not to know her, and made no efforts to refresh my memory.  Her brother was called Montellato, and he it was who tried to assassinate me one night in St. Mark’s Square, as I was leaving the Ridotto.  The plot that would have cost me my life, if I had not made my escape from the window, was laid in the Roccolini’s house.

She welcomed me as a fellow-countryman in a strange land, told me of her struggles, and added that now she had an easy life of it, and associated with the pleasantest ladies in St. Petersburg.

“I am astonished that you have not met the fair Madame Prote at the chief huntsman’s, for she is the darling of his heart.  Come and take coffee with me to-morrow, and you shall see a wonder.”

I kept the appointment, and I found the lady even more beautiful than the Venetian’s praises of her had led me to expect.  I was dazzled by her beauty, but not being a rich man I felt that I must set my wits to work if I wanted to enjoy her.  I asked her name, though I knew it quite well, and she replied, “Prote.”

“I am glad to hear it, madam,” said I, “for you thereby promise to be mine.”

“How so?” said she, with a charming smile.  I explained the pun, and made her laugh.  I told her amusing stories, and let her know the effect that her beauty had produced on me, and that I hoped time would soften her heart to me.  The acquaintance was made, and thenceforth I never went to Narischkin’s without calling on her, either before or after dinner.