I left Russia with the actress Valville, and I must here tell the reader how I came to make her acquaintance.

I happened to go to the French play, and to find myself seated next to an extremely pretty lady who was unknown to me.  I occasionally addressed an observation to her referring to the play or actors, and I was immensely delighted with her spirited answers.  Her expression charmed me, and I took the liberty of asking her if she were a Russian.

“No, thank God!” she replied, “I am a Parisian, and an actress by occupation.  My name is Valville; but I don’t wonder I am unknown to you, for I have been only a month here, and have played but once.”

“How is that?”

“Because I was so unfortunate as to fail to win the czarina’s favour.  However, as I was engaged for a year, she has kindly ordered that my salary of a hundred roubles shall be paid monthly.  At the end of the year I shall get my passport and go.”

“I am sure the empress thinks she is doing you a favour in paying you for nothing.”

“Very likely; but she does not remember that I am forgetting how to act all this time.”

“You ought to tell her that.”

“I only wish she would give me an audience.”

“That is unnecessary.  Of course, you have a lover.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“It’s incredible to me!”

“They say the incredible often happens.”

“I am very glad to hear it myself.”

I took her address, and sent her the following note the next day: 

“Madam,—­I should like to begin an intrigue with you.  You have inspired me with feelings that will make me unhappy unless you reciprocate them.  I beg to take the liberty of asking myself to sup with you, but please tell me how much it will cost me.  I am obliged to leave for Warsaw in the course of a month, and I shall be happy to offer you a place in my travelling carriage.  I shall be able to get you a passport.  The bearer of this has orders to wait, and I hope your answer will be as plainly worded as my question.”

In two hours I received this reply: 

“Sir,—­As I have the knack of putting an end to an intrigue when it has ceased to amuse me, I have no hesitation in accepting your proposal.  As to the sentiments with which you say I have inspired you, I will do my best to share them, and to make you happy.  Your supper shall be ready, and later on we will settle the price of the dessert.  I shall be delighted to accept the place in your carriage if you can obtain my expenses to Paris as well as my passport.  And finally, I hope you will find my plain speaking on a match with yours.  Good bye, till the evening.”

I found my new friend in a comfortable lodging, and we accosted each other as if we had been old acquaintances.

“I shall be delighted to travel with you,” said she, “but I don’t think you will be able to get my passport.”