The face is thus paramount, and hence it has come to be agreed that women’s bodies shall be covered and their faces disclosed; while men’s clothes are arranged in such a way that women can easily guess at what they cannot see.

This arrangement is undoubtedly to the advantage of women; art can conceal the imperfections of the face, and even make it appear beautiful, but no cosmetic can dissemble an ugly breast, stomach, or any other part of the man body.

In spite of this, I confess that the phenomerides of Sparta were in the right, like all women who, though they possess a fine figure, have a repulsive face; in spite of the beauty of the piece, the title drives spectators away.  Still an interesting face is an inseparable accident of love.

Thrice happy are they who, like Armelline, have beauty both in the face and body.

When I got home I was so fortunate as to find Margarita in a deep sleep.  I took care not to awake her, and went to bed with as little noise as possible.  I was in want of rest, for I no longer enjoyed the vigour of youth, and I slept till twelve.

When I awoke, Margarita told me that a handsome young man had called on me at ten o’clock, and that she had amused him till eleven, not daring to awake me.

“I made him some coffee,” said she, “and he was pleased to pronounce it excellent.  He would not tell me his name, but he will come again tomorrow.  He gave me a piece of money, but I hope you will not mind.  I don’t know how much it is worth.”

I guessed that it was the Florentine.  The piece was of two ounces.  I only laughed, for not loving Margarita I was not jealous of her.  I told her she had done quite right to amuse him and to accept the piece, which was worth forty-eight pauls.

She kissed me affectionately, and thanks to this incident I heard nothing about my having come home so late.

I felt curious to learn more about this generous Tuscan, so I proceeded to read Leonilda’s letter.

His name, it appeared, was M——.  He was a rich merchant established in London, and had been commended to her husband by a Knight of Malta.

Leonilda said he was generous, good-hearted, and polished, and assured me that I should like him.

After telling me the family news, Leonilda concluded by saying that she was in a fair way to become a mother, and that she would be perfectly happy if she gave birth to a son.  She begged me to congratulate the marquis.

Whether from a natural instinct or the effects of prejudice, this news made me shudder.  I answered her letter in a few days, enclosing it in a letter to the marquis, in which I told him that the grace of God was never too late, and that I had never been so much pleased by any news as at hearing he was likely to have an heir.

In the following May Leonilda gave birth to a son, whom I saw at Prague, on the occasion of the coronation of Leopold.  He called himself Marquis C——­, like his father, or perhaps we had better say like his mother’s husband, who attained the age of eighty.