Next day my sweetheart wrote to Lebel in the sense she had decided on, and I felt obliged to write M. de Chavigni a letter in which love, sentiment, and philosophy were mingled.  I did not conceal from him that I loved the woman whom Lebel coveted to distraction, but I said that as a man of honour I would rather die than deprive my sweetheart of such solid advantages.

My letter delighted the housekeeper, for she was anxious to know what the ambassador thought of the affair, which needed much reflection.

I got on the same day the letters of introduction I had asked Madame d’Urfe to give me, and I determined, to the joy of my dear Dubois, to set out for Lausanne.  But we must hark back a little.

When one is sincerely in love, one thinks the beloved object full of deserts, and the mind, the dupe of the feelings, thinks all the world jealous of its bliss.

A. M. de F——­, member of the Council of the Two Hundred, whom I had met at Madame de la Saone’s, had become my friend.  He came to see me and I introduced him to my dear Dubois, whom he treated with the same distinction he would have used towards my wife.  He had presented us to his wife, and had come several times to see us with her and her daughter Sara.  Sara was only thirteen, but she was extremely precocious, dark complexioned, and full of wit; she was continually uttering naivetes, of which she understood the whole force, although looking at her face one would have thought her perfectly innocent.  She excelled in the art of making her father and mother believe in her innocence, and thus she enjoyed plenty of liberty.

Sara had declared that she was in love with my housekeeper, and as her parents laughed at her she lavished her caresses on my dear Dubois.  She often came to breakfast with us, and when she found us in bed she would embrace my sweetheart, whom she called her wife, passing her hand over the coverlet to tickle her, telling her that she was her wife, and that she wanted to have a child.  My sweetheart laughed and let her go on.

One day I told her jokingly that she would make me jealous, that I thought she really was a man, and that I was going to make sure.  The sly little puss told me that I was making a mistake, but her hand seemed rather to guide mine than to oppose it.  That made me curious, and my mind was soon set at rest as to her sex.  Perceiving that she had taken me in and got exactly what she wanted, I drew back my hand, and imparted my suspicions to my housekeeper, who said I was right.  However, as the little girl had no part in my affections, I did not push the thing any farther.

Two or three days after, this girl came in as I was getting up, and said in her usual simple way,

“Now that you know I am not really a man you can not be jealous or have objection to my taking your place beside my little wife, if she will let me.”

My housekeeper, who looked inclined to laugh, said,