Raton came to supper with her aunt, who went to bed in an adjoining closet when the dessert was brought in.  The girl’s figure was exquisitely beautiful, and I felt that I had no small task before me.  She was kind, laughing, and defied me to the conquest of a fleece not of gold, but of ebony, which the youth of Metz had assaulted in vain.  Perhaps the reader will think that I, who was no longer in my first vigour, was discouraged by the thought of the many who had failed; but I knew my powers, and it only amused me.  Her former lovers had been Frenchmen, more skilled in carrying strong places by assault than in eluding the artfulness of a girl who corked herself up.  I was an Italian, and knew all about that, so I had no doubts as to my victory.

However, my preparations were superfluous; for as soon as Raton felt from my mode of attack that the trick would be of no avail she met my desires half-way, without trying the device which had made her seem to be what she was no longer to her inexpert lovers.  She gave herself up in good faith, and when I had promised to keep the secret her ardours were equal to mine.  It was not her first trial, and I consequently need not have given her the twenty-five louis, but I was well satisfied, and not caring much for maidenheads rewarded her as if I had been the first to bite at the cherry.

I kept Raton at a louis a day till the arrival of the Corticelli, and she had to be faithful to me, as I never let her go out of my sight.  I liked the girl so well and found her so pleasant that I was sorry that the Corticelli was coming; however, I was told of her arrival one night just as I was leaving my box at the theatre.  My footman told me in a loud voice that my lady wife, my daughter, and a gentleman had just arrived from Frankfort, and were awaiting me at the inn.

“Idiot,” I exclaimed, “I have no wife and no daughter.”

However, all Metz heard that my family had arrived.

The Corticelli threw her arms round my neck, laughing as usual, and her mother presented me to the worthy man who had accompanied them from Prague to Metz.  He was an Italian named Month, who had lived for a long time at Prague, where he taught his native language.  I saw that M. Month and the old woman were suitably accommodated, and I then led the young fool into my room.  I found her changed for the better; she had grown, her shape was improved, and her pleasant manners made her a very charming girl.

CHAPTER XV

I Returned to Paris With The Corticelli, Now Countess Lascaris—­The Hypostasis Fails—­Aix-la-Chapelle—­Duel—­Mimi d’Ache—­The Corticelli Turns Traitress to Her Own Disadvantage—­Journey to Sulzbach

“Why did you allow your mother to call herself my wife, little simpleton?  Do you think that’s a compliment to my judgment?  She might have given herself out for your governess, as she wishes to pass you off as my daughter.”