I felt angry with the impudent woman who had hitherto paid me so little attention, and I wrote that I could only pity her, and that I had no time to go and see her, and that I should be ashamed to ask anyone to bail her out.

When young Cornelis had gone away in a melancholy mood, I told Clairmont to ask Pauline if she would allow me to bid her a good day.  She sent word that I was at liberty to do so, and on going upstairs to her room I found her sitting at a table on which were several books.

Some linen on a chest of drawers did not give me the idea that she was very poor.

“I am immensely obliged,” said she, “for all your goodness to me.”

“Say nothing of that, madam; it is I who have need of your goodness.”

“What can I do to shew my gratitude?”

“Could you trouble yourself to take your meals with me?  When I am alone I eat like an ogre, and my health suffers.  If you do not feel inclined to grant me that favour, do not hesitate to refuse, and I assure you you shall fare just as well as if you had acceded to my request.”

“I shall be delighted to dine and sup with you; sir, whenever you are alone and you like to send for me.  Nevertheless, I am not sure that my society will amuse you.”

“Very good, I am grateful to you, and I promise you you shall never repent of your kindness.  I will do my best to amuse you, and I hope I shall succeed, for you have inspired me with the liveliest interest.  We will dine at one to-day.”

I did not sit down or look at her books, or even ask her if she had spent a good night.  The only thing I noted was that she had looked pale and careworn when I came in, and when I went out her cheeks were the colour of the rose.

I went for a walk in the park, feeling quite taken with this charming woman, and resolved to make her love me, for I did not want to owe anything to gratitude.  I felt curious to know where she came from, and suspected she was an Italian; but I determined to ask her no questions for fear of offending her.

When I got home Pauline came down of her own free will, and I was delighted with this, which I took for a good omen.  As we had half an hour before us, I asked her how she found her health.

“Nature,” she replied, “has favoured me with such a good constitution that I have never had the least sickness in my life, except on the sea.”

“You have made a voyage, then.”

“I must have done so to come to England.”

“You might be an Englishwoman.”

“Yes, for the English language has been familiar to me from my childhood.”

We were seated on a sofa, and on the table in front of us was a chess-board.  Pauline toyed with the pawns, and I asked her if she could play chess.

“Yes, and pretty well too from what they tell me.”

“Then we will have a game together; my blunders will amuse you.”

We began, and in four moves I was checkmated.  She laughed, and I admired her play.  We began again, and I was checkmated in five moves.  My agreeable guest laughed heartily, and while she laughed I became intoxicated with love, watching the play of her features, her exquisite teeth, and her happy expression.  We began another game, Pauline played carelessly, and I placed her in a difficult position.