“Certainly; I would have given you the hundred guineas if your niece had treated me as a friend, but she refused me favours a vestal might have granted, and you must be aware that she is by no means a vestal.”

“Don’t mind my laughing.  My niece is an innocent, giddy girl; she loves you, but she is afraid you have only a passing whim for her.  She is in bed now with a bad cold, and if you will come and see her I am sure you will be satisfied.”

These artful remarks, which had no doubt been prepared in advance, ought to have aroused all my scorn, but instead of that they awakened the most violent desires.  I laughed in chorus with the old woman, and asked what would be the best time to call.

“Come now, and give one knock.”

“Very good, then you may expect me shortly.”

I congratulated myself on being on the verge of success, for after the explanation I had had with the aunt, and having, as I thought, a friend in her, I did not doubt that I should succeed.

I put on my great coat, and in less than a quarter of an hour I knocked at their door.  The aunt opened to me, and said,—­

“Come back in a quarter of an hour; she has been ordered a bath, and is just going to take it.”

“This is another imposture.  You’re as bad a liar as she is.”

“You are cruel and unjust, and if you will promise to be discreet, I will take you up to the third floor where she is bathing.”

“Very good; take me.”  She went upstairs, I following on tiptoe, and pushed me into a room, and shut the door upon me.  The Charpillon was in a huge bath, with her head towards the door, and the infernal coquette, pretending to think it was her aunt, did not move, and said,—­

“Give me the towels, aunt.”

She was in the most seductive posture, and I had the pleasure of gazing on her exquisite proportions, hardly veiled by the water.

When she caught sight of me, or rather pretended to do so, she gave a shriek, huddled her limbs together, and said, with affected anger,—­

“Begone!”

“You needn’t exert your voice, for I am not going to be duped.”

“Begone!”

“Not so, give me a little time to collect myself.”

“I tell you, go!”

“Calm yourself, and don’t be afraid of my skewing you any violence; that would suit your game too well.”

“My aunt shall pay dearly for this.”

“She will find me her friend.  I won’t touch you, so shew me a little more of your charms.”

“More of my charms?”

“Yes; put yourself as you were when I came in.”

“Certainly not.  Leave the room.”

“I have told you I am not going, and that you need not fear for your . . . . well, for your virginity, we will say.”

She then shewed me a picture more seductive than the first, and pretending kindliness, said,—­

“Please, leave me; I will not fail to shew my gratitude.”