There could be no doubt as to the action of the machinery, and it was no feeling of avarice which hindered me from buying the chair.  As I have said, it seemed rather a diabolical idea, and besides it might easily have sent me to the gallows.  Furthermore, I should never have had the strength of mind to enjoy the Charpillon forcibly, especially by means of the wonderful chair, the mechanism of which would have frightened her out of her wits.

At dinner I told Goudar that the Charpillon had demanded an interview, and that I had wished to keep the chair so as to shew her that I could have her if I liked.  I shewed him the letter, and he advised me to accede to her request, if only for curiosity’s sake.

I was in no hurry to see the creature while the marks on her face and neck were still fresh, so I spent seven or eight days without making up my mind to receive her.  Goudar came every day, and told me of the confabulations of these women who had made up their minds not to live save by trickery.

He told me that the grandmother had taken the name of Anspergher without having any right to it, as she was merely the mistress of a worthy citizen of Berne, by whom she had four daughters; the mother of the Charpillon was the youngest of the family, and, as she was pretty and loose in her morals, the Government had exiled her with her mother and sisters.  They had then betaken themselves to Franche-Comte, where they lived for some time on the Balm of Life.  Here it was that the Charpillon came into the world, her mother attributing her to a Count de Boulainvilliers.  The child grew up pretty, and the family removed to Paris under the impression that it would be the best market for such a commodity, but in the course of four years the income from the Balm having dwindled greatly, the Charpillon being still too young to be profitable, and debtors closing round them on every side, they resolved to come to London.

He then proceeded to tell me of the various tricks and cheats which kept them all alive.  I found his narrative interesting enough then, but the reader would find it dull, and I expect will be grateful for my passing it over.

I felt that it was fortunate for me that I had Goudar, who introduced me to all the most famous courtezans in London, above all to the illustrious Kitty Fisher, who was just beginning to be fashionable.  He also introduced me to a girl of sixteen, a veritable prodigy of beauty, who served at the bar of a tavern at which we took a bottle of strong beer.  She was an Irishwoman and a Catholic, and was named Sarah.  I should have liked to get possession of her, but Goudar had views of his own on the subject, and carried her off in the course of the next year.  He ended by marrying her, and she was the Sara Goudar who shone at Naples, Florence, Venice, and elsewhere.  We shall hear of her in four or five years, still with her husband.  Goudar had conceived the plan of making her take the place of Dubarry, mistress of Louis XV., but a lettre de cachet compelled him to try elsewhere.  Ah! happy days of lettres de cachet, you have gone never to return!