Damien was a fanatic, who, with the idea of doing a good work and obtaining a heavenly reward, had tried to assassinate Louis XV.; and though the attempt was a failure, and he only gave the king a slight wound, he was torn to pieces as if his crime had been consummated.

While this victim of the Jesuits was being executed, I was several times obliged to turn away my face and to stop my ears as I heard his piercing shrieks, half of his body having been torn from him, but the Lambertini and the fat aunt did not budge an inch.  Was it because their hearts were hardened?  They told me, and I pretended to believe them, that their horror at the wretch’s wickedness prevented Them feeling that compassion which his unheard-of torments should have excited.  The fact was that Tiretta kept the pious aunt curiously engaged during the whole time of the execution, and this, perhaps, was what prevented the virtuous lady from moving or even turning her head round.

Finding himself behind her, he had taken the precaution to lift up her dress to avoid treading on it.  That, no doubt, was according to the rule; but soon after, on giving an involuntary glance in their direction, I found that Tiretta had carried his precautions rather far, and, not wishing to interrupt my friend or to make the lady feel awkward, I turned my head and stood in such a way that my sweetheart could see nothing of what was going on; this put the good lady at her ease.  For two hours after I heard a continuous rustling, and relishing the joke I kept quiet the whole time.  I admired Tiretta’s hearty appetite still more than his courage, but what pleased me most was the touching resignation with which the pious aunt bore it all.

At the end of this long session I saw Madame turn round, and doing the same I fixed my gaze on Tiretta, and found him looking as fresh and cool as if nothing had happened, but the aunt seemed to me to have a rather pensive appearance.  She had been under the fatal necessity of keeping quiet and letting Tiretta do what he liked for fear of the Lambertini’s jests, and lest her niece might be scandalized by the revelation of mysteries of which she was supposed to know nothing.

We set out, and having dropped the Pope’s niece at her door, I begged her to lend me Tiretta for a few hours, and I then took Madame to her house in the Rue St. Andre-des-Arts.  She asked me to come and see her the following day as she had something to tell me, and I remarked that she took no notice of my friend as she left us.  We went to the “Hotel de Russie,” where they gave you an excellent dinner for six francs a head, and I thought my mad friend stood in need of recruiting his strength.

“What were you doing behind Madame—?” said I.

“I am sure you saw nothing, or anybody else either.”

“No, because when I saw the beginning of your manoeuvres, and guessed what was coming, I stood in such a way that neither the Lambertini or the pretty niece could see you.  I can guess what your goal was, and I must say I admire your hearty appetite.  But your wretched victim appears to be rather angry.”