same time of his name and all his titles, by means of a letter, which he had sent through the hands of the coachman who drove her and her companions; that he had promised her, on the other side of the Alps, a brilliant fortune and eternal adoration; that she returned to Chaillot, with the intention of relating to me the whole adventure, but that, fancying it might be made a source of amusement to us, she could not help gratifying her whim; that she accordingly invited the Italian prince, by a flattering note, to pay her a visit; and that it had afforded her equal delight to make me an accomplice, without giving me the least suspicion of her plan.  I said not a word of the information I had received through another channel; and the intoxication of triumphant love made me applaud all she had done.

IX

’Twas ever thus;—­from childhood’s hour
  I’ve seen my fondest hopes decay;—­
I never loved a tree or flower,
  But it was sure to fade away;
I never nursed a dear Gazelle,
  To glad me with its dark-blue eye,
But, when it came to know me well,
  And love me, it was sure to die.

Moore.

“During my life I have remarked that fate has invariably chosen for the time of its severest visitations, those moments when my fortune seemed established on the firmest basis.  In the friendship of M. de T——­, and the tender affections of Manon, I imagined myself so thoroughly happy, that I could not harbour the slightest apprehension of any new misfortune:  there was one, nevertheless, at this very period impending, which reduced me to the state in which you beheld me at Passy, and which eventually brought in its train miseries of so deplorable a nature, that you will have difficulty in believing the simple recital that follows.

“One evening, when M. de T——­ remained to sup with us, we heard the sound of a carriage stopping at the door of the inn.  Curiosity tempted us to see who it was that arrived at this hour.  They told us it was young G——­ M——­, the son of our most vindictive enemy, of that debauched old sinner who had incarcerated me in St. Lazare, and Manon in the Hospital.  His name made the blood mount to my cheeks. `It is Providence that has led him here,’ said I to M. de T——­, that I may punish him for the cowardly baseness of his father.  He shall not escape without our measuring swords at least.’  M. de T——­, who knew him, and was even one of his most intimate friends, tried to moderate my feelings of anger towards him.  He assured me that he was a most amiable young man, and so little capable of countenancing his father’s conduct, that I could not be many minutes in his society without feeling esteem and affection for him.  After saying many more things in his praise, he begged my permission to invite him to come and sit in our apartment, as well as to share the remainder of our supper.  As to the objection of Manon being exposed by this proceeding to any danger, he pledged his honour and good faith, that when once the young man became acquainted with us, we should find in him a most zealous defender.  After such an assurance, I could offer no further opposition.