“Delighted at finding that I had a rational judge to deal with, I explained the affair to him in a manner at once so respectful and so moderate, that he seemed exceedingly satisfied with my answers to all the queries he put.  He desired me not to abandon myself to grief, and assured me that he felt every disposition to serve me, as well on account of my birth as my inexperience.  I ventured to bespeak his attentions in favour of Manon, and I dwelt upon her gentle and excellent disposition.  He replied, with a smile, that he had not yet seen her, but that she had been represented to him as a most dangerous person.  This expression so excited my sympathy, that I urged a thousand anxious arguments in favour of my poor mistress, and I could not restrain even from shedding tears.

“He desired them to conduct me back to my chamber. `Love! love!’ cried this grave magistrate as I went out, `thou art never to be reconciled with discretion!’

“I had been occupied with the most melancholy reflections, and was thinking of the conversation I had had with the lieutenant-general of police, when I heard my door open.  It was my father.  Although I ought to have been half prepared for seeing him, and had reasons to expect his arrival within a day or two, yet I was so thunderstruck, that I could willingly have sunk into the earth, if it had been open at my feet.  I embraced him in the greatest possible state of confusion.  He took a seat, without either one or other of us having uttered a word.

“As I remained standing, with my head uncovered, and my eyes cast on the ground, `Be seated, sir,’ said he in a solemn voice; `be seated.  I have to thank the notoriety of your debaucheries for learning the place of your abode.  It is the privilege of such fame as yours, that it cannot lie concealed.  You are acquiring celebrity by an unerring path.  Doubtless it will lead you to the Greve,[1] and you will then have the unfading glory of being held up to the admiration of the world.’

[1]Who has e’er been at Paris must needs know the Greve, The fatal retreat of th’ unfortunate brave, Where honour and justice most oddly contribute, To ease heroes’ pains by the halter and gibbet.—­Prior.

“I made no reply.  He continued:  `What an unhappy lot is that of a father, who having tenderly loved a child, and strained every nerve to bring him up a virtuous and respectable man, finds him turn out in the end a worthless profligate, who dishonours him.  To an ordinary reverse of fortune one may be reconciled; time softens the affliction, and even the indulgence of sorrow itself is not unavailing; but what remedy is there for an evil that is perpetually augmenting, such as the profligacy of a vicious son, who has deserted every principle of honour, and is ever plunging from deep into deeper vice?  You are silent,’ added he:  `look at this counterfeit modesty, this hypocritical air of gentleness!—­ might he not pass for the most respectable member of his family?’