She laughed, joked, and reproached him for not having pursued her at Vauxhall. Her stratagem, she said, was only meant to excite him the more.
"Another time," she added, "I shall not escape you."
"Perhaps not, my dear, for another time I shall take care not to pay in advance."
"Oh, fie! you degrade yourself by talking about paying."
"I suppose I honour you."
"We never talk of such things."
Lord Pembroke laughed at her impertinences, while she made a vigorous assault on him, for his coolness and indifference piqued her.
She left us soon after dinner, ****** me promise to dine with her the day after next.
I passed the next day with the amiable nobleman who initiated me into the mysteries of the English bagnio, an entertainment which I shall not describe, for it is well known to all who care to spend six guineas.
On the day appointed, my evil destiny made me go to the Charpillon's;
the girl introduced me to her mother, whom I at once recollected, although she had aged and altered since I had seen her.
In the year 1759 a Genevan named Bolome had persuaded me to sell her jewels to the extent of six thousand francs, and she had paid me in bills drawn by her and her two sisters on this Bolome, but they were then known as Anspergher. The Genevan became bankrupt before the bills were due, and the three sisters disappeared. As may be imagined, I was surprised to find them in England, and especially to be introduced to them by the Charpillon, who, knowing nothing of the affair of the jewels, had not told them that Seingalt was the same as Casanova, whom they had cheated of six thousand francs.
"I am delighted to see you again," were the first words I addressed to her.
"I recollect you, sir; that rascal Bolome . . . ."
"We will discuss that subject another time. I see you are ill."
"I have been at death's door, but I am better now. My daughter did not tell me your proper name."
"Yes, she did. My name is Seingalt as well as Casanova. I was known by the latter name at Paris when I made your daughter's acquaintance, though I did not know then that she was your daughter."
Just then the grandmother, whose name was also Anspergher, came in with the two aunts, and a quarter of an hour later three men arrived, one of whom was the Chevalier Goudar, whom I had met at Paris. I did not know the others who were introduced to me under the names of Rostaing and Caumon. They were three friends of the household, whose business it was to bring in dupes.
Such was the infamous company in which I found myself, and though I
took its measure directly, yet I did not make my escape, nor did I
resolve never to go to the house again. I was fascinated; I thought I would be on my guard and be safe, and as I only wanted the daughter I looked on all else as of little moment.
At table I led the conversation, and thought that my prey would soon be within my grasp. The only thing which annoyed me was that the Charpillon, after apologizing for having made me sit down to such a poor dinner, invited herself and all the company to sup with me on any day I liked to mention. I could make no opposition, so I begged her to name the day herself, and she did so, after a consultation with her worthy friends.
After coffee had been served we played four rubbers of whist, at which I lost, and at midnight I went away ill pleased with myself, but with no purpose of amendment, for this sorceress had got me in her toils.
All the same I had the strength of mind to refrain from seeing her for two days, and on the third, which was the day appointed for the cursed supper, she and her aunt paid me a call at nine o'clock in the morning.
"I have come to breakfast with you, and to discuss a certain question," said she, in the most engaging manner.
"Will you tell me your business now, or after breakfast?"
"After breakfast; for we must be alone."
We had our breakfast, and then the aunt went into another room, and the Charpillon, after describing the monetary situation of the family, told me that it would be much relieved if her aunt could obtain a hundred guineas.
"What would she do with the money?"
"She would make the Balm of Life, of which she possesses the secret, and no doubt she would make her fortune, too."
She then began to dilate on the marvellous properties of the balm, on its probable success in a town like London, and on the benefits which would accrue to myself, for of course I should share in the profits.
She added that her mother and aunt would give me a written promise to repay the money in the course of six years.
"I will give you a decided answer after supper."
I then began to caress her, and to make assaults in the style of an amorous man, but it was all in vain, though I succeeded in stretching her on a large sofa. She made her escape, however, and ran to her aunt, while I followed her, feeling obliged to laugh as she did. She gave me her hand, and said,--
"Farewell, till this evening."
When they were gone, I reflected over what had passed and thought this first scene of no bad augury. I saw that I should get nothing out of her without spending a hundred guineas, and I determined not to attempt to bargain, but I would let her understand that she must make up her mind not to play prude. The game was in my hands, and all I had to do was to take care not to be duped.
In the evening the company arrived, and the girl asked me to hold a bank till supper was ready; but I declined, with a burst of laughter that seemed to puzzle her.
"At least, let us have a game of whist," said she.
"It seems to me," I answered, "that you don't feel very anxious to hear my reply."
"You have made up your mind, I suppose?"
"I have, follow me."
She followed me into an adjoining room, and after she had seated herself on a sofa, I told her that the hundred guineas were at her disposal.
"Then please to give the money to my aunt, otherwise these gentlemen might think I got it from you by some improper means."
"I will do so."
I tried to get possession of her, but in vain; and I ceased my endeavours when she said,--
"You will get nothing from me either by money or violence; but you can hope for all when I find you really nice and quiet."
